#i told him he couldn't join in the game and he just didn't care. spent the game throwing stuff at other kids + ruined it for everyone

[corvid-language-library]

.

[newobsessionweekly]

To protect and to love

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: You unintentionally make Tim jealous, resulting with nothing good but a confession.

Action | Angst | Fluff

A/N: It's a long one I know. But I HAD to put some action and angst in it, i couldn't help it. Honestly I love it and I love to write about Tim. I hope you like it as much as I do. Have a wonderful day bubs and take care of yourselves. Lots of love

Warning: Mention of hurting, one "fucking" slipped somewhere in this, not proofread yet.

Requested: Yes Words: 4.4k GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

The atmosphere in the bar was alive with the buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses as you settled in with your colleagues. It was one of the many nights you and the rookies met after a long shift. It was some bond between the four of you even since academy and it felt nice. They started to feel like a family to you.

As Nolan approached with three drinks in his hands, the fourth person occupied the chair beside you, making your mouth to open in surprise and your heart to race. Tim, looking so perfectly even out of his uniform, so casually in his clothes, wearing the same grumpy expression.

"Oh, sorry sir, didn't know you'd join us today." Nolan excused himself for ordering only three drinks.

"Yeah, didn't know I'd be here either." Tim murmured under his breath, giving you an acknowledging smile. After weeks of persuasions from both you and Lucy, he finally gave up.

"I'm glad you came." you told him as you turned to give him a smile. He did the same, but it wasn't a natural one.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. This isn't really my scene." Tim admitted sharply, the wave of adrenaline and excitement that flowed over you, broke as soon as his grumpy expression appeared.

"So, Tim, what do you usually do after work?" Lucy asked, flashing him a mischievous grin.

Tim shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Usually just head home and catch up on some game I missed or hit the gym. Not really into the whole social scene."

"Come on, Tim, live a little!" Lucy chimed in, nudging him playfully. "You gotta let loose every once in a while."

You couldn't help but smile at the banter between your colleagues, grateful for the opportunity to spend time with them outside of the confines of work. But as you glanced over at Tim, you noticed a hint of tension in his behaviour, his jaw clenched slightly as he watched the scene unfold.

"So, Y/N, how's life as Tim's rookie treating you?" Nolan asked, turning to you with a grin.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "It's definitely been an adventure. Tim keeps me on my toes, that's for sure."

Despite being his rookie for some time now, you had never spent much time with Tim outside of work. But tonight was different, and you were determined to make the most of it.

Tim's gaze flickered to you, "If it's not a living hell, it means you have potential to become a good cop." you squinted at his words only for a few seconds before a sense of pride to wash over you as you smiled at him "But you're not there yet, so keep your head in the game."

Before the conversation could continue, you excused yourself to go buy another round of drinks. As you made your way to the bar, you felt the weight of several lingering gazes on your back, casting a subtle aura of discomfort. Some eyes stopped over your body as you asked the bartender for a refill, giving them one of the best views. Tim's eyes followed each glance, noting the subtle gestures and expressions of the onlookers. And he counted them one by one.

The handsome bartender took his time to do the refill, as his eyes examined you, flashing you a charming smile.

"Hey there, beautiful." his voice was low and seductive if you think about it, but it wasn't close enough to the one you actually found yourself drawn to. "What brings you here tonight?"

As Tim was left alone at the table with the rookies, he found it almost impossible to focus on their conversation, as his gaze kept drifting back to where you stood at the bar, engrossed in conversation with the bartender.

"Oh, just blowing off some steam after a long day at work." you responded politely and considered giving him a chance.

At this point, you couldn't shut people off for some feelings that are in vain anyway. You need to go back in the game if you didn't wanted to be a single 45 year old cop, redecorating your house on your own between shifts like Nolan. That wasn't nice, you scolded yourself for the thoughts.

"Sounds like you could use a drink then. Let me guess, you're a cop, right? You've got that look about you." the bartender asked with a grin as he wiped down the counter with a cloth.

Tim's jaw clenched with frustration, a surge of jealousy coursing through him as he observed the subtle flirtation unfolding before his eyes. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him, a sense of possessiveness clawing at his chest as he struggled to contain his emotions.

"Tim, is everything okay?" Lucy's voice broke through his reverie, her concerned expression drawing his attention.

Tim forced a tight-lipped smile, his features taut with tension as he tried to mask his inner turmoil. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied curtly, though his tone betrayed his true feelings.

You chuckled at the bartender assumption, shaking your head "No, no. Nothing like that. I work for the city, but I surely don't have what it takes to be a cop." you admitted, drinks in your hand, lingering a little bit more.

"Ah, close enough though." he leaned over the counter, taking his chance to have a closer look at you. "Mark" he introduced himself with a friendly smile.

"Y/N" you responded politely, as you played his game, leaning in his direction.

"So, what do you say we grab a drink together sometime, Y/N ? I know a great place just around the corner." he proposed, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

Mark's easy charm and attentive conversation had left a positive impression on you, and you found yourself looking forward to meeting him.

But Lucy wasn't convinced by Tim's response, her brow furrowing with concern as she regarded him intently. "Are you sure? You seem a little...off," she persisted, her voice laced with concern.

Tim hesitated, torn between his desire to confide in Lucy and his instinct to keep his emotions guarded. "It's nothing, just...work stuff," he deflected, his tone clipped as he avoided her gaze.

Lucy nodded in understanding, didn't want to cross any boundaries, so she just let the subject drop. Anyone could see from afar that Tim was uncomfortable, little did anyone know he was feeling like that because you're not around.

Not even Tim knew why he couldn't take his eyes off of you or why he felt like his heart tightened with every laugh travelling to the table.

"Yeah, we could do that." you replied to Mark, considering his offer before hearing the unmistakable beat of footsteps you can't possibly erase from your mind.

Unable to stand by and watch any longer, Tim made his way over to you, determination etched on his face. "Hey, everything okay here?"

You glanced up, surprised to see Tim standing before you. "Oh, uh, yeah, everything's fine. Just getting the drinks."

The handsome bartender eyed Tim warily, sensing the tension in the air. "Is this your boyfriend?"

Tim's jaw clenched at the question, his gaze narrowing as he locked eyes with the stranger. "Something like that."

"Uh, Mark, this is Tim, my trainer from the job." you clarified, trying to make as bearable as possible the atmosphere shift.

Mark nodded in understanding, though a flicker of confusion crossed his features at Tim's abrupt attitude and he regarded your TO with a polite smile, extending a hand in greeting.

"Hey there, I'm Mark. Nice to meet you," he said, his tone friendly despite the underlying tension.

But Tim's response was anything but friendly. With a frustrated growl, he slammed his fist against the counter, the sound echoing through the bar. "Excuse me," he muttered tersely before turning on his heel and storming out of the bar.

His fists were clenched with frustration and your heart sank with a mixture of confusion and disappointment. You watched him go, your mind reeling with unanswered questions and a deep sense of hurt.

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you tried to make sense of Tim's sudden outburst. Had you done something wrong? Was he angry with you? The uncertainty gnawed at you.

But beneath the confusion, a flicker of disappointment burned within you. You had hoped that tonight would be a chance for you and Tim to bond outside of work, to bridge the gap between you. But his sudden departure had shattered those hopes.

Tim's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Jealousy burned hot within him, a primal instinct that had ignited the moment he saw another man hitting on you.

But beneath the jealousy, a deeper sense of frustration simmered. Frustration at himself for allowing his feelings for you to cloud his judgment, for letting his jealousy get the better of him. He knew he had no right to stake a claim on you, no right to feel possessive or territorial. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gripped him whenever he saw you with another man.

As he made his way through the crowded streets, Tim's thoughts were consumed by visions of you and the handsome bartender, laughing and flirting as if he didn't exist. The image burned like a brand on his mind, fueling his anger and driving him further into the depths of despair.

Monday morning is usually a pain in the ass, but with the events that occurred last Friday at the bar, and Tim's attitude towards you, harsher and grumpier than usual, it was a morning out of the burning hell. Your heart was racing as he instructed you, curt and on point, on what will happen next.

May have been a few days since the incident at the bar, but the memory lingered in the back of your mind like a stubborn shadow. Despite your best efforts to push it aside, the tension between you and Tim was palpable, a silent undercurrent that simmered beneath the surface.

You knew that he was testing you, pushing you to your limits in an attempt to prepare you for the cop life, but beneath his tough exterior, you couldn't help but sense a hint of something else—something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy.

The morning sunlight bathed the patrol car's interior as you and Tim cruised through the LA streets, the radio's steady hum punctuating the silence between you.

Your usual chitchat about the rookie book is now replaced by a brooding silence, his knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel. You stole a glance at him, noting the furrowed brow and the distant look in his eyes, and couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the gulf that seemed to have grown between you.

The radio crackled to life, dispatch's voice cutting through the quiet."7-Adam-19, we have a noise complaint at 123 Oak Street. Caller reports a disturbance in one of the apartments. Please respond."

Tim glanced at you, and you tried to read something in his eyes as he keyed the mic. "Copy that. We're en route."

There was nothing to be seen in his eyes, but you took your time to admire him in silence, your mind playing all the memories since you became his rookie, couldn't stop the thought that maybe the flicker that burned inside every time you touched his arm by mistake, every time he smiled at you, every time he made you smile, was indeed something. You always tend to question your feelings, rather they're justified or in vain, and this one was surely in vain.

There's no way a man like him, so put together, so ambitious — so handsome— would have even the thought of liking a rookie, you thought. You considered this whole situation too stupid, probably every single woman that comes past Tim fall in love with him.

As you pulled up to the apartment complex, the sounds of raised voices and slamming doors greeted you, sending a shiver down your spine.

"This could get messy," you muttered, your voice tense with apprehension.

"And we're prepared for this kind of situations. But if you don't feel like it, you can give up the badge." his voice is harsh and his expression is far from nice.

"That's not what I meant." you mouthed under your breath and followed Tim into the building.

As you reached the door of the apartment in question, you exchanged a wary glance with Tim before knocking firmly. The door swung open to reveal a chaotic scene inside, a group of men engaged in a heated argument that showed no signs of abating.

"LAPD! Hands where I can see them!" your voice cut through the chaos like a knife, but if anything, it only seemed to stoke the flames.

In an instant, the situation erupted into chaos, with shouts and curses filling the air as fists flew and bodies collided. You and Tim sprang into action, replaying in your mind everything you learned from the academy and your TO. But just as you thought you had gained the upper hand, the situation took a sudden turn for the worse. A shout rang out from the far end of the room, followed by the sound of shattering glass as a fight broke out between two of them.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you and Tim moved swiftly to intervene, but the situation quickly spiraled out of control. Amidst the chaos, you found yourself grappling with one of them, seven feet tall man and muscular construction, your heart pounding in your chest as you fought to maintain control.

Tim knew not to mess up his personal life and his professional one, he did it once and didn't end well. He weighed his decision over and over again, continuously adding pros and cons to the equation. It was safe for you to deal with this kind of men? Probably not, but if he would go soft on you and pick an easy target it would mean he let his feelings step out and fail you as your TO.

All Tim could do in this situation was to have your back no matter what and make sure you get home safe to meet with that stupid bartender. That thought run fast like the wind and bought back your laughter from that night hunting him once more. The lovely eyes you gave that man and the smile so bright, a smile he saw for the first time.

Your focus narrowed on subduing the individual before they could inflict harm. In the heat of the moment, you failed to notice another figure advancing towards you from the side.

Suddenly, a sharp blow struck your side, sending a jolt of pain radiating through your body. Gasping, you stumbled backward, momentarily disoriented as the room spun around you.

"Y/L/N!" Tim's voice cut through the haze of pain, his tone laced with concern as he rushed to your side. "You okay?"

Grimacing, you nodded weakly, trying to push through the pain as adrenaline surged through your veins. But with each breath, the pain in your side seemed to intensify, a constant reminder of the mistake you had made in letting your guard down.

Tim's grip tightened on your arm, his eyes scanning you for signs of injury as he assessed the situation. "Officer down," he said firmly into his radio, his voice tinged with urgency "Send backup and R/A."

Despite the pain coursing through your body, you forced yourself to focus, pushing aside the fear and uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm you. With Tim's support, you managed to regain your footing, the determination in his eyes giving you the strength to move on.

When one of them hurt you, the rest managed to move the circus outside the building, now armed and pointing the guns to their heads. You handcuffed your attacker and Tim dealt with the one stuck under you in the ambush. As you pushed the man down to the car with trembling feet, barely holding steady, you heard sirens cut through the air, signaling the arrival of backup. With a sense of relief washing over you, you spared a quick glance toward the parking lot, where a team of officers rushed between the men, their presence a welcome sight amidst the chaos.

"LAPD! Drop your weapon!" Nolan began, approaching the chaos as their eyes counted the police officers surrounding them. "Hands where I can see them, on the ground, face down!" he demanded as you and Tim put the suspects in the backseat of the car. "Spread your arms and legs!"

As the men followed Nolan's instructions, you tried to join your colleagues and handcuff the suspects, but Tim's hand stopped you in place. "Go sit down. You did enough." he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Despite the urgency of the situation, there was a steely resolve in his eyes as he focused on ensuring your safety above all else. Feeling a surge of frustration welling up inside you, you opened your mouth to protest, but Tim's stern gaze silenced you before you could speak. With a heavy heart, you complied with his orders, a paramedic guiding you to the ambulance for a search.

