#in fact i think i keep getting insaner. and i keep nearly falling on the floor due to being so dizzy from too many images.

[zanzanne]

UNLIKE yesterday i am not normal after 5 hours.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Hi! Can you please write about Ellie getting head for the first time <3

warnings: oral sex, sub!ellie omg this is a rare occasion for me, porn with little plot

She didn’t know why you liked her so much, but Ellie didn’t complain. Not one bit.

You invited her over for the usual–a sleepover with yellow, buttered popcorn and a movie. The past few times she had stayed over, she tried not to even admit it within the depths of her brain. You made her weak, like a beggar that couldn’t be satiated. You were the one thing that made her lose focus from even Star Trek, and that was unnatural. It wasn’t unwelcome by any means, but it was definitely not convenient for Ellie.

She couldn’t understand why you chose her of all people. She reasoned with herself that you didn’t technically choose her for anything. You two were just friends, and the flirting you threw upon the nerve-wracked girl was only the words that girls can exchange without having to be romantically involved. Right? Probably not.

The past few times, you only let your touch linger in small lengths. Your hand crept upon her arm, fingernail brushing against her tattoo. You made her breath shorten in a way that she wanted to be annoyed about. Each night was torture, and yet she found herself back on your couch, stuffing her mouth with microwaved Orville as you simply squeezed her hand with your own. The act itself was innocent, sweet. Ellie guessed that you got bored, because soon you were kneeling between her for the first time, and your lips were brushing against her jeans. 

“How far are you gonna take this?” Her voice carried a blend of nerves and need. There was always a thickness to her voice, something that sounded so uniquely like your Ellie that gave your pussy a heartbeat. 

Mouth moving to kiss her clothed hip and a soft mumble, “I’ll eat this pussy if you’ll let me.”

Fuck, Ellie had never heard such filthy words come out of that pretty mouth of yours. Not anywhere but her wet dreams, at least. She tried to adjust her hips and keep herself together, but you were faster. Your hands were on her thighs, fingers spread out. She groaned and let her head fall back on the couch. 

“Do whatever you want.”

You surely didn’t waste time once given the go-ahead. 

Ellie’s bush was a pretty sight. Her clit was already swollen, and her pussy glistened with the light of the tv screen and her juices coating her folds. You were between her eagerly opened legs, but it was staring at you, begging to be devoured. You offered kisses across her thighs to be polite, but you were quite impatient. Soon, your mouth was all over her like the first round of Thanksgiving dinner.

Ellie was losing her shit above you with each smacking sound your mouth left on her pussy; your tongue lavished over her bead and the pressure inside her was building, making it all nearly unbearable. She was like a pretty painting, legs shaking like jelly as she bit her lip to keep her mind functioning. It was so hard not to completely go insane and let herself just beg you to fuck her all night, though. She had a feeling that you would be.

You let her use your face without complaints, taking each sloppy buck of her hips with ease. Ellie could only fall apart when she peeked down. She could see the way you relentlessly worked her, and could only envy the fact that you didn’t look that phased by it. Lick after lick, pressing more pressure onto her before she finally couldn’t take it.

“I think I’m gonna cum-” she cut herself off with a moan and didn’t try to continue, not trusting herself to speak again without whining some incoherent, needy chants. 

You nodded. 

How were you so chill about this? She couldn’t take it anymore, and soon she was tugging your hair and coating your face with her cum. 

You made her feel dizzy in a way no previous, self-given orgasm could make her. It was like a sharp hit to her clit that pulsated throughout her entire body, reaching her brain until it faded into waves of pure bliss. Her hips lazily lifted themselves up and down, and you tongue-fucked her through her orgasm. 

It felt like a complete blackout, but when she finally felt like herself again, she glanced down to see your cheek resting on her stomach. You were like a vision from above, sculpted out to look just like this: features all in purpose, and your hair messy from her fingers grasping it. 

All too soon, you were sitting yourself down onto her lap, cupping her face and smothering her freckled cheeks in pecks. The way you only gave her sweet kisses made her head spin with the contrast of your tongue peeking into her hole just a few moments ago. 

“Wanna watch Jersey Shore?” 

You confused the hell out of Ellie sometimes, and she hated reality tv. But.. you did just fuck her brains out. Jersey Shore it was.

a/n: guys guys i'm working on fics i'm in a bit of a smut rut so idk if this is any good but i had to write SMTH

[radioactive-mouse]

i keep thinking about like. how the brutality levels vary between seasons and how secret life is the natural culmination of everything these people have been through and the watchers pushing everything to extremes. i’m going to try to articulate how crazy this makes me

3rd Life: god. 3rd life was a clear cut war. we haven’t seen a season since where nearly everyone has such an intense devotion to their chosen faction. the fact that there’s no precedent that they’re coming back next season, the fact that as far as they know, dying means staying dead, makes just how much they’re willing to go down with the ship that much more heartbreaking. grian ended the season exactly how it was played by damn near everyone else— i love you, i would do anything for you, i would rather die than keep going without you. the season of widows.

Last Life: and then they come back. and then ending things isn’t an option. and all of a sudden it’s not a war, it’s a death match, and damn is the competition is vicious. deaths are more often than not a vague, impersonal thing— not get away from my king, my husband, my charge— just the flash of a knife and a quick sorry, just playing the game! if 3rd life told you to hold the ones you love close, defend them to your last breath, last life urges you to burn that love out of your chest entirely.

Double Life: but everything slows down eventually. no more dying for the one you love— just learning to live with them. double life is about knowing that when you die, you will go together, hand and hand into the dark. a soap opera, the players joke. a small kindness, the universe replies. again, pearl wins the same way everyone else lost— no, not yet, please, just give us a little longer together, i’m not ready, i’m so sorry—

Limited Life: but the clock, unyielding, ticks ever onward. and god, everyone is starting to feel it. that sick, nauseating feeling of dread creeping up on them: what if it never ends? what if this is it, this is all that’s left for us— tearing each other apart over and over and over again, and for what? for a show? to feed those hungry things lurking in the dark? we’ll give them a show. bombs rain from the sky, the world shaking under the weight of it. there isn’t a thing left by the end that’s not rubble. we’re all doomed! the players cry, laughing with nothing but nihilistic, unrestrained joy. none of it matters! we come back again, and again, and again, have a little fun with it! light the fuse, collateral be damned. when death means so little, what’s the point in pretending they don’t take a little joy in it? we settle this like grian and scar before us, scott jokes, armor and weapons tossed to the side. are you insane? martyn thinks, remembering the hollow look that would wash over grian’s face when he thought no one was watching. it ruined him. it will not ruin me. this is a death match for a reason.

Secret Life: and here it is. the natural conclusion. this season is candy colored, the map dotted with cute pink houses and silly builds, the players all running around doing these ridiculous tasks. it’s so easy to forget how bloody this season was. unclosing wounds, bruises that don’t fade, the sting of fire or falling from a simple misstep. the hurt never goes away, but it gets easier to ignore— distract yourself with something silly to pass the time: spyglasses and frogs and the ugliest house you’ve ever seen and matching leather jackets and the doghouse and the relationSHIP and a weird tunnel full of doors and secret soulmates and god it’s almost, almost, enough to forget how much it all aches, how much the grief weighs on you, how many times someone you love has died, sometimes to your own blade. almost none of the grudges you hold are real by now, not really. not when you’re going to live and die with these people for as long as the hungry, many-eyed things delight in your suffering. you love each other, in the strangest way— sure you’ve all killed and betrayed each other in a thousand different ways, but at the end of the day, they’re all you have. clinging to each other in the face of the vast, unknowable horrors that drive you to slash each other to pieces. it’s still a game, after all. they’ve gotta figure out how to be good sports about it eventually.

[divinegrey]

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ʙʟᴜᴇ / ᴊɪɴx x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sorry for the wait everybody!! been writing other things in the meantime, arcane hasn't been my sole focus. also i have homework and exams. but here's something to appease all of you!! anon, i hope i did this prompt justice!

prompt: I'd like to request a Jinx x Fem! Reader. I like the idea of the reader being a follower of Jinx, as I think the dynamic could be fun. I think it could be cool to explore a follower of Jinx getting to know her and realizing that she's more than just a symbol. She's a multifaceted individual.

words: 1585

warnings: none

It started when she caught you tagging the side of a building. With her face, no less. 

With all the shit going down in Zaun in the wake of Silco’s death and every gang leftover fighting for scraps of power, it was only time before Jinx caught up to the fact that while yes, her face is plastered everywhere on wanted posters, there are about a dozen more spray-painted graffiti tags of her over them. Which was the goal of what you were doing when she dropped down from a building and walked to your side. 

All she did was look at the statuesque version of her face, washed in shades of blue, and say, “My nose doesn’t look like that.” 

And she was right.

Of course, with time, you got better at it. The wanted posters did a mean disservice, honestly. The only thing they got correct were the pink eyes, pink eyes that followed you when you went to your shitty box of an apartment and flopped onto a mattress flattened by years of use. You’d go to sleep, wake up, grab your paint duffel, and head back out again. The nice thing about Zaun is that there’s always an empty spot just waiting to be tagged. 

Somehow, Jinx always finds you. 

“You know people see you as a leader, right?” You say, shaking a can of neon pink, the ball rattling around inside the canister. You glance over your shoulder to where Jinx sits on some pipes connected to the wall, her braids dangling and the gold bullet casings wrapped around reflecting the faint light that falls through the fissures. With a gesture to your own head of hair, dyed an insane hodge-podge of bright colors, blue included, you continue, “Silco’s gone. Whole world down here has turned upside down. But for the first time in a while, we’ve got hope. Cuz of you. Cuz of what you did to those fuckin’ Pilties.” 

“For all the good it did,” Jinx remarks, a dryness to her tone you’ve come to know and love. 

“I’m serious. C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t know the reason why I keep painting you? Why a dozen other taggers I know keep painting you? Why the color blue is nearly sold out in every damn shop?” You kneel down, arcing a curve of pink paint along the grey brick wall, moving quick and precise. Overthinking it makes it worse. “I’m not wearing spray-painted clothes in your colors for nothin, Jinx.” 

She turns, peering at you. In the shadows, her eyes seem to reflect some more, glowing like a cat’s would. “Because y’all have some weird, deluded sense that I’m a leader, or somethin’.” 

“You are. To me. To us.” You point at the other tags in the alleyway, some of them copies of the same mark you’ve seen a dozen times around town. Jinx’s name, sigils of BOOM! and explosives doodled about. You twist and take a seat on the scaffolding, your legs dangling off the side of it. “I didn’t know you when I first started drawing you. I heard what you did, and I thought damn, there’s someone out there willing to actually do something. In a single day, you did more than Silco ever did in years. Sure, we might be going head long into a war, but dying free is better than living under someone else’s boot.” 

Jinx hums. She leaps off the pipes, crossing the gap between you and her with ease, landing on the wooden scaffolding. She straightens up, gazing at the half-finished tag you’re working on. With a hum, she turns to you, and puts something in your hand. Before you have the time to look down and figure out what it is, Jinx says, “Nozzle control. Quality on some of your cans are shit, no offense. Slap that thing on it and you won’t have an issue after that.” 

“Oh, thanks—” 

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx steps off the scaffolding, landing on the ground below with a THUD. “And for the record, I ain’t the kinda person to follow.” 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to convince me!” You call down, grinning from ear to ear. Her brows furrow together, then a small huff, a hint of a smile on her own face. She walks away, off to do… whatever it is that she does when she’s not hanging out with you. 

It isn’t for some time that you see her again. You’d say you’re worried, but you pass through the crowds hearing whispers of Jinx sightings. Every day, it seems another head of blue hair appears, the quiet signs of revolution brewing in the heart of Zaun as the enforcers grow more and more strict, searching anyone and everyone for some hint or clue to find the one that destroyed the Council Chamber in Piltover. You’ll never say a word. 

You walk into your apartment. Work was… work, boring and mind-numbing as it always is. You wonder if you can handle another day of it, but another day will bring another chance of seeing her out there, so you decide not to fly off the handle just yet. You shrug off the soot-stained work clothes, and where you reach for your paint-splattered jacket, it isn’t there. 

Instead, a note. 

Never had anyone believe in me quite like you. The Hound’s statue, midnight. Come and get it. 

With the pink lettering and the doodles of monkeys and bombs scribbled across the page, it doesn’t need to be said just who left this note. You snatch it off the wall, utterly beaming; Gently, you fold it into fourths, tucking it into your shirt. Thank god for the late shift— less waiting!

Any of the weariness you might’ve felt before is gone as you race through the streets, taking any and every shortcut you know. The night is quiet, what with the enforced curfew put up by the Pilties to discourage wandering, not that they’ve done a good job of it. Zaun is Zaun, and the cogs down here will always keep turning, whether Piltover likes it or not. 

When you arrive at the open plaza where the statue erected to Vander, the Hound of the Underground, is, your mouth drops in shock to find the entire plaza covered, every square inch of it, in neon paint. Sigils upon sigils that you have seen time and time again, glowing in the dark. It reaches all the way to the statue, pink highlights in Vander’s hair and blue accents along his metal jacket. 

Sitting on the shoulder of the statue, paint can in one hand and your jacket in the other, is Jinx. 

“Shoulda known you’d be a little early. Good thing, I work fast,” Jinx remarks. She crooks a finger at you to come closer, and you do, taking care to step over the paint lines on the stone. You’re a little in awe of the work she’s done— how has nobody taken notice? Come to think of it, you heard there was a scuffle a few blocks away. The logistics don’t seem to matter anymore the closer you get to her. 

You arrive at the base of the statue. “How’d you even know where I live?” 

“Sweets, there are a lot of things I know about you. And a lotta things you know about me. Things that might drive other people away, but not you,” Jinx says, something like an angel as she looks down upon you from the statue. In the flash of a second and the trace of neon light left in the sky, she’s standing in front of you, your back pressed against the statue. The beam of moonlight that breaks through shines on her, her shimmer-pink eyes locked onto your frame. “You keep sticking to the inside my brain, can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Could say the same for you,” you reply, a little breathless. “Why’d you do all this? Get my jacket and bring me here?” 

