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thezombieprostitute · 8 months

Note

I know we may not know him too well but how about Dream Come True- Steve and 29 from the kiss prompts 😏

Hummingbird

Word Count: ~1300

A/N: This takes place a couple of years before Dream Come True. Ask is based on this post.

Warnings: Drugging of a character

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Steve had his best fake smile plastered on. He was hosting a party, he had to appear approachable and friendly, even if he didn’t feel like it. The conversations could be so boring and draining. His one reprieve for the night was that he was hosting the party at an art gallery. The last night of the display of one of his favorite artists. Every chance he got he was appreciating the art.

At least until he saw you. Steve knew everyone at the party, they’d been vetted by his team, but he didn’t know you. There was no recognition, no faint memory of ever seeing you before and Steve’s memory was better than most. Your dress was just shy of the quality he’d expect from his guests, indicating you weren’t in the higher echelons of the city’s social circles. You were definitely a party crasher who shouldn’t be here.

He should call security, have them discreetly take you away, but as he watches you he realizes that, unlike other party crashers, you’re not here for the people. You never take a glass of the expensive champagne offered to guests. You barely talk to anyone and excuse yourself from conversation quickly. You’re looking at the art. You’re flitting from piece to piece like a hummingbird and smiling at each one. You might be a party crasher, but you’ve clearly got good taste and good manners. He decides he’ll let you stay but keep an eye on you.

Pretty soon he realizes he can’t stop watching you. Your genuine joy with each new piece of art you look at is endearing. Especially as he keeps having to deal with fake smiles and false promises. It also makes your frown stand out even more.

You walked over to a man who appeared to be taking away a woman who’d drunk too much. While you hadn’t had any of the champagne, you couldn’t imagine it would get someone so drunk they could barely move. You approach, ignoring the glares the man gave you, and ask, “what happened?”

“It’s nothing,” the man replies. “She just had a little too much to drink. I’m just getting her home.”

“She doesn’t look drunk,” you retort. “She looks like she needs to go to a hospital.”

“She’s just a lightweight is all,” he sneers. “I’ll take good care of her. Now get lost.”

“Let me take a look at her, please. I really think she needs a doctor.”

“No,” he barks. “She just needs to get home and get some rest.”

“Walker,” a deep, stern voice behind you started. “Do you need some help?”

“Rogers,” Walker stammers. “Seriously, I just need to get the lady home. That’s all.”

“Walker, if I get security over here and search your pockets, are they going to find some pills?”

Walker stammers a bit before dropping the girl and trying to run for it. He only makes a couple steps before Rogers has him slammed against a wall, signaling security to come in. You’re already picking up the young woman from the floor, checking her pupils for dilation, getting her into a more comfortable position.

Rogers is talking to a few people as security quietly takes Walker out of the gallery, “Sam, go get Strange or Badr. She probably needs a doctor. Bucky, go get Danvers and Rambeau to come help their daughter.” They head in separate directions and he turns to see you checking the girl. He bends down and turns her face towards him, “Monica, we’re getting your mothers. You’re going to be okay.” She seems to relax at that.

Before long a few people come over and you step back so they can take care of the girl. You figure you should leave before your status as party crasher gets found out but Rogers gently grabs your arm, making you stay in place as he gets the situation sorted. You try to squirm out of his grip a few times before he pulls you to him and whispers, “settle down, Hummingbird. You’re not in trouble but we need to talk.” You’re unsure where the nickname came from but you take comfort in his words and stop trying to escape.

They’re getting Monica to an ambulance but a tall blonde woman turns to Rogers, fury in her eyes. He points to the door where security took Walker and she storms in that direction.

Once you’re alone you try, one more time, to pull away, “I guess you should get back to your party, Sir.” The look he gives you makes you freeze.

“I’m not generally one for repeating myself, Hummingbird,” he begins. “But I understand you might be out of your depth tonight. You are not in trouble but we still need to have a chat.”

“Yes, Sir,” you lower your head.

He chuckles and lifts your chin, “call me Steve.”

“Yes, St…Steve.”

He smiles at you before turning and leading you to a separate wing of the gallery that had been closed off for the party. You know you should pay attention to him, but your eyes keep looking at the beautiful art around you. When you finally do turn back to Steve his smile has grown.

“So, what brings you to my party?”

“I…I just wanted to look at the art.”

“Why not look during normal gallery hours?”

“Work,” you confess. “I got so swamped I didn’t have time to come see the show. Jack Russell is such an amazing artist and I was desperate for a chance to see his art in person. I put on my nicest dress and slipped in with a small group. I’m very sorry.” You hang your head in apology, waiting for some kind of punishment or consequence for your actions. He said you weren’t in trouble but there had to be some kind of repercussion.

“I believe you,” he states. “I was watching you almost all night.” You lift your eyes at his words, confusion written all over your face. “You weren’t invited, it’s true, but you weren’t drinking any champagne. You didn’t annoy any guests. You were just flitting from piece to piece, actually enjoying the show. I figured as long as you weren’t causing trouble, I’d let you be. And I’m very glad for that.”

“I wasn’t planning on staying long,” you sighed. “Didn’t want to get caught so I moved quickly between the pieces.”

“Flitting like a hummingbird,” he chuckled. “But in coming here, breaking into my party, you saved a young woman. In doing so you also saved my party and, quite frankly, my reputation. I can’t be known as someone whose parties are unsafe or cater to creeps like Walker turned out to be. As such, I would like to reward you.”

“Um..wh..what?”

Steve’s bright blue eyes seemed to shine with your response. “And I think I know the perfect reward. I’m friends with the curator here. I’ll give you her information and any time there’s a show you really want to see, but can’t get to, call her and she’ll make sure you get in at a time that’s convenient for you.”

“What?!” Your eyes grow wide at his words, “that’s far too generous, Sir! I can’t accept that!”

“It’s ‘Steve’ little Hummingbird,” he lowers his face to your level, his voice lowering with it, “and you will accept the reward. I’ll also make sure you get invited to every party I host at this place. Watching your genuine enjoyment was the highlight of the party tonight. I’d love to see more of it.”

“Are…are you sure about this, Steve?”

Eyes never leaving yours, he gently grabs your hand and kisses it, “I promise, I want nothing more than for you to accept.”

Many thanks @yenzys-lucky-charm for the ask! It really helped push the scales towards making a full mob/mafia AU. 😆

Part 2

Series Masterlist

#zombie asks #mob boss!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #mob!steve rogers x reader

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barcalover86 · 9 months

Text

The unheard story.

A never-ending friendship.

Chapter One

"Sweet 18, love!" your mom smiled at you seeing the clock hitting midnight.

"Thank you."

You went to hug your parents and little sister tight, feeling more emotional than you would have wanted to.

You couldn't lie, you were scared.. really scared to turn this age. It wasn't much different than 5 minutes ago when you were still 17, but it felt like right now it was more pressure on your shoulders.

You weren't a kid anymore.

You are now an adult who has to manage things on her own and be able to overcome any challenge life will subject you to.

You were an independent girl even since you were little, so having to do things alone wasn't a big problem for you. It's just the pressure to disappoint your family that affects you badly.

On the other side, turning 18 had its goods.

Tomorrow you'll travel with your best friend, Bia, to your most beloved city. Barcelona.

Since you were kids, you two were big fans of football, going to every game you could attend to. Of course, it wasn't the same to be on a small stadion like the one from your town, or to be on Camp Nou.

You could imagine how much of a big difference it would be.

And you couldn't be more excited that now you will be able to make a dream come true. Just like you and Bia planed for years.

Travelling to Barcelona.. just the two of you.

..................................................................................

You absolutely hated to wake up early in the morning, especially when last night you didn't have a great sleep.

All kinds of nerves were starting to be fueled in your body because of how nervous you were.

But before you entered the plane, you promised yourself that this journey would have to be memorable.

"Are you ready to begin a new chapter, birthday girl?" Bia asked you with the biggest smile on her face.

"I think I am." you replied, taking her hand in yours.

Now.. let's be for real. Summer in Barcelona doesn't sound that bad. Right?

..................................................................................

The day you arrived in Spain was a really hot one, so you couldn't do much, but to stay inside your hotel room until the night will come.

Now come one, you expected to have a hot summer in Barcelona, but you didn't imagine that 45° C were even possible.

And of course, you didn't check the weather before. You always forget to do that.

You were chatting in your hotel room until you started to be hungry. You couldn't eat in the building, because you decided to book something that had no lunch, so that you could enjoy your visiting more, but now all you could do was go outside to grab something, because you were starving.

After minutes of choosing an outfit, you and Bia arrived into the new world.

A lot of people were walking outside like the weather was perfect, and you were so shocked by that. They must really hate cold, then.

After walking for some minutes, you decided to go to a terrace to eat a pizza.

"So, it's still available that tomorrow we go watch the game?" Bia asked you, and you instantly nodded.

"Where do you want to book the tickets? Sector A, or no. I've heard that many people recommend Sector H."

"Bia.. what about we go to the VIP Section?"

"What? Do you know how expansive it is? 1200-1300 euros per person! We will go outside of our budget, y/n!"

You look down.

"Look, it's our first game at Camp Nou. Let's make it special. Money come and go, but experiencing a Barca game for the first time right at the vip section is unforgettable. We'll manage to get the money back, but please, Bia.."

She thinks for a second, before she agrees.

"Ok, maybe you're right."

"Thank you!!" you hugged her, being really excited. "You won't regret it."