The sound of Tim's voice rang out through the chaos, his words echoing in your mind as he barked orders to his fellow officers. But amidst the chaos and confusion, it was clear that Tim's focus was solely on the task at hand, his attention unwavering as he worked to bring the situation under control. And as you watched from the sidelines, a sense of hurt and disappointment washed over you, the sting of Tim's words cutting deep as you struggled to make sense of the situation.

With the suspects now securely restrained, Tim turned his attention back to you, his expression tight with frustration as he approached. "What were you thinking, officer Y/L/N?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger as he confronted you.

Caught off guard by his harsh tone, you felt a lump form in your throat as you struggled to find the right words to respond. "I...I didn't see them, sir," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you met Tim's gaze.

But Tim's expression remained unforgiving, his frustration palpable as he glared down at you. "You could have gotten yourself killed out there," he snapped, his words biting as he chastised you for your reckless actions.

As Tim guided you back to the patrol car and began the journey back to the station, the air between you was heavy with tension. There was an awkward silence that seemed to stretch on endlessly, punctuated only by the sound of the radio crackling with dispatch updates.

As Tim sat behind the wheel, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions churned within him. He couldn't shake the sense of shame that gnawed at him, a bitter reminder of how his feelings for you had clouded his judgment during the call.

Seeing you hurt had unleashed a torrent of emotions within him, overriding his instincts as a cop and blinding him to the dangers that still lurked nearby. In that moment, all he could think about was protecting you, shielding you from harm at any cost.

But in his haste to ensure your safety, he had let his guard down, allowing the suspects to slip through his fingers and jeopardizing the success of the mission. The weight of his mistake bore down on him like a crushing weight, a stark reminder of the consequences of letting his personal feelings interfere with his professional duties.

As he drove back to the station, the silence in the car was suffocating, amplifying the cacophony of thoughts that raged within his mind. He couldn't shake the sense of disappointment that gripped him, a bitter reminder of how he had let you down when you needed him most. When you needed him to be your role model, the person you should've learned from.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at you, the weight of Tim's disappointment hanging heavily in the air. With each passing moment, the silence grew more oppressive, suffocating you with its intensity.

Glancing over at Tim, you feel a pang of guilt at the sight of his clenched jaw and furrowed brow. His usually expressive eyes were now unreadable, a mask of frustration and disappointment that sent a shiver down your spine.

As you wrestled with your own feelings of guilt and self-doubt, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Tim's silent treatment spoke volumes, a clear indication of his disapproval of your actions during the call.

Despite your best efforts to break the silence, Tim remained resolutely silent, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. "Tim, are you okay?" you insisted. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, his gaze fixed straight ahead as if lost in thought.

"I'm fine, officer Y/L/N." he muttered tersely, his voice clipped and devoid of emotion. But you could see the tension in his shoulders, the furrowed brow that betrayed the turmoil that raged within him.

You weren't about to let him brush you off that easily. "No, you're not," you insisted, your voice tinged with concern. "Something's bothering you, Tim. I can tell."

He shot you a sharp glance, his eyes flashing with irritation. "I said I'm fine," he snapped, his tone sharp and biting. But you could see the pain that flickered behind his eyes, a vulnerability that he tried so desperately to hide.

"Tim, please," you pressed, reaching out to touch his arm gently. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

For a moment, Tim seemed to waver, his defenses crumbling under the weight of your words. But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and he withdrew from your touch, his expression hardening once more.

"I don't need your pity, Y/N," he spat, his voice laced with bitterness. "I can handle this on my own."

But you refused to back down, refusing to let him push you away. "This isn't about pity, Tim," you countered, your voice steady and unwavering. "I care about you, and I want to help. But you have to let me in."

Tim's jaw clenched with frustration, a surge of emotion bubbling to the surface as he struggled to contain his feelings. "I cannot change my feelings for you, believe me I fucking tried," he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

The admission hung heavy in the air between you, a raw and unfiltered glimpse into the depths of his heart. And as you looked into his eyes, you could see the pain and anguish that swirled within them, a reflection of your own inner turmoil.

"I need to know that you're safe. Because I care about you," he continued, his voice softer now, tinged with vulnerability. "I kind of like you. And I lost control today because you got hurt. And I lost it too at the bar because you were flirting with that good of nothing. "

The words hung in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the truth that lay beneath the surface. And as you stood there, locked in a moment of raw honesty, you knew that your relationship with Tim would never be the same again.

The weight of his confession hung between you like a heavy fog, casting a shadow over the otherwise quiet interior of the car.

You glanced over at Tim, his expression guarded and unreadable as he focused on the road ahead. The air was heavy with emotion, a silent barrier that seemed to stretch on for miles.

"Tim, I..." you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. But Tim cut you off before you could finish, his tone sharp and dismissive.

"I don't want to talk about it, Y/N," he snapped, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. "Just forget I said anything."

But you couldn't let it go that easily, couldn't let him push you away when all you wanted was to be there for him. "Tim, please," you pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm gently. "I need you to understand that I feel the same way."

His eyes flickering with uncertainty as he glanced over at you. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean what I said." taking a deep breath, you summoned all of your courage, pushing aside your fears and doubts as you spoke "I have feelings for you, ok? But I tried to push them away because I didn't want to complicate things. But after you told me..."

Tim's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as he processed your words. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like an unbridgeable chasm.

Then, finally, Tim let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping with defeat. "I don't know what to say, Y/N," he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation "Things are complicated now, for sure." he chuckled, smiling at you as he parked the car.

"You and me, dinner. Tonight." you demanded, trying to play it off like nothing happened. "We talk about it like grownups."

"It's a date, then." he nodded in agreement, forcing his lips to form a straight line, to hide his dumb smile. "I-I.. I mean if you want to." he stumbled upon his words, scratching the back of his head nervously.

"Yes, Tim. I'd love that." you smiled at him as you both took the men from the backseat and guided them through the corridor of the station.

"Tim and Y/N sitting in a tree—" one of the men started mocking the scene they witnessed, but you and Tim cut him off

"Shut up."

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ proglogue

note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.

warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers

ao3

【next】

it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.

clearly, you'd been too optimistic.

which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order,  whether you were in the field or not.

the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met – he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.

the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.

before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.

and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.

but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.

you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.

"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."

"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."

"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."

"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"

"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."

"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."

their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?

as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.

“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”

"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.

"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.

price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.

soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."

you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.

you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.

"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."

you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.

"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.

before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.

✹✹✹

you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.

either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.

"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.

"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.

"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.

"right."

neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.

after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.

"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.

"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.

"alright, he can be difficult–"

"really?"

"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"

"is he gonna give me a chance?" 

"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"

"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.

"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"

"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.

it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.

you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.

there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.

living room's yours. lock the door. – s

it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.

with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.

[mymegrokosmos]

biker wonwoo brainrot anyone? just a quick mention. i was left unsupervised at 4am again. enjoy.

if anyone had told you that wonwoo was just a silly little nerd when you'd first met, you might not have believed them. that is to say, if this grown up version of your boyfriend was the one you'd met nearly ten years ago now. unfortunately for them, the wonu you knew wore big wire-rimmed glasses, lived in mis-matched sweatsuits, went through novels like water and spent most of his free time in the spare bedroom you'd helped him turn into a gaming den.

The version of jeon wonwoo you knew dog-eared the pages of all his books, scribbled notes in margins of anything and everything, liked to lay sprawled out on your lap while you watched romance kdramas together and loved when you ran your fingers through his hair. your boyfriend was often quiet and when he did speak his voice was always soft, even when he tossed out sarcastc remarks sharp enough to cut glass with that mischievous little cat smile of his. he was the definition of a homebody and an introvert.

he had walked into the busy coffee shop where you were working on a paper during finals week and asked if the seat across from you at your small table of two was taken because every other seat in the place was full. you'd seen him every week after that. it had taken him a month to actually speak to you and two to make small conversations a regular thing between you.

despite all that, he did have a bit of a hidden bravery about him. you wouldn't call it adrenaline junkie behaviour but he wasn't scared of a lot of things. where mingyu tended to jump at his own shadow wonwoo was often a steady, practial, stable person it took a lot to throw off balance. he expected everything. prepared for every scenario. it made him hard to surprise, or pull one over on, and often you were grateful for the constistency he provided.

so, when he pulled up outside your office on his motorbike and made a little show of hopping off to come kiss you, you couldn't help but shake your head a little.

"showoff."

"why shouldn't i be?"

you couldn't care less if any of your coworkers was watching as you let wonwoo store your purse in the compartment under the seat and, with a familiarity that came with lots of years of practice at it, strapped on the helmet he handed you. maybe you stared a little as he climbed back onto the bike, who could blame you when those jeans did great things for his ass and the leather jacket only served to highlight how broad his shoulders had gotten since he'd started joining gyu and cheol in the gym more often.

no one could see you ogling him from behind the tinted visor but he didn’t need to see your eyes to know they were on him. the smirk he flashed you before sliding his own helmet's visor back down spoke volumes.

you didn't waste time swinging a leg over the back of the bike and hopping on behind him. and if your grip around his waist was a little tighter than usual, well maybe it would deter that creep from accounting who you definitely hadn't told wonwoo about to stop flirting with you every time you stayed late and got stuck taking the elevator down to the lobby with him again.

if he was watching, and you couldn’t dismiss the possibility that your boyfriend had planned his timing just right to ensure that he was, you'd leave him wondering about just what exactly it was that wonwoo did for a living. let him make up his own scenarios. you were kind of partial to the race car driver guess if you had to pick one, or maybe the pit crew suggestion, that one had made you both laugh last week.

it was a privilege to know you saw a side of your large, intimidating, softie of a boyfriend that not many other people outside of his close friends and family did. surely you could gatekeep that part of him just a little, right?

[allthingsfangirl101]

*The Basketball Coach – Steve Harrington

Masterlist

Warnings: sneaking around kink, protected sex, rough sex, public sex, single-mom, teen pregnancy, language

I sat in the stands, my eyes on the coach. My son and I moved to Hawkins for a new start the summer before he started his junior year of high school. We were well aware of what happened here about 10 years ago, but things were back to normal.

During our first week, my son met some of our neighbors' kids and immediately hit it off with them. He ended up spending the night with a few of them and playing basketball. While he did that, I needed to blow off some steam. After a whole week of moving, cleaning, and setting up our new house, I decided to go to a bar on Saturday night.  Usually, when I go to a bar, I drink alone at the counter. That night, I met someone.

I started talking and flirting with a gorgeous guy my age named Steve Harrington. Four drinks later, we were making out in the bathroom. We were interrupted so we finished in his car. Before I left, he asked me for his number.

We spent the next week flirt-texting each other. When I texted the guy from the bar, I felt like a teenager again. That weekend, he practically begged to see me again. Not that I minded. I was dying to see him again.

Things went like that for a month - flirting all week followed by a heavy weekend where we fulfilled everything we promised while sexting. After that month, Steve told me he wanted more than just a hook-up.

I told him about Johnny and my concerns about dating a guy and he was completely understanding. We started dating but kept it "lowkey". I use quotes because nothing was lowkey about what we did when we were together. We just didn't tell anyone.

When the school year started, Johnny joined the basketball team. He came home talking about his awesomely funny coach, Coach Harrington. I was stunned. The guy I've been sleeping with all summer was now coaching my son's basketball team.

I freaked out to him, but he instantly reassured me. He said that we could keep dating without anyone, especially Johnny, finding out. I wasn't sure at first, but after the first game, I realized one very special thing - sneaking around was incredibly hot.

As the team ran into the locker room, I walked over to the sidelines. I waited until he passed me before moaning, "Good game, Coach."

"Fuck," he moaned as he froze. He looked over and bit his bottom lip as he scanned my body. "I want nothing more than to take you under these bleachers and ravish you until they call the cops because of all the screaming."

"Calm down, hot stuff," I smirked. "Can't have one of your players see their coach fucking one of their moms."

The butterflies in my stomach went crazy because of the way he was looking at me. He chewed on his bottom lip and scanned my body. He took a step closer to me, no longer caring about anyone seeing us.

"There's something I need to show you in the back of my car," he said, his voice low and dark.

"You know," I paused, "Johnny did drive himself."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me out the side door. I had to jog to keep up with him as he led me through the empty employee parking lot. He unlocked his car and I climbed in. I laid on my back as he crawled in.

I couldn't help but giggle as he closed the door behind him. Unable to wait any longer, I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to me. Steve smirked before crashing his lips onto mine.

We let out moans as we undressed each other. I caused Steve to groan as I tore off his polo. He kept himself as close to me as possible and pulled my shirt over my head. He glanced over my chest and moaned.

He didn't go back to kissing me. Instead, he tore my skirt down to my knees. I smirked as he sat up, letting me kick it the rest of the way off. Without breaking eye contact, Steve yanked my underwear down. As he took off his pants and boxers, I reached into the pouch behind the front seat and pulled out our hidden supply of condoms.