“Cuz you showed me somethin’ important. That people, for whatever crazy reason they got in their head, believe in me,” Jinx says. She holds out your jacket to you, and you take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves and fixing the collar so it stands upright. Her eyes go from bottom to top, taking her sweet time. “I wanna show em what I can do. Give those people with my blue in their hair a reason to keep going. To keep fighting.” 

“You have me. All the way, Jinx,” you say, putting a hand over the front of your jacket, where a pink heart has been painted. “So what do you wanna do? Other than all this?”

“Right now?” Jinx cocks a grin. “I wanna kiss you.” 

What? You blink, wondering if you heard that right, but her taking a step closer to you only confirms that yes, you did hear it right. You swallow the nerves, finding your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. “And then what?” 

“And then, we show Zaun all the fun we have to offer, and we tell Piltover to shove their Hextech where the sun don’t shine,” Jinx finishes, her hands grabbing the lapels of your jacket and pulling you in. Your lips touch hers, something you never thought would happen, not in your wildest dreams. 

But here you are, arms wrapped around Jinx as she kisses you in the streets of Zaun, the cry of revolution soon to come. 

~~~~~

A/N: thank you for reading!! comments are always appreciated <3

[monstersholygrail]

Wholesome thoughts, but I've been really stressed lately because of too much shit lol. I'm so burnt out. Having a large monster boyfriend that I could just cling to while cuddling in bed despite me being soooooo short would be amazing. He'd hold me nice and tight and call me a good girl and everything pleeeeease

Awww, hun, I’m so sorry. I hope things get better and that you get the rest you need and deserve. But in the meantime, I hope this can possibly help a bit!

You’re practically glued to your work, your eyes furiously trained on the screen. In fact, your Monster bf isn’t actually quite sure when the last time he saw you away from the screen was. Your body is practically shaking with the over exertion in which you’re forcing on yourself.

It pains your bf to see you like this, to see you so clearly exhausted and yet refusing to take a break. Your eyes drooping every few minutes before you blink rapidly and force your eyes open wide and it happens all over again. When your face accidentally smacks against the computer screen, your bf knows he can’t sit around and watch any longer.

With a heavy sigh he stands up and heads over to you. You don’t even lift up your head to look, you’re so sucked into your work. It’s only as his hands land on your shoulders do you snap out of your thoughts.

“C’mon. Let’s take a break from work for a bit,” your bf urges, sliding his hands down to your waist. He helps lift you up out of the chair before you can say a word.

You frantically look back and crane your head up, wondering what the hell is happening. But you calm down seeing it’s him. Still not really understanding what’s going on, your exhaustion causes you to easily misread his expression and you bend over the table as if he came to have his way with you.

“Oh, baby, I wanna fuck you too. But I can’t stop working right now. So how about you just go at it while I keep doing this?”

You turn your attention back to your computer, your butt popped out and lifted up for his convenience. Your bf looks over you like you’ve officially gone insane. Though your position is enticing, fucking you is the last thing on his mind.

“Love, I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Your body falls back down to your normal very short height in comparison to your bf. But your body continues to fall until you’re sagging against the table, looking even more tired than before.

“Well then what the hell is the point of a monster boyfriend if there’s no free use where he can just take me whenever and wherever he wants?” You exaggerate, your voice croaking with emotion. Your emotions all over the place with everything you have going on and your bf frowns, knowing he’s gotta take care of you asap.

With his height also comes great strength. So your bf picks you up into his arms with ease. Dragging you away from the computer and your work. You weakly fight back to stay at the computer but he easily moves you away, bringing you into his arms as he walks you two to the bedroom.

“Okay, okay. I think your lack of sleep is making you delusional.”

At this point you’re far too sleepy to resist anymore so instead, you curl into his embrace, your face burrowing into his chest.

“Hmm. Well, maybe a few minutes.”

Your bf laughs, seemingly always knowing exactly what it is you need. He’s your safe place, your comfort. The person who cares about you more than anyone else and who you care about the same way. He cuddles you close to his chest as you walk through your home.

“There it is. Good girl. Let’s go rest.”

He slides the both of you in your big bed that can comfortably fit his large form. You snuggle into the soft sheets, your limbs clinging onto your bf in a way that has him chuckling fondly.

His frame curls around you till he nearly encompasses you entirely. You’re barely see as he completely surrounds you in his presence. He nuzzles against you, getting as close to you as possible. Giving you all the comfort and support he can within the silence. But it was enough and before you know it you’re out like a light.

Your bf doesn’t sleep though as he watches over you. His clawed hands smoothing down your hair and keeping you close to him. His heart resting much easier now that his mate is finally letting him take care of her.

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter f! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: You know how each president of the U.S. gets a painting at the end of their term? I'm thinking like that. Plus, my favorite hobby is recreating renaissance art, so I figured this was a good fit (hopefully).

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 1: The Sketches

It was late at night when Leon made his decision to retire fully.

He had gotten home over an hour ago from reviewing mountains of paperwork, most of which pertained to missions that other agents have gone on or will be going on.

Younger agents. More energized agents.

The fact that he hadn't gone on a full mission since San Francisco was driving him up the wall. But that's what he wanted. He requested to hang back the last two years.

Both Chris and Claire had fully retired themselves right after San Fran, Claire being the first to retire to focus on her growing family with Chris following suit only a few months later. Jill was still around, but she was doing similar work that Leon was, only she was in a completely different department which was states away.

Of course Leon still talked with them all as regularly as possible, he'd go insane if he didn't, especially with Claire having a couple kids now. He wasn't the greatest with children, but it was refreshing seeing his friends achieve such normalcy. He wanted them to have the best life they could away from everything.

Having turned 40 a few some months ago, Leon was having a bit of a mid-life crisis. The mission to San Francisco a couple years ago had made him realize just how much toll the job itself had taken on his body. After being assessed and allowed home a few nights after returning from the mission, his body ached; joints creaking, back nearly thrown, just... tired.

Don't get him wrong, he was always tired after missions, but this was different. This wasn't just the regular aches and pains he dealt with after being tossed around like a rag doll, this was age.

Deep in his mind, Leon was still that 21 year old boy in Raccoon City. He never got the chance to properly grieve and move on, his mind forever changed by that event. Mentally, he was stuck there and had been this entire time.

It had taken the man this long to truly recognize the fact that he's older now. He's not that boy from Raccoon City anymore. He hadn't been in a long time.

What was he do to now? Leon had wanted so badly to serve and protect the people, but not like this. Not like he has for the past 29 years.

He spent his most formative years fighting unimaginable horrors, watching people suffer, watching people die. You don't just come back from something like that.

And unlike the friends he's managed to keep close, Leon didn't have someone he trusted. Hell, he barely trusted himself most days.

So now here he was, sitting drunk in his shower with his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms resting atop his knees while the water pelted down on him, silently mulling over everything he's ever seen and done during his time as an agent.

The water had grown cold at this point, Leon having quickly lost track of how long he was sitting spaced out like that for. Thankfully, he'd already cleaned himself before he ended up sitting down, so the hardest part now was just standing back up to get himself back out.

It took him a couple more minutes before he finally hoisted himself up with a tired groan, both his knees popping from being stuck in position for such a lengthy amount of time.

Once out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, Leon stared at himself in the mirror; busy studying the crow's feet on both outer corners of his eyes as well as the prominent bags sitting under them, the smile line around his mouth, his now brown hair, the stubble on his face and neck that's he's neglected to shave, and just how exhausted he looked.

How has he never noticed any of this before? Why's he look so different now?

Settling into bed after this brutal realization was a tough task. The man followed his nightly routine of taking four Tylenol and two of his prescription sleep meds before setting his a/c 65 degrees Fahrenheit. He learned quickly many years ago that tossing and turning at night would make him overheat and sweat.

But tonight, nothing Leon did could ease that sinking feeling in his chest, that feeling of unfulfillmemt and shame weighing on him more than ever before.

The poor man barely slept at all last night, hangover evident by the way he was still slightly uneven on his feet as he leaned over the center island in his kitchen, head between his forearms while his hands sat clasped together.

Leon knew what he had to do. He's been feeling it ever since Chris and Claire made their departure, but it was so easy to deny. How was he suppose to give up the one thing that made him important? Sure the stress of his work was heavily tasking on the mind and body, but it's what gave him purpose. He felt useful doing what he did.

The man showed up for work late that day, barely having managed to dress himself. He didn't know exactly who to go to in this scenario, but everyone seemed surprised that the Leon Kennedy would show up for work in some ratty t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The stares were making him incredibly uncomfortable and he was quickly regretting showing up at all.

After sitting in his own office for awhile to avoid the looks and whispers, Leon eventually sauntered over to his superior's office, an almost solemn look on his face as he let himself in after knocking.

Needless to say, Leon was relieved his superior knew this was coming. Slightly offended, but relieved nonetheless.

It had been a long time coming, and it was only a matter of time before Leon threw in the towel, especially since he was now just working behind the scenes instead of on the frontline.

He was allowed to return home for the rest of the day if he wanted to, which Leon quickly took. He really didn't want to be in that building for much longer.

As soon as he returned home he went right back to drinking. And as ashamed as he is to admit, he even cried a little, half empty whiskey bottle in one hand while the other was clenched tightly into a fist as he gripped the pant leg of his sweats.

There wasn't anyone Leon could talk to about this. Chris and Claire had their own respective partners to come home to after retirement, but Leon? Leon had nothing besides a dingy and cold two bedroom house with only the basics inside, including his alcohol cabinet.

The man didn't even give himself time to date, only the occasional one night stand with randoms from the bar. He was too afraid that he would endanger anyone he allowed into his life like that, not to mention he'd been betrayed one too many times to trust in someone that way again. It was his way of keeping himself and everyone else safe.

The therapists he was assigned throughout the years all had the same concern regarding his love life, and deep down Leon was just as concerned, but he rationalized it with that hero complex he developed.

But he just couldn't rationalize it anymore. Leon was alone. He was alone, sad, and afraid.

About a month after Leon's retirement was processed and announced, word spread quickly throughout numerous government branches. There was a celebration set up at the White House to honor his service as a field agent.

The President had separated him and Leon from the party to slowly walk through the many hallways in the building. The old man could tell just how bothered the now ex-agent was by his retirement, so he figured now would be the best time to talk to him about his final task.

"You know," The President spoke up after a couple minutes of the two walking in silence, prompting Leon to slowly turn his head to listen. "I'm sure you've heard it so many times tonight, but you truly were one of the best agents I've ever seen."

Leon chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit at the compliment. He had heard it a lot tonight, but obviously it was different coming from him.

"I'm serious. This county, probably the entire world, would've been in shambles if not for your hours spent." The President continued, slowing his walking to a stop.

"It means more than you know." Leon responded simply, voice a bit gravelly from the few drinks he's had. He took a couple steps more before stopping as well, turning around to face the prominent old man.

The President sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile while nodding. They stood in silence for a brief moment before the old man spoke up again, pointing lazily down the hall. "Follow me, I've got something I want to show you."

From there, the two wandered further down the halls until eventually reaching one hall that had lights more centered towards the walls, highlighting the picture frames that sat evenly spaced out amongst them.

Leon seemed a tad confused until he was able to focus on the first painting they walked by. He knew each president got a portrait painted after their full term was served, but the man in this painting wasn't a past president.

He stopped walking to stand in front of the painting, admiring the details it had before glancing down at the bottom of the elegant frame, a placard reading a name he didn't recognize. What he did recognize, though, was the word Agent that sat in front of the man's name.

While zoned into the placard, Leon didn't register the gentle hand that had been clasped on his shoulder, the President's voice breaking through his trance. "For as long as there's been bioweapons, we've had agents fighting to stop them. But only a few agents have truly outdone themselves. Agents like you."

Leon blinked a couple times before turning his head to look at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't quite understanding what he was saying.

The President took his silence as a cue to continue, his sympathetic smile turning into a happier one as he gently tugged Leon's shoulder to get him to start walking again. "The D.S.O. has produced some of the greatest agents since Benford created it back in 2011. You were amazing before, but you've outdone yourself time and time again."

Leon still wasn't quite understanding, really only half listening as he kept his eyes trained to the numerous portraits of agents as he slowly passed them.

The two stopped in front of the last painting in the hallway, only a few spots away from leading into another hallway. It was Chris and Claire in this painting. Chris was sitting down in a chair while Claire stood next to him, hand resting on back of it, both of them smiling.

He studied the painting for a minute longer before whipping his head around to face the President, who was still smiling, as the realization slowly settling in.

"I-" Leon struggling to speak, glancing back at the painting before quickly looking back at the old man standing next to him.

The President simply nodded his head, smile widening with a gentle laugh. "Right. The painting process takes a bit of time, but I think you've more than earned this."

The ex-agent had so many questions. Firstly, why hadn't Chris or Claire mentioned this? But more importantly, he gets to have his own portrait painted?

"The painter knows all about you. She's excited to meet you." The President started down the hall again, Leon not far behind, still stuttering out nonsense as he attempted to form even a sentence. "I'll give you the information you need to get started with her. I have it written down back in my office."