..................................................................................

The day has come, and even if there were 7 more hours until the game begins, you two started to get ready.

Taking a shower, doing your hair and makeup, and, of course, choosing the best outfit.

You didn't have an original Barca jersey, but when you were 15, your best friend made two white hoodies with a big Barca sign on its left.

Maybe it was cheap, but you loved it!

So, as an outfit, you chose the hoodie, with nothing underneath because it was really hot outside, and some black jeans.

As shoose, your favourite white nikes.

With a simple makeup and your natural straight hair, you were ready to attempt the game.

"I'm so excited, you have no idea."

"Me too, I can't believe that- wait."

She looks at you confused.

"What?"

"If we're standing at the vip section, it means that cameras will also be on us."

"Oh. We'll be famous then!" Bia laughs.

..................................................................................

Everyone was pushing everyone, and it was really hard to walk through the crowd, so you had to take your best friend's hand so you could stay together.

As a vip culer, you could enter camp nou more easily, but of course, you had to take a lot of pictures, especially since the sunset was luminating your faces so well. You were truly beautiful.

When you stepped into the stadium.. man.. it was more beautiful than you ever dreamed of.

"Bia, we have to take a lot of photos!!!! It's so pretty out here!"

Your best friend was out of words. Finally, you got to see Barca play live together. It was all you ever wished for.

You were so happy that you started to jump around and to sing the anthem, without realising that the players were coming to warm up already.

All of them looked at how happy you were, and even some of them chuckled at your excitement.

"We have to enjoy our time here, y/n. Who knows when we'll be here again."

You started to laugh hard at how silly you two were acting.

"Look, that's Fermin!!!! Sexy boy!"

"Shhh, someone might hear you, Bia!!"

"Who cares??"

"Me?? You're embarrassing ourselves!" you started to laugh again.

"Look, y/n!! Your boy, Gavi." she said like she didn't listen to me at all.

"Where?"

"Right next to Lewandowski, at his right. He has the ball on his head."

You look carefully, searching for the footballers, and when you see Pablo Gavi, you immediately blush.

"Look who's got all red." she started to tease you, which she loved to do so.

When the players went off the field, you looked at Gavi to see that he was having some nerves.

When they came back 5 minutes later, you shouted loudly, "Good luck, boys. I know you can do it!"

Every player looked up to see you, and they all smiled at you and some of them like Balde and Araujo, even waved at you.

But your eyes were only fixed on Gavi's. And not to be delusional, but you kinda saw that he smiled at you.

The game versus Mallorca began and you all sat down to watch the boys play.

The atmosphere was purely amazing, and you felt like you belonged there. People cheering on Barca affected your mood a lot, and you started to feel much better and alive.

At first, you thought that Mallorca wasn't a big 'enemy' for Barcelona, but the game was so intense that you just couldn't get bored.

A lot of yellow cards were given to players from both teams, and even a player from Mallorca got a red one.

It was minute 90+3 when Cancelo scored the winning goal, and everyone was standing up, shouting happily.

"No way, I love you, Cancelo!!! My boyyy!" Bia started to laugh hard.

Oh, how happy everyone was.

In the end, the anthem began again, and now you started to sing like it was no tomorrow.

The players came close to you to sign people's jearsies and to take as well some photos for the fans.

"C'mon, let's go, y/n. I want a picture with Fermin too."

You laughed, but inside, you felt really nervous.

When Lewandowski came to you two, he smiled and took a picture.

"Thank you so much. Congratulations on the win." Bia said.

"Thank you for being here, culers. Do you want me to sign something for you? A jersey?"

"We don't have a jersey, but thank you." Bia also replied, because you were really shy now.

Lewa took his off and gave it to your best friend, which she happily accepted, before he asked for Gavi.

"Gavi, come here quick."

After signing some last shirts, the boy came to where you were standing, confused.

"Do you want a photo? Let me finish there first and I'll come, ok?"

"No, no, Gavi. Can you please give this girl your jersey. She doesn't have one, and I already gifted mine."

He looks at you and smiled.

"What's your name?"

"Y/n."

"Ok, y/n. I remember you from the beginning of the game when you wished us good luck, so I hope this will also bring you luck." he said before taking his jersey off to give it to you.

You couldn't not stare at his beautiful body, and he saw that, asking you if you wanna take a photo together.

After you three took it, he signed his jersey, before freezing.

"Oh, wait. You'll have to wash it because it's all sweaty so I can't sign it for you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's ok."

"No, no. The next game will be on Wednesday. Wash it, and we'll meet here so that I can sign it for you. I'm suspended because of my yellow card today, so I will be just here. Is it ok for you?" he asked.

"Yes, it's ok." you replied too quick and he went back to sign some other shirts.

"Y/n!! Look, I'm really happy that you got his jersey, but we don't have the money to come here next game too!"

Bia was really frustrated, and you understood her. But it was your chance to talk again with Gavi.

"I know, Bia, but please! Just this time, and then we'll get the cheapest tickets after."

"Y/n, with this vip ticket we already spend the money for 1 week!"

"I am capable of no eating for 4 days.. please.."

She takes a second before she replies.

"Just because I love you."

You smile and hug her.

"Thank you so much, Bia. It means the world to me!"

#fc barca #fc barcelona #football #pablo gavi #pablo gavira #pablo martín páez gavira #gavi #gavi imagine #gavi x reader #gavi x yn #gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi imagine #boy pablo #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you

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unmotivatedwrit3r · 1 year

Text

One in Eleven Million (ch. 2)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): so uh it's been more than a week...my apologies. But I hope you all enjoy! Ch. 1 is linked here.

wc: ~1300

warnings: planes, mild cursing

You made it to the Ks before the loudspeaker crackled again.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot once again. It’s looking like we will require more time than expected to resolve the maintenance issue. There will be a further 50 minute delay. Passengers are welcome to step off the plane and return if desired. Thank you again for your patience.”

Around you, whispers and rustling picked up. Flight attendants repeated the pilot’s message and you sighed, slumping back against your seat.

When you looked down at your phone screen it was black. Tapping it gave you the time: already 45 minutes past the already delayed departure time. The sky was dark when you looked out the windows now. Beside you, Jon and Damian conversed quietly and you made an effort to not eavesdrop. Whatever they decided, you needed to focus more on deciding whether or not you wanted to get off the plane.

“Do you need me to let you guys out?” You asked them. You directed the comment to Jon, but technically you were speaking towards both of them. Damian’s book had been closed, resting on an open tray table. He was instead typing rapidly on his phone. Jon turned from where he was watching his friend.

“Not worth it,” Damian muttered, pulling on a jacket. You caught a glimpse of a white bandage on his bicep surrounded by a deep bruise before it disappeared underneath.

Jon shrugged. “I don’t really like airports any more than I like airplanes so I don’t really care. Are you leaving?”

You shook your head.

“Not sure it’s worth it. I don’t want to have to remember to come back for whatever obscure time they give us or be stuck if the time changes.”

“So we’re all staying then?” Jon asked. You nodded. He pulled his phone back out, opening the app again. “Movie?”

You smiled. A flutter of excitement bloomed in your chest.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

By the time you were at the Ts, you’d switched to using Jon’s phone to search the database and yours to write down titles that piqued your interest. Outside, the steady beeping sound that had been your background noise for the last indeterminate amount of time was joined by a drilling noise. You forcibly untensed your shoulders. It was unpleasant but tolerable. Next to you, though, Jon’s face was screwed up in discomfort.

“Jon? You okay?” Jon looked up from his lap, face pinched tightly.

“Yeah it’s just loud.” On Jon’s other side, Damian retrieved something from his bag and handed it to Jon. Earbuds, you realized as he put them in. The tension in Jon’s face lessened.

“Thanks,” he told Damian. “I thought I’d forgotten those. I didn’t think I’d need them.”

One side of Damian’s lips quirked up.

“You did forget them. But I assumed you’d want them eventually.”

“Yeah I didn’t exactly plan for—you know.”

“No one plans for multiple hour delays,” you added sympathetically.

Jon looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened.

“Oh, planes, yeah.”

Behind him, Damian let out an amused huff and re-opened his book. You just laughed, turning back to the movies.

“Up for the rest?”

Jon unlocked his phone.

“If we agree that The Last Jedi does not belong on the list, then yes.” You met his teasing grin with one of your own.

“Oh we do. But I’m still not putting Titanic on it.”

Jon sighed dramatically.

“Fine. At least you have a decent taste in Star Wars movies.”

You still hadn’t made it to the end of the movies list—the conversation had morphed into a debate over the best Clone Wars episodes—by the time the loudspeaker rang again.

“Okay, that’s true,” Jon conceded. “But the lost episodes rewrite a lot of–”

You checked your phone for the time as soon as the pilot’s voice—familiar now, unfortunately—clicked on. Despite the promised 50 minute wait time, it had been over an hour since the last announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we will not be able to take off tonight. We won’t have the part needed to replace the one in this plane for a few hours, so we’ll get you folks out of here once we can taxi back to a gate. Check your emails for your complimentary hotel stay and your boarding passes for updated flight times. We apologize again for the inconvenience.”

For a moment, the plane was silent. Then it was anything but. People stood quickly, pulling carry-on suitcases from the overhead containers. For a moment, you had to process the announcement. And then it hit you.

“Wait I have no clothes with me, are you fucking kidding?” You realized. You might as well have been talking to thin air for all the answers you got. At least your daily medication was in your bag.