Steve sat back and waited for me to put it on him. He loved it when I put the condom on him. He leaned his head back, moaning as I slipped it on. The second I was done, Steve crashed his lips to mine. I ran my fingers through his hair as our bodies rubbed against each other.

I arched my back as Steve roughly pushed into me. He broke the kiss and smirked when he saw my face all scrunched from the pressure.

"Oh, Steve," I moaned. He cut me off by leaning down and smashing his face between my breasts. I let out a girlish giggle as he slipped his tongue under my bra.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. I gasped when he pulled out of me and sat up, quickly bringing me with him. Steve grabbed me and roughly brought me onto his lap. He guided my hips until he was making me ride him.

"Holy shit, baby," I moaned as I arched my back.

"Why does it feel like it's been forever since we. . ." He cut himself off when I brought my hips down rougher.

Our orgasms built the longer I was on top of him. He pressed his hands to my shoulder blades as he brought my chest to his face. I moaned as he did what I loved - licked me.

"Baby," he growled. I gasped when he laid us down without pulling out of me. He took back control instantly. The longer he had control, the closer we got to finishing. Until my phone started ringing.

"Shit," I gasped. "That's Johnny's ring."

Steve sighed and pulled out of me but didn't pull away from my breast as I answered my phone.

"Hey, sweetie," I greeted, trying to sound normal.

"Hey, Mom," Johnny said. I almost didn't hear him because I was focused on Steve paying extra attention to my chest. "I'm heading over to Mike's house. I just wanted to call you since I didn't see you after the game."

"Sorry," I said, forcing myself to look away from the veins sticking out of Steve's neck as he chewed on the skin peeking out from under my bra. "I needed to run a few errands while I'm out."

"Okay," he said simply. "Well, I'm heading to Mike's."

"Thanks for letting me know, baby. Have fun with Mike and make sure you're home before tomorrow night. Your grandparents want to take us to dinner."

"Will do. Love you."

"Love you too."

I hung up the phone and looked at Steve. "Good news," I smirked.

He hummed as he slowly pulled away from my chest. I moaned as he started rubbing his chest against mine.

"What's the news, baby girl?" He asked under his breath as he started kissing my neck.

"Johnny is spending the night at Mike's house," I said shakily.

"Which means you're going to be all alone," he grunted.

"Mmhmm. Care to accompany me?"

Steve crashed his lips down roughly onto mine. I instantly slipped my tongue into his mouth, exploring as much as I could. He bit my lip and sucked on it before slowly breaking the kiss.

"Can't leave a gorgeous woman like you home all alone."

* * * * *

The second I opened the door, Steve spun me around and pulled me into his chest. We backed into the house, never pulling out of the kiss as we made our way inside. We didn't stop until Steve pushed me up against the handrail that led up the stairs.

With a grunt, Steve broke the kiss and picked me up so my legs were wrapped around his waist. As he carried me to my room, I turned my attention to his neck. He moaned as I chewed on his veins that always poked out when he got turned on.

I smirked when Steve roughly dropped me onto the bed. I chewed on my bottom lip as he instantly climbed on top of me. Steve started chewing on my neck, switching between kissing and licking, as he started grinding his body down onto mine.

In minutes, our clothes were scattered around the room. We tucked under my covers as we wrapped up the foreplay and got into things. Something felt oddly familiar as we switched from him being on top to me being on top. That, of course, didn't last long though. Steve hated not being in control. He could only handle it for so long. And I loved it when he took control.

I gasped as he quickly rolled us over so he was on top again. Steve roughly pushed into me, both of us moaning.

"Fuck, Steve," I moaned. "I love it when you get rough, baby."

"Holy shit, sexy," Steve moaned as he pushed further into me. "This is exactly what I needed."

There it was again - that feeling of familiarity.

I pushed it aside as I focused on moaning his name and doing the other things he liked in bed to help keep him going.

"Give in, baby girl," he groaned through his teeth. "I know you want to."

"Sounds to me like you're the one who wants to. . ." Steve made me choke on my words when he leaned down and wrapped his mouth around my nipple.

"Fuck, Steve," I moaned as I arched my back, pushing my chest further against his face. I felt him smirk as he started to suck on me.

"Moan for me," he growled against my breast.

"Oh, Steve!" I repeated his name as he pushed further and rougher into me. "Keep going, Steve."

"Perfect, baby," he growled. "Do it again."

"Oh, Steve!"

We let out matching moans as we both gave in. Steve leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips before gently pulling out of me and lying next to me. Steve slid his hand under my body and pulled me into his side. I smiled as he fixed the blanket around us. I fell asleep to Steve gently rubbing my bare back.

The next morning, I woke up to the sun shining through the small crack in my curtains. The second I was awake, that familiar feeling came back. I tried to push it away, but it kept bugging me.

For some reason, something about our hook-up last night brought back some memories. I looked over my shoulder to see Steve asleep next to me. I carefully got out of my bed and searched for my clothes. I was slipping on my underwear when all of a sudden, it hit me.

De jà vü.

I quickly got dressed and spent the rest of the morning doing random chores around the house. I was loading the dishwasher when I felt him wrap his arms around my waist. I bit my lip when he started sucking on my neck.

"Last night was fun," he moaned against my shoulder. All I could do was moan in response. "But I'm kinda mad at you."

"Why?" I whispered. Steve grabbed my waist and slowly spun me toward him. We were suddenly in an intense staring contest as he grabbed my thigh and wrapped my leg around his waist.

"I'm mad," he groaned, "because I hate waking up alone."

"Sorry," I gasped as he started nibbling on my ear. "I was. . . I woke up and. . . Fuck."

Steve laughed as he picked me up and carried me to the couch. We spent the rest of the morning in a heavy make-out session. He slid his hand under my shirt and started massaging my breast as our tongues danced.

"Steve," I moaned into his mouth. "Baby."

"What?" He pouted as he broke the kiss.

"Johnny will be home soon," I said, out of breath. The lust in Steve's eyes slowly went away. He reached down and moved some hair out of my face.

"You're right," he whispered. "I should get going."

Steve hesitated before finally climbing off of me. He grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet. Without letting go of my hand, Steve walked to the front door. He turned around and pulled me into his chest. I smiled as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as we got into the kiss. Steve finally broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily.

"I'll call you later," he whispered.

"Not tonight," I said out of breath. "My parents are taking me and Johnny to dinner."

"Okay," he smiled. "What about tomorrow?"

"Johnny and a couple of other boys from the team are going to see that new movie," I smirked.

"That gives us two hours."

"Three, actually."

"Three hours?" He asked.

"They're going to get burgers before the movie."

"Perfect," Steve smirked as he pulled me in closer. "Three hours of privacy for us to do naughty things."

"Naughty things?" I chuckled.

"Adult things," he changed.

"Adult things," I repeated as I struggled not to laugh. "I know you spend your days talking to teenagers, but angsty Harrington isn't really sexy."

"Fine."

I gasped when Steve pushed me up against the door and started kissing my chest. I leaned my head back against the door as he used his tongue.

"Steve," I stuttered. He licked up my chest, across my collarbone, and up my neck.

"Three hours for us to fool around, make out, massage each other," he listed off, "and my personal favorite; fuck."

* * * * *

As much as I tried to resist it, I couldn't. I had to talk to him about this. It was too big.

With it being Monday, I knew that Steve didn't have practice. He wanted his players to start the week off without having practice to distract them from school. I also knew that Johnny went to his lab partner's house after school on Mondays to get a headstart on their weekly chem packet.

I got to the high school right as the bell rang. I didn't bother to wait for the students to clear out. I got out of my car and headed to his office. When I got there, I stopped.

How would he react to this?

It could go really well, but it could also go horribly wrong and I could lose the one person who has made me happier than I've been in years.

"Y/N? Is everything okay? Where's Johnny?"

"He's fine," I stuttered a little taken aback by the panic in Steve's voice. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"Oh?" Steve asked as he stood up. "Then what are you doing here?"

"I need to tell you something," I said under my breath as I stood in his office doorway.

Steve quickly walked over and closed the gap between us. He grabbed my hands, pulling me more into his office, and shutting the door. "What is it, baby?"

"I figured something out."

Steve locked his office door before pulling me over so we were sitting on the couch. "What did you figure out?"

I looked up at him, unable to approach the topic. "I was thinking about the night I got pregnant with Johnny," I started.

"Okay," he said, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "What about that night?"

"It was a Halloween party," I explained. "I was drunk and so was Johnny's dad. It turns out. . . He had gotten into a pretty bad fight with his girlfriend that night. So bad they broke up."

My heart beat against my chest as I waited to see if he was figuring it out.

"What umm. . . What costume was he wearing?"

Yep, he was figuring it out. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"Joel Goodson from Risky Business."

"Oh," he whispered. I bit my lip, trying to stop the tears as Steve focused on something on the other side of his office.

"You're Johnny's dad, Steve," I said, my voice breaking, "I just want to say that you don't have to get involved. In fact, the only reason I'm telling you is because I figured you had the right to know. But, again, I don't expect you to get involved. If you need some time then take it. Call me when you're ready to talk."

I started to get up, but Steve pulled me back. The second I was sitting, he pressed his lips to mine. I moaned as he pushed me back, instantly hovering over me. Our lips and bodies began our usual routine of pleasing each other.

Steve broke the kiss before things could get too heated. He leaned back but stayed close to me.

"I'm glad you told me," he whispered. "I know there are a lot of logistics to figure out, but there is one thing I can say right now to help relieve some of your stress."

"What?" I asked with my stomach basically in my throat.

"I want to be involved."

"You do?" I stuttered, my voice breaking. Steve smiled at me as he moved some hair out of my face.

"Of course I do, baby," he whispered. I let out a small moan as Steve kissed me again.

"There's one more thing," I said, stopping things before they could get started.

"What is it, baby girl?"

"Johnny deserves to know who his father is. All his life, I've said that I didn't know who it was, that it was a one-night stand. But now that I know, now that you know, and now that we're together, he deserves to be involved. I mean. . . We're a family, Steve. I want us to be one. At least, I want us to try."

Steve leaned in and delicately pressed his lips to mine. When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to mine.

"I want us to be one too," he whispered. He smiled as he added with a small chuckle, "He's my son. Johnny is my son. Of course I want to be involved, Y/N. You've done an amazing job but you shouldn't have to do this on your own. Whenever you're ready to tell him about us and me being his father, I will be there."

* * * * *

After a lot of discussion and debate with Steve, we figured that Johnny was old enough to handle his mom sleeping with his coach. He definitely deserved to know that his coach was actually his father. We just needed to be gentle about how we told him. I decided that it was probably best for me to tell him alone. Steve didn't fight me on it. He told me to call him and let him know how it goes.

After a lot more debating with myself, I decided to tell him at dinner. I was going to start by telling him about me and Steve secretly dating. Depending on how he responded to that, then I'd tell him what I figured out about Steve.

"Hey, Mom?" Johnny called from the other room. "What's for dinner?"

I looked up when he walked into the family room. "Actually," I cleared my throat, "I was thinking we'd go out for dinner."

"What?" Johnny laughed. "We never go out unless it's a birthday or something. Are we celebrating something?" I stood up and wrapped my arms around myself. "Mom? Is something wrong?"

"No," I said clearing my throat. I let out a small laugh when my son looked at me like he knew there was something I wasn't telling him. "Alright," I sighed, giving in. "There is something I need to talk to you about. It's nothing bad. We just need to talk about it."

"Okay," he said slowly. "I'll go grab my coat."

Maybe going to Johnny's favorite restaurant was a little overkill. We were halfway through our entrées when Johnny couldn't take it anymore.

"Mom," he sighed, putting his fork down. "Can you just tell me what's going on already? It's. . . It's killing me."

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "There are a couple of things I wanted to. . . Needed to talk to you about. They aren't bad, just. . . Complicated."

"Okay," Johnny said, shifting in his seat. "Can you just blurt it out? Might be easier on both of us."

"I've been seeing your basketball coach," I said quickly. I held my breath waiting for his reaction. He looked down at his food as he processed it. Nervous, I began to explain myself. "Look, I didn't mean. . . When we first got together, I had no idea he was your basketball coach. We met at a bar and immediately hit it off. We dated all summer. At first, I kept it from you because I wasn't sure how you'd react to me dating. And then, when I found out Steve was your coach, I knew how you'd react."

"No, you don't," he said, sounding like he was still thinking.

"What?"

"You don't know how I'd react," he said, finally looking at me.

"I don't?"

"Don't get me wrong," he said with a teasing smile, "it's weird. Like really weird. But can I ask you one question?"

"Of course, baby," I said quickly. "What do you want to know?"

"Does Coach Harrington make you happy?"

My heart jumped into my throat at his question. "He does," I said, my voice dropping. "He has made me feel things I haven't felt in a long time."

"Ew," he teased.

"That's not what I meant," I said quickly.

"I know," he laughed. "I'm just messing with you, Mom. But, honestly, I'm glad he makes you happy. You've spent my entire life taking care of me. If Coach Harrington takes care of you, then I'm okay with it."

"You're amazing," I gushed.

"Mom," he groaned.

"Sorry," I chuckled. "I mean it, Johnny. Most teenagers would hate the idea of their mom dating their coach. It really doesn't bother you?"

"No," he shrugged. "I like Coach Harrington. He's awesome."