A painting?

A painting. A painting for him. A painting to honor him. What?

Leon was once again sat on his couch, blankly staring at the small business card with a date and time written on it in pen. He'd read the info on the card so many times already, wanting to make sure he got absolutely nothing wrong.

Apparently he didn't have to call and confirm, all he had to do was show up to this random address at a specific date and time, which was soon. In a couple days kind of soon. Also, he thought he was reading the time wrong, but no, it was four in the morning, not four in the afternoon. What an odd and rather inconvenient time.

Even after memorizing the business card front to back, Leon would be lying if he said he didn't forget about meeting up with this mystery painter. He'd been rather aloof the past couple months, it was hard to pull himself out of that funk. He'd been staying up late and sleeping in even later, so hitting snooze on his alarm a good few times was just muscle memory at this point.

It was almost 5am when he realized where he was suppose to be, eyes shooting open as he yanked himself out of bed, desperately trying to clean himself up enough to be at least presentable.

The man was mentally chastising himself the entire drive. It was a short drive, which he was surprised by, and the building seemed quaint; red brick with large windows that sat on what looked like either a second or third floor.

He parked his bike right near what he assumed was the main door, pulling off his motorcycle helmet before knocking and waiting.

The last thing Leon was expecting was you to unlock and open that door; young and pretty, so pretty...

"Mr. Kennedy?" You asked, eyebrows raised slightly with a small smile. He nodded, just barely noticeable, reaching a gloved hand up to wipe at his eyes as he caught himself staring.

Your smile only widened at his nod, stepping aside to allow him into walk in. It took him a minute to realize you were still talking, shaking his head out to refocus himself.

"-again, really, no need to worry about being late. I was trying to work with your schedule but I should've known it's changed up a bit by now, right?" You lead him up a set of narrow stairs, though he was mostly following the smell of your perfume. It was such a light smell but he definitely picked up on it.

You opened a door immediately to the left of the stairs, letting Leon follow you inside. The sun was just starting to rise, shining through the large windows in the open room.

The place was cluttered, yet organized. Crowded, but that just made it all the cozier to Leon. His house was bare and lacked any sort of personality, but this... this place was covered in you.

"I'm glad you like it in here." You said in a quiet voice, looking up at him as he took in your workspace. He was smiling ever so slightly, which you mimicked with a smile of your own. "I try to make it welcoming in here, my apartment is the same way.."

Your voice trailed off as you walked over to a mostly put together set up near the back of the room where the only wall without windows sat. There was a chair sitting close to the wall, the same chair Chris was sitting in for his portrait with Claire, along with your easel sitting empty a few feet away.

Leon stood frozen, only moving his head around as he took everything in. He followed you with his eyes as you fumbled around with something, eventually producing a blank 24" x 36" canvas that was still wrapped in thin plastic.

His mouth made an 'o' shape as he pulled himself from his small trance once again, beginning to slowly make his way over to the set up you've made. He placed his helmet down on the floor beside the chair.

After placing the canvas on the easel, you walked back over to where you'd gotten the canvas from before grabbing a heavily used sketchbook. It was a large one, the paper a light brown instead of white.

Leon had only just realized that there was a faint sound of some form of classical music playing from somewhere in the room, glancing around for speakers before looking back over at you.

"I'm not getting started today, we're a couple steps away from that, so don't worry about appearance just yet." You said softly with a breathy laugh, quickly making your way back over to where he stood next to the plush chair in your setup, his hand feeling over the worn maroon fabric.

Leon nodded silently, moving to sit down once you requested he did, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you drag over a small table. You worked fast, that's for sure.

Eventually, you'd set up a little tabletop easel to sit on the table you'd dragged in front of him, grabbing your swivel chair to sit in as you placed your sketchbook on the easel, open to a blank page.

"I just need to get some basic ideas of your facial structure since that's most important when it comes to these kinds of paintings. You're gonna be wearing a nice tuxedo when I do the second- no, third sketch for the final painting, but this is just for me to get a feel for you and vise versa." You rambled quickly, pulling out a pencil from one of your pockets before fully sitting down on the chair, bringing your legs up to sit criss cross.

"Uh.. Alright..." Leon responded, clearing his throat a bit. He didn't really understand what you'd said, you spoke a little too fast for his tired brain to keep up, but it seemed like whatever you were doing was necessary so he just rolled with it.

He was left a little speechless again at how you just began sketching, glancing up to his face and down to the page you were working on over and over. "...do you need me to, I don't know, pose or something?"

The way you kept looking at him was making feel a little uneasy. Granted he's never been in this sort of situation before, this whole process was very unfamiliar to him.

"No, no. You can move your head around and stuff. Get comfortable." You waved off, eyes wrinkling as you smiled at him. Leon nodded again, deciding to take the opportunity to look around your workspace again.

It really was a cozy space. Full of color and life, even the curtains you had lining the windows offered so much pattern and detail to the room. The back of the room where the two of you sat was more cluttered with less decor, but the front of the room was a whole different story with those massive floor pillows, blankets of all sorts strewn about, that big fluffy looking area rug, it was all so... homey. It was even inspiring him to decorate his own house a bit.

The sound of your pencil scribbling on paper and the faint sound of the classical music playing was all Leon could hear for awhile, eventually letting out an anxious sigh before beginning to talk. "So... a painter, huh..?"

"Oh yeah, I've been doing this since I was little. Obviously I wasn't that good back then, but I really improved after high school." You immediately responded, voice a little louder than his. Clearly the topic excites you. "If you want, I can hand you one of my other sketchbooks to look at while I do my thing over here?"

Leon patted his hands against the arms of the chair before nodding to the side, pursing his lips slightly. "Mm, sure. Let's see what ya got.."

As soon as he agreed, you stood up and shuffled over to the corner of the room where some desks sat arranged in a makeshift cubicle. You opened a drawer and pulled out a couple sketchbooks, still as raggedy as the one you were using now.

Walking back over, you carefully handed them to him, which he slowly took after meeting your eyes for a brief moment.

Once you made your way back to your chair, he placed both sketchbooks into his lap, opening up the one on top first. The man flipped through them silently as you began to sketch him out again.

You'd zoned into your work, adding just a bit of shading to your sketches to help emphasis some features when Leon cleared his throat again. You leaned to the side to look at him, your smile quickly returning when you saw his baffled expression.

"These are... wow, okay, how old are you?" Leon asked, head jerking upwards to meet your gaze once more. You just giggled in response, using the pencil as a fidget before returning to sketching.

"Sorry-uh, I don't mean to come off as rude or anything, but to be honest, I was expecting you to be some old lady when I saw the portraits you've done." Leon was quick to try and explain, probably misinterpreting your lack of response for unease.

Your giggle turned to a small laugh, leaning to the side once more to look at the man. "Well, I'm glad I could surprise you a bit. Hopefully I don't look old."

Leon groaned and wiped his hand down his face. "Again, sorry. Didn't mean to imply." He shook his head and looked back down at the two sketchbooks sitting in his lap, continuing to flip through them.

It was only a couple hours until you decided you got a good enough feel for drawing his face. Grabbing the sketchbook, you stood up, pencil still in hand, looking down at the sketches you made as you slowly walked over to him.

The man noticed you standing up, quickly moving to close the sketchbooks you'd given him in favor of seeing your new sketches.

"I... I think this'll be enough today. I don't want to keep you too long." You said, handing him the sketchbook. Leon took it from you, careful not to smudge anything as he finally got to see what you've been doing for the past two hours.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he studied the sketches you'd made of his face, seeing all the different angles, even the smile, how'd you get his smile?

You seemed to grow nervous the longer he stared at your sketchbook in silence, his intense look making it seem as if he didn't really like them. "Are they... Are they okay?"

Leon jostled the sketchbook a bit in his hands before standing up, now towering over you as he kept his eyes on the paper. "Just okay? These are beyond amazing."

You let out a small breath you didn't notice you were holding, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smiled at his compliment. "Oh, thank you.. I'm sorry, normally sketches don't take this long but it was stressed to me that your portrait was very important so I wanted to get everything as perfect as I could.."

"Seriously, you're a mad woman if you think these wouldn't be good." Leon chuckled, handing the sketchbook back to you. He kept his eyes trained on you, even after you turned to look down and close the sketchbook. Only a fool would miss that blush on your cheeks, it looked good on you.

"Anyways, when should I come back for the next.. uh..." Leon paused, crossing his arms loosely as he struggled to think of the word.

Luckily, you finished the sentence for him. "Session. Again, this painting's importance was stressed to me a lot, so probably the next time you're available?" You talked while you shifted the small table back to where it had originally sat under one of the numerous windows, tossing the sketchbook down on the chair cushion.

"Alright, since it's importance has now been stressed to me as well, I can probably clear up some stuff in my schedule. How's tomorrow sound?" Obviously, Leon had a completely free schedule, but you didn't need to know that.

"Tomorrow works great! The sooner the better!" You laughed, placing a gentle hand on his bicep as you walked past him to grab a sticky note. "I'll give you my personal number, just let me know when you're thinking of coming over and I'll meet you here, okay?"

Leon looked at your number before pocketing the note, nodding his head with a smile of his own. "Sounds good. Same way out?" He pointed to the door that you brought him in through, bending down to pick up his motorcycle helmet right after.

You confirmed with a thumbs up, now drinking water from your water bottle as you'd forgotten too while focused on drawing. You felt bad for not offering him any water while he was here, but you won't forget next time.

The man gave you a curt wave before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself.

You had to admit, you've worked with a very small handful of agents since it takes a lot for them to earn their own portrait, but Leon Kennedy had to be the one of the most handsome men you've ever worked with. Maybe even one of the most handsome men you've ever seen.

Lucky you pay attention to detail, cause you definitely didn't see a ring on his finger.

[quintinh43]

All My Heart | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn has been off the ice for two weeks, and he isn't dealing with it well.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety/panic (attack?), general questioning of existence. Feelings, Angst, the whole roster basically.

Notes: yall please be careful reading this one! I did not mean for it to go the way it did but here we are. Please please please keep the warnings in mind, and if ever you need to stop reading please do. Take care of yourselves first loves. More notes at the end!

Wc: 1.6 k

---

Quinn felt like he was going insane. He'd been off the ice for two weeks due to an upper body injury, and it felt as if the restlessness had buried itself beneath his bones. He currently lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with tired eyes and a mind that wouldn't relax.

His foot shook incessantly beneath the blanket as he tried to fall asleep, but the thoughts kept whirling. He had been having trouble sleeping since he'd been benched. The constant string of anxious thoughts preventing his mind from quieting down enough for him to slip into a blissful sleep.

"Quinn." You grumble, voice laced with sleepiness. His constant foot shaking had been pulling you in and out of sleep since the two of you had settled down for the night. But you had kept quiet in the hopes that he would be able to fall asleep eventually.

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispers sheepishly, his fingers start drawing soothing circles into your waist, from where his arm is wrapped around you. "I didn't mean to wake you," he murmers, pressing his lips against your hair in a gentle kiss.

"It's alright, love. But can you please please stop shaking your foot?" You mutter, still half asleep.

"Yeah, sorry baby," he murmers sheepishly. He stills his foot, and somehow, the thoughts become ten times more intense. He's going on a full week with a total of maybe four hours of sleep. It's fucking hell. He's been getting snappy during the day. Although you mostly leave it be, because he usually apologizes right after, and you know he doesn't mean when he says it, and it's just his anxiety about not being able to play.

Deciding that there is no use in trying to sleep, he waits until your breathing evens out into a quiet snore before untangling himself from you and slipping out of the bedroom quietly. Quinn finds himself in the kitchen, with no plan on what to do. It's nearly three in the morning.

He settles onto the floor in favour of stretching. Hoping that it will help calm him at least enough so that he's no longer obscenely jittery. Unfortunately, it does nothing useful for him. His next idea is to watch a movie. Maybe something stupid and mind-numbing will put him to sleep.

He makes himself a cup of chamomile tea and sinks into the couch, turning on the first Despicable Me movie. It's perfectly stupid enough to get him no longer thinking about hockey. Except, then there's a freeze-ray. And then Vector's in-house shark aquarium is reminding him of the Canucks.

He pauses the movie and puts down his empty mug on the coffee table with such a deep sigh. It feels as though his bones are rattling. He presses his palms to his eyes in desperation, wishing oh so terribly that he could be skating and playing hockey. He feels chained, having not been allowed on the ice for so long.

His second home, his freedom. Where it feels like he's flying. Where he feels invincible, like he can do anything. Quinn springs up from the couch, and he's pacing. He paces around the living room with such fervor that he might wear a hole into the floor.

He needs to get on the ice. Now. Or he's going to rip his hair out. And then, on top of being injured, he'll also be bald. Which would be the second worst thing to ever happen to him. The first being the fact that he hasn't been allowed on the ice for two full weeks.

With no coherent plan, he creeps around the apartment, throwing his skating equipment in a spare duffle bag. He's grabbing his car keys and slipping on his shoes when the bedroom door opens with a creek.

"Quinn?" Your voice is tired and confused. You're hugging your arms around your body to protect yourself from the chill of the apartment.

Quinn looks like a deer caught in headlights. His hair is sticking up in every which direction, his eyes are red from exhaustion, and his eyebags are so so dark. He's wearing two different shoes, and for fucks sake he's not even wearing a shirt.

You amble over to him cautiously, gently tugging the duffle bag from his hand. You can see the blades of his skates sticking out of the bag. "Baby, what are you doing?" Your eyes dart over to the time on the microwave. It's 3:47 am.

"Y/n" he breathes, it's desperate and pleading, and all you want to do is wrap him in your arms and take away all his pain and worries. "I need to go- I need to get out. I'm going insane." He whispers. There's a tremor in his hands as he runs them through his hair.