Your phone, long off of airplane mode, stayed stubbornly email free. Beside you, a couple you guessed was a little older than you was conversing about their own hotel reservation, already sent to their phones.

Jon leaned to his left, watching as Damian read through what you assumed was his own hotel email.

“Does it say what time we need to be back?” You asked, refreshing your boarding pass. The departure time changed once more, this time to 3:46am. You sighed. Great. “Never mind. I guess we need to be back by 3:20. Except—wait if we leave we need to go through security again. So 2:30 I guess.”

“There must be a nicer hotel closer to us that we can get a room for,” Damian said. Beside him, Jon shrugged.

“I don’t know much about hotels. Is there a company hotel around?”

“No. But a hotel of the quality they’re sending us to should barely be considered quality at all.”

Your phone finally binged with an email notification. A google search revealed your hotel to be 30 minutes away and pretty mediocre. The email also gave information about shuttles to get passengers to and from the hotels. You skimmed it quickly. The shuttle that would get you back to the airport by 2:30 left at 1:30 am.

“Six hundred for tonight isn’t bad at all,” Damian continued behind you.

“Six hundred dollars for half a night in a hotel?” you blurted without thinking, incredulous. “Why would you do that?”

Damian looked at you, eyes sharp in the dim light of the cabin.

“I mean, there’s no way you get quality sleep tonight either way,” you defended, “so why not take the crappy provided room with transportation? We have to be back in like five hours anyway.”

You could see Damian weighing your words even as you regretted them. Who were you to tell them what to do? You liked Jon. You did not know Damian.

“The terrible hotel is more efficient, you’re right,” Damian said with a sigh. “There’s little difference to me in the actual beds. I’ve slept on worse.”

You sighed a silent sigh of relief. Beside you, the line of departing passengers finally started moving.

Jon leaned over Damian’s phone and opened the email up again.

“It says we’re at the Bluiett.” He looked up. “Where are you?”

You rescanned your email. Your lips quirked up as you scanned through the provided information.

“Me too.”

Jon leaned back in his chair.

“Oh thank god. Neither of us know how to get out of here. And I’ve never taken a shuttle before.”

You laughed, tugging your coat on and pulling your bag onto your lap. The line shifted forwards again and you stepped out of your seat, slinging one strap over your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t call myself a frequent flier but I do know enough for that. Follow me.”

“Tt,” you heard Damian mutter behind you. “We could easily figure it out.”

Jon chuckled as he stepped out behind you, pulling a red carry-on from the overhead storage. Your smile widened.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #jonathan kent imagine #jon kent imagine #jonathan kent #emerson writes sometimes

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purfectstormzz · 1 year

Text

End game | Elijah Hewson x reader (social media au)

Summary: in which Mercedes driver y/n y/l/n is seen with a unknown man and everyone wants to know who the mystery man is.

Pairing: Elijah Hewson x Fem!f1!reader

A/n: I’ve had this idea for a while so I decided to just write it + there aren’t enough Elijah Hewson fanfics on this app

(PS: Picture credits to whoever took them)

Masterlist

Yourusername

Liked by Charlesleclerc, elijahhewson and 30000 others

Yourusername: Life lately

Username: i need to know who this is!!

Danielricciardo: when do I get to meet your mystery man

>yourusername: who says you haven’t?😏

> Danielricciardo: excuse me ☝🏼???

Charlesleclerc: 🖤

Liked by yourusername

Username: so nobody is talking about Charles his comment?

> username: he doesn’t look like Charles tbh

>username: guys I think that’s Elijah Hewson

Yourusername

Liked by Lewishamilton, inhalerdublin and 17000 others

Yourusername: about last weekend (feat the boss man)

Tagged: Mercedes, Lewishamilton, GeorgeRussel

Danielricciardo: guess your wonder boy needs to be at more of your races😉!

Liked by yourusername

Danielricciardo: I’m so proud of you🖤

>yourusername: 🖤🖤

Charlesleclerc: extremely proud of you!!

Liked by yourusername

CarlosSainzjr: P1 baby!!!

> yourusername: p2 for you baby!!!

> username: OMG ITS CARLOS!!

>username: dude no!!

Susiewolff: please I need that last photo!!

> yourusername: check your dms🙃

ElijahHewson: I’m so proud of u! <3

>yourusername: <3

Yourusername

Liked by ElijahHewson,CarlosSainzjr and 14000 others

Yourusername: Secrets out I guess. Elijah Bob Patricius Guggi Q Hewson and I have actually been dating since we were 17. He has been my number one supporter since the beginning and has secretly been at most of the races but we just kept him hidden🫣. Thank you my love for standing by me this whole time. I’m so proud of what you yourself have accomplished and I love you so much <3

Tagged: ElijahHewson

Danielricciardo: dude how much did your parents hate you to give you that full name??

Bobbyskeetz: not the full name💀

ElijahHewson: i love you too baby, I will always be your number one supporter<3

Liked by yourusername

Username: so they hid this guy the whole time? WTF!

CarlosSainzjr: Best kept secret on the paddock!

> Landonorris: dude you don’t know how stressful this has been!

> Charlesleclerc: @yourusername he deserves a present for keeping this a secret this whole time.

> yourusername: I’ll bring him a juice box next race🙃🙃

> Landonorris: I would actually like that tbh..

Username: they’ve been dating for 6 YEARS!!!!!!

ElijahHewson

Liked by yourusername, Bobbyskeetz and 1300 others

ElijahHewson: Am I officially a wag now?? Y/n Y/l/n I love you so damm much and I’m so proud of you. Thank you for always sticking by my side. <3

Yourusername: I love you too my love<3 (btw u can’t be a wag)

> elijahhewson: why not??

>username: Cuzz you’re a man dumbass

>username: wait so does that make him a hab?

Danielricciardo: our favorite wag☺️

A/N: I hope you guys liked this. This was the first fic I’ve ever made.

I was thinking of writing a story on how Eli and y/n realised that they liked each other.

#inhaler #elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson #robert keating #josh jenkinson #ryan mcmahon #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #lando norris #mercedes #toto wolff #rockstar gf #george russell #lewis hamilton #Spotify

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 2 years

Text

Somewhere Out There Is Somebody (Part 1)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Valentine's Day, Soulmate AU

Summary: On February 13, those over 16 receive an empty box in the mail every year. You place items in the box and they appear in your soulmate's box the following day. Until now, you haven't figured out who your soulmate is. But after an unexpected run-in with your least favorite aviator, you discover your other half may be closer than you think.

Word Count: 4030

TW: Soulmate AU, Fluff, Light Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Right in Front of You the Whole Time, Language

Note: Thank you to @wildbornsiren and @green-socks for helping me work out this concept. Your advice really gave me the confidence to pursue this idea! 💖 And also thank you for beta reading, Sam! 😘

I wanted to come up with an original concept for a Soulmate AU and I have not seen one done exactly like this so I figured I would give it a shot! I would love to know what people think of it as a concept as well as the execution in the fic! 🥰

Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2

You couldn’t believe it was already February 13th. You had been so preoccupied lately with the last few missions, increased training, and yearly inspections that it completely slipped your mind. Yet there was no denying the date when you checked your mailbox and found a red, heart-shaped box with a ribbon tied around it.

“Oh, shit,” you cursed under your breath as you picked the Box up. It looked exactly the same as it did every year since it had first shown up in your mailbox when you were 16. Just as it looked the same as every other Box that magically appeared in everyone’s mailboxes on this day once they reached that age.

No one knew exactly how it happened or when it started. Some say a form of the Boxes had been around since the 1800s, while others claimed to have found mentions of something like them back in the 1500s, while some scholars tried to argue the proof of their existence as far back as the 1300s or even crude versions in Ancient Rome. But in modern times, a holiday was formed around the arrival of the Boxes, one centered on love and giving. They called it Valentine’s Day after one of the earlier mentions of the event in a poem. And every year at that time, the same thing happened all over the world.

On February 13, the Box would appear in your mailbox. When it did, you would place items into it, things that either showed off who you were or showed your love and admiration for the person about to receive what you picked out. Then, you would place the Box back into your mailbox by midnight. The next morning, the Box would still be there, but it would now be filled with different objects. Objects that your soulmate had placed in their Box the day before.

Over the years, you had received a wide variety of trinkets from your soulmate: various types of candy, love-themed stuffed animals, the occasional jewelry, a wooden rose, a well-worn baseball, a picture frame left empty just waiting for a photo to go inside it, a bottle of half-used cologne, a stack of recipes.

And every year, there was a famous love poem nestled at the bottom. You often wondered if he would write you original poetry if it was allowed, but the Boxes didn’t permit that sort of thing. Nothing handwritten or originally composed, no photographs, no business cards, no blatantly identifiable items of any kind. Anything you placed in your Box that was deemed too telling by whatever magic or energy made the Boxes work remained in your Box when you opened it the next day.

It had only happened to you once when you tried to send a pin with the Naval Academy’s logo on it the year you were accepted, but apparently, it was too much of a hint as to your identity to pass on to your soulmate. It seemed as if the Boxes wanted to help you find your soulmates, but didn’t want things to be too easy for you either.

Glancing at your watch, you cursed even louder as you realized that at this time of night, the only places in the area that might still be open were convenience stores or the Walgreens a few blocks away. However, this close to the deadline, stores like Walgreens that catered to the Boxes were usually packed with last-minute shoppers or picked clean by now. So, with a sigh, you jumped back into your truck and drove down to the convenience store at the end of the block.