That was extremely reassuring.

"That's good to hear," I whispered, "because there is something else I need to tell you."

"Okay," he said as he went back to eating his dinner.

"You know how I wasn't sure who your father is," I started this news slower.

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Well. . . I know now."

Johnny's head snapped up. "You do?" He stuttered.

"I figured it out," I said, my voice soft.

"Who is it?" He asked, scooting closer to the table. I smiled at him, suddenly nervous to tell him.

"It's Coach Harrington," I whispered.

"What?"

"It was Steve that I met that night at the Halloween party," I further explained.

"Wait," Johnny stuttered. "So you're saying. . . Coach Harrington is. . . My dad?"

"He is."

He cleared his throat before asking, "Does he know?"

"He knows," I smiled, my eyes filling with tears. "In fact, I was with him when I figured it out. He offered to be here when I told you but I thought it would be better. . ."

"Does he want to be involved?" Johnny cut me off. He cleared his throat before asking, "I mean. . . Does he want to be a part of our family?"

I reached over and gently placed my hand on his. He looked up at me and my heart sank when I saw the tears threatening to spill.

"That is exactly what he wants, sweetheart," I whispered. "If you want that too."

* * * * *

I walked into Johnny's basketball practice, my heart jumping into my throat when I saw my son talking to Steve. It felt hard to breathe as I watched them talk. I wrapped my arms around myself, not wanting to interrupt them. Steve caught me over Johnny's shoulder. He said something to him before nodding my way.

"Mom!" Johnny yelled as he ran over to me. I laughed as he wrapped me in a hug.

He's never done this. He's never been affectionate with me. Especially somewhere his friends could see him hugging his mother. Ever since I told him about Steve being his father, he's been like this more with me. He's also been eager to go to practice.

"How was practice?" I asked as I returned the hug.

"Awesome, as always," he laughed. Suddenly, his smile dropped. "Umm. . . Mom?"

"What is it, hun?"

"Can we. . . I was talking to Coach. . . I invited him over for dinner," he finally got out. "Is that okay?"

"Of course, baby," I smiled.

His demeanor changed as he got nervous. "I just thought it would be good for him to join us at dinner a couple of times since he's. . ."

"Your father," I finished for him. "How is that, by the way? I mean, how are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," he shrugged. "It's a little weird but I've always liked him. It might take me some time before I'm ready to call him Dad."

"You don't have to start calling him that," I said quickly. "At least not right away. Take your time, sweetheart."

"Hey, you two."

"Hi. . . Coach," Johnny said, glancing at me.

"What are you guys talking about?" Steve asked glancing at me.

"Johnny was just telling me that he invited you to dinner tonight," I said. "Anything sound good to either of you?"

"Pizza," Johnny said instantly. Steve and I shared a look.

"Nothing homemade?" I offered.

"Nah," Johnny said before jogging to the locker room. I couldn't help but follow him with my eyes. I gasped when Steve stepped up behind me.

"He's okay," he leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"Is he?" I didn't bother to turn around.

Steve grabbed my waist and spun me around. He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. He glanced around the empty gym before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. He broke the kiss and kept his face inches from mine.

"He's fine," he reassured. "I talked to him before practice. Or should I say, he talked to me."

"He did?" I whispered. "What did he say?"

"He told me that you told him about us and about me being his father," Steve explained. "All he said was that he wanted to make sure that I would be around for a while."

"And what did you say?"

Steve smiled as he pulled me closer. He leaned down and pressed his lips delicately to mine. I moaned softly as I deepened the kiss. We broke apart, both of us breathing heavily.

"I said that I would be in his and your life for the rest of mine."

"What did he say?" I asked as I played with the collar of his shirt. I looked up to see him smiling at me.

"He said that he wanted me to be in your life for the rest of his life," Steve whispered. "And he said that he sees how happy I make you and how he would get me fired and destroy my life if I ever broke your heart."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sorry," I giggled. "He shouldn't have threatened you like that."

"It's okay," he shrugged. "It's kinda sweet how protective he was of you."

"He's a good kid," I blushed.

"He's a fantastic kid," Steve chuckled. His smile softened. "All thanks to you. Y/N, you did an amazing job with him. And I hope you know that I will do everything I can to give you and Johnny a good life. I know I wasn't there to help you through the hard years, but I'm here now and I want to be here for the rest of my life. I love you, Y/N."

My breath got caught in my throat. Overcome with happiness, I grabbed his face and smashed my lips onto his. I felt him smile as he tightened his arms around my waist and deepened the kiss. I broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily.

"I love you too, Steve."

Part 2

[nrdmssgs]

Prazdnik (part 1)

Masterlist

Part 2

Pairing: Nikto x reader Fluff. This guy can't let himself just start a happy life, but its all fluff. AN: I swear, I don't have a single idea, how this happened, but I woke up with the strongest itch to comfort Nikto today. Summary: you are trying to express your gratitude and comfort your colleague in a not-so-conventional way.

You figured out, that Nikto is not a big fan of communicating with others, when he was off duty. You asked him to teach you how to pick locks without extra noise. And so he did - he spent much time and effort between missions to make sure, you know your ways around different types of locks. But every time, you tried to thank him after yet another lesson - he stood up and left the room. As awkward as it looked from the outside, it never seemed to bother him.

He never joined your little group celebrations. Of course, others too sometimes passed them due to various reasons, but Nikto never came. At first, you thought, he just had a full life outside the work and had no time for his colleagues, but soon you noticed, he rarely left the base, even when he had such an opportunity.

On a rare occasion, he was ok with you siting beside him in the armory, as he took care of his gear. Although every time, you approached him, Nikto 'greeted' you with 'is it going to be a question about lock picking or some more of your nonsense?'. 'Nonsense' was you asking him little, not too intimate questions about his life and culture. You just wanted to find out, what makes this man smile, what, if anything at all, brings him peace and comforts him.

Nikto never overshared, but little by little he opened up. He seemed especially at ease, when he told you something about his childhood: little children games, they played with other kids from the neighborhood, his favorite radio-shows from back then, celebrations, they used to have. You couldn't be a hundred percent sure because of his mask - but you thought, his eyes seemed softer at these moments.

There was only one way to find out for sure, if those memories really made him as happy, as you thought. And it also provided you with a way to thank him for his help. So you sank into studying endless forums and videos, to make a surprise. After weeks of preparing (after all, you didn't have that much spare time between the missions, trainings and paper work) you gave a final look to your private room and sighed. It would either humiliate you till the end of times, or bring a smile on his face. So... worth a risk.

"I taught you for almost half a year... only for you to not be able to pick the simplest lock? And where could you possibly lose a key to your own room?" Nikto grumbles, following you down an empty corridor. He was clearly not happy with you interrupting his first calm evening after the mission, and it made you regret your idea in advance.

He opens your door with such ease, as if he was holding not a picklock, but your key. You await any reaction on what he sees inside your room, but Nikto turns away and starts walking back, not even peeking inside.

"Wait! I have to show you something! Its important!" You grab him by the sleeve in desperation and drag back.

Nikto freezes on your threshold, finally seeing, what is exactly going on in your room. He looks back at you in confusion.

"What's this all about? Is it some joke?" He carefully rounds up a large sheet of craft paper laid out on the floor. A sheet, that you painted for almost a week, occasionally looking at photographs of festive tables from Russia.

"Its a surprise. I know, celebrations are not your thing really and you dont celebrate Christmas. But I thought that maybe, just maybe, youll be willing to celebrate something from your childhood with me. This is... skatert`*" You feel awkward. It's a good thing, your room is lit up only with a few candles (one covered with a peeling grater, because he told him, thats how they used to make a fancy lamp out of practically nothing). This way he won't see blush on your face.

He descends on the floor, and moves away a few plates and tangerines, you placed on the paper to be able to properly read, what you've written in the middle of your improvised festive table. You are ready to die of shame then and there, but he reaches out an open palm to you.

"Give me a pen. There is a mistake. 'S novym godom*' goes with 'M' at the end." You can't believe your ears, but pull out a pen from the pocket.

Nikto takes it, but doesn't proceed to correct your writing - he still looks you in the eyes.

"Sadis`, nauchu tebya, kak pravil`no*." You don't understand a single word, put he pats the empty space beside him and you sit down.

"So, what's about all this with a New Year in October?" You almost see amused wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, as if Nikto is smiling. But his question still comes out in a cautious tone.

"Well... Consider this a rehearsal. I wanted to give you your favorite holiday, but I probably made the wrong salad, and the tablecloth is not the same as in your childhood, and instead of champagne we will have tea and instead of a TV... a box with a hole and painted buttons. So you can tell me what to fix, and I'll work on the 'Novyy God 2.0' till the end of December."

Nikto turns to you fully and tilts his head to the side. "You're saying, this is supposed to resemble an Olivier salad?"

"I know, it looks all wrong, but hear me out!" You move a plate with your interpretation of Russian festive food to him. "It tastes much better than it looks! Try!"

He hesitates for a minute, then another. Then he moves the candles further away, so his face remains in the darkness and unfastens the straps holding his mask in place. On one hand you don't mean to make him uncomfortable with your stare, but on the other you genuinely care for his initial reaction to what you've cooked, so you glance at him briefly. You can still see the outlines of scarred skin, but everything you care for is a tiny shadow of a smile, you notice on his lips.

"Kak ty... ok, this tastes much better than it looks." For the first time you hear some unmasked joy in his voice.

For some time, the room falls into a comfortable silence. The candlelight flickers, casting vague shadows on both of you. You rejoice simply at the opportunity to sit quietly next to him and enjoy the moment, while munching on what you've prepared - even if the table is not real, and there are still two and a half months before the holiday. Nikto traces the flowers, you painted on paper with his fingers.

"You even made a TV... What for?" His voice, much softer and quieter than usual, sounds somewhere above your ear. While eating, you moved a bit closer to him and Nikto didn't seem to protest.

"Oh, that's the best part! I remember you telling me, that you used to listen to New Year greetings from the president on radio and television. So today I will work as a president... I don’t know, president of our base."

"My fucking god, you serious?" Nikto almost choked on yet another spoon of salad.

You didn't give yourself time to develop any shame or cringe and proceeded to the big box with a square cut out hole. If you are disgracing yourself for this man to have some good memories of today - you are going all the way down.

"Ok, I have a little speech here. Please bear with the shittiest version of Russian, you've ever heard..."

When you begin to hesitatingly and slowly read the congratulations, Nikto presses his fist to his face and quietly shakes in silent laughter. As you end and proceed to back to your place - he can't hold back his chuckles. It’s so unusual to see this man relaxed, maybe even happy.

"Idi syuda, prezident ty moy*." He motions for you to come over and allows you to sit down and lean against his shoulder, adjusting you so, that his face stays out of your sight. You press yourself against his side, enjoying the unexpected but warm gesture. Who knows, if there ever will be one more time, when you can feel his soft human nature?

But soon his body tenses, his hand, almost covering your shoulders, retreats.

"We don't do this stuff in Russia." Nikto gestures up, and you don't get it right away, what does he mean. But then you see, what exactly he noticed, and curse under your breath. You absolutely forgot a branch of dry eucalyptus that you hung from the ceiling of your room so that it always smells nice.

"No-no-no, Nikto! It's not, what you think, I never meant to-"

"Good thing, of course, you didn't." He jerks away and reaches for his mask. And at this moment a strange, almost crazy idea appears in your head.

"Nikto? How do you do it in Russia?" He freezes with a mask in his hands, his eyes piercing you, as if he tries to read you mind.

"...how we do what?"

"How you... steal a kiss to find out if you have chances? We have this silly thing with a mistletoe. And how do you guys do that?"

He seems to stop breathing. You see his intense gray-blue eyes, studying you, as if this was the first time, he ever saw you. What you make out are his features right now as Nikto hides his face beneath the shadow of his mask.

"We ask. Sometimes, just go for it. There is one tradition, that can be potentially used for this purpose, but..."

"Show me!" Words leave your mouth sooner than you manage to fully understand, what you are asking for.

He hesitates, looking at you, then at the candles. Then he tears off a piece of paper laid out on the floor and divides it in half. Nikto hands one half to you.

“Here you need to write your deepest wish. Don't show it to anyone.” Your wish fits into one short word. He does the same with his piece of paper and surprisingly his wish also looks short.

“Now you need to burn the wish over your glass, so that the ashes fall into the champagne.”

You do as he tells, watching ashes falling into a cup of tea, while he lights up his piece with the nearest candle.

"Now you drink. And then you must kiss somebody, otherwise, the wish never comes true." His voice is barely audible, as if Nikto talks to himself. You drink your tea, not paying attention to the smoky burnt paper taste. When you move closer to him - he doesn't pull you away. But as your face leans closer to his, he sighs apologetically, covers your forehead with his hand and presses his lips against it.

It's not even a kiss, but the strangest caress, you've ever felt. Niktos breath smells of ash and a tangerine, he was eating previously. A celebration, with a drop of sorrow. A happiest moment, that is never allowed. A feast in the middle of a battleground. That's him - that is Nikto.

"Prazdnik moy...*" He whispers and stays like this for a few moments. But then he stands up and disappears behind the door of your room with a quite "I'm sorry."