"Ok, my love, we're gonna go. Let's go put on some proper clothes first." You say lacing your fingers with his and tugging him towards the bedroom. He sighs, squeezing your hand tightly. Like he needs the physical reminder that you're with him. Otherwise, you'll disappear.

You successfully coax him into a hoodie and a touqe and pull a pair of sweatpants and one of Quinn's hoodies over your (his) t-shirt. Making sure Quinn is wearing the correct set of shoes, you grab the keys off the hook, sling his duffle bag over your shoulder, and grab his hand. As soon as your hands are linked again, his grip is tight. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

You throw his bag in the back seat and slide into the driver's side while Quinn slips into the passenger seat. As soon as he can, he grabs your hand again. You hold your intertwined hands tucked under your chin while you drive.

"Talk to me, Quinn," you murmur softly, stroking your thumb over the back of his knuckles.

Quinn sighs shakily. He wants to talk to you. He really does. But he's so used to burying everything down, to not be a burden. He's the oldest. He's supposed to be the leader, the strong one. He knows in his heart that if there's anyone he can talk to, it's you. You don't push. You know he'll talk when he's ready.

His leg is bouncing, and he's running his hand through his hair nervously as he formulates his thoughts into coherent sentences. "I feel like i'm going insane," he mutters. "i need - i need to get on the ice. It's my freedom. I feel chained to existence because I haven't been able to skate for so long."

Your heart breaks for him as you squeeze his hand, letting him know that you're listening.

"I'm sorry, that doesn't make any sense," he sighs.

"No baby, it does, I get what you're saying," you say softly.

"It's like, I'm being punished for something. Am I a bad person?" His voice is cracking, and if you thought it impossible for your heart to break further, you were just proven wrong.

"No, Quinn, you aren't a bad person. Injuries are inevitable. You didn't do anything to deserve this. I promise you, my love." You kiss the back of his hand, hoping that your lips can pour all your love and reassurance into him.

"Where are we going?" Quinn asks, squinting curiously at the rapidly passing treeline. You had exited onto the highway a little bit ago, with no plan or intention.

You shrug your shoulders, "No idea, I'm just driving."

Guilt washes over Quinn like a tidal wave. He tugs his hand from yours and covers his face, with embarrassment and exasperation at himself. He sighs into his hands, and all of a sudden, the emotions are too much again.

"Quinn?" You glance at him with concern. He's breathing deeply, trying to keep the anxiety from spiking again.

"I'm so sorry, I woke you up and dragged out at such an ungodly hour. And fuck- you have work in the morning. Baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry -" he sounds like he's on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Quinn, baby, look at me." Your voice is so gentle as you wrap your hand around his wrist and tug it away from his face, "You are the most important thing to me. Forever and always, especially especially right now. Please, please, please, don't beat yourself up about it. I would drop everything for you in a heartbeat, my love."

His breathing is still shallow. You rest his hand on your chest and take deep, slow breaths. "Copy my breathing, Quinn."

It takes a minute for his breathing to match yours, "Good job Honey" you smile, keeping his hand pressed against your chest.

"Can we go home?" He whispers, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Of course, baby, whatever you want." You take the next exit and head in the direction of your shared apartment. The drive is mostly silent, only the sounds of deep breathing and the occasional shuddering sigh fill the car.

As soon as you're back in the apartment, Quinn is pulling off his hoodie and toque, "I need you to lay on top of me," Quinn all but begs.

"Alright, lay down wherever you want." You say, stripping if your own hoodie and sweats. He lays on the floor. The bed is too soft. He can't handle the sinking feeling. You lay directly on top of him, and he let's out a relieved sigh, his arms tightening around your waist.

"Love you so much, Y/n," he murmers into your cheek.

"I love you too, Quinn, with all my heart," you say gently, stroking his hair soothingly. He falls asleep within half an hour, and you pass out right after him.

And when the two of you wake up, if you take him skating. Well, that's no one's business but your own.

---

I know I said I probably wasn't gonna post for like a week and a half cause of school, but the inspiration hit, and I wrote this in like... an hour. So if it's really bad, well...

And just cause I haven't said it before, everything I write is purely fictional! I don't know how the hughes act in real life! I am simply writing them as characters.

I might end up taking this one down, so...

Anyways. Please take care of yourselves, yall. Leave comments! And as always, Love Soph.

[thevoidstaredback]

Oliver was having a crisis. He has been for nearly a week now. It's gotten to the point where Dinah has benched him. Benched him!

He tried to tell her what was wrong, but what did she do? She laughed. Laughed! She laughed at him so hard that she started crying. And when she recovered enough to actually speak? She told him, point blank, "Don't be ridiculous, Oliver! You honestly think that Bruce Wayne is Batman? Brucie?! He literally said that he doesn't like Batman! What kind of person gives their secret identity a bad rap?"

"That's the genius of it, Dinah!" he shouted back, "No one expects it because the very notion is ridiculous!"

Dinah had put her hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Look, Ollie, I get that you two are long-time friends, and it would be awesome to let him into this part of our lives, but really? You want him to be Batman of all heroes? And, no offense to the Big Bad Bat, but he's way to scary - and probably pumped full of death magic and curses - to be human, let alone Bruce Wayne."

Oliver could do nothing but watch her leave.

Is this why Bruce told him? To make everyone think he'd gone insane? He thought they were friends!

***

Roy, of course, had witnessed the entire interaction before Oliver and Dinah left Bludhaven. Naturally, he gave Jason a play-by-play of the entire thing.

***

The last meeting at the Watchtower had ended with the 'Core Members' of the Justice League getting a tour of the Batcave. Now that this one was now over, they found themselves sitting in quiet at the table after everyone else had gone.

Green Arrow was the first to break through the growing tension - though no one really knew the source - in the room. "Batman, isn't there something you'd like to tell us?"

The looks of confusion from the other seven heroes went ignored.

"Yes," Batman nodded, "Our civilian identities are closely held secrets. Such is the fact that not even we know who each other is. But that's not quite true. I know who every single one of you are under your masks. I have information on you, your families, your coworkers, even strangers you interact with when you get your coffee in the morning."

"What?!" The cry of outrage could be heard even outside of the soundproofed room.

"That's a huge violation of privacy, Bats!" Green Lantern shouted, slamming his hand on the table.

"I know," Batman admitted.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Superman, ever the voice of reason, called over the rising voices, "How do you know it's actually our secret identities and not a random group of civilians?"

"We're detectives before we're heroes," Batman explained, "We don't make mistakes like that."

"I'm sorry," The Flash interrupted, "'We'?"

"Do your- Do your sidekicks know, too?!" Aquaman screeched.

Batman nodded. "If it's any consolation-"

"Doubt it," Cyborg scoffed.

"-I did not tell them; They figured out all on their own."

"You are really bad at this." Martian Manhunter said.

Batman ignored the noise, finally standing from his chair, as he spoke, the other's quieting down to hear him. "I'd like to ask for your trust in my keeping your secrets by offering you mine in turn." He lifted his arm and gripped his cowl. In one swift move, he pushed it off to fall against his back with his cape. "My real name is Bruce Wayne."

There's a long moment of nothing. No one so much as breaths for what feels like an eternity.

"...holy fuck." Green Lantern whispers, breaking the spell over the room.

"I told her!" Green Arrow shouts, also standing, "I told her! And what did she do? Laugh! You owe me, Canary!"

Part 17 Storyboard Alt. Ending

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part nine.

Bahrain is just as beautiful as it was the first time. There’s a palpable energy to the streets of the city in the days leading up to the Grand Prix, and you find yourself filled with anticipation and excitement.

A lot has happened in the year it’s been since you were last here━ enough that it almost feels like a lifetime ago━ but the ups and downs have culminated into something pretty great.

The night of your birthday, when you and all of Lando’s friends had crammed yourselves into Lando’s living room and cheered as the clock turned midnight to herald in the new year, Oscar had pulled you in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. It hadn’t gone further than that, perhaps out of respect for your earlier breakdown and the still tentative thing between the two of you, but nonetheless just the feeling of his lips against yours had made you feel alive.

It had reminded you a bit of your first kiss outside the hotel, but instead of awkwardly dancing around it after the fact, you’d woken up the following morning with him wrapped around you, and this time you’d allowed yourself to savor it. He’d woken up to you running your fingers through his hair, and then you’d spent the morning cuddling beneath the sheets and talking things out before Lando had, eventually, burst into the room with his hand over his eyes, demanding the two of you “get decent” so you could all get lunch.

This weekend will mark two months of being together, and it feels surreal.

“You look insane right now,” Logan announces out of the blue from where he sits across from you in the booth. The restaurant you’re in is relatively close to the hotel where you’re staying, but with it still being nearly a week until race day, it’s practically empty so early into the afternoon, which makes his voice seem louder in the quiet peacefulness around you.

“What?” You glance up from your phone and raise an eyebrow. He isn’t even looking at you. He’s looking at his own phone, thumb sweeping across the screen while he picks at the few remains of his food mindlessly with his fork.

“You’re smiling at your phone and it’s making you look insane,” he elaborates nonchalantly, like it’s common sense despite him still not even looking up from whatever video he’s watching.

You scoff, “You aren’t even looking.”

He finally lifts his gaze, but it’s only to make a face at you. His features scrunches up, exaggerating his disgust with twisted lips and narrowed eyes. “I don’t need to. It’s like an aura. I can feel it from here. It’s gross.”

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes. Ever since getting with Oscar, he’s been getting more and more dramatic with his feigned disgust, and now it’s mostly just a bit he thinks is hilarious to pull out every time you’re even mildly entertained by something pertaining to your boyfriend. It would probably still be funny to you if you weren’t almost always texting him, or keeping up with the McLaren Instagram account’s updates of his training, and therefore almost always mildly entertained. “I’m so terribly sorry you have to deal with your sister being happy.”

He rolls his eyes back at you, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips and you know his act is falling apart. “Are you and Oscar gonna meet up later?”

“We’re trying to schedule things,” you answer with a shrug. Oscar’s flight got in late last night, too late for him and his team to get around to the typical obligations expected of him, so he’s spent all of this morning getting caught up and according to your current text chain with him he’s only just been released and given free reign to do as he wishes. “I’m texting him about it right now.”

“That tracks.”

You raise an eyebrow once more, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It’s Logan’s turn to raise an eyebrow, as if he can’t believe you’re really asking that. “Whenever you text him you get all disgustingly happy.” He scrunches up his face again. “You’re like a real life Hallmark couple. I half expect the two of you to move to some small town with a coincidentally holiday themed name in the middle of nowhere. And there’s a Christmas tree farm, or a reindeer lodge, or something.” He ends his mini tirade with a forced and exagerated shiver.

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you.”

He deadpans. “Everytime I see you two together I find myself disturbed by the sheer imensity of your joy.”

“Aw,” you coo, “I love you too.”

It’s only Monday, which gives you a few days before things start getting underway at the track. It also means you’ve got a decent amount of time to share between Logan, who’s grown increasingly grumpier at the idea of you potentially switching aliegences to McLaren, and Oscar, who’s just happy to see you whenever he can.

When you’d left Monaco a few days after the party, it had been with the knowledge that this new and still fragile relationship was going to have to withstand the stressors of long distance. You’ve called one another nearly every day since then to try and replicate some semblance of normalcy, but time zone differences often saw one of you getting into bed while the other was getting out of it━ at least, when he was back in Melbourne making the most of the time he had with his family. Things got slightly easier when he was called back to England to start pre-season training and testing, but it also meant lots of meetings and PR events that kept him away from the phone and left him exhausted by the time he was finished.

Needless to say, this is the first chance you have to see him again in person and it feels like torture knowing the only thing keeping you apart is a few city blocks.

“Real talk though, have him around to the hotel,” Logan speaks up again, just as the waitress comes and clears your plates away.

You spare her a smile and a quiet thank you, and then turn back to him. “Why? You and Dalton already gave him the shovel talk over videocall.”

“Just because you two are ‘involved’━” he says it like it’s some sort of bogus conspiracy theory, “━doesn’t mean I can’t still hang out with my friend.”

“I thought you were disturbed by the sheer imensity of our joy when you see us together?”

“Okay and?” He makes another face at you, but it’s less like he’s disgusted by the reminder of you and Oscar’s relationship, and more like he’s annoyed that you’ve used his own words against him. “I’m disturbed by Alex’s taste in music too, but I still put up with it when we’re in the car together.”

The two of you fall into peals of laughter.

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yourusername he loves me AND my crippling hat addiction

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logansargeant hm, interesting how one is blue and none are orange 🤔

↳ yourusername hm, interesting how i know where you sleep 🤔

mclaren Looks like you’re missing some papaya Y/N! We can fix that 😁🧡

↳ williamsracing Sorry! She’s already ours 😊💙

↳ yourusername omg guysss don’t fight over meee 🫣

user RAHHHH USA USA WTF IS A KILOMETERRRRR 🦅🦅

user need me a boyf who buys me hats

user guyssss it HAS to be oscar

↳ user what?? no it’s literally lando did you even see the comments between the two of them from a month ago?? she went to monaco with him??

↳ user y’all are crazy fr it’s obvi a nobody and y/n is just milking the drama from ppl thinking it’s a driver bc it means more interactions on her posts and therefore it’s better for her career

↳ user i think it’s max!!

↳ user what.

user LIVE LAUGH LOVE Y/N’S HAT COLLECTION

landonorris crippling indeed

↳ yourusername i’m trying my hardest 😔

↳ landonorris the first step to getting help is admitting you have a problem

oscarpiastri 🧢

↳ yourusername x10

Oscar’s running his hands through your hair and you’re flipping through the channels on the hotel TV when the subject comes up. There’s nothing that’s really catching your interest, and half of it is in languages you don’t know, but just sitting here and enjoying Oscar’s presence is enough to stave off the boredom. Logan's been gone for just over an hour, having left to go meet up with Alex for some Williams promotional content, and you’ve been drifting a bit when your boyfriend speaks up from behind you, asking, “Are you gonna visit McLaren hospitality this weekend?”