Unfortunately, there really wasn’t a wide selection to choose from. Just meaningless junk and useless items. Reluctantly, you settled on a California shot glass (broad locations were usually allowed and your soulmate had once sent the wrapper from a bottle of whiskey so you assumed he drank) and a car air freshener shaped like a heart in one of your favorite fragrances. It was pathetic, but at least it was something.

As you headed up to the sizeable check-out line, you stumbled to a stop as you recognized the man at the end of the line. You stared at the back of his head all day during briefings and meetings so even from behind, it was impossible to mistake him. For a moment, you considered waiting for him to finish checking out or even just leaving the store now without your purchase, but it was almost 11:30 pm and time was running out to get your items into your Box. So, taking a deep breath, you stepped into line.

Sensing someone approaching from behind, Hangman glanced over his shoulder and did a double take as he recognized you. He flinched slightly and his shoulders tensed, yet his usual cocky smile slowly spread across his face. “Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here. I would have thought Miss Perfect would have had her gift planned out weeks ago. Cutting things a little close there, aren’t we?”

You felt the familiar heat rising in your chest that happened anytime you were around Hangman. Ever since the day the two of you had met at the Academy, you had gotten along like oil and water. Always trying to one-up the other or prove you were the best, your interactions usually ended with some sort of heated argument or screaming match. The universe seemed to enjoy your little feud because, by some bizarre twist of fate, the two of you had ended up in the same squadron after graduation. And you were both transferred together to the next one. Then to the same class at Top Gun. And yet another joint squadron change. It was practically unheard of, and yet, since the first day of either of your careers, you had been working together. But it never lessened the antagonistic tension between you. If anything, it only got worse as time went on.

When you were in the sky, the two of you could work together in perfect harmony and despite everything, you were the perfect wingmen for one another. Yet, the moment the two of you got face-to-face on the ground, that was when things became hostile. Just like now.

Trying your best to maintain your composure, you snapped, “We’ve been out of the country for the last two weeks. When was I supposed to get anything? Besides, you’re here too.” Looking down at his hands, you rolled your eyes as you spotted the fighter jet-shaped object he was holding. “A keychain? That’s the best you can do? Wow, Bagman. Some girl out there is so lucky to have you as her soulmate.”

Hangman’s jaw clenched tightly and you could tell he was trying his best not to start cursing you out in the middle of the checkout line. Instead, he just sneered, “Yeah, well, you’re one to talk. I’m sure your soulmate is going to love that tacky glass and a single air freshener.”

You felt your cheeks growing warm as you stared daggers at him, but it wasn’t all due to anger. Though you would never admit it, you knew he was right. This was a pathetic excuse for a present for the person who was meant to be the love of your life. He always gave you such lovely, meaningful gifts and this was the best you could do? You wish there was some way to explain what happened. That this was all due to bad timing and an insanely busy schedule and that you had wanted to give him so much more. But without a way to send personal messages, this was all you could do.

However, just because all of that was true, it didn’t mean you were going to let Hangman get away with pointing it out. Still glaring at him, you said, “As a matter of fact, I know this is exactly the sort of thing he will love. You don’t know anything about him or me outside of work, so why don’t you just shut the fuck up, and worry about your pathetic gift and how disappointed your soulmate is going to be in the morning.”

For a brief moment, the expression on Hangman’s face wasn’t one of anger or rage. It was one of pain. And you realized he probably felt as shitty about his gift as you did about yours. You knew there was more to Hangman than he ever revealed to the other aviators, and at this moment, you felt like for the first time you might have gotten a glimpse of this other side of him. But before you could say anything, he steeled his face once more and whirled around to face the counter without another word.

Even with his back to you, you could see he was still very upset. His broad shoulders were tensed as he stood slightly hunched over and drawn in on himself. Suddenly, you had the urge to wrap your arms around him from behind and press your face against his shoulder blades as you whispered soft apologies to make up for what you had said. But you quickly shook your head to snap yourself out of it. This was Hangman. The two of you fought more than cats and dogs. This was just how it was between you. And yet, as he finished paying and glanced quickly back at you one final time, you couldn’t help but wish you had apologized after all.

That night, you tossed and turned in bed, haunted by what had happened with your run-in with Hangman and how you should have handled it differently. However, all of it was forgotten the moment you woke up and remembered what day it was. Springing out of bed, you threw on some clothes and rushed out the front door.

As much as you wanted nothing more than to run downstairs and return with your Box as quickly as you could, it just wasn’t possible. The entire building had the same thought. As soon as you stepped out of your apartment, you were met with a crowd of people all struggling to make it to the stairwell. The landlord had hired someone for each floor to attempt to control the traffic, but as usual, it was a useless endeavor. There was nothing to do but wait your turn as the horde of people slowly made their way down the stairs and to the row of mailboxes by the front door.

When you finally made it to your mailbox and retrieved the package from inside, you hurried back upstairs with the Box clutched tightly to your chest. Some people couldn’t stand the anticipation and had ripped open their Boxes in the lobby, but you preferred to open yours in the privacy of your apartment. Luckily, getting back up was a lot quicker than getting down. The crowds had thinned as most people made it down to their mailboxes and you were able to make it back in only a few minutes.

Once inside, you leaned heavily on your door, trying to calm your excitement. You waited all year for this moment, to get just the tiniest glimpse into the person who was supposedly your other half. Yet no matter how happy you were, you couldn’t help but dread the feeling of disappointment he must be having seeing what you placed inside your box this year. You just hoped you could make it up to him next year, potentially even in person. But maybe that was too much wishful thinking.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the lid. The second you saw what was inside, you dropped the Box as if it had burned you, spilling the contents across the floor. Gasping, you slid down the door to the ground, your hands pressed tightly over your mouth. You couldn’t believe your eyes. There had to be some kind of mistake. Somehow the Boxes got mixed up and yours was sent to the wrong person while you received this one instead. Because this could not be your Box.

Yet, there was no denying the truth. A piece of paper stuck out of the Box. Glancing quickly at it, you saw that it was your yearly love poem, though this one had a theme of forgiveness and doing better in the future as well as love. As in, asking forgiveness for such a crappy gift this year. Because there, peeking out from underneath the table where it had landed, was the only other item from the Box: a familiar-looking keychain shaped like a fighter jet.

A million different explanations ran through your head as you tried to think of some rational explanation that didn’t end with your soulmate being your wingman. They probably sold these same keychains in thousands of stores across the country and maybe he finally figured out your clues and realized you were a fighter pilot. Maybe he got his pilot’s license this year and this was his way of sharing the news. Maybe he might have gone to an airshow and wished you were there with him. Or…. maybe the keychain you now held in your hand was the same one you had seen last night in the convenience store.

You had to find out for sure. There was no way you could go about your day until you had verified this was all just some big cosmic misunderstanding. So, you grabbed the keychain, your bag, your keys, and your jacket before hurrying towards the door.

Your jacket was only half on as you threw open the door and were almost hit in the face with a fist that was in the process of knocking. Dodging back, you saw Hangman standing in the hallway, his chest heaving as if he had just run the whole way here. Glancing down, you saw that in the hand he didn’t have raised, he was holding your shot glass and air freshener. So, it was true….

At the same moment, he noticed the keychain in your hand. His eyes grew wide as he whispered, “No fucking way…”

“How?” You stumbled backward, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse. But a large hand shot out and grabbed your elbow, steadying you. Hangman had touched you many times before, yet there was something different about this time. It felt safe and comforting and it sent a small shiver across your skin.

You wondered if Hangman felt it too because his grip tightened and he pulled you a little closer to him. His eyes searched your face as he asked, “Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay! What about this situation makes you think I’d be okay? You wanted to scream at him, but you know it wouldn’t do any good. So, you just pull your arm out of his grasp and take a few steps back. “Yeah, I’m fine. I-I just need a minute.”

You hurried off into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water off the counter. Draining it in just a few gulps, you wipe the back of your hand across your mouth as you try to figure out what to do next. Your mind was running a mile a minute and all you wanted to do was to lay down in your bed, burrow under the covers, and forget this morning ever happened. However, this was not something you could just ignore for now and figure out later. Hangman was still in your living room just waiting for you to return. You knew you had to face him sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner.

As you walked back into the living room, you saw Hangman standing by your bookcase. When you got closer, he held up the picture frame you had received in your Box a few years ago. With a wistful smile on his lips, he said, “You still have this. And you kept it empty…”

With your arms crossed tightly across your chest, you gave a half-hearted shrug. “I never had the right photo with the right person to put in it.” As you reached out to take it from him, your mind flashed to the hundreds of photos with you and Hangman people had taken over the years. “Or I guess I did and just didn’t realize it.”

Jake ran his thumb across the back of your hand. “Sweetheart, I–”

The pet name was the final straw as you felt something snap within you. “No, no, I’m sorry.” You pulled away from his touch and placed the picture frame back on the bookshelf. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be you. It– It just can’t be.”

Hangman turned away but not before you saw the pain flash in his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you. I guess you thought you’d be paired with someone better. Someone you could at least stand to be in the same room with.” He started heading towards the door, but you jumped in front of him to stop him from leaving.

“No, it’s not that at all. Hangm– Jake.” His head was still hung low so you took his face between your hands and turned it so he was staring at you. Taking a shuttering breath, you explained, “It can’t be you because I don’t think I can handle the fact that we’ve known each other for almost 10 years and didn’t know. That my soulmate was right in front of me this whole time and I never…. That I wasted so much time arguing and fighting with him that I never allowed myself to see him for what he truly was.”