At the bottom of his mug there is still a piece of unburned paper. Two barely readable letters: "o" and "u" are still there. And if you ever notice them - you will understand, that you two share a wish.

*skatert` (here and next Russian) - a table cloth

*S novym godom - Happy New Year

*Sadis`, nauchu tebya, kak pravil`no - come sit here, I’ll teach you how to do it right

*Idi syuda, prezident ty moy - come here, my president

*Prazdnik moy - my holiday (used as a pet name here. rare one, but possible)

[f4iry-bell]

@emelia07 sorry i couldn't directly answer the ask, my stupid ass accidentally posted midway editing. ANYWAY, this quite long for an one shot and there will be a part two (for the lovers part). lowkey longan huntzberger vibes

She drove him to the absolute end of the world. And with just two sentences, it's all Jameson Hawthorne has been thinking about. Jameson likes to party, in his own way, not the silly college parties that he gets invited to. But he was in college, and is in college to meet people, make friends, and have fun. Maybe these people can learn a thing or two from him.

So he accepted an invite and went to a party. The biggest mistake he made since he joined college. Because that's where he met her.

Being in a party full of stupid men was enough to piss Y/n off, on top of that she saw a man with probably a narcissistic personality disorder. There was a group of people talking, one of them was her friend, her friend called her over and got her involved in the conversation. She was surprised how many people were interested in Jameson Hawthorne.

“Have you smoked weed”

“What is the most expensive thing that you own”

“What is do you like”

Tons of questions were asked to him. 

“I’m a man of riddles and games. There isn't a single riddle that I can't solve” He told them with a confident smile.

Y/n didn't know much about this man, but she had the urge to humble him.

“I have a riddle for you.” She said, grabbing his attention. 

Jameson liked it, a challenge. He thought, a random girl at a random college party, how hard the riddle could be?

“What has no wings, but flies. Has no eyes but knows every colour” She said. Everyone was confused, including Jameson himself. He tried to think of an answer but he didn't get one. He tried to think of something mythical, something metaphorical. But he couldn't get anything that fits.

“Quiet now, are we?” She smiled so proudly of herself. Jameson didn't answer, just stared at her intensely. She was the one to break eye contact and leave.

Jameson spent days looking for an answer, he even asked his brothers for help. None of them could figure it out. He was not the type to give up. But there's a first time for everything, he thought. He headed to the girl's apartment and knocked on her door. Going to parties come handy, you can easily find any girl’s apartment.

She opened the door. “You need something?” She asked him. 

“Answer” It was all he said, his pride was too high to form a complete sentence.

“For what? We don't take any classes together” She acted like she doesn't know what he's talking about.

“Quit the act. You know what I want” He said calmly. 

“Oh, you mean the riddle? I thought you could find the answer to any riddle” She smirked.

“Well, since last week I can't. Now, answer.” He asked.

“Where are your manners?” She raised an eyebrow.

Jameson rolled his eyes. “Please?”

She smiled. “The answer is; nil”

“Nil? As in nothing? Doesn't make sense ‘What has wings but can't fly—” He was cut off by her.

“Yeah, yeah. It doesn't make any sense because there is no answer. I don't know the answer either, I just randomly made it up without having an answer.”

Till this moment Jameson was amused and intrigued by this girl. But now? He was frustrated. He was speechless.

“Do you know how much time I spent on this ridiculous so-called riddle?” He was mad.

“Wah, wah, wah. I don't know and I don't care. You got your answer, now bye.” Then she slammed the door. 

Jameson calmed himself down. It's just a stupid thing. He can't let it get to him. But it did, she did.

_

He tried hard not to think about her, and how she played him but he failed every time. Sometimes he even admired it. But he wants to get even or a step ahead of her. So, he joined her journalism class and sat right next to her.

“That's my friend’s seat” She told him.

“Not anymore” He smiled.

“You're not even in this class” She stated.

“Not anymore” He gave her a cheeky smile.

“You're interested in journalism?” She asked.

“I'm full of surprises”

“Whatever”

Jameson learnt that she is on top of the class, and likes to stay that way. So he decided to compete with her, he has barely any interest in journalism but he wants to get back at her. Finally, there was an actual competition between them. There was only one spot left in the Yale newspaper. The editor said whoever writes the best article gets the spot. 

Y/n had too many ideas to write about but she finally settled on writing about the secret society, but she needed information and it's already too late. Tomorrow is the submission, so she sneaked inside the library at midnight and even picked the lock of the restricted section to get access to the newspapers there. She found nothing except a Yale newspaper which had a bunch of suspects on who could be that year's members of the secret society, and she headed towards the library exit. To her luck, Jameson Hawthorne was standing right there, he looked like he was waiting for her.

“Too late to be here, don't you think?” he asked. “I must let you know, I do admire a good lock picking” He said leaning against the door frame.

“I could ask you the same question” She said ignoring the last sentence.

Jameson smirked. “I was just wandering around the campus and found the library door slightly open and look what I've found inside” 

“You're seriously not going to tell me, are you?” She asked. “We're not like in 4th grade or something”

“It'll get you suspended, and I’ll get the spot” He shrugged.

“Oh, so this is how you want your win? By getting me suspended?” She chuckled, she knew by now that Jameson Hawthorne likes to win but he also likes to play.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Very well. You still haven't answered my question.” He noted.

“I came to look for information for my article. Not that it's any of your—.” She stopped her sentence midway and took a look at his outfit. He was wearing a suit with a tie which had blue and white stripes. He was also holding a hat and it looked like something was inside the hat. Who would wear a suit with Yale colours and hold a hat on a wednesday at 12:45am? 

“Wait, you're part of the secret soceity, aren't you?” She asked, curiosity filled. 

“One never tells” His eyes drifted to her hands which held the newspapers. Jameson smirked and then spoke. “Good night, Ace” And then he left.

“Wait!” She called and ran after him. “Tell me about it,” She asked.

“Like I said, one never tells” And then he walked away. 

_

Two days later Y/n searched for Jameson everywhere and found him in the cafeteria mixing up random drinks. She slammed a paper on the table.

Jameson looked at it. “Mm, I see you've read my article” He smirked.

“You stole my idea!” She tried not to yell.

“Really?”

“You don't even care about this paper, or the spot.”

“Listen, Ace. We both wrote about the same thing, one just did it better than the other. And the better one gets the spot.” He explained with a sly smirk.

“Because you are a member! Obviously you'd know more than me!” She pointed.

“Better luck next time” He was still smirking.

“Screw you” With that she left. Jameson obviously didn't know why the spot meant so much to her.

_

Jameson noticed that she didn't sit at the usual spot, instead she sat at the back of the class and she looked so tired, almost like she had been crying. He wanted to go and sit next to her but what's the point? He won the game. She is no longer a part of his life, right?

part 2 →

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c21. 90, La Paura

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, mentions of death.

song to listen to when reading this: Walk on By, Dionne Warwick.

abstract: Simon. Difficult chapter, I don't really want to speak about it, just read it already. Hunts me to this day.

notes: '90 La Paùra'. in the popular Italian game 'Tombola' (similar to bingo) every number from 1 to 90 is associated with a word or concept. number 90 is 'Fear'.

It was terribly pointless to make her go to the office just to sit in her desk and have Zoom sessions all day. She couldn't do it at home, she still had to come in, and she hated it. She started to dress less professional, no one could see her from the waist down anyways! She noticed many people that worked at the headquarters started to go home for Christmas, the ones that were not deployed anyway. Salvo was going to fly to Italy on the 22nd and be back in San Francisco to the other half of his family for New Years. 'Perchè non vieni da me a Capodanno?' he had asked that she join him for New Years. 'It's a five hour flight honey, and I have Jinx…' she had responded. He didn't even bother asking if she had a friend the dog could stay with, he knew the answer already. 'I'll see you in January, I'll need to come to the base anyways…' She whined at the thought of not seeing a friendly face for another month. She finished her last session with the last patient of the day and stayed a little longer to finish some psych evaluations that were due for the end of the year.

She was quite surprised to see her phone light up and ring. John Price. 'Hello?' She answered almost immediately. Did something happen, did they need her help? It had been 2 days since the mission in the crater. She imagined their work was done and they should come back soon… 'Hi Jude, hope I'm not disturbing you, how are you doing?' His tone was soft and caring. She tried to convince herself everything was fine. 'I'm all good… is everything okay?' she asked trying not to sound too worried. 'Yes, everything's fine.' She leaned back into her chair, exhaling slightly. She brought up her legs to her chest. 'I was calling to ask if everything was alright with the reports you had to give Laswell' he stated, to which she replied she had already called her and sent all the paperwork to her. She stayed up late finishing them couple of nights ago, she was over-excited and wanted to finish the work as soon as possible. 'You know, we're actually in the Persian Gulf right now…' he started speaking and she heard him tapping on the burner phone or maybe putting it on a table… 'You're on speaker Jude, I have MacTavish, Gaz and Simon here…' She said hi timidly, she was wondering the true reason behind the call. He apparently organised a whole meeting before calling her… Simon was glad he could finally hear her voice, and at the same time had a feeling this would only mean he would think of her for the rest of the day. They were in a small town near the Persian Gulf. They spent two days in Al-Jareena cleaning up the mess. That meant, re-establishing a sort of government, helping the people with securing buildings from bombs and grenades. They set up stands with food and clean water, helped entire families reunite and other bury their loved ones. Still, they were worshipping them. They were their heroes, they could finally live again. And it was mortifying, it was messed up and cruel. Peace but at what cost.

They flew to the Persian Gulf. They wanted to check there weren't any problems there. To be fair, they went because of the book. They all agreed it finished there, 'The Pilgrimage', so they went to check, but the cities were in peace, Khorram had never even been there. 'They told me you knew something about the gas field…' said Price. If Simon saw her now he would have smiled. She immediately sat up straight and opened her laptop, nearly knocking her water bottle down. Opened Google without even blinking. 'Yes, the South Pars - North Dome…' she was saying. 'Do you think it had anything to do with their plan? Since it's in the gulf and it's a big source of income for the country…', she jumped in, corrected him, 'The counties, sir. Iran and Qatar have shared ownership.' Price raised his eyes from the phone for a second. 'Right, yes.' She frantically searched online for news that could help her come up for something to say. In the meantime, the captain spoke again.

It's funny she almost doesn't remember what happened. Her brain is still blocking out the memories. She remembers at night, when she's about to fall asleep, but forgets by morning. It's a blur. It happened so fast and yet, it was a slow motion sequence. The door opened and she raised her eyes to look at who was coming in without even knocking. She had thought death was gonna take her in her office last year, she was ready to die in the arms of a man back then. Now, as death stepped in her office one more time, she didn't feel ready at all. Yet, it all made sense. She was expecting him, she knew all along. Her face turned pale, her blood freezing cold in her veins. Her mouth fell open, maybe in an attempt to scream. No sound left her mouth. Her fingers still lingered on the keyboard, they were starting to shake. You deserve this, and you should have known better. You survived once but your time has come.

Arash Tehrani stood in front of her.

The face she had looked at with compassionate eyes, his friendly smile, his calm demeanour were only a dream. His posture was hunched over, military boots heavy with sand. His bloodshot eyes stared into her soul, his beard had grown too long and his face was dirty with mud and warpaint. He locked the door behind him. 'Jude, you hear me?' the captain's voice from her phone was high, with a pinch of annoyance. She was asking Arash the permission to speak. She wasn't even going to deny it, she knew what was coming. She could't just fake being surprised and happy to see him. The man in front of her took two steps in her direction and gave her a small nod. Speak. 'Yes I hear you now…' She responded. She was still looking at him. He came close to her desk, he looked like a lion that was studying his prey, he looked like he was preparing to jump on her and finally kill her. She couldn't look away. My gun is under the coffee table, I can't reach it, do I have a sharp object, I don't. He had every right to be furious, and she deserved the ending she was going to get. He had every right to be there. 'I was saying, do you have any information that we could use about the gas field, or anything related to the book?' The voice from the phone asked again. The book. He tilted his head with an amused impression, like he wasn't expecting her to be a part of all this. But he did, he knew all along. She had deeply wronged his trust. Something he said during a vulnerable state in therapy was being used against him, against his people. There was not greater good, no right or wrong, reality and justice were abstract concepts.

'The book uh…?' His voice was a raspy whisper, there was no way they would hear him over the phone. His accent had gotten thicker, maybe from going back to speaking his mother-tongue in Al-Jareena. She didn't flinch and kept her eyes on him. He finally moved again, circling her desk. She could feel his presence behind her back, shivers travelled down her spine as her shoulders tensed up. Is he going to hit me? 'Tell them you know nothing', he demanded. She said it. She thought she had lost the ability to talk all of a sudden. She kept a serious tone, she did her best, at least, to sound like she wasn't on the verge of a panic attack. She said she didn't really think anything was connected. She was met with disappointed silence on the other hand.