You pause your surfing, landing on a cooking show that’s in French. His fingers are still tangled in your hair, but he’s momentarily stopped too.

“Do you want me to come to McLaren hospitality?” You ask, looking up at him from where you’re leaning back against his chest. “Because I will,” you hurriedly add, “if you want me to. But it’ll just add fuel to the fire and further encourage the speculation online about which one of you I’m with.”

“I do think it’s funny to see people go full detective mode in your comments,” Oscar smiles down at you. He looks shy, hesitant almost in the way his eyes flicker across your face. He clears his throat nervously, “But I was kind of thinking that maybe you could visit as my girlfriend. Publicly.”

You sit up immediately and turn to face him, ignoring that his fingers catch on your hair as you move. He looks just as surprised by your sudden movement as you feel by his sudden announcement. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, if you’d rather not━” he starts, uncertain.

“No!” You interrupt, reaching out to take his face in your hands and silencing him. “I would absolutely love that, but are you sure you want the attention this will get you? We’ve been lucky with avoiding the negativity so far, but you know that it’ll come the moment we announce it.”

He brings his hands up and places them on top of where yours rest, and then he interlaces your fingers and pulls your hands away so he can speak again. There’s a soft smile on his face and a gentleness in his eyes that you’ve come to recognize as a look that’s exclusive to you and you alone. “I want the world to know who my heart belongs to.”

A grin tugs at your lips, and then you’re falling into his arms with a laugh.

It feels good knowing you can do this whenever you want. Just last year you hadn’t even realized you’d wanted something like this with Oscar, but then the kiss had happened and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it━ about wanting more and not being able to have it. It had been torture, honestly, pining after him like a lovesick school girl, too afraid to make the first move and risk the balance of it all.

You’re still embarrassed by what all had needed to happen before things had been cleared up, and part of you still kicks yourself for not just taking that leap and going for it, especially when it would have given you moments like this, wrapped in his arms, so much sooner.

“I know we’ve already talked about it, but I was really worried that you would hate me for kissing you that night,” Oscar murmurs against the top of your head, as if he can read your thoughts. “I thought that you had only kissed me back because you were, like, too drunk to know better. And then, I realized what I’d done, and I pulled away before it could go any further. And then you never mentioned it, and I figured you wanted to just forget about it, so I never mentioned it either.”

You shift just enough to let your arms drape over his shoulders, and then you let your fingers tangle in his hair the same way his had been in yours. You scratch at his head for a moment, letting his words settle before you say, “I thought you’d only kissed me because you got caught up in the emotions of it all, and then when you never mentioned it I thought it’s because you regretted it, or thought it was a mistake, and you just wanted to forget it. I really wish I would’ve just gotten over my fear and talked to you about it.”

You feel his heartbeat against you where you’re leaned up against his chest. It’s strong and steady, and it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever felt.

“It would’ve been nice to celebrate in other ways after I podiumed in Japan,” he adds suggestively, laughing when you pull one of your hands back to swat at his arm.

“Podium again this year and maybe we can celebrate in those other ways,” you whisper against his neck.

He groans, “Well now you’re just being mean.”

You pull away from his grip, an innocent smile on your face. “I have no idea what you mean, babe.”

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oscarpiastri the luckiest guy and the prettiest girl

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yourusername the prettiest* guy and the luckiest* girl

↳ landonorris literally throwing up rn 🤮

↳ yourusername mind your own business 😒

↳ landonorris mInD yOuR oWn BuSiNeSs 😒 you made it my business when you posted that disgustingly sweet comment where i could see

user OMG IT WAS OSCAR ALL ALONG

user Y/NOSCAR NATION RISE UP AND REJOICE 🙌🙌🙌

user we literally clocked it from a mile away

↳ user i know damn well you were in the comments saying it was lando don’t even try and pretend otherwise

landonorris so glad ppl can stop thinking i’m with your girlfriend now mate

↳ oscarpiastri it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a gf of your own

↳ landonorris why am i taking shots out of nowhere??

user this is literally my roman empire

mclaren Welcome to the McLaren team, Y/N! Looking forward to hopefully seeing you in some papaya around the paddock 🧡

↳ logansargeant pls she’s all i have left you can’t take her too

user WISHING THEM THE BEST

user i don’t understand why oscar would be with someone who willingly flirts with other men?? like is that not hoe behavior?? make it make sense ffs

↳ user lando and y/n are friends as this post proves. the fact that you saw friendly banter as flirting says more about you and how you view ppl than it says about either of them, and i think you might need to look inward before you can judge someone else. and even if it had been flirting, we don’t know when y/n and oscar got together, which means it’s entirely possible that she was single when she was “flirting” with lando which wouldn’t be cheating at all.

↳ user they’re just butthurt that oscar would never spare them a glance

user been here from the start and i gotta say this is more euphoric than any award could ever be

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yourusername been waiting for the moment to pull out these bad boys and now i can 🤭 thx babe love you 😘

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user y/n 🤝 mclaren admin

oscarpiastri so this is a game you want to play

↳ logansargeant i got you mate don’t worry my arsenal is at your disposal

↳ yourusername WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT

user y/n is THE wag pls she’s gonna be feeding us so well

user MANIFESTING MCLAREN WINS FOR 2024 💪😤

↳ user MANIFESTING WILLIAMS WINS FOR 2024

user wait so like gen who is she gonna root for???

landonorris you’re doing god’s work today y/n

↳ yourusername someone had to give the ppl what they want 🫡

user couple of the century right here folks

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel @lewisvinga @81vas @maih23 @thatoneembarrasingmoment

━━ a/n: and there we have it folks! the ending to this lovely story! i will probably do a few little blurbs for them eventually, but in the meantime this is where we leave them. thank you for reading!

[herlondonboy]

loose lips sink ships, clarisse la rue

summary: based on this ask

warnings: hurry and comfort

wc: 0.7k

a/n: just a short fic before i go to bed

you liked talking. you could speak for hours about meaningless subjects and meaningful subjects, like going to the outside world to buy more posters. but most of all, you liked talking about people. not in a rude way, just like your gain so much information and explode at clarisse.

she didn’t care for demigod drama, but she loved your voice. if anyone else tried talking her ear off, they wouldn’t have a tongue to talk with anymore.

but you?

she could fall asleep to you talking, wake up to you talking, and have you talk all through the day, and she’d never get sick of it. because she loved you. she loved so you much, she would kill for you if you asked.

it like you spoke before you thought. you hated it, but you were constantly on autopilot. you wanted it to stop. you saw the looks people would give you when you relayed information that you probably shouldn’t have.

at one point, people just stopped talking to you. you didn’t realise, you only really spoke to silena, chris, and clarisse anyway. it didn’t affect you that much.

then they stopped talking when you walked into a room.

it hurt, you weren’t going to lie. i mean, of course it did. you were being ostracised by the entire camp. you were being left alone by the people that were supposed to be your family. you knew why, so you tried to change.

the next morning, you silently walked to the mess hall. it was winter, so you were eating inside, and sat next to your girlfriend.

“hey, baby,” she said in a smug tone. “you okay?”

you nodded and looked around just as silena and chris came and sat opposite the two of you. they engaged in a light conversation, but you just fiddled with your fingers, willing yourself not to speak, not to annoy anyone.

there were whispers, you wondered if they were about the fact you hadn’t opened your mouth at all and breakfast was almost up.

you started to tear up. nothing you ever did was good enough. you talk? you’re annoying. you don’t talk? you’re weird.

“y/n,” you heard, making you snap up and see all three of them looking at you. your eyes dance between them. “what do you think? james and sam are getting awfully close, right?”

you shrugged, “i dunno.” you did know. james and sam had been with you for archery. they got all up close and personal as james tried to teach her correct form, brushing up against her. that wouldn’t be that bad of it weren’t for james’s girlfriend, who was hanging out with her felling aphrodite siblings in the fields, blissfully unaware of her promiscuous boyfriend.

“you don’t know?”

gods, why were they trying to encourage you?

“i don’t,” you said softly, looking down, making sure no one else could hear you.

they could. they could and they were all looking at you. the tears in your eyes became harder and harder to keep at bay, so you pushed your chair back and stormed off, not daring to open your mouth. you wondered if your cries would annoy them.

clarisse found you nearly an hour later. you were sitting on the beach, toes dipped into the water.

“hey,” you looked at her but didn’t say anything. “what’s wrong?” you shrugged. clarisse didn’t like that. “nuh-uh. nope. we’re not doing that. you told me that communication is key. you. talk to me, baby.”

“i don’t do it on purpose,” you whispered. “i can’t control it, they have to know that. my mouth is constantly on autopilot, i don’t mean to be a gossip, it’s just hardwired in me,” tears gathered in your eyes. “so i tried being quite, but they hated that too. i can’t please them.”

clarisse furrowed her eyebrows. “who was it?”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

“um, there was deena and tommy from the hermes cabin?” you answered.

clarisse nodded with a smirk. “i’m gonna beat up luke, too.”

you nodded and brightened up. “did you hear hermes drove luke’s mom to insanity? i also hear that hermes is trying to make it up to him, but luke isn’t hearing him out. he’s got the kind of hatred that would make him turn against the gods.”

clarisse smiled at you and you furrowed your eyebrows. she leaned forward to kiss you softly. “you’re back, is all.”

you chuckled softly. “it’s good to be back.” the two of you stood and you gasped. “which reminds me-“

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part eight | r.c

summary:

Do not come over here right now, you thought to yourself, pleaded to God even, but of course, JJ walked right over to your table, stopping in front of you to bow theatrically. You could basically see Rafe’s vein throbbing in anger.

“Boss, can I get you anything?”

“I wasn’t aware you’re on her payroll, Maybank,” Rafe snapped, falling into your words before you could even open your mouth, glaring up at JJ.

“Oh didn’t you hear? She’s the one who got me this job,” JJ said gleefully and you groaned internally as Rafe drew his arm back, raising his brows at you.

“You did what?”

OR; The Spring Fling is finally here. And of course, no event on Kildare goes off without a hitch

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: none except for one macho context between Rafe and JJ lol

word count: 2,6k

author's note: hello don't ask what this is and don't yell at me bc i literally just wrote what the little people in my head told me to write (I think it's funny when you say that i'm making you insane, im telling you, im just equally as shook as im writing)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. eight: "and clandestine meetings and longing stares"

“When did you and Rafe start having sex?”

You nearly spat your mimosa all over the table, but opted for choking on it instead, coughing as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. Out of everything, Topper chose to ask you that question during brunch at the Spring Fling party, where you were surrounded by Kook families. But you should’ve known.

Topper’s mother was anything if not punctual and she had turned up not even a minute after 11. Rafe and Kelce were set to come later during the brunch, this was the perfect opportunity to ask something like that and Topper knew it.

Reaching for a napkin, you tried to keep your coughs to a minimum when your mother gave you a dirty look from her table. Consequently, you turned to Topper to give him an equally nasty look.

“Top, what the fuck?”

Topper only sent your mother a charming smile, raising his glass in her direction until she turned away with a headshake.

“Sorry, were the two of you trying to be discreet?” he then asked, glancing in your direction as he took a sip from his champagne. You let out a scoff, downing your mimosa in one go, your cheeks burning. Playing with the stem of the glass nervously, you took your time with an answer, knowing that Topper was sensible enough to not push you.

“How long have you known?”

Topper sighed, pushing his hair back at your evasive question. “Remember when we were hanging out at Rafe’s like three days ago? I left my wallet on the table and came back inside, just to hear the two of you going at it.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. Of course. You had told Rafe to wait after Topper and Kelce left. For ten minutes at least, just to be safe; but then he started kissing your neck and your self-control flew out of the window. Asshole.

Topper eyed you skeptically, and you didn’t say anything, except a thank you to the waiter when he placed a new mimosa in front of you. Topper played with the corner of the tablet cloth, waiting until the waiter left before he spoke again.

“So… You what? Just fuck around?” he asked, frowning. “You’re willing to risk your friendship for sex?”

“We’re not risking our friendship, Top. We’re adults and we can have sex without complicated feelings, and if it ever starts to get weird, we just stop,” you told him, ignoring the fact that you had been questioning your friendship just last week. Topper didn’t need to know that.

He only exhaled, taking another sip of his champagne. The silence between the two of you stretched so long, you started to believe he had dropped the topic.

“Maybe we should hook up too.”

You nearly choked on your mimosa again, but you managed to swallow it this time, before turning to stare at Topper with wide eyes, your forehead creased.

“Ew what?”

Topper raised a brow at you. “What?”

“Why would you even say that? We’ve been friends forever, don’t be gross.”

“So have you and Rafe but you don’t have any problem fucking him.”

You bristled at his choice of words, turning away from him, frowning into the distance, knowing exactly what point he was trying to make. You had always wondered if Topper ever suspected that you had feelings for Rafe, but chose not to ask you about it. Until now.

“What’s your point?” you finally griped.

Topper gave you an exasperated look. “Seriously precious? You know this isn’t gonna end well. And it won’t just affect you and Rafe, it’s gonna affect me als Kelce, too. How the fuck are we supposed to choose sides if you’re our best friends?”

“What do you mean “choose sides”?” you huffed, throwing your hands up. “We’re adults, and we’re friends, best friends. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

“Do you really believe that?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes mostly to deflect. Topper had a point. This had potential to explode in all of your faces, have catastrophic consequences, and why? Because you were selfish? You’d risk your friendship with your best friend to have only a tiny more piece of Rafe, something that you weren’t entitled to? Clenching your jaw, you reached out to pat Topper’s hand gently, trying to find the right words, to take his worries away, but before you could, you saw Rafe arriving with Kelce and his family and you leaned back in your chair, glancing at Topper.

“Drop it,” you muttered under your breath, throwing him a warning glance, terrified that Rafe could overhear something.

The other half of your friend group approached your table, both of the boys kissing your cheek in greeting, before Kelce took a seat next to Topper, while Rafe sat down on the empty chair next to you.

“What did we miss?” Rafe asked, holding up two fingers to the waiter before turning to you, raising a brow.