But it didn’t matter how much you wanted things to be different. There was no denying the truth at this point. In hindsight, it all made perfect sense. That heat in your chest you felt every time Hangman walked into the room wasn’t hate at all. It was love. Love you thought you could never have so you used it to fuel your anger towards him. You had turned the magnetic pull between you into something ugly and bitter all because you were hurt he could never be yours. And because of that, you almost ruined everything.

Jake must have seen the tears forming in your eyes and the way your lip trembled as you tried to hold it together because his pained expression softened into one of understanding. “Oh, sweetheart.”

He softly took your arm and drew you into his chest. The gesture was so tender and soft that you couldn’t fight it anymore. Tears began to pour down your cheeks as you buried your face into his shoulder. Jake’s hand gently caressed your back, rubbing small, soothing circles across it while you sobbed. And it felt so right. The hot feeling you got in your chest whenever Hangman was around spread throughout you and when he lightly pressed his lips to the top of your head, you thought you might explode.

As your tears began to dry up and your sobs faded, you still remained wrapped in his embrace. In fact, you never wanted to leave it. But there were still some things you needed to figure out.

So, you lifted your head slightly, and whispered, “The worst part is, I know it’s you. I’ve known since the minute I first saw you back at the Academy. Sitting in class with that stupid toothpick in your mouth and the big ol’ grin on your face. You were the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and I instantly fell for you. For a moment, I even let myself imagine you might be my soulmate.” You tilted your head up to look him squarely in the face. “But when I asked you about one of the poems my soulmate had sent me, you said you’d never heard of it.”

Hangman smiled softly with a sorrowful gleam in his eyes. “I remember that day perfectly. You walked up to introduce yourself and when I saw you, I couldn’t breathe. You were the most beautiful person I had ever seen and your voice… When you mentioned the poem, I had a momentary flash of hope that it could be you. But it was a really popular poem and one I had sent a few years before, so I just figured it was wishful thinking. And I couldn’t admit it right then anyway. Because with her – with you – I was Jake. As open and real and vulnerable as I’ve ever been with another person. But when you asked me in class, in front of the rest of the cadets, you were talking to Hangman, and he would never be caught dead reading poetry. So, I lied. And it seems that I doomed us both.”

You shook your head frantically. “No, Jake. This isn’t just on you. I lied too. I was so upset that you weren’t my soulmate that when you started asking me about what sort of music I listened to and you mentioned a bunch of artists, including the band whose CD I had sent you, I said I didn’t know any of them because I couldn’t handle talking to you right then. I just wanted the conversation to be over. But if I had just told the truth, you probably would have realized who I was. So, this is just as much on me as it is on you.”

“Thank you.” He placed another kiss in the middle of your forehead and a wave of warmth flowed through you all the way down to your toes. Then he chuckled, “I guess the universe knew we were idiots and needed as much help as we could get. Maybe that’s why we’re still stuck together through every mission and every transfer. Not even the United States Navy is a match for soulmates.”

“I guess not,” you giggled. Then, turning more serious again, you said, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I am lucky to have you as a soulmate. And I’m not disappointed in the slightest.”

“I’m sorry too. I do in fact love my glass and air freshener.”

You rolled your eyes. “You called that glass tacky yesterday…. And you’re not wrong. You don’t have to pretend to like it. I know it’s crap.”

Jake grabbed your shoulders and held you away from him so you could see his face. “I’m not pretending! I really do like it!”

“Why?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

You groaned as a huge smile lit up your face and you playfully slapped his chest. “Oh, God. We’re going to be one of those super mushy, romantic couples that drives everyone crazy with how in love we are, aren’t we?”

“I’m counting on it.” There was absolutely no humor or playfulness in his tone. Just complete sincerity. And as you gazed into his pale green eyes, it felt as if you were staring directly into his soul. It felt as if you were staring directly into your own heart.

Jake’s fingers brushed against your cheek before gently tilting your chin back. Your eyes fluttered shut even before his lips pressed against yours. Before this moment, you thought you knew what a kiss felt like, what love felt like. And yet, nothing you had ever experienced felt anything close to kissing Jake. It was like sticking your finger into an electrical socket but instead of pain, your body vibrated with a euphoric buzz of pleasure.

And as he drew you in closer against his chest, it felt as if your hearts began to sync and beat in time until the two thumps melded into one. There was not a single sliver of doubt left in you. Jake Seresin was your soulmate and you couldn’t be happier about it.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you continued to gaze into each other's eyes. You reached up and ran your finger across his kiss-swollen lips as you asked, “Well, what now, Jake?”

Jake took your hand and pressed his lips firmly against the back of it before he whispered, “Now, sweetheart, I think we start making up for lost time.”

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter , @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233

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retromimic · 11 months

Text

re: Astarion's age (and others)

I made a random post last week about Astarion's age and I have been thinking about it since.

I also realized that we do have other characters we can use to have a better idea of timelines and stuff.

And by other characters I mean Jaheira and Halsin.

More under the cut, tl;dr at the end

Jaheira

Jaheira is from the first two Baldur's Gate games, which both take place over 100 years before BG3 (1368 and 1369, so 123 before BG3, which is in 1492).

She's a half-elf, who age pretty much the same as human, but live longer, so she probably was in her 20's or early 30's in the first games, which would make her about 150 years old in BG3. This makes sense with her appearance, as half-elves live for about 180 years.

Note: Based on appearance only, it's possible Jaheira was older in the first games, but considering they were released in 1998 and 2000, I highly doubt they made the hot half elf lady an actual middle-age woman lmao

Side note: Minsc

Minsc is a human and also from the first two games, but there is a canon reason why he's still alive and doesn't look like he got older like Jaheira did. iykyk

Halsin

He just straight up says he's 350 years old. He's an elf.

He also does look old, but not that old.

Shadowheart

We know she is at least 40 years old (but not much older), and she doesn't look too old. It's subjective but to me she looks like a human late 20's, early 30's (I do think she looks older than Jaheira did in the first two games, but graphic quality and time does affect that). She's a half-elf, so that also checks out.

Recap so far:

Half-elves:

Live for about 180 years

40's: young and soft

150's: Mommy™

Elves:

Live for a long time (in game: at least 350 years, in DnD lore: about 700 years)

350's: Daddy™

Now onto the baby

Astarion

The information can be conflicting, so I'll try to break it down.

The tombstone

This is where it gets complicated because not only is it hard to read, but also is kind of contradictory.

It's written in the Thorass alphabet.

The initial dates are the easiest to read:

229 - 268 DR

Which would mean he was 39 years old when he died. Which a lot of people find it a bit hard to believe considering he looks much older, especially if you compare him to Shadowheart, who's not only older, but also only a half-elf.

I'll come back to it later.

What makes the tombstone complicated is the date Astarion adds. They are hard to read, the first one is barely readable and the numbers 5, 6, 7 and 9 can be easily mistaken for one another when it's someone who just had the most emotional moment of his life carving it in stone with a dagger.

The general consensus from what I've seen has been that it's 498 and that the dates on the tombstone are omitting the 1 (so the dates would actually be 1229, 1268 and 1498 DR), or that Larian made a mistake and should have made the dates in NR, not DR (which would bring the dates to 1261 and 1300 for his birth/death)

Both options have flaws because of the date Astarion writes should either read 492 (omitting the 1) or 460 (NR instead of DR). Neither are really plausible because the last number really doesn't look neither like a 2 or a 0.

The first option would also mean that Astarion died 230 years ago, which we know is not true. A lot of things in-game (not just Astarion) confirms it.

The second option would place his death 192 years ago, which is the most plausible.

But then how to explain the error in the date he adds?

Either he fucked up and doesn't know what year it is.

Or the first number is actually a 2, and he wrote 268, which is the year he died. We'll go with this one.

So, conclusion? Astarion was 39 years old when he died, 192 years ago, making him now 231 years old.

Physical appearance

Now, onto his look.

As mentioned earlier, Astarion doesn't look like he's younger than 40-something half-elf, so some people think the tombstone might be reading 129, giving him an extra 100 years at death, which would make more sense, but there is clearly more than just one dot on that first number, and there is a more plausible reason for him looking so old:

Vampire spawn appeared as they did in life, though their features were hardened and appeared predatory.

Source: Forgotten Realms Wiki

Add to that nearly 200 years of torture? That would make a man look a couple decades older.

And it's not really hard to imagine he was 39 years old at death when you see him, mostly post-Cazador, with softer expressions. (There is posts about it on here, sorry I can't link)

There is one last argument against this, which is the fact that elves reach "adulthood" at around 100 yeas old, and that Astarion already had a job and everything when he died.

But that's really easy to explain;

Elves physically reach adulthood at the same rate as humans, but their concept of adulthood is different, which is why "socially" they are considered adults only much later.

But also, this is socially, and socially, Astarion grew up in Baldur's Gate, a multi-cultural city, so he didn't grow up with elven mentality. Him having a job at 39 years old is very much plausible.

SO.

TL;DR:

Astarion was still pretty much a child when he died at 39 years old, 192 years ago.