Please please please, realise something is wrong. Something is wrong you just have to listen. Panic was finally settling in. I've seen this film before. She relived it all, it wasn't going to end differently. Am I really going to get raped again? She felt Arash's breath on the back of her neck and had to keep a whimper from escaping her lips. It's happening again. He was waiting for her to end the call. 'Jude is everything alright?' asked a voice. His voice. He knows, he has to know, he understood. Her head fell slightly foreword when she felt the pressure of the muzzle of a gun at the back of her head. She had ran out of time. What even was time? What was she doing there? Just kill me already please I can't survive this again, I won't survive this time if you keep me alive, just kill me. She thought about Jinx. Simon would feed him right? He would take him on walks. Maybe train him to be a K9 dog or something. Simon would remember Jinx, right? She slowly raised her hands from her desk, seeing them shake so much nearly frightened her. She caught a glimpse of how they might have looked from the outside, if someone was to come in her office right now. The scene was majestic. She was completely helpless, the gun was painfully pressed to her head, her hands trembling in the air. That was it. When she thought about having to reply to Simon's question, only one word came to mind. She envisioned him for the last time, his handsome features, his cold expression. She spoke.

'Splendid.'

notes: she spoke

taglist:

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[grape-eating-vampire]

alright, it's done. i finished it.

this is the third and final part of things that happened in my first bg3 playthrough ever that I found so funny that I put them in my notes (spoilers below)

let me start this by saying I have only cried twice in the 155 hours it took me to complete this shit. however, I have almost-screamed at the characters more times than I'd like to admit. but first here's stuff that happened since the last one of these posts I made:

after killing Orin I went around Baldur's Gate for a while and did odd sidequests, including

clearing out a haunted house and sidelining to kill a stinky man in a wardrobe (and drag his body to a guy two streets over)

entirely ignored Gale's quest to look at a book because I kept getting arrested there after having killed the boss mage guy

I also foolishly though this wouldn't have any consequences. oh boy was I wrong

went to see a underwater prison, got told off by Gortash, decided to explore it after killing him, and promptly forgot to do so

killed Gortash! fuck that guy the only good thing about him is his fancy robe

tried to recruit a dragon called Ansur, found out the emperor is Balduran (????????? honestly I was shocked)

killed said dragon and felt like I was playing skyrim all over again

found a letter ("Dear Ansur") by Balduran/the Emperor. this was the first time I cried. I could still cry.

patch 6 came out! that was yesterday and I spent about 10 minutes trying out new kisses and sitting on Shadowhearts stool in camp (she now says "I'm glad you decided to join me" or something like that when you do)

went pretty much straight to the underground pool thing where the brain was supposed to be

failed abysmally to Dominate The Brain™

got pulled out by the emperor and had to start beef with Lae'zel because I had also forgotten to care about Orpheus and the hammer from the House of Hope

admittedly, I didn't really forget, I just didn't want to spend any more time with Raphael than I absolutely had to

my +14 persuasion saved the day once more and Lae'zel was fine with the one hope in her life getting his brains sucked out

went off to fight the brain once more. my game crashed twice trying to load that cutscene.

met all my allies! I forgot how many there were actually, and I only called on two of the groups later on

fought a lot. like a LOT lot.

got to the Netherbrain and kicked it's ass*

*had to reload about 3 times and try again because Minsc at level 12 was stuck on 100 hp for some reason and kept fucking dying

finally managed to kill the fucker! had Lae'zel deal the killing blow which seemed very fitting

more cutscenes, but this one actually didn't crash the game, I got to look at some beautiful unloaded walls and stuff instead

Lae'zel left right after we got to the haven. understandably so

remember how I ignored Gale's quest? well he didn't blow himself up like he inteded earlier, but he left to becOME A GOD????? I cannot fucking deal with this man

Karlach on the pier. this was the second time I cried, but unproportionally much so

Wyll left with her for Avernus, the little cutscene of them arriving there made me feel a bit better

Astarion had to leg it because of the sun (sorry)

Shadowheart didn't do much of anything during all of this, neither did Minsc, Halsin or Jaheira

decided to go help kids with Halsin, seems to fit my character (eventhough I really didn't roleplay so much)

we got an epilogue! yippie!

caught up there with everyone, except Lae'zel (who was there via the fantasy version of zoom) and Gale (who was there via the fantasy equivalent of a voicemail)

tried to hug Gale, couldn't, almost cried again but managed

also met a tressym who I recognized from fanart as Tara. I don't know why she was there, we never met her before and Gale hadn't mentioned her either

read a LOT of letters the party had received. barely kept my composure at the Gur's letter to Astarion

Withers did a cool speech and the game ended

after all of this and so much more that I didn't take notes about, I can confidentially say that Baldur's Gate 3 is the best video game I have ever played, and within it's genre my favourite ever!

I'm also emotionally devestated, especially after these final parts (but in a good way)

that's all, thanks for reading!

[generational-atrophy]

(HWS America x Reader) Fourth of July! ( w/ S/O that's scared of fireworks)

(Gender Neutral) Scenario ~ A/N happy fourth!!! reminder that armed revolution is ok and the police should be completely reformed and the american state is built on the blood of slaves and natives. anyway

Trigger Warning: Guilty thoughts (which get shut down,) other than just fluff!

You'd been called a lot of things. A stick in the mud, no fun, a party ruiner, and much more. All just because celebrating the Fourth of July like everyone else seemed like stressful misery.  Sure, not all of it was so exhausting, but when night fell, you couldn't do anything but turn up your music to an unhealthy degree and cower under the blankets. So, when your first July with your new boyfriend, Alfred, arrived, you weren't sure what to do.  Now, not only did you have the pressure of celebrating the worst holiday of the year, but also one of the best. His birthday.

You knew about his plans as soon as he made them. Like every July for the last 415 years, his birthday party was going to be the most bombastic event of the year. Party all throughout the day at his old mansion, hundreds invited, rented attractions and performers,  all capped off with a magnificent fireworks display as the sun sets.  Fun, for everyone! Including you, for some of it at least.

Before the party started, he made it clear that he didn't expect you to participate all day.  Not everyone has the social battery that he does and the last thing he wanted on his special day was you to be upset. Plus, he told you he wanted you to save some energy to properly gawk at his world-renowned firework show.

So you did as he suggested. The first part of the day was spent clinging to his side as he went around talking to friends new and old alike. The only time you didn't spend trapped under his arm was whenever he'd try to introduce you to politicians, politicians who had absolutely no business knowing who you were, at least. Then you'd slink away, joining your own friends in the many colourful games he had set up all over the lawn. But having an entire country fair dedicated solely to your boyfriend is bound to cause some imposter syndrome.

So about halfway through the party, you retired inside. But even though the distant chatter of people became muffled, you didn't feel any more comforted.  Your boyfriend was still out there, having a great time without you. Your friends too, were partying without a care in the world. And once again you had become a stick in the mud.

“Am I making this about myself by not having fun?” You couldn't help but wonder as you looked down at the red, white, and blue crowd. Such thoughts kept you locked inside, away from being forced to ponder that question anymore. For the rest of the day, you rarely ventured outside to steal a snack from Alfred's utterly deranged spread of all-American food. “I'll make it up during the fireworks show...” You concluded nervously.

But as the sun began to set, you couldn't help but panic. Alfred would want you to come down and watch with him... but there was nothing you wanted to do less in the whole world at that moment. Bright, deafeningly loud, surrounded by others, all while having to force a reaction for him. But... but you'd do it because you loved him, right?

“Y/N?” Alfred asks from the doorway to your room. His voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you spin around to face him. As you realised he could see you, you stopped biting your nails and forced a smile.

“Is it about to start?” You ask, trying to keep your voice casual.

“Yeah, wanna come?”

“Course, just give me, like... a minute, ok?”

He pauses, looking you up and down, his expression unreadable. He rests against the doorway and asks, ”Are you sure you want to come?“

”What?“

“You don't have to come... if you don't want to,” he says in a quiet, comforting voice while crossing his arms.

“What are you talking about? I just said I'd go,” You say, confused at his sudden non-committal to the event.

“Yeah, but I'm saying that if you're gonna be uncomfortable, I don't want you to come.”

“L-Listen... I'm sorry that I've been up here all day-”

He cuts you off, “Don't worry about it. I'm just happy you were there for a little bit,”

“Ok but- I'm going to make up for my absence at the fireworks show.”

He stares at you, his face still unreadable, ”Only if you want to. Which, again, you haven't said that you want to yet,“

You flinch. Why couldn't he be the doofus he is with everyone else, with you? “I don't want to, but you'll prove me wrong, right?”

“Ok, then let's just hang out in here.” He states, walking towards you.

“Wh- No. You were so excited to see the fireworks!”

“Yeah, I was. But I was more excited to just... spend time with you,” He says, crouching in front of you and taking your cheek in his hand.

“Alfred...”  You whine, trying to pull away.

“Listen, I got a potentially infinite amount of fireworks shows in front of me. But I only got what, 80 more birthdays left with you? I'd much rather see you happy than some cool explosions in the sky,“  He smiles.

You sigh, pausing for a moment as he looks at you expectantly. Meeting his gaze, you concede, ”Sure. If that's what you want.“

He grins, taking your hand in his, ”It's totally what I want.“

Before you can try to protest, he drags you out of your seat by your hand. He brings you downstairs, past the view of all of his partygoers, sitting you down in the basement. You try to speak before he cuts you off.

”Just hang out down here for a little bit, alright? I'll be right back,” He paces back and forth for a moment excitedly, before running back upstairs. So there you wait, sitting confused on his couch, waiting for him to return with whatever idea he had had.

And after about 5 minutes of you sitting on your phone, he returned. He was carrying multiple plates of the food you and him liked best, as well as a couple of blankets (all of which displayed the American flag because well- it's Alfred,) He sets them down on the coffee table and places his hands on his hips, looking down at you like he was expecting something.

“Woah, uh- you planning to sustain us for a week down here?”  You joke.

“If you'd like that, for sure,” He laughs, but it's clear he's a little serious.

He rushes to sit next to you, wrapping you up in one of the blankets. He pulls you closer to him by the hips, leaning his head against yours as he turns on the tv in front of both of you. Outside, booms rattle the ceiling, causing you to shake against him. But with every boom, he squeezes you tighter.

Even as the world outside shakes and rattles with noise, you knew you were safe with him. Every time you would start to shudder again, he quickly turned up the volume of the tv. By a couple of hours in, the sound of the fireworks outside was completely drowned out by the noise of some random old show Alfred loved.

“Alfred?”

”What's up?“ He responds, rubbing your side comfortingly.

”How come this doesn't remind you of like, wartime or anything like that? I mean- I just wouldn't expect someone like you to like that kind of thing anymore.“

He sighs melancholically, eyes turning to the side, “It did for a little bit. Like you said, it's hard not to remember that kinda stuff.”

You readjust yourself to look at him more intently, intertwining your fingers with his, “It doesn't anymore, though?”

“Nah. Not anymore. Like, it kinda makes me feel better now. You know, like bad things keep happening, but it's fine. Cause I got to see a fireworks show again this year! Which means all that bad stuff is just gonna be the past now.”

You turn back to the show, leaning your head on his shoulder. In response, he wraps his arm around your back, “That's a nice way to think about it,” You mumble.

“Gotta find nice ways to think about stuff. Or else, everything sucks forever,” He says matter-of-factly, causing both of you to chuckle for a moment at his phrasing.

“Weird that so many powerful people hang out with you when you talk like-” You start to say, before being cut off by another boom from outside. He notices immediately, clicking his tongue sympathetically and squeezing your shoulder to reassure you.

“They gotta. How are you gonna be running America without talking to America?” He laughs, trying to get you to relax.

“Uh- I don't know if you're entirely representative of the entire population, Alfred.”

“What are you talking about?” He exclaims sarcastically, “I'm the most average American guy in like, the whole country!“

”Average people can't throw around cars like tennis balls!” You laugh. And for the rest of the night, you laughed at his stupid jokes. Anytime the house would be rocked by the explosions outside, he would make sure you were focusing on the moment you two were sharing, rather than the fear you were used to every year on that day. Why stay outside in the summer heat, when you can cuddle up with someone you love in a chill basement,  eating food you both adore?

Much better than fireworks, he concluded. And you couldn't help but agree.

[raaorqtpbpdy]

The One

For the Phic Phight prompts: Soulmate Au where after your soulmate  dies, you can only see in black  and white. As in you see normal colors  until they die and then only in  black and white for the rest of your  life, so you only ever know if you  had a soulmate once it's too late.  Except Character A's (up to you who  you want it to be) soulmate is  Danny. While Danny is in Phantom form,  character A's vision is in black  and white, but returns to normal color  when Danny is Fenton. Character  A is going crazy trying to find their  soulmate who keeps dying and  getting resurrected. (from @ghostboidanny) and Wes is the first one to find out Danny's secret. No One Knows AU. (from @murphy-kitt)

Chapter 4: A Burst of Red

AO3 Link

[Warnings for minor violence]

This ghost hero shit was not easy. Hiding it wasn't easy either. Honestly, Danny had no idea why Sam and Tucker hadn't called him out on his bullshit excuses already. He wanted so badly to just come out and tell everyone what had happened, that the portal hadn't just spontaneously turned on, that he could turn into a ghost now. But then his parents had threatened to tear him apart—molecule by molecule.

He was never going to let himself go through that again.

So he hid. He told no one about what he could do. He spent more time making up excuses than doing homework. Schoolwork and friendships and family fell by the wayside as Danny was forced to dedicate more and more time to fighting the ghosts that came through the portal. He hated it. But if he didn't fight them, there would be no more school, or friends, or Fenton Works because the ghosts would destroy it all. If he didn't fight them, there was no one else who could.