Topper opened his mouth, no doubt to let out a stupid comment, but you stepped your foot on his, making sure that the heel only grazed the top of his shoe, warning him. Topper’s face contorted into pain, and he glared at you. Luckily, neither Kelce or Rafe noticed your squabble, as the waiter arrived with your drinks, placing four flutes of champagne and mimosas on the table.

“Just how precious over here stumbled over her words when she introduced her parents,” he said, making you roll your eyes. Kelce snickered and Rafe only smirked into his glass as he took a sip. Reaching for a new glass, you picked a glass by the stem, only to realize that Rafe had thrown his arm over your chair when you leaned back. You grew hot, which was stupid considering the fact that Rafe has always been touchy with you even before you two started having sex, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were showing your emotions all over your face. Throwing a glance over to Topper, you thought he’d show his disapproval, but he was engrossed in a discussion with Kelce over his new bike. If he had noticed, he hadn’t shown.

“Told you to practice, didn’t I precious?” Rafe muttered under his breath, the amusement clear in his voice. You only rolled your eyes, crossing your legs as you sipped on your mimosa. Things between you were… Almost normal. After the rather odd intimate moment you had in the shower and then in bed, it felt like Rafe had… Not exactly taken a step back when it came to sex, but you definitely felt like he was trying to show you how he valued your friendship more sex.

For example, when you were trying to come up with some sort of speech for the spring fling

“The way I recall it, I was practicing and you told me to “wing it” because “writing a speech is lame””, you said, quoting him.

Rafe snickered, taking a sip of his champagne. “You did a great job helping your parents pull this shit off,” he told you, his thumb drawing circles into your shoulder. You didn’t reply, swirling the mimosa in your glass around as Rafe glanced around the garden, before he did a double take, his eyes narrowing.

“What the fuck is JJ Maybank doing here?”

Three tables over, JJ was pouring Mr. Jones a glass of Champagne, the heavy bottle nearly slipping out of his fingers before he got a grip on it again. He only gave Mr. Jones a charming smile, you had no doubt he had some quip right on his tongue. You squirmed on your chair, finishing your mimosa in one go (was someone counting how many mimoas you’d had already?), shoving the empty glass on the table.

“Working, obviously,” you answered somewhat evasively. “Can’t you see that he’s wearing an uniform?”

“Obviously I can see that,” Rafe huffed, giving you a look. “I meant, how did he get a job here? I know for a fact that Kennedy hates his guts.”

Right, Kennedy the hostess.

“Why does Kennedy hate his guts again?”

“He said Carter’s name during sex,” Kelce suddenly chimed in, leaning over Topper to engage in the gossip session you were apparently having. You winced. Kennedy and Carter were sisters, you could see why Kennedy couldn’t stand JJ (anymore).

“To be fair, they’re twins, so I can understand how JJ mixed them up.”

“Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not!” you exclaimed. “I’m just saying, it’s an easy mistake to make.”

Rafe huffed, rolling his eyes with a headshake, clearly annoyed. You didn’t understand how he was so easily aggravated by pogues, especially JJ. Topper only gave you a look when you glanced over at him, while Kelce was too busy ogling JJ.

JJ, who had seemed to spot your group, judging by the way a smirk was growing on his lips. He leaned down to finish topping off the guests glasses, before departing from the table.

Do not come over here right now, you thought to yourself, pleaded to God even, but of course, JJ walked right over to your table, stopping in front of you to bow theatrically. You could basically see Rafe’s vein throbbing in anger.

“Boss, can I get you anything?”

“I wasn’t aware you’re on her payroll, Maybank,” Rafe snapped, falling into your words before you could even open your mouth, glaring up at JJ.

“Oh didn’t you hear? She’s the one who got me this job,” JJ said gleefully and you groaned internally as Rafe drew his arm back, raising his brows at you.

“You did what?” he asked incredulously. You rolled your eyes at his tone. He made it sound like you just betrayed his trust.

“He needed a job, what’s the harm in helping him out?”

“He’s a pogue,” Rafe all but spit out. “When the fuck did you even talk to him?”

“Last week after you guys left, he kind of broke into my house.”

“Accidentally!” “Wait what?” “He did what?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

Rafe scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, JJ only smirked in satisfaction, Kelce was staring at you with an open mouth and Topper looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Well, if you gentlemen don’t need anything else,” JJ said, looking at you. “Another drink, princess?”

“Don’t call her that.”

Just as you thought you’d avoided a full blown fight, Rafe was glaring daggers at JJ again, who just seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of your best friend and using you to do it.

“I think she can tell me herself if she doesn’t want me to call her princess.”

Rafe got up so fast, you could barely react before he was all up in JJ’s space, a frown on his face.

“Who do you think you are, parading around our side of the island?” Rafe hissed into JJ’s face, but the blonde barely blinked at him, his smirk never leaving his face. Meanwhile, you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole, pressing yourself into your chair, hoping to disappear. You were just as angry as you were embarrassed, knowing how Rafe was causing a scene, making the other guests starting to look over; especially your mother, who was glaring at you as if you had instigated this.

“Guys,” Topper finally hissed. “This is not the right place for a pissing contest.”

Rafe took a step back, as if out of a trance. He flexed his hand, throwing JJ a dirty look. “Get lost, Maybank.”

Lucky for you, he did, but not without winking at you before he left. Rafe dropped back into his chair, and for a short second, you thought the whole party was ruined, but everyone quickly started chatting again, the incident forgotten.

“The nerve of that guy,” Rafe grunted, as if his behavior just now was insanely stupid. You only scoffed, shaking your head at him, and he glanced over at you, raising a brow.

“What?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, snatching your purse off the table, standing up quickly. Without excusing yourself, you left your friends at the table, heading straight to the bathroom to cool off. You exhaled slowly as you washed your hands, letting the cold water run over your wrists, not caring that you were getting your jewelry wet. When you finally deemed it enough. you turned the water off, drying your hands with paper towels. But you weren’t ready to go back out just yet, so you rummaged through your purse, trying to find your lipgloss to reapply. Just as you were about to put the small applicator on your lips, the door opened, and Rafe slid inside with a frown.

“Get out,” you said, even before the door shut properly.

“You can’t seriously be mad at me,” Rafe guffawed, his jaw slack. “That little shit was walking around like he owned the country club.”

You rolled your eyes at him so hard, you nearly gave yourself a migraine.

“So what? What does it matter to you, Rafe? Why can’t you just ignore him?”

“Why are you acting like this is my fault?! He started it!”

“You’re my best friend! You embarrassed me!”

“Embarr-” Rafe scoffed, breaking off with a headshake. “Did you hear how he was talking to you? He called you princess! He made you give him a job.”

“He made me?” you repeated, laughing dryly, finally lowering the lipgloss to look at him, your eyes sparkling with fury. “Do you realize who you’re talking to right now, Rafe? No one is making me do anything, least of all JJ. I’m not some damsel who needs saving, don’t use me to win whatever cock measuring contest you have going on with JJ.”

Rafe froze, and you let your words sink in, dropping your lipgloss back into your purse and zipping it back up. He finally sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his lips pursed. You looked at him, unimpressed. “I don’t know why, but JJ just gets under my skin. And it just made it worse when he treated you like that.”

“Like what?” you said, blinking at him. “Like he treats every other girl on the island?”

Rafe scoffed, leaning against the wall behind him. “You’re not like every other girl on the island, precious.”

“Rafe, I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh, the remaining anger melting away and you stepped to him, stopping just in front of him.

“How about I tell JJ where to shove it, and you sit back and shut up?”

Rafe quirked a smile at you, rolling his eyes a little. “I can try.”

You gave him a look and he let out a loud, dramatic sigh.

“Fine, I won’t say anything, I’m leaving it to you.”

“Better,” you said with a nod, making a shooing motion with your hand. “Now get out before people are starting to think we’re hooking up in here.”

“Now that you brought it up-”

“Rafe, get out.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: not me being proud of Kennedy/Carter (guess what their parents (me) named them after)

[luna-loveboop]

Triple Threat Time

The Terror Trio

Legend, Hyrule, and Wild are known as the Triple Threat and I love them.

@breannasfluff for you, m'lady

Legend and Wild

These two are the most over looked.

And from the very beginning, we have a ton of examples of them just. Being. Near each other.

Like magnets

We can trace back to the moment these two really connected and spent more time with each other... which was of COURSE over girlfriend trauma

That's one of our first Legend being soft moments, showing true empathy. And Wild found that Legend could be understanding of his hurt- this is where they connected beyond just being closer than most

The main point in the plot with Legend and Wild is when they split off into groups

They went together, and this interaction shows that with these three, Legend is the common sense filter that keeps the other two from falling off of cliffs

Wild: I wanted to climb the mountain!

Leg: there is literally a cliff to fall off of right there

One of the things I love most about about Legend and Wild is they understand each other

We have multiple examples of them literally stating facts about the other in coversation.

"I know you love to tease" "you break everything" "you're not usually impressed"

They just state facts about each other because they get each other and understand

Wild and Hyrule

Ah yes. The two that have so many similarities in which they give the rest of the chain heart attacks

They both have the insecurity about knighthood. Hyrule because he's never felt adequate, and Wild feels like he only used to be.

They both hate maps (who needs them, right? *promptly gets lost*)

They do not care about injury at all. "I can walk off a broken leg for sure it'll be fine"

When left alone these two nearly die. Like every time. Love them.

Here's a lot of them hanging out:

Legend and Hyrule

The downfall duo

These two are from the same timeline, the downfall timeline, and there are certain connections coming from the same world. I think that their world made them have a similar fighting style because of how it's developed.

They are around each other mostly

And they always fight together

Here's my take on these two: Legends more confident because he's done so much. Hyrule's less confident because he didn't have such an insane number of adventures.

Legend's been through enough to know this is ganon's fault, not his. Hyrule's been through little enough (even with insanely hard adventures) that he has much more insecurity.

These two are quite possibly the most skilled in survival, because of no formal knight training. Instead of having perfect swordsmanship, they have tools (legend) and spells (hyrule) to fight in a world that was so much harder.

Which of course relates to wild who woke up in a cave, found a sword and winged it.

That's their relationships two on two

Legend and wild: power team, overlooked but so so close

Wild and Hyrule: do not let them near fire

Legend and Hyrule (downfall duo): They fight together and they are a pair

Combined these three make a Triple Threat

They also have dynamics with all three of them combined

Bestest moments of them:

When turned into a bunny, Legend mentioned both Hyrule and Wild as the ones he was worried about seeing him that way

In both scenes of Wild breaking swords Legend or Hyrule was there

When Wild was injured, they both somehow lost their senses and freaked out about him being dead (lol)

But with all of them they understand each other

Wild and Hyrule know Legend is grumpy and rude- they don't care, he's their brother. As the one who appreciates maps, he keeps both from getting even closer to dying

Hyrule: he feels accepted. These two make him feel like he has a place and is valuable to those with similarities.

Hyrule and Legend don't care about Wild's odd traits, they know that he breaks stuff and gets hurt often.

Proof

!!!! Looking at their scenes (in my screenshots above too), this is clear: all three of them have more examples than most of them being next to or near the others

Plus all the adventures and scenes of them- they fight and wander together- they are on this journey with each other

Because they understand each other, they spend time with each other. With nine people in the chain, when a few are around each other this much rather than the others, it makes it very clear how close they are, since they simply want to be near each other.

Here's my very favourite picture that perfectly sums up the three of them:

Legend: grrrr

Hyrule: excited

Wild: still can't put his hands on his hips properly

And these three combined... we've got constantly injured, set fire to everything, get lost a ton, snarky rudeness galore, plus swords and tools and magic, and that makes them a threat

(one thing I want to point out. you can see this by looking at the screenshots in this post. with the chain, much of figuring out who is close is simply who is near each other. looking at their interactions and the times they are hanging out as a group, Four is most often near and hanging out with these three rather than the others, so I think he is also very close to them and feels comfortable with them. do with that what you will.)

Yeah! Terror Trio.

:)

[iamtired10]

second mom

pairing - kim minji x female reader

synopsis - you casually mention to your girlfriend that you’re starving, only to get caught for skipping dinner. :/

genre - fluff, chat + written (im becoming obsessed with this, someone seriously stop me)

warning - nothing :<

word count - 799

a/n - stay tuned for hanni's version😋

you barely have time to process what minji said before you hear a series of soft knocks on your door at exactly 2:35 am.

typical. she always keeps her promises.

groaning, you drag yourself out of bed and shuffle over to unlock it.

the door swings open, and there she stands, holding a plastic bag that smells suspiciously like instant noodles and… something else.

she’s in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, looking a little too cute for someone who just stormed over here to lecture you about food.

“why didn’t you eat?” she says, narrowing her eyes at you as she steps inside.

“i was too lazy…” you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck.

minji doesn’t even wait for your explanation.

she heads straight for your kitchen. “you’re unbelievable, y/n.” She pulls out a pot, her expression focused. “seriously, if i didn't show up, you’d probably just starve yourself all night."

“okay, okay, i get it,” you sigh dramatically, plopping down on a chair by the counter. “but you didn’t have to come here at 2 in the morning…”

minji shoots you a look as she fills the pot with water. “no, i did have to. because you obviously can’t be trusted to take care of yourself.” she slams the pot down on the stove, looking far too serious for someone about to make instant noodles.

“i swear, i’m dating a child."

you pout. “you know that‘s a bit harsh, babe.”

she rolls her eyes. “harsh? you skipped dinner. again. do you want me to nag you?”

you lean forward, resting your chin on the counter. “you already do that…”

“y/n,” minji warns, turning back to focus on her noodles. she pulls out some vegetables from the bag, tossing them in with a surprising amount of concentration. “and don’t even think about falling asleep while i’m cooking.”

“i wouldn’t dare,” you snicker, watching her struggle to chop the vegetables.

she glances at you every so often, probably to make sure you‘re still awake, but mostly to glare at you for your cheeky comments.

soon, the kitchen is filled with the aroma of what you assume is her version of dinner.

minji serves the noodles in a bowl, the vegetables floating awkwardly. she sets it in front of you with a sense of pride. “eat,” she orders, folding her arms.