#bg3 #astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 talk #bg3 astarion #character analysis #astarion ancunin #idk about you but i find this even more tragic #someone else probably did this before but whatever #jaheira #halsin #shadowheart #sorry if there is errors I didn't proof read

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cheerycherrycandy-resurrected · 11 months

Text

New in Town

ok one last thing for the midwest emo ghouls since i was on a work trip last week and apparently wrote almost 1300 words on Phantom's arrival in town when i was bored in seminars (i don't think anyone's told that story so far?). one day i'll learn my lesson on handwriting in a notebook bc writing it up was a struggle

Rating: general words: ~1300 cw:

Phantom stumbled into town on a Wednesday. As he stepped off the bus and landed in a puddle he wondered, not for the first time, if moving here had been a mistake. First of all, it was raining. He didn’t know why this surprised him, as it was approaching the Yuletide season in the sleepy Midwestern town he was hoping to call home. Secondly, he was cold. There was a biting wind blowing the rain straight into his face, and within seconds of stepping off the bus he was shivering and soaked to his skin. He hoisted his lone duffle bag onto his shoulder, and gripped his guitar case tightly. He could do this.

Squinting through the downpour and tossing his hair out of his eyes, he tried to get his bearings. He was supposed to be meeting someone in a Waffle House to collect the keys for the cheap and dingy bedsit he’d seen advertised online, that definitely wasn’t haunted (the irony of Phantom moving in wasn’t lost on him). He spotted the glowing lights a block down and across the road, and stepped out into the street.

When Phantom regained consciousness, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gone and died already. That would be just his luck, on his first day of his new life. Although if he was dead, he wasn’t sure why he was met by a golden haired angel staring down at him. He was quite sure the door to that afterlife closed to him long ago.

Taking stock of the rest of his senses, he tried to make sense of where he was now. Still cold, still wet, and now also sore. On the ground. That felt more like what he should expect from the check-in desk in purgatory. His ears were ringing, the whoosh of static simultaneously deafening and silent.

The Angel had a panicked look on their face, slowly dissolving into one of anguish. Tears on their elegant cheekbones now mixing with the rain still falling. Raining, still? Phantom thought to himself. He guessed there were worse eternal punishments than a perpetual downpour though.

The static in his ears grew louder, and he started to pick out the sounds of someone crying out for help. The… Angel? … screaming? That seemed wrong. So did the way their golden halo of hair was staring to stick to their face in limp, wet clumps. Their voice sounded coarse, rasping, nothing like the pealing bells of a heavenly choir, unless said choir was in the habit of chain-smoking.

And the plaid. Phantom was pretty sure no angel wore flannel, in any century.

His brain gradually coming back online, Phantom began to suspect he was still alive after all. In fact, he had the distinct impression that he was both alive, and barely a foot away from where he had been walking before. Although he was horizontal now, prostrate on the wet asphalt in the shadow of a beat-up sedan.

Phantom was jolted out of his thoughts by the Possibly-Not-Angel, their sodden hair whipping around their face as they turned to yell towards the car, the source of the rumbling still echoing in his head.

“Rain!”

No shit. Thought Phantom. He was still coming to terms with not being dead, but even he could tell it was still pouring.

A second face loomed over Phantom. This one he was sure wasn’t an angel, despite their beauty and the intensity of the stare in their unblinking blue eyes. Angels didn’t wear beanies.

“What do we do Rain? Is he dead?”

“No, look at his eyes, he’s waking up.”

Phantom blinked up at the increasingly bedraggled pair, and tried to move his limbs. He was bruised, but pretty sure nothing was broken. The second voice spoke again, the sound smooth and melodic like a flowing river.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you until you were right in front of us. Are you alright?”

Despite how level their voice was, it was clear from the rapid rise and fall of their chest they were no less distraught than their now clearly human counterpart.

“Hi?” croaked Phantom, making to sit up. Two pairs of hands reached out immediately to support him, as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. Now he was feeling more lucid, he realised the pooled rain on the ground had seeped uncomfortably through his jeans, and he was colder than ever. Phantom clutched at the hand offered in front of him, the warmth making him gasp, before grasping it tighter as his frigid fingers absorbed the heat and he felt sensation returning to them. Cooler hands supported him from behind as he staggered shakily to his feet.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of the road”, the warm-handed stranger gently started steering him towards the kerb. The other bent down to grab Phantom’s bag and guitar, and together they herded him out of the road and into the relative shelter of the bus stop.

“Where are you hurt? Should we take you to the ER?”

“I- I’m alright I think.” Phantom smiled weakly, siting down on the bench and trying not to wince at the feel of the bruises forming across his side. Luckily ghouls healed quickly, he was sure he would be fine again after a day or so.

“Can we give you a lift somewhere?” asked the taller of the pair, gesturing towards the car still idling at the roadside with the doors flung open.

“I don’t really have anywhere to go yet, I’m new here. I just got off the bus.” Phantom waved a hand in the direction of the Waffle House in the distance “I’m supposed to be meeting someone to get an apartment key”.

“You have friends here?”

Phantom shook his head, looking up nervously through his eyelashes. “Looking for a fresh start.”

“Oh! Rain was in your position a few years ago!” interjects the other, “I’m Dewdrop.” He shook the hand Phantom was still gripping like a lifeline in a facsimile of a handshake. “I preach at the chapel out the west side of town. If you’re looking to get to know people here I promise we’re very welcoming.”

As he speaks, Phantom spots the upside down cross hanging from a rosary around Dewdrop’s neck and smiles shyly at him “I’d like that.”

Juggling Phantom’s bag and guitar to extend a hand to him, while snaking an arm around Dewdrop’s waist, the taller stranger still standing over Phantom waits for him to drop Dewdrop’s hand before introducing themself.

“Rain. Dew’s husband. I hope you settle in well, there’s a strong community here, particularly through the church.” He offers with a carefully measured smile back at Phantom. “You're sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Phantom could already feel the acute sting of his injuries dissipating. He hoists himself back to his feet, and reached to take his guitar and duffle bag from Rain. He sent a silent prayer below that he had worn his bag on his left shoulder; both he and his guitar had somehow escaped mostly unscathed.

“Will we see you on Sunday?” asked Dewdrop, as he and Rain began heading back to their car.

“I’ll be there” Phantom nodded, Dewdrop’s answering grin making him more sure of this than any other decision he’d made in his move here so far.

“See you there then.” Just before getting into the vehicle, Dew leaned over to gently tap Phantom on the horns, which must have fallen unglamoured while he was unconscious. He smirked up at Phantom, with a conspiratorial look on his face.

“Might want to put these away in the meantime though.”

#this was such a fun creative outlet maybe the list of a dozen non-midwest-emo fic ideas might get written finally #midwest emo ghouls au #midwest emo ghouls <3 #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #em writes #the band ghost fanfiction

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 years

Text

Somewhere Out There Is Somebody (Part 1)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Valentine's Day, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 4030

TW: Soulmate AU, Fluff, Light Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Right in Front of You the Whole Time, Language

Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2

At the same moment, he noticed the keychain in your hand. His eyes grew wide as he whispered, “No fucking way…”

You wondered if Hangman felt it too because his grip tightened and he pulled you a little closer to him. His eyes searched your face as he asked, “Are you okay?”

Jake ran his thumb across the back of your hand. “Sweetheart, I–”

As your tears began to dry up and your sobs faded, you still remained wrapped in his embrace. In fact, you never wanted to leave it. But there were still some things you needed to figure out.

“I’m sorry too. I do in fact love my glass and air freshener.”

You rolled your eyes. “You called that glass tacky yesterday…. And you’re not wrong. You don’t have to pretend to like it. I know it’s crap.”

Jake grabbed your shoulders and held you away from him so you could see his face. “I’m not pretending! I really do like it!”

“Why?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you continued to gaze into each other's eyes. You reached up and ran your finger across his kiss-swollen lips as you asked, “Well, what now, Jake?”

Jake took your hand and pressed his lips firmly against the back of it before he whispered, “Now, sweetheart, I think we start making up for lost time.”

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @lorecraft, @green-socks, @heart-0n-fire, @marvelousmermaid, @mayhem24-7forever, @wildbornsiren, @hederasgarden, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-fox, @imjess-themess, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @footprintsinthesxnd, @fantasticcopeaglepasta

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goldenempyrean · 1 year

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sick reader and elizabeth using “It sounds like you’ve caught that bug going round.” and “Naps are only for babies and old people. Im neither.”

Should've Stayed Home

〚 Notes - Just posting the fic I wrote last night :) This hasn't been edited/checked well so sorry about mistakes! 〛

〚 Pairing - Lizzie Olsen x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - You insisted on visiting Lizzie's parents with her, even when you weren't feeling great. But once you arrived there, it seems that maybe staying home would've have been such a day idea. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1300 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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“Maybe you should stay home today sweetheart.” Lizzie sighed as you coughed into your elbow, “It sounds like you’ve caught that bug going round. We can always reschedule, or I can always go visit my parents by myself for a few hours and then come home again.”

But you only shook your head as tossed her the car keys, “No, we’ve been putting off seeing your parents for weeks and I’m not even that sick either, my throat’s just being a little temperamental.”

Lizzie hesitated for a moment, worry creasing her forehead, but ultimately, she relented and took the keys from you. She watched as you gathered your things and made your way out the door, wishing she could convince you to stay home and rest.

As you drove to Lizzie's parents' house, you couldn't shake the feeling of fatigue that settled in your bones. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the radio and the passing scenery outside the car window. The coolness of the glass felt amazing against the throbbing which had begun to pound in your temples.