Day after day, Danny had to fend off these invaders from the Ghost Zone. They weren't even especially malicious, Danny had come to think, but they just did not care about the consequences of their actions at all, because it was only the humans who had to deal with those consequences. On top of that, even though Danny was the one who was keeping those consequences to a minimum, he was still being lumped in with all the rest of the ghosts.

At least most of the people at school appreciated him, but adults were so ungrateful. They blamed him for everything, made him look bad in the papers, and even gave him the God awful moniker of Inviso-Bill. It was horrible.

"Some upperclassman was asking me about you earlier," Tucker told Danny in bio one day, tearing him out of his ruminations. "I don't remember what his name was. Tall, red-headed guy. He said he wanted to recruit you for the school newspaper because he heard your grades were good, and I told him he had the wrong Fenton."

"Why would I want to join the school newspaper?"

"I dunno." Tucker shrugged. "Apparently you get extra credit."

"Well, it's not like I couldn't use the extra credit. That purpleback gorilla project did approximately jack shit for my GPA."

"Alright class, please take out your homework and go over it with your lab partner before handing it in," their science teacher said, and Danny reached into his backpack for the lab sheet.

"Anyway," Tucker said as he did the same, "I just figured I'd warn you about that in case he comes to bother you again."

"Thanks man," Danny said. He frowned at his lab sheet. He hadn't had time to finish filling it out because he'd had to take care of a swarm of ghost mice that had infested his house the night before. "Speaking of my grades..." Tucker sighed.

"Yes, you can copy my answers. Just be sneaky about it or we'll get caught."

"You're the best, Tuck."

"I know." Danny started frantically scribbling the answers down, keeping one eye on the teacher to make sure she wasn't looking their way. "What I don't know is why your grades took such a dive when we started high school. Seriously, dude, is something going on I don't know about?"

"Nah," Danny lied, offering his best friend a pinched smile. "I just got lazy, I guess. You know I'd rather play video games than do homework."

"Oh! Did you check out the mods I sent you for Doomed?" Tucker asked, happily jumping on the change of subject. "The second one is freaking hilarious!"

"I only had time to look at the first one, but it was pretty sweet," Danny responded, and the subject of his suddenly poor grades was out of mind completely. 

Shortly after that, Danny started to feel eyes on him. Maybe it was a ghost thing, or maybe he was just being paranoid, but it felt like he was being watched. Whoever or whatever it was, it didn't set off his ghost sense. Hopefully, he was just being paranoid, and there was nothing dangerous following him around, but it put him on edge. It made him even more careful about keeping his identity secret. 

Nearly two weeks passed and that feeling rarely went away, and never for long.

Danny was fighting the Box Ghost again, and he actually had things pretty well in hand. After a couple months it was about time for him to get the hang of things. Now if only he could catch the Box Ghost without the grocery store's entire stock getting ecto-contaminated or destroyed, then he'd really be getting somewhere.

"Danny!" a voice shouted and Danny turned his head instinctively to see a red-headed teenager he'd never met before in his life, looking right at him. "I fucking knew it!" he shouted triumphantly.

"Who the hell are you?!" Danny shouted down to him.

"I'm—Look out!" he cut himself off, pointing behind Danny, who turned around just in time to get a face full of canned beans as a box of them was flung his way. "Ooh," the stranger cringed. "Sorry! How about we'll talk after you deal with this guy?"

"Don't even think about going anywhere!" Danny told him, hoping that he'd sounded threatening enough to actually keep the guy from running away, but not so threatening as to make the guy freak out and then run away. He got a thumbs up for his efforts, so apparently it had worked.

Returning to his fight with the Box ghost with renewed vigor, Danny started shooting off ghost rays, cutting off escape routes and keeping him away from anymore boxes until he had the Box Ghost cornered and captured him in the Fenton Thermos. As soon as he capped the thermos he whipped around to make sure that random ginger who somehow knew his name was still standing in the empty parking lot waiting for him. The ginger waved.

"Who are you?" Danny demanded as he flew over to the guy.

"Wesley Weston, but everyone calls me Wes," the stranger answered. "I'm your soulmate."

"What?" Danny's face wrinkled in confusion. "How can you possibly know that?"

"You're Danny Fenton, aren't you?"

"N-no."

"You turned around when I called your name, I know you are," Wes pointed out, looking supremely unimpressed. "I and I know you're my soulmate because I stop seeing color any time you're around, and when the colors come back, Inviso-Bill is nowhere to be seen." Danny groaned.

"Do not call me that, okay? It's Phantom, none of that Inviso-Bill garbage. That name is so stupid."

"Agreed. Phantom is much better." Wes nodded. "So how can you turn into a ghost? Are you dead sometimes and alive other times? How does that work?"

"I don't know, really," Danny shrugged, then realized what he'd just admitted to. "I mean, I don't know what you're talking about. No one can be both a ghost and a human."

"Come on, dude, take the L."

Danny held out for another few moments before Wes' smug expression wore him down and he sighed in defeat. "Guess it's time to give up the ghost, huh?" Wes snorted softly at the pun, and shielded his eyes from the bright white flash of those rings when Danny changed back. "So how'd you figure me out, anyway? Even if you knew Phantom was your soulmate, how'd you figure out I was him?"

"A lot of groundwork," came the answer on a heavy breath that spoke to just how much effort it had been. "A lot of comparing records. I talked to your friends, and I followed you around for a bit to see if I could figure out how you did it."

"It was you!" Danny realized, pointing an accusing finger at the other boy. "You're the one who's been watching me the last couple of days! I thought I was going crazy!"

"Sorry about that," Wes apologized sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and offering an awkward smile. "I wanted to be sure I was right before I confronted you."

"So... you're my soulmate, huh?" Danny looked the boy up and down. He was tall; he had a good seven or eight inches on Danny. His skin was pale with a light dusting of copper freckles that matched his hair, and his eyes were emerald green, darker and richer than the sickening glow of ectoplasm that haunted Danny's nightmares. "I guess that means there's one good thing that came out of this whole disaster then."

"So... you wanna go get something to eat?" Wes offered. "Nasty Burger's not far from here. I'll buy."

"Sure," Danny agreed, and they walked side-by-side down the street.

First | Previous | Next

[nakachuchu]

Neighbors | Itadori Yuuji

SYNOPSIS: Modern AU - Your neighbor and boyfriend Yuuji always knew how to make you feel better on a bad day.

READER: gender neutral

WORDS: 1.1k

WRITTEN: 12/30/2022

NOTE: This was super indulgent and it reminded me why I love yuuji bc he would be the biggest lover ever. This piece is for @haithamuse 's The Lover's Journey collab event! Thank you for having me. I had a lot of fun! I wasn't sure if you wanted me to add a tag of your event, but if you do, text it to me so I make sure the font is right :) Happy super early bday <3

Sometimes, you just had off days. You couldn't explain why you felt the way you did, but you knew you weren't super depressed or feeling particularly homicide on those days. You just couldn't put your finger on it.

But you were thankful that Yuuji was your neighbor because sometimes, you just really needed a hug without questions asked.

Yuuji was great at big bear hugs, and he was strong too so he could carry you inside his place and just comfort you.

The two of you were neighbors before you were friends, but before friends, you were classmates first. The two of you left your houses at different times, so you never walked to school together, but you often shared the same classes.

It wasn't until the last day of middle school that the two of you had your first conversation. The cherry blossoms were scattered amongst the wind, blowing in every direction, and the two of you ended up walking home together because none of your other friends lived that way.

The two of you spent that summer together too, going to the park and the town while wearing as little clothing as possible because of how hot it was.

When you started high school, the two of you were inseparable. He joined the soccer team and you would be his personal cheerleader, going to all of his games. You joined the art club for fun and he would sit with you while you painted.

He wasn't the type to care much about anything. He liked soccer but never bothered to join the team until you told him to. He lived in the moment, and the only thing that he could count as a goal in life was to spend time with his loved ones. His grandpa and you were the only ones left in his life, and he was going to treasure it.

You waited at home patiently until Yuuji was done with practice. You didn't have the energy to wait for him at school, but he didn't expect you to always be at his practices. You just liked being there for him.

You sat at your desk, attempting to do homework, but in reality, you were looking out your window for when Yuuji would come home. You didn't get much homework done because you couldn't focus, but they weren't important anyway.

As soon as you saw Yuuji, you bolted out of your room and out the door, telling your parents you'd be back for dinner.

Yuuji barely had time to turn around before you tackled him. He easily caught you as you rammed into his body, greedy hands bunching around his clothes.

"Y/N?"

You rubbed your face in his shirt. "I missed you."

He smiled and hugged you. "Is something wrong?"

You didn't often say that you missed him because you were too embarrassed, so he immediately knew something was wrong when you told him you missed him.

You shook your head.

"Wanna go to my room?" he asked.

You nodded.

He made sure his duffel bag was secure before picking you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist as he unlocked his door and carried you into his house.

You kicked out your shoes by the entrance, and he used the front of his feet to take off his shoes, not caring about the scruffs as he carried you up to his room.

His room was neat, except for a few socks on the floor. Before he started dating you, he had a few naughty posters in his room. Now, he only had one poster that you posed to give to him on his birthday. You were always a bit embarrassed that he treasured it so much and put it up on the first wall that someone would see when they walked in.

Aside from the one semi-indecent poster, you printed for him, he had a bunch of photos of the two of you taped to the wall by his desk. He liked to be able to look at you whenever he was doing homework.

He placed you on his bed before walking back to close his door and put his duffel bag around. You were quick to move, moving under his blankets and getting comfortable.

"You're so cute, Y/N," he said right before snapping a quick photo of you.

"Hey," you whined.

He laughed. "You're just too cute. Let me in too."

You opened the blankets and let him climb in. The two of you faced each other in his small bed. Your legs were inserted between his, finding warmth under the sheets.

He pressed his forehead to yours and the two of you looked at each other, buried under the blankets. Your smells mingled with each other, just the way you two liked it.

"Y/N, I promise to love you forever."

You smiled. "Yuuji, I promise to love you forever."

The two of you erupted into a fit of giggles, wiggling around in bed before eventually hitting each other with pillows.

Moments with Yuuji usually escalated into laughter and shenanigans that his grandpa would sigh and shake his head at.

Yuuji knew how to control his strength around you, but he still hit you hard enough to leave you annoyed and laughing as you used all of your strength to smack him in the head with one of his pillows.

“Whoa, oops!”

As soon as your body began to slip and tilt off the edge of his bed, he grabbed your wrist and shoved himself underneath you. He winced as his back hit the wooden floors, while all you felt was Yuuji’s body since you landed on him.

“Yuu, are you okay?” you questioned as you crawled off him.

“I'll be fine,” he reassured. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head.

He grinned. “Then that's all that matters.”

“Idiot,” you muttered with a light smack to his chest.

He pulled you back onto his lap, sitting up and holding you. You wondered why he suddenly did that but welcomed his touch and smell. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck and closed your eyes. You could feel yourself falling asleep, but you knew he'd wake you up in time for dinner so you felt yourself slipping away.

His fingers found your hair, brushing through it gently as he held you to sleep. He kissed the side of your head and smiled. He was so thankful to have someone like you in his life and he would treasure it for as long as he lived.

“Good night, Y/N.”

[wrenwrights]

Konig Headcanons (Canthulu, a Tiger, and You)

I'm in a silly, goofy mood today, so I wanted to write something that I hope will make everyone laugh. Also why does You and Konig give such Hades and Persephone vibes.

Enjoy the headcanon!

***

Though Konig's office was usually trafficked by officers and soldiers coming in and out for whatever reason, they usually didn't dare come into the Colonel's office in such a loud fashion. Yet Horangi had crashed into his office, standing in the doorway looking stiff and aggressive, almost accusatory. Really, after you had done the same thing a week prior, this was getting out of hand.

Was someone dead? Did Konig forget a celebration or something? Oh god was it Hornagi's birthday? He'd forgotten last year, and Konig had felt so guilty about it that he'd specifically written the date down... somewhere. Verdamnit. He hadn't meant to forget again!

"You. Me. Cards. Tonight." Horangi hissed as if challenging Konig to a great battle, pointing a finger straight at Konig's chest. That took Konig by surprise, more so than his door bursting open.

"You want to play cards?" Konig asked, wondering if he'd missed something. Though Konig couldn't see his best friend's eyes, he could tell something was wrong at least.

"Yes," Horangi stated, then slammed Konig's office door shut, causing the wall to shake. Oh yeah, he was going to have to have a meeting with the soldiers about not slamming his damn door.

***

Usually, during downtime, the soldiers would watch a movie, play some kind of board game, or work on a project or hobby. Konig, being an introvert at heart, usually just went back to his room during downtime and spent time with you privately. Tonight, it seemed, Hornagi had roped everyone on base to play cards- it was kind of disheartening; Konig thought it would just be the two of them. But it was nice to see his soldiers outside of their work selves; you were there too, giggling with Farrah about something.

Horangi spotted Konig immediately, waving him over to the large table that had somehow been dragged into the common room. It made him feel slightly better about the large crowd, knowing that his best friend and you were there if he needed an escape.