you pick up the chopsticks, taking a tentative bite.

honestly, it doesn’t taste half bad, but there’s this distinct burnt smell lingering in the air. you’re not sure if it’s from the noodles or the fact that she accidentally spilled something on the stove earlier.

minji watches you intently, like a mom waiting to see if her kid will approve of her cooking. “how is it?”

“it’s good, babe,” you say with a forced smile. “reallyyyyyy good.”

she narrows her eyes suspiciously. “you’re lying again.”

you cough awkwardly, but keep eating because you’re actually starving. “no, no, i swear it’s good. it’s just… different.”

“different how?” she asks, sitting beside you, grabbing a pair of chopsticks to try it for herself.

the moment she takes a bite, her eyes widen in horror, and she immediately spits it out. “OH MY GOD—WHAT DID I DO?!”

you burst out laughing, nearly choking on your noodles. “see? i told you! but hey, i’m still eating it, right?”

minji gags dramatically, grabbing a napkin to wipe her mouth. “you’re insane for eating this… how could i fail so badly?! i thought i did everything right… stupid minji...!”

you grin, setting the chopsticks down and reaching out to grab her hand. “it’s the thought that counts, babe. and i love you for coming over and taking care of me, even if your cooking needs some work.”

she looks at you, her eyes softening, the frustration fading from her face. “you’re lucky i love you way too much. next time, i’m ordering takeout.”

you tug her closer, wrapping your arms around her waist. “yeah, next time, maybe let the professionals handle it.” you laugh, pulling her onto your lap. “but thank you, really. you didn’t have to come all the way here just to feed me.”

minji pouts, resting her forehead against yours. “of course i did. if i don’t take care of you, who will?”

you smile, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “i guess you’re stuck with me then. bad cooking and all.”

she glares playfully, leaning into you with a sigh. “i’m gonna get better, you just wait.”

“sure, sure,” you tease, and she lightly smacks your arm. “owwh!”

but in the quiet of your kitchen, you’re just grateful.

grateful for her, and all her nagging. because at the end of the day, it’s her way of loving you.

and even if her cooking sucks.

a/n - minji's sooooooooooo girlfriend material 😔

[thewadapan]

Insane that the last Team Fortress 2 comic came out, and perhaps more insane is how effectively it resolves the themes of the story, considering the whole thing spun out of some silly gag comics for a first person shooter, which had a bunch of lore back-ported onto it, with this particular issue having spent nearly eight years in development hell...

I love video games, and I love trying to rationalise the insane logic of how they work using fiction. Or not even to rationalise, just to kind of like... take it at face value? There's a great bit in one of the Team Fortress 2 comics where the mercenaries are going to be fighting an army of robots (in the game's PVE mode) and, at that point in the story, Mann Co. is bankrupt, so they're not getting paid—but they're mercenaries, so why are they fighting? And Ms. Pauling just comes right out and says, "For reasons I can't comprehend or explain, the robots run on piles of money. Destroy them and whatever falls out is yours." Risk of Rain has a similar conceit, where the aliens explode into currency, something that's diegetically acknowledged in the in-game logs.

The comics also deserve serious credit for genuinely pushing the limits of the comic medium, by explicitly using the fact that this is something people are reading on their computers. You see Webtoons currently are doing something similar, optimised for phones with their infinite scrolling. Well, here everything's landscape, and you advance through the comic using the arrow keys or whatever, and there's all these little gags that rely on hiding a speech bubble at first, or tweaking a panel, or doing a jump-cut, which are borderline impossible to replicate in print (the closest thing traditional comics have as a tool is the page-turn, which some writers do use to great effect).

It might just be that Team Fortress 2 was one of the things that heavily informed my sense of humour at a formative age, but I still come back to it and think it's the funniest thing in the world. And a big part of what makes the humour work, for me, is that it is just barely grounded in the real world. When someone gets their hand cut off and it's played for laughs, they've still just had their hand cut off. All the blood and guts is right there to see. Characters like Spy and Ms. Pauling frequently ground the story in these bureaucratic material concerns—like, someone is having to go around burying all the bodies.

Which means that when the story takes something which genuinely started as nothing more than a joke, and uses it for pathos, those beats can actually hit home. The big example is the joke about Spy having sex with Scout's mom, which in the comics morphs into this running thread about Spy probably being Scout's father, which in turn plays into these themes of regret and cycles of violence... and that was obviously never planned from the start, even the early examples in the comics are very much within the realm of plausible deniability, but over time they're clearly like—well, what if that was the case? What then? It's such good yes-anding.

Certain characters—the Pyro and the Engineer—do get pretty short-changed, which I think is mostly because the other characters just lend themselves much better to the extremely dialogue-dense style of comedy. The Engineer spends most of the numbered issues completely sidelined, looking after the Administrator; I mostly played Engineer when I played the game, so I do find that a bit disappointing. I don't think the Sentry Gun even gets a look-in! But still, nine playable characters plus the supporting cast is a lot to keep track of, and I think they chose the right ones to focus on (Scout, Soldier, Spy, Heavy).

Part of what made Team Fortress 2 always appeal to me above and beyond any other first-person shooter was its obvious awareness that the fighting is not, in fact, good, or just, or meaningful, or anything other than a pointlessly cynical greed-fuelled slaughter over nothing. It's just these drab industrial sites and bodies being thrown at one another, on repeat, forever. I think if you want to take a multiplayer game like this and build up a narrative on top of it, it's kind of the only honest approach you can take. Seeing similar stories in this and in RoosterTeeth's Red vs. Blue around the same time left a big impression on me as a teenager.

Contrast Overwatch (of course), which always billed itself as a superhero story, which had clearly-defined good-versus-evil flavour, which purported to depict a global conflict of world-shattering stakes, where every single piece of fucking tie-in media was a saccharine sentimental little snoozefest where characters will say things like "Oh no!" unironically. In Overwatch, the playable characters come from all over the world, they're these collar-tuggingly direct stereotypes, and it's like... wow, the military-industrial complex is so inclusive, you guys! Meanwhile, Team Fortress 2 has stereotypes of its own, but the intent is so completely different. Sniper, Heavy, Demoman, Medic, Spy have these clearly-defined national backgrounds, but they've shed all nationalistic ties, civilized human society would shun them, and now all they can do is kill for money they will never have cause to spend.

And the supporting characters invented for the comic all support this theme of bitter, cynical hate, of pointless bickering and petty feuds. Brothers Redmond and Blutarch turn themselves into monsters trying to outlive each other solely out of spite, not even just to enjoy their lives for as long as possible! When Gray Mann offs them, his characterisation sees their mindless, stupid schemes replaced with cold rationalism, to match the Administrator's own ruthless efficiency, but the substance of their conflict is no different. Wait, is the moral of the Team Fortress 2 comics just... old people bad? Look at the Team Fortress Classic guys...

I don't know. Overwatch was heavily billed on the quality of its worldbuilding and writing and characters (I was always like, what worldbuilding? What writing? What characters?), and like the many, many MCU films which nobody thinks about or talks about or cares about any more, I don't think I've ever seen someone actually talk about that media as art, except to point out its shortcomings. Nobody will remember any of it. Oh god, I just remembered about all the Overwatch porn. Okay, people will remember it, just not for the right reasons.

Meanwhile, I've known people over the last eight years who routinely joked about the final Team Fortress 2 comics never coming out. For something so ancillary, so inessential, to have made such a big impression on people, is something that in this case speaks to its success on a creative level. If anything, I wish it was less of a transmedia narrative, that this was just a single book I could pick up off the shelf and give to someone like "read this!" and that's all they'd need to know. Maybe I should try to compile some sort of reading list, hmm.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Fallen

Kelly Severide x Reader

"I can walk" "You've proven you can fall too."- in which Kelly doesn't hate you like you think he does @desimarie12

Since the first day you walked into firehouse fifty one as a new hire paramedic the ongoing feud between you and Kelly started. You tried to be understanding at first, you were replacing someone they lost, someone who according to Gabby had meant a lot to Kelly. Your understanding only went so far. After the first month passed and the best you ever got out of the squad lieutenant was a grunt if you happened to say excuse me if you were trying to get to the coffee pot? You wouldn’t actively try to kill him but you may render aid to a stray dog over him if they were both hurt at the same time.

The most infuriating thing of it all? Kelly was the most good looking guy you’d ever laid your eyes on. Easy smile and blue eyes that would stop any woman dead in her tracks and watching him be so at ease with every other member of the station house just made you feel like you would always be an outsider. 

You were helping Gabby to restock the rig and she asked you to grab some supplies from a closet inside that was just past Boden’s office. You knew where everything was by now, you’d been at fifty one for over six months. Everyone had welcomed you in and you felt like part of the family by then, well most everyone.

You hopped out of the back of the ambulance and headed inside, shooting Matt a smile when he held the door open for you when he was on the way out. “Thanks Casey” he nodded “Of course” 

You headed for the closet and walked in, quickly finding what Gabby needed and turned to head out but not before running smack into a bare chest which nearly caused you to drop everything in your hands. You felt hands on your waist, steadying you and was about to thank the owner of them when you looked up to see they belonged to Kelly “Christ have mercy” you groaned and he grinned “What’s wrong sweetheart? Can’t even keep your balance walking through the hallway? How do you take care of patients?”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the urge to let your eyes roam across his chest. Why the hell was he shirtless when it was January anyways? “You do talk a lot for a man whose life would depend on me if you got hurt”  he took a step closer and you could feel the heat coming off of him and smell his body wash still fresh from the shower “Are you saying you wouldn’t save me?”

He was close enough you had no choice but to crane your neck to be able to continue looking him in the eye and not be staring directly at his chest “I’m saying I’d do it but I wouldn’t be happy about it. You’ve been a pain in my ass since I got here. I know you don’t want me here. You haven’t hidden that fact but do not act like I’m incapable. You and I both know that isn’t true”

You stepped around him and headed back outside to the bays but stopped and looked over your shoulder “And put on a damn shirt, it’s thirty degrees outside and you’re walking around looking like you’re a stripper instead of a fireman” he grinned slightly “Are you calling me hot?” you shook your head “Of course that is the only thing that would stick in that thick brain of yours”

_____________________

When you got back outside it must have been written in your expression something was wrong because Gabby raised an eyebrow “Did Kelly start again?” you shrugged “It doesn’t matter” she sighed “I’m telling Matt. This is getting insane. It’s been over six months!” you shook your head “No! It’ll just get worse if it looks like I got you to tell on him. I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much besides replacing Shay on the rig and it’s not like I tried to defile her memory or anything. The position was open, you needed a partner!”

She reached a hand out to rub your knee. “I don’t think he hates you, he just…” she laughed “Kelly’s an ass at times sweetie” “Oh really? I never would’ve known!” you laughed and she grinned “Just keep throwing it back at him. It keep him on his toes and it’s fun to watch for the rest of us when you catch him off guard” you winked at her “Oh I will, believe me”

A call blared out for a three car wreck requesting fire, rescue squad and the ambulance. You cut your eyes up at her and smirked “Oh yay” before you both hopped out of the back of the rig and ran to the front, hopping in amongst the chaos of everyone running to the trucks.

You cursed when you slid on the ice again and heard Capp giggle right before he fell flat on his face. “See?” you laughed, walking past him. Luckily it seemed most of the injuries sustained had been superficial but considering the thin layer of ice that had settled in different areas on top of the snow just clearing the scene was proving to be tricky.

You felt yourself slide and tried in vain to keep your footing. One foot went one way and one went the other and you ended up skidding down the small embankment and landing right at the feet of none other than the rescue squad’s lieutenant, you would have rathered the fall had killed you.

He looked down at you and a small smile slipped onto his face “Falling for me sweetheart?” you glared at him from your position on the ground “If I could get up without falling I’d kick your ass Severide” he laughed and leaned down, slipping one arm under your legs and the other under your neck, holding you against his chest before calling to Cruz “I’m taking our little spitfire paramedic back up so Gabby can make sure she didn’t hurt herself” you glanced down and realized he had different boots than you, of course he did.

“I can walk Kelly” you argued and he nodded “I know this, you’ve proven you can fall too. So for once don’t argue with me and just let me get you back up” you really didn’t want to fall again so you sighed then nodded. He tucked you against his chest and grabbed the rope to walk up the embankment while holding it.

_______________

Once he was on solid ground you expected him to put you down but no, he carried you all the way to the triage tent Gabby had on a cleared patch. “Dawson, your partner took a spill. Make sure she’s ok. She hasn’t tried to kill me in the last five minutes” 

He sat you down on the stretcher and winked at you “Be careful” you shook your head “Why? Because you want the pleasure of killing me?” his eyes trailed from your face down your body and considering you were currently covered in snow you felt yourself warm from embarrassment “Kill you? No. I could think of a few other things I’d rather do” 

He turned to walk away while your mouth was still dropped open from shock. Gabby looked from his retreating back to your face before she cracked up laughing “That explains so damn much!”

Once the scene was clear and everyone was back at the house you set out to find Kelly, hopefully alone. You ended up finding him on the roof with Matt’s help. He turned around when you stepped out of the door and smiled “I see you’re walking all on your own, I’m proud”

You shook your head “What the hell was that at the triage tent?” “What?” he asked and you waved your hands around “I could think of a few other things I’d rather do” 

He shrugged and let his eyes rake over you again and you were grateful you’d had the presence of mind to change before seeking him out “I wouldn’t wanna kill you over other things” you shook your head again “You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me! You’ve been an unbearable ass to me sinceI got here and now, what? You want to sleep with me?”

He took a step closer to you and you shivered feeling the heat coming off of him “When you first got here, yeah I was an ass because Shay was still a very sore spot. Then the longer you were here the only time I could get your attention was when you were pissed at me or else you ignored me all together so I took what I could get. If I could change how I acted when you got here, I would but I can’t” you laughed lightly “What the hell Severide?” 