The drive wasn’t too long at least, that was a positive. Not only had your head begun to pound, but you also found yourself beginning to sniffle repetitively, unable to keep your nose from running. Those sniffles only intensified further when your nose itched sharply.

“H’h..h’tschoo! Heh’hupsshooo!”

Lizzie chuckled, reaching over to squeeze your thigh gently, “Bless-“ She started but stopped when your breath hitched again preemptively.

“H’htschoo!” You ducked your head into your elbow as you covered your final sneeze, sniffling wetly in the aftermath, scrunching up your nose as you wiped it against the end of your sleeve.

“There's tissues in the glove box baby, blow your nose.” Lizzie sighed, regretting that she hadn’t pushed further for you to stay home.

You nodded and reached for the tissues, blowing your nose loudly and rubbing at your eyes. The headache was only getting worse, and your throat felt like it was on fire. You tried to distract yourself by looking out the window again, but everything seemed to blur together in a dizzying haze.

By the time you arrived at Lizzie's parents' house, you were feeling worse than ever. Your head was pounding, your nose was running nonstop, and your throat was so sore it hurt to swallow. You tried to put on a brave face when you greeted her parents, but they could tell something was wrong.

As soon as you walked in the door, Lizzie's mom greeted you with a big hug. "Oh, honey, you don't look so good. Are you feeling okay?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

You forced a smile and nodded, not wanting to worry her. "I'm just a little under the weather. Nothing to worry about," you replied, your voice scratchy and hoarse.

Lizzie's dad came over to give you a handshake and a pat on the back, but you winced in pain as the pressure on your back sent a wave of pain through your body. Lizzie noticed your discomfort and quickly intervened, guiding you over to the couch and offering you a glass of water.

You gratefully accepted the water, taking a sip to soothe your sore throat. Lizzie sat down next to you, her hand resting on your knee as she asked, "Do you need anything else, love?"

You couldn’t help but feel your heavy eyes begin to close on their own as you fought to keep yourself awake as you leant your head against Lizzie’s shoulder, “No, it’s fine.”

Lizzie frowned as she felt the heat radiating off of you. She knew that you were running a fever, and she didn't want to push you too hard. "Maybe we should head back home, sweetheart," she suggested gently.

You shook your head, not wanting to ruin the visit. "No, I'm fine. Let's just hang out for a bit," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Lizzie hesitated, but eventually she relented when she parents joined the two of you in the living room.

You tried your best to keep yourself composed as you chatted with Lizzie's parents. But as the conversation went on, the pressure in your sinuses began to build, and you knew that you were on the verge of a sneeze.

You tried to hold it in, but it was no use. Your body gave in, and you let out a loud, explosive sneeze. "H'tschh!" Your hand shot up to cover your nose and mouth, but it was too late.

Lizzie's mom rushed over to you with a handful of tissues, concern etched on her face. "Oh, honey, are you okay? Do you need anything?" she asked.

You nodded, grateful for the tissues. You blew your nose, wincing as the pressure in your head intensified. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you tried to hide your embarrassment.

Lizzie's dad gave you a sympathetic smile. "It's okay, we've all been there," he said, trying to make you feel better.

“You’re definitely getting a cold.” Lizzie sighed, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. You could do little more to respond, that insistent itch still lingering in your nose before you eventually sneezed down into your tissues yet again, mumbling out your apology afterwards.

Lizzie's mom reached over to hand you another tissue, giving you a sympathetic smile. "Bless you, dear. It sounds like you're really not feeling well," she said kindly whilst Lizzie wrapped her arms around you, holding you closer to her.

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for not listening to Lizzie's advice to stay home. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make a scene," you apologised, your voice still scratchy and hoarse.

Lizzie's dad patted you on the back. "No need to apologise, we understand. Sometimes these things just happen," he said, giving you a reassuring smile.

But you couldn't shake the feeling of embarrassment and discomfort. You were starting to feel like a burden on everyone, like you were ruining the visit. You tried to excuse yourself, saying that you needed some fresh air, but Lizzie insisted on coming with you.

Outside, the cool air felt good on your flushed face, but you couldn't escape the pounding in your head or the congestion in your sinuses. You leaned against Lizzie, feeling her warmth and support as you tried to catch your breath.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "I didn't mean to ruin the visit."

Lizzie pulled you closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "You didn't ruin anything, sweetheart. We just want you to feel better," she said, her voice soft and gentle.

You leaned into her, feeling the weight of exhaustion and sickness weighing you down. "I just want to go home," you said, your voice barely audible.

Lizzie nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation. She helped you back to the car, settling you in the passenger seat before going back inside to explain the situation to her parents.

As Lizzie drove you home, you leaned your head against the window, feeling the cool glass soothing against your hot skin. Lizzie's hand found yours, squeezing it gently as she drove.

“Maybe you should try and take a nap sweetheart, you look exhausted.”

 “Naps are only for babies and old people. I'm neither.”  You mumbled, but still you found yourself giving in and closing your eyes.

Lizzie chuckled softly. "Well, in that case, you're just taking a rest. You need it." She whispered, her voice filled with sympathy and love.

You nodded sleepily, feeling grateful for Lizzie's understanding and care. As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that you were in good hands, and that Lizzie would be there to take care of you until you were feeling better.

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @shin-conan-kun @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @ceiestiaie @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @lovelyy-moonlightt @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69

#Lizzie olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #lizzie olsen x y/n #elizabeth olsen x y/n #sickfic #fluff #lizzie olsen x fem!reader #lizzie olsen sickfic #lizzie olsen comfort

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bingodotorg · 2 months

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Waffle House Parking Lot

Ship: Alive!Ruby/Leon

Description: It’s a hot summer night. Leon comes to pick-up his girlfriend after her shift, hoping that it’s his last time doing so. Instead, he’s forced to break up a fight in the parking lot and it just keeps going downhill from there.

Tags: RE2!Leon to RE4!Leon development. Canon/OC. Cop/Criminal. Doomed relationship. Planning a break-up. Manic Pixie Nightmare. Angst. Hurt with no Comfort. Savior Complex meets Self-Destructive Behavior (guess who wins). Possible OOC Leon because I never wrote this man before.

TW: Drug Addiction Mentioned. Suicidal thoughts but not in a traditional sense. Manhandling. Leon driving.

My friend once told me that I “don’t know Leon” so I’m writing him purely out of spite. My first time posting "proper" writing on tumblr so sorry in advance.

WC: 1300

Leon expected to just pick her up, like normal, but instead was met with a different image.

He didn’t even walk into the building yet, as he heard angry screams and an obvious sound of a tussle right in the parking lot. It’s closing time, so the place is completely empty with only a couple cars present, probably the ones that belong to workers.

It was really easy to notice two silhouettes beating the absolute shit out of each other. He decided to interfere just to see the exact person he was trying to pick up, turning someone else’s face into red mush.

- Ruby…

Once Leon noticed that the guy underneath her didn't respond anymore, he rushed in, grabbing Ruby and pulling her away. Ruby fights back for a couple of minutes, until she loses so much energy that her legs couldn’t hold her anymore. He gently sat her on the ground and went to check on the man who was still unconscious.

God, it was hard to look at his face. Both of his eyes are drowning in dark blue skin, covered in stretch marks as if she was trying to pull his face right off, there’s a bite mark on his cheek and not a pretty one.

Leon comes closer and checks his pulse, hoping that the guy doesn’t wake up suddenly.

He’s alive…thank god.

After making sure that he was alright, or, at least, as alright as he can be, Leon came back to Ruby. He grabs her face, trying to look into the whites of her eyes but she pushes him away with nearly a grawl. From what he was able to see in a split second, it seems like she’s sober.

- Ruby, what the fuck?!

The second she got enough strength, she was up again, already beelining for the man on the ground, to finish the job. Leon grabbed her arm right away, stopping her so suddenly she nearly fell over.

- Where do you think you’re going?

She tried to get out of his grasp, turning her own arm red from the force, but he pulled her in closer, holding on harder, to let her know that he’s NOT letting go.

- Stop!

Ruby stays in place for once but she’s not too happy about it. Leon didn’t want to hold her like this, but he felt like there were no more options. Her actions, the thoughts inside her head, felt as if they were outside of human morals. Words just go over her head…as if she’s doing it on purpose to annoy him or just avoid responsibilities.

He can’t judge, he really can’t. He will never understand what she went through. He had seen his own share of monstrosities but they will never be the same, because he’s not her.

He shouldn’t judge but god does he want to.

- Car. Now.

He slightly pushed her in the right direction as he let go. Leon’s eyes fall onto the man’s body again, as he takes out his phone to call for an ambulance. ***

Ruby herself wasn’t completely unscathed. He did put up quite a fight before passing out, leaving her with a black-eye, messed up nose and blood dripping from her forehead. The drive to the hospital was…awkward. Ruby didn’t even try to break the silence, explain what happened and Leon had no idea how to start. The plan was to pick her up and tell her how he feels once they’re at the spot but now they’re not even driving to her house.

- Do you want…to talk about it?

He finally asks. She stays silent, rubs her nose, staining her fingers red.

- What did he do?

- I made an order wrong…he yelled at me.

She sniffles but no tears come out.

- Said I don’t deserve you, that you’re probably out there, fucking someone else.

- I’m not.

- I know. You probably would’ve been happier, if you did.

Her eyes were completely empty as she said that, as if it was something she thought about so often she grew to accept that fact. Leon’s eyes darted to look at her.

- Maybe.

He answered in nearly a whisper.

Leon seemingly only looked at her for a second but as she suddenly glanced at the road and screamed, he realized that the car had moved to the opposite lane of the highway. He reacts fast, swerves to the side and the car stops at the border.

As Leon catches his breath, he turns on the emergency lights with a shaky hand and pushes his back into the seat with a sigh. He closes his eyes, for a moment, as he hears Ruby begin to laugh. The thought of them dying makes her so ecstatic, she nearly chokes…but he doesn’t laugh with her. ***

Ruby holds his arm like she’s trying to pick a slice of steak. When she’s high she can do this for hours, outline muscles under his skin, call each by name. It was like a lullaby…like counting sheep. The fact that she can see under his skin always gave him a strange feeling of paranoia. She knows where each muscle is, how they’re deformed, it was a strange type of intimacy between them. He never realized how personal the things underneath your skin can be. It’s not something he felt like he had to “open up” about but now that someone has such a deep understanding of what is going on inside his body, it made him feel vulnerable.

As she started to outline pieces of muscle, Leon pulled her hand away and started holding it in his own, gently drawing circles on her palm with his finger. She didn’t fight it, just sighed and placed her head on his shoulder. When she fell asleep like this, it felt like taming a wild animal.

Once this is over, he will miss moments like these, despite everything.

- Miss Bates?

Leon raised his arm for her, as the nurse called out the name. ***

Once she was looked at and deemed to be fine, It didn’t take a while for her to fall asleep in the passenger seat. Ruby looked awful, she needed a shower. He couldn’t bring her back to her own “house”...she didn’t even have running water in that dump.

It was funny. Even though they stopped living together, it still felt the same. She would spend most of her nights at his place just because leaving her in that apartment felt…wrong. Technically, Ruby’s homeless, but she doesn’t consider it as such. An abandoned apartment that doesn’t even have functioning doors, is considered a home, in her eyes.

Blond, strawy hair, ruined by the dye job. She never went to a hairdresser, it’s not like she has money for one. No, she colors her own hair, which is pretty obvious. The uneven patches of pink and light blue show her attempts at making it look like cotton candy, but it’s more like someone dumped watercolor paint on her.

He undressed her but somehow, didn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t even register it as a body of someone who’s alive. Everytime Leon sees her it’s like she’s getting closer to death…he probably won’t even notice when she crosses that line.He checks her pulse again, just to make sure. Her blood still responds to the pressure of his fingers, surprisingly.

He waited for the right temperature to start pouring, checking it with his fingers. Leon wasn’t planning on washing her thoroughly, just letting the water flow clean whatever it can.

Complete silence, only the sound of water and his sobs, echoed through the bathroom. Seemingly, that was enough to wake her up, as he hears the water in the tub shifting. Cold, wet hands touch his face.

- You’re so pretty…

She whispers, watching the pain in his eyes.

#leon kennedy #resident evil #oc: ruby bates #alive!ruby #oc/canon #angst #one shot #leon/oc #my writing

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soffiisims · 7 days

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Storytelling Secrets 🤫

Thank you @zelenxa for tagging me! I'm not very good with these kind of things, but I' ll try my best!

In my game, I'm actually in the year 1335 😅. So buckle up, because we have 21 years' worth of posts to go through! 😵

We will be meeting new chracters from Sweden and from Novgorod, Karelia. In 1323 Sweden and Novgorod (medieval state in northern Russia) made a treaty in Pähkinäsaari, where they regulated their border going through Finland. No one really watched over the border, so people crossed it as they pleased and lived on like they used to. But the treaty didn't last long and Sweden and Novgorod went back to always brawling. So in my UDC we'll see travellers from the border, that are fed up with this. And from Sweden we might meet a soldier, who had been at the border trying to keep the Novgorodians out of Sweden. Maybe these characters will find their way into the familytree... 😏

We are going to have to mash up households, because death is all around us. There will be orphans. And brothers and sisters have to be somewhat separated.

I'm looking forward the 1600's, because I've planned a witch hunt. Healers will probably suffer.

I'll not have the 100 year war in my game, because it really didn't effect Finnish (well, Swedish) peasants. Also I'll leave out the black plague in 1348, because it really didn't come to Sweden until 1350's. But I try to remember to include it 1420's, when it struck to Finland as well. Long story short, I'll bend the rules following Finnish history.

I'm a little sad, that I haven't been able to represent the pagan customs and catholic belief living side by side in my playthrough yet. In Finland we have this famous legend of Finnish peasant Lalli and this English bishop Henry (fin. Henrik), that tells the story of how keen Finns were to absorb catholic belief. Our Middle Ages as a historical time period starts from this legend and bishop Henry in 1100's, when catholic belief was forced to Finns. As the time went on Finns became catholics, but the pagan customs lived strong beside it. We'll be exploring medieval holidays and celebrations, that took place in Eastland at that time. Maybe not so much in 1300's, but hopefully more later!

Sorry if this wasn't so juicy and maybe even a little boring one. I telling these historical thing very vaguely, because I'm not an expert and my knowledge is mostly common, more or less things learned in school. But I do tend to check my facts! And I love to read about history a lot!

Anyways, thanks again for the tag and I'll give this froward to @lilabella12 (I love your UDC and trying to catch up with it!) and @idletrait (I've gotta start reading your "new" playthrough too, it looks so cool!). If you don't want to do this, it's fine and if you have already done this, I'm sorry, that I've missed that! Have a lovely day! 👋🏻🌻

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thedustybunny · 1 year

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Chamomile kisses - Chapter 3

Viktor x Fem!Reader (1300+ words)

@thehistoriangirl thank you so much for the interaction you’ve given me, I really do appreciate it and it has motivated me to do more. Also I just read the last comment and it’s like you read my mind about this chapter! Like how? Also thank you everyone else who liked and commented(? Still not sure how tumbler works lol) anyway here is a new chapter! Thank you so much everyone! I’m also working on an arcane style outfit for the herbalist (y/n) so tune in soon!

In the days that followed, your interactions with Viktor remained consistent – brief, snarky, and often leaving you with more questions than answers. ‘What did you do to deserve this treatment?’. Each encounter seemed to deepen the divide between you, his cutting remarks and dismissive attitude only fueling the flames of your mixed emotions.

Your clinic thrived, its shelves brimming with remedies and solutions that continued to draw a steady stream of customers seeking your expertise. The bustling activity offered a welcome distraction from the complexity of your feelings for Viktor.

One evening, as you were engrossed in organizing your lab, a soft knock on the door interrupted your focus. You looked up to see Jayce standing there, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Hey," Jayce began, "I just wanted to check in and see how things are going."

You returned the smile, appreciating his concern. "It's been busy, but I'm managing."

Jayce's expression turned serious. "I know Viktor can be difficult, but he's been through a lot. He was born with a bad leg, and he's been struggling with it more because of the cold. I don’t know why he’s taken such an attitude towards you, it will get better… I hope."

You nodded, the revelation giving you a new perspective on his behavior. "I had noticed something off, but I didn't want to intrude."

Jayce sighed, his worry evident. "He's been distant and prickly, but it's not entirely his fault. He's been in pain, physically and emotionally. He's had to face challenges that most people can't even comprehend. He’s my best friend, I just wish he’d show that side of his to other people too. I’m sorry for any trouble he’s caused you…"

Listening to Jayce, your heart softened. The layers of complexity that shrouded Viktor's demeanor were starting to make sense. "I never meant to add to his stress. I understand.”

Jayce shook his head. "You're not responsible for his reactions, (y/n). Just give him time.“

As you contemplated Jayce's words, a newfound understanding bloomed within you. The anger you had once harbored toward Viktor now mingled with a compassion you hadn't expected.

Days turned into weeks, and your clinic continued to flourish. Amidst the hustle and bustle, you couldn't shake the mixture of feelings that Viktor elicited within you – the hatred and fascination, the frustration and empathy. While your interactions with him remained icy, your growing understanding of his struggles had begun to reshape your perception.

And as the sun set on another day, you found yourself facing the enigma that was Viktor once more, the intricate web of emotions he wove around you not so easily unraveled.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to extend an olive branch to Viktor. Despite your mixed feelings and the frustration he often stirred in you, you couldn't ignore his evident discomfort. It was a small gesture, but it was a step toward bridging the gap between you two. You were driven by the desire to help alleviate his pain, regardless of your personal sentiments.

In your extensive research, you had stumbled upon a remarkable discovery – a plant you named "elpine." The oils secreted from its leaves carried a potent numbing effect, sinking into the skin and muscles upon contact. After careful testing, you found it to be a remarkably effective painkiller, rivaling even the pharmacy's processed alternatives. It was with this newfound knowledge that you decided to make a move.

With the clock striking 12, signaling lunchtime, you closed up your clinic and set your plan into motion. You carefully selected a bottle of the elpine-based oil, infusing it with the calming scents of ginger and lavender. ‘Maybe the warmth from the ginger will help soothe him.’ You thought. The tall blue corked bottle held the promise of relief within, adorned with a meticulously hand-written label.

You also prepared a thoughtful "get well soon" kit for Viktor. A small woven basket held the elpine oil, soothing bath crystals, calming tea, and even a box of your own homemade cookies. The intention was clear – to offer not only physical relief but also a warm gesture of kindness.

With the basket in hand, you left your clinic and began your journey to Viktor's lab. As you walked, you hoped that this gesture would finally break through the barrier he