"There you are!" Horangi chirped, "We were about to start without you, bud!" Though Konig couldn't see his friend's eyes, the smile on his face was undoubtedly devious, the kind of smile Hornagi only wore when he had a plan. The type of smile when he was betting on something.

Konig felt his stomach sink. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to end in Horangi's favor. He almost told his friend exactly this, until you caught his eye, a soft smile gracing your beautiful face and your voice encouraging him to join the game. Konig just couldn't say no, and as if hypnotized by a siren's song, Konig found himself sliding into a seat between you and Horangi.

Konig and you weren't very affectionate in public, not because he was hiding your relationship, but because the two of you just felt more comfortable letting this new aspect of your lives blossom in privacy. Usually, when Konig saw you after a long day he'd hug you or wrap an arm around you or kiss your forehead through his mask. With so many people around, Konig felt uneasy doing this; touching someone so intimate and romantically was too new for him. So, to say hi, he let his knee and thigh press against yours, the warmth of your bare leg seeping into his khakis.

"Alright!" Price grumbled around his cigar as he dealt playing cards, "Who wants to go first?"

To say from there everything blew up into chaos was an understatement. Gaz and Nikoli were drunkenly arguing about something involving a helicopter and hardly paying attention to the game; Soap was trying his hardest to beat Ghost every round and failing so miserably. Stiletto and Krueger were making out in the corner, both too drunk to really care about their abandoned cards at the table- Alex and Farrah were teasing each other, and Hornagi, poor Hornagi. With every dealt card and traded hand his eyes grew wilder, his smile more strained. Konig nudged him several times, asking if everything was okay. He'd get an overly excited nodd every time.

"I'm fine!" Horangi huffed, the excitement on his face so great his eyebrows rose over the rims of his sunglasses. "I just missed ya. We've hardly seen each other the past two weeks." That was certainly true, much to Konig's chargin.

Konig didn't get to reply; you had nudged his knee playfully and gave Konig this one flirty look that had his full attention. You'd been doing that all night, and it was driving Konig wild because he didn't know what you were doing, what you were thinking. He was about to ask when, with a furious yell, Nikolai flopped on the table. Cards flying all over the room. Gaz was snarling something, throwing petty punches and smacks at Nikolai, who was cursing in russian. Price looked flabbergasted, cigar tipping out of his mouth and the scotch in his hands shattering on the ground.

And then the table snapped in half.

The cards really went flying then, raining colorful plates of paper down on the soldiers. Horangi was pouting beside Konig, whimpering something about winning that baffled Konig; Horangi had the most cars out of anyone. Nikolai and Gaz groaned in pain on the remains of what used to be the table. Konig's skull began to pound with a headache. You tugged at Konig's sleeve, catching his attention away from the chaos. "I think Uno night is over. Wanna go to bed?"

Konig nodded in agreement, letting you take his hand. He couldn't but look down at your conjoined hands, yours was so much smaller than his. He couldn't help but smile as you stood, leading Konig away from the chaos aound you.

***

I know, kind of a long one, but right now it's past midnight, and Writer Wren needs her sleep for more writing for tomorrow. Good night everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this headcanon.

Until Next Time,

Wren

[reap-the-game]

I've been posting quite a few gposes of Titania AU, and while there's less of a point in writing its gist down good and proper like I did with Calypso AU and like I'm kinda working to do with Renvanna's Giovanna's and Cedrilia's Cecilia's backgrounds, I shall at least share its most basic idea for the uninitiated (so basically everyone except me and captainqster lmao).

The backbone of the entire AU is that while Gia is an NPC everywhere else, here he was the WoL going through the WoL's adventures through ARR, HW, SB, and the beginning of ShB. His backstory before waking up on the ship to Limsa Lominsa at the start of ARR remains unchanged, so he's still Trauma™.

Which, considering how that trauma displays itself in him, makes being pushed down the path of the WoL incredibly dubious. He had no ability to genuinely say no to any of it, if anyone had even stopped to ask if he wanted to become the hero of Eorzea and whichever other place.

And he didn't want to do any of it. He did because he felt he had no other choice—that, as ever, what he wanted didn't matter shit.

But of course that was as destructive on him as anything ever was. He never bonded with any of the Scions and only resented them for everything they were making him do.

And then he gets whisked away to the First, and being expected to save yet another world did him no favors either. He was angry, he was tired, and yet he couldn't show any of it because what would have been the point? He'd still just need to do all of it.

So he goes through the motions of being the hero because he's given no other choice. However, in Eulmore we start to deviate from the game's main story, because Gia runs into Ilya, who in this case is a Viis. After some twists and turns they start traveling together, Ilya essentially joining Gia on everything he does from there on. They become close, close enough that with Ilya, Gia lets himself show all of his most honest emotions. As Gia's confidant, then, Ilya becomes aware of just how emotionally spent Gia is, and still, still people keep asking more and more of him, because he's the only one who can save the First.

Gia's well beyond giving a damn, though. He cares nothing for saving a single soul on a single world, nevermind the entirety of one. Real hero material, right there, but he never asked to be a hero. He doesn't want to do this, he just wants to live his life in peace.

Which takes us to Il Mheg. They learn a bit about how the fae folk operate and how they live only for the moment. Gia doesn't give many thoughts to that at the time–

But then he's told to kill Titania. Just march up to the castle and kill the faerie king!

What does he ever do but what he's told, and so, with the help of Ilya and whoever else, Gia does just that.

But. But then, it becomes known to him that the feat would make him the next king.

Feo Ul offers to take his place, of course. He still has heroing to do elsewhere, the world to save. Fuck if he cares about any of that, though. What stands in front of him now? Another option? A way out? He could throw away his mortal life and become the next Titania. Join the fae folk in living just for the present and not for the morrow.

It's so tempting. Really, there's not even hesitation. Here he can break the cycle of being taken advantage of by everyone he meets–

And he does. Feo Ul's offer is refused and Gia becomes Titania himself. His one choice made just for his own benefit.

But what about Ilya, the one other person Gia gives a shit about? Gia doesn't want to leave him behind, so he offers to make a pact with him—an offer Ilya accepts after some consideration, giving up his own mortality to become Titania's guard and consort. Gia, in further practice, refuses to ever see any of the Scions again, retreating into the castle to only ever show his face to the fae folk. Ilya is the one that guards the steps to the castle and bars entry to any mortal that shows up, all so Gia can live in the peace and quiet he wants—now forever, or at least as long as the First remains in one piece.

Of course that leaves the Scions without their hero, but Gia was never a shard of Azem, so they manage to get their hands on the actual shard of Azem from the Source and they get to take the place Gia occupied for years and save the world.

Maybe Gia hears rumors of that, but would he care? No. It's now only Ilya and maintaining the sanctity of Il Mheg that he cares about. So all the Lightwardens were defeated, great, fantastic, whatever—just leave him out of it. He'll protect Il Mheg from sin eaters and mortals alike; he'll live his life in peace and seclusion, never again to be abused by anyone.

And he's happy, as Titania, with Ilya, for the first time in what feels like forever—and what will last forever.

[sweetestpopcorn]

I think people use laenor laughing while rhaenyra gave harwin her garter at their wedding tourney, him being by her side when luke was born and her letting him name joffrey as signs to perceive them as happy together

They can use whatever they want but here are some facts:

1- Rhaenyra was forced by Viserys to marry Laenor against her will. She only relinquished when Viserys threatened her with disinheritance. She didn't want to marry Laenor. She had her own ideas about who she wanted to marry.

It's not me saying it, it's Fire and Blood:

"King and council neglected to inform the princess, however, and Rhaenyra proved to be very much her father's daughter, with her own notions about whom she wished to wed. The princess knew much and more about Laenor Velaryon, and had no wish to be his bride. "My half brothers would be more to his taste," she told the king (...) And though His Grace reasoned with her, pleaded with her, shouted at her, and called her an ungrateful daughter, no words of his could budge her... until the king brought up the question of succession." (Fire and Blood, pg. 370 - hardcover edition)

So everyone against arranged marriages but somehow supporting Rhaenyra and Laenor's marriage might want to give pg. 370 that quick and naughty reread just to freshen up the memory.

Furthermore, Laenor would not care that she gave her garter to Harwin because he had his own lover, and he was gay. He did not care about Rhaenyra, and he would not care if she had a lover. Hell, probably made his life way easier.

2- Laenor was by her side for important occasions. Besides Laenor, Harwin (the actual father) was also there.

Laenor would have been expected to be by her side as the "father" (on paper) of the child.

But we also have all of this about how "close" the two of them were and how great the friendship looks.

"Thereafter, though he joined his wife for important court events where his presence was expected, Ser Laenor spent most of his days apart from the princess." (Fire and Blood, pg. 373)

3- It's made pretty clear that Rhaenyra had no say in naming her children. It wasn't a choice of hers in letting Laenor name her third son. She had no choice. Corlys named the first two, and Laenor named the third. Corlys and Laenor had a dispute over the name but nowhere did Rhaenyra enter that discussion. Her children were not even given her last name.

"Laenor's wish to name the child Joffrey was overruled by his father, Lord Corlys." (Fire and Blood, pg. 374)

"Ser Laenor was at last permitted to name a child after his fallen friend, Ser Joffrey Lonmouth." (Fire and Blood, pg. 377)

She was permitted to name the children she had with Daemon, you know her "political marriage" because Rhaenyra who refused to marry Laenor and had a very public affair with Harwin Strong and continued to have kids that clearly were Harwin's -> a note for all the confused besties the three Velaryon princes had brown hair, brown eyes, and Harwin's pug nose and common features; their hair was NOT black like Rhaenys 's hair was - clearly was all about strategic decisions and power games.

The fact that Rhaenyra and Laenor made the best of a situation they were forced into - especially Rhaenyra - does not mean that she was happy. How could she be? Instead of marrying someone she chose and who loved her or at the very least was interested enough in her, Rhaenyra was made to marry (against her will) a man who did not love her, could not lover, and whom she did not want.

She had children with Harwin yet he couldn't openly be their father.

She was also whispered about, her reputation took a major hit, and jokes were made about the situation.

She was made to live with a man she cared enough about to keep by her side for six years and have three kids with in secret.

Can people put themselves in this situation? I struggle to understand the mental gymnastics needed to be against arranged marriages yet claim Rhaenyra's happiest years was when she was married to a man she didn't want to marry and forced to live a secret life.

If her arranged marriage was better than others? Yes, it was without a a doubt. Her arrangement with Laenor of you stay in your lane, me in mine and we meet when we have to no doubt worked well for both of them -> though Laenor's lover Qarl killed him so meh. But being slapped is also better than taking a beating of such magnitude that you have to be taken to a hospital. Bottom line, still doesn't make it good.

I've said it once I will again. The only positive thing she took from all of this was her three boys, and Harwin was the person making her feel love and desired.

Like can someone look me in the face and claim to me that she wouldn't have been far happier if she had married Harwin instead?

Lesson for today: something being better than something else does not make it good on itself.

[littlesweetcake06]

Danganronpa V3 was a virtual reality killing game show, and all of the students had survived. However, despite the game being over, Kokichi seemed to be avoiding his classmates. They couldn't understand why he was acting so strange, as they had all been through the same experience and should have been bonding over it.

One day, they decided to confront him and find out what was going on. They went to his house and found him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His eyes looked milky, and his face was expressionless. They asked him what was wrong, but he didn't answer at first. After some prodding, he finally spoke up.

"I only joined the killing game because I thought it would help me see again," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been blind since I was five years old, and I thought that if I won the game, I could use the prize money to pay for a surgery that would restore my sight."

The group was shocked. They had never known that Kokichi was blind, and they had never even considered the possibility that he had joined the game for such a personal reason. They realized that they had misjudged him, and that they had been too quick to label him as a liar and a manipulator.

Kokichi went on to explain that he had been so consumed by his desire to win the game and regain his sight that he had lost sight of everything else. He had deceived his classmates, lied to them, and even put their lives in danger, all for the sake of his own selfish goal.

The group listened to him in silence, unsure of what to say. They could understand why he had done what he had done, but they couldn't condone it. They knew that they could never fully trust him again, but they also knew that they didn't want to give up on him.

As they left Kokichi's house, the group made a pact to help him in any way they could. They wanted to show him that he didn't have to go through life alone, that there were people who cared about him and wanted to support him.

Over the next few weeks, they spent more time with Kokichi, getting to know him as a person rather than just a player in a game. They learned about his interests, his fears, and his hopes for the future. They also discovered that he was a talented musician, and they encouraged him to pursue his passion.

As they got closer to Kokichi, they realized that he was not just a liar or a manipulator. He was a complex person with his own struggles and insecurities, and he had done what he had done because he was desperate for a chance to see again.

Eventually, Kokichi opened up to them about his past, about how he had lost his sight in a car accident when he was just a child. He told them about his struggles to adjust to life without sight, and how he had always dreamed of being able to see again.

The group was moved by his story, and they made a promise to help him achieve his dream. They started a fundraising campaign to pay for his surgery, and they used their connections to get him an appointment with one of the best eye surgeons in the world.

As Kokichi went through the surgery and started his recovery, the group rallied around him, supporting him every step