He took another step closer which put his chest nearly touching yours “So, do you want to kill me?” you cut your eyes up at him, a grin slipping onto your face “Well, now that I know there’s other options..maybe not so much” his eyes fell to your lips so you laughed “Dammit Kelly just kiss me and get it over with” he shook his head “You really are a romantic sweetheart” before crashing his lips into yours.

[squoxle]

✏ TNAIT 003: Do. Not. Get. Attached l.at fanfic

✰ pairing: nerdy!bandboy!anton x cheerleader!fem!reader| ✰ wc: 2.9k | ✰ cw: profanity, angst, sexual themes, kissing | ✰ plot: your friends catch on to the fact that you might actually be falling for this nerd, but their reaction to it sends you on a wild mission to try and convince them otherwise... [Series Masterlist]

"So...how'd everything go with Ponytail?" Dongmin asked Chanyoung at the cafe, after his shift.

"It actually went alright. That cheerleader isn't too bad," he shrugged as he sat in the chair across from him.

"Did you make any progress?"

"With her assignments? Not really. We had a little incident and just ended up hanging out for a bit after that."

"Well, don't get too cozy, alright."

"What do you mean? You're the one who got me hooked up with her in the first place."

"I know man, but just be careful. Remember that we're a part of different worlds."

"So what? Are you trying to say she's out of my league?"

"I-I just don't want you to get your heart broken again..."

"What are you talking about. We literally just met."

"I know but--"

"You're acting like I proposed to her. We're just friends. Relax," he said before taking a bite of pizza. He picked some up for the two of them to eat here.

For the next few weeks, you continued to see him. First, it was only 3 days out of the week, but by now it had escalated to 5 days. Your feelings for him grew, but you had to keep your little crush a secret, at least for now.

"I'm telling you right now. Do. Not. Get. Attached," Xoey said. She decided to join you at the cafe today. "I can see it in your eyes that you like him more than you're letting on."

"Let's just say I do like him. Is it really that big of a deal?"

"Are you insane? You're literally just using him to get your grades up. Any type of romance is out of the question," Xoey snapped.

"Can you believe she hasn't given him anything to help her?" Abigail chimed in.

"Nothing?" her eyes widened. "Hmm...interesting. Do you think he likes her back?"

"Eww. He better fucking not," Abigail rolled her eyes. "I swear if these two ever start dating, I'd actually vomit..."

"He's really not that bad," you shrugged.

"They have so many hot guys on the football team that you could easily pull. Don't settle for that dork," Abigail spat. You knew very well that she meant every word she said.

"Relax! I don't even like him like that. I already told you, I'm just being his friend so he can pull my grades up," you spat.

"Wait, wait, wait! So let me get one thing straight," Xoey interjected. "You two have just been buddy-buddy this whole time? You've never slept with him? Not even once?"

"Nope."

"Anything sexual at all? Maybe even a kiss?"

"She hasn't opened anything but her laptop for that geek," Abigail sighed as you shook your head.

"Okay, well if you really don't like him and it's all about the grades how about you prove it to us by kissing Nicholas," Xoey smirked.

"Omg, he is so fine," Abigail nearly moaned at the meer thought of him.

"Yeah, I know. And a little birdie told me that he's been looking at our girl. So this is gonna be a piece of cake," she grinned folding her hands together.

"Oh and to make it even better, you have to tell him that you've liked him forever," Abigail added.

"In front of sweet little Channie," Xoey spat.

"Girls, this is ridiculous," you wailed. "I already said I don't like him. I'm just using him for my grades. I seriously only see him as a friend," you lied.

"Do it and we won't hunt down your fanboy and tell him that you couldn't care less about him," Xoey raised an eyebrow as she leaned over the table, lowering her voice.

"And that you're just using him for the semester," Abigail added. "You've already told us how you're just gonna drop him anyway. So why not rip off the band-aid now?"

"Fine, fine! I'll do it," you exclaimed. "But not in front of him...that'll be too awkward."

Maybe it was the peer pressure of wanting to be accepted that influenced your decision. But whatever it was, there was some damage control you had to do first.

"So, what are we working on today," Chanyoung smiled as you sat down next to him.

"Hmm... well I finished writing one of my English assignments last night. Maybe you could just look over it for me first and then we can work on something else."

"Alright," he nodded as you slid your computer over to him and began scrolling through the contents of your essay.

“Umm…Chanyoung?”

“You can just call me Chan. It sounds less…formal,” he smiled.

“Okay. Well, do you have anything planned this weekend?”

“No, not really. Why?” He asked, turning away from the screen to look at you.

“I was wondering if maybe…you wanted to go out with me. N-not like a date or anything,” you chuckled. “Just as friends.”

“Yeah sure. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyway.”

“Great!” You smiled. “How do you feel about a movie at…I don’t know…6?”

“Yeah, 6 sounds good,” he laughed, admiring how sweet you were with him. Even though you said this would be a friendly date, you wanted to be more than that with him.

So what if your friends don’t like him. They’ll just have to get over it. After all, you just had to kiss Nicholas one time. It's not like you were signing yourself over in marriage, right?

"Well, umm...let's get back to studying and maybe we can hang out before you go to practice," he said, returning to the screen.

After cheer practice, Abigail dropped you off at home as usual. You waved to your parents and went straight to your room to clean yourself up for the night.

"Honey," your mom's voice called when you were in the bathroom. "When you're finished, your father and I would like to have a talk with you."

"Okay, I'm almost finished," you replied, before you heard her footsteps trail down the hall.

You had a very good feeling about what this conversation would be about. Lucky for you, you had the right answer.

"How are your grades looking?" your father asked as you sat on the couch.

"I'm actually doing a lot better," you nodded.

"Can you go get your laptop so I can see how they've improved?" he asked.

"Sure," you said before leaving the room. This conversation was just about as stale as you expected it to be. "Here it is," you turned the laptop to him, revealing your grades.

Politics — 85.97%

English — 94.81%

Math — 78.12%

Geography — 89.54%

"I have a few more assignments due this week that should bring my grades up even more," you smiled.

"This is great!" you mother chimed.

"I know we put a lot of pressure on you, but it's because we want you to succeed. I'm just glad to see that you're taking action on your own," your father began. "Without a tutor," he added.

You knew that wasn't completely true, but it's the lie you had to tell to keep everyone happy.

"Thanks," you said, closing the computer.

"Oh, before you go I wanted to address an issue," your father said as you were about to walk away. "I'm sure you've noticed by now that I froze your cards. Well, since you're obviously doing better I think you've earned that privilege back."

"Wow...I've never seen my dad so proud of me," you thought to yourself. "Then again, I've never let my grades drop like this."

"Goodnight, honey and keep up the good work," your parents smiled before you walked back to your room.

You wished that Chan was in your room right now so you could hug him. He's taken so much pressure off that you've even completed some of the assignments on your own. Meeting up with him has forced you to delegate time to your studies and giving him your login information was one of the best choices you made.

The next day at practice, you walked in to see one of your cheer mates in tears.

"What's going on?" you whispered to Janice. Abigail and the other girls were busy trying to console her.

"Word got out that Reina had been sleeping with another student to help her pass classes. Which is obviously a breach of the student code of conduct," she sighed leaning against one of the red lockers.

"So what's gonna happen to her?"

"Well, she's being suspended for the rest of the semester and will have a zero in all her courses, effective immediately. On top of that, she'll be on academic probation. Meaning, she'll be kicked from the cheer squad until she can complete a semester on her own with a GPA of 2.5 or higher."

You thought about the situation you were in right now. "That could've easily been me," you thought to yourself as you looked down at your feet. "If my parents ever found out about my little rendevous with Chanyoung they'd never trust me again..."

"Chanyoung," you gasped as you bumped into him in the halls.

"Heh, I didn't expect to see you here," he smiled.

"Well, it was nice seeing you Ponytail. But we kinda got somewhere to be," Dongmin spat as he grabbed onto Chanyoung's arm.

"Oh sorry, I wasn't trying to hold you up," you replied.

"No, it's alright. We were just going to grab something to eat before heading over to my place," Chanyoung said, turning back to you. "You can join us if you want."

"No, she can't," Dongmin interjected. "I'm sure she has something else to do."

"Dude--"

"No, he's right," you smiled, cutting him off. "I was just on my way to meet up with the girls. But maybe next time?"

"Yeah, definitely," he smiled, which just made Dongmin roll his eyes. "Oh, we're still on for this weekend right?"

"Yeah, totally," you chimed before jogging off to catch up with your friends.

"Eh hm? This weekend? What are you doing with her this weekend?"

"None of your business," Chan teased.

"What do you mean none of my business? You wouldn't even be talking to her if it weren't for me."

"Okay? I don't even see how that matters right now," Chan scoffed.

"Because you're falling for Ponytail and I can tell. I thought you didn't like cheerleaders. I guess everything's different now that you're holding hands with one?"

"Pft, what!?"

"Don't start playing dumb. It's written all over your stupid ass face. Every time she comes around and every time you talk about her you have that dumbass grin."

"Okay? So, what?"

"So you admit it? You do like her?"

"Yeah, I do. What's wrong with that?"

"She's so out of your league it isn't even funny."

"We're not in high school anymore. We can date whoever we want. Cliques don't exist here."

"Yes, they fucking do, but ever since you've been working for that high-strung cheering ditz you haven't been able to think straight."

"This is so fucking stupid. I'm not doing this with you, okay."

"The old you would've never been so blind."

"What are you talking about?"

"That bitch is two-faced as fuck," Dongmin spat.

"Whatever, man. You're just saying that because you're jealous."

"Jealous? God, you sound so much like those cock sucking sluts," Dongmin shook his head. "Wait, I just remembered that you're not even getting that from her, huh?" he chuckled. "She's just using you. She can't even bring herself to have romantic feelings for you. She's just pretending to be your friend so you can keep being her lovestruck slave."

"If you're gonna keep acting like that, I'd rather you just shut the fuck up."

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Fuck no and I'm honestly tired of hearing you bitch."

"Fine, you can go back to living out your little fantasy, but don't come crying to me when you find out I'm right."

"I think I'm gonna go home on my own tonight," Chan shook his head before walking off, leaving Dongmin behind. "See ya tomorrow, man."

"Yeah...later..."

Remembering the dare from yesterday you decided to go find Nicholas and "confess" to him. This really just meant setting up a situation where a kiss wouldn't seem so awkward. You just weren't really the type to randomly put your lips on someone.

"Hey, Nick," you smiled as you approached him in the hallway.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Well...I heard from someone that you've been looking at me," he smirked as he anticipated the next thing you were gonna say. "So..."

"So?"

"So, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out this weekend?"

"Umm lemme just check my schedule real quick," he chuckled, pulling out his phone to swipe his thumb across the screen. "Yep, this weekend sounds perfect. I'll pick you up at 5, okay."

"5?"

"Yeah, I have football practice until 3:45 and I still gotta shower and stuff."

"Oh...okay. Well, 5 sounds good," you smiled feinly.

"Alright, well I'll have to catch up with you later. I think you already have my number so if you wanna talk tonight we can," he smirked before pulling you in for a hug.

"Okay, I'll try to call you tonight if I'm not too busy," you said as he hugged you one more time before jogging to high-five the group of boys that waited at the other end of the hall.

As much as you wanted to see Chanyoung today, he was busy taking care of something with his brother. This gave you a little more time to bond with Nicholas...or Nick as you liked to call him.

"Hey, ____," Nicholas waved as he walked into the courtyard. "I got out of practice early today. If you're not busy did you wanna catch up a bit now?"

"Yeah, sure," you smiled.

One thing your friends didn't know was that you had a past with Nicholas. The two of you went to school together from Pre-K to 5th grade--middle school is when you both went your separate ways.

Though you never moved, Nicholas' father was stationed outside of the country. Fate had it that the two of you reconnected.

You thought back to the time he gave you a candy ring for your "wedding" in 1st grade. Even though you were just kids, it still felt so special.

It really sucked when he moved away that summer, but he made sure to send you a card on your birthday every year.

"Okay, so I have one question," he began as he walked beside you.

"What's that?"

"Did you really wanna go out with me? Or is this part of some master plan?"

"Uhh, why would you think that?" you scoffed.

"Come on, ____. I'm not stupid. I know when someone's trying to jerk me around."

"He always was quick," you thought to yourself. "Okay, fine."

"Yup, I knew it," he chuckled. "So what was it? A dare? A competition?"

"It was a dare...some of the girls from my squad think I like this guy--"

"Well are they right?"

"Yeah, but they don't really approve of him."

"So what? If you like him and he's a great guy who cares what your friends think?"

"Hmm...yeah I guess you're right."

"Ooooof course I am."

"Well, I still gotta do the dare...I already agreed to it."

"Okay," he laughed. "But what exactly do you have to do?"

"You're not gonna like this...."

"Just tell me."

"I have to kiss you..."

"That's it?"

"And tell you that I've liked you forever," though you were dared to say this, at one point (before you got to know Chanyoung) that was true.

"Easy-peasy," he smiled before pulling your in by your waist for a kiss.

"Nick!" you exclaimed as he burst out into laughter.

"Relax, I just wanted to get a reaction out of you," he smiled. "Here, I'll do it properly this time," he leaned in before gently placing a kiss on your lips. "How's that," he asked.

"Much better, but you can do it on my cheek next time," you tapped the plush of your cheek.

"Like this?" he playfully pecked your cheek.

"Yes!" you laughed. "You're enjoying the hell out of this and I know it," you smiled as he wrapped his arm around you.

"I'll drop you off at home tonight."

"Hmm? Why?"

"Well I kinda wanna go raid the gas station and I think I'd like you to be my partner in crime. I mean it's only fair. After all you're just using me to complete a dare."

"Hmm, okay. Well, let's get started now," you smiled as he walked you to his car.

"Hey," Chanyoung said dryly.

"Look, I know you don't wanna hear this, but there's something you gotta know about Ponytail."

"What is it now," he sighed.

"Earlier today, I saw her getting all gushy over this jock. And I don't mean some silly conversation. I saw them kissing. She's duping you, man."

Chanyoung sat in silence for a short while before finally speaking again. "You're not gonna stop, are you?"

"What are you talking about, Chan? I just gave you proof."

"No, what you gave me was some more bullshit stories you sat around concocting all day."

"Dude, I--"

"I don't wanna argue about this again, okay. Just drop it already."

"Chan..."

"Forget it...I'm going to sleep."

Later that night, after Nicholas dropped you off, you laid across your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you though to yourself...

"How the hell am I gonna be in two places at once?"

Thanks for reading the second episode of my series. [Series Masterlist]

Click this link to go to my main masterlist and stay tuned for the next episodes.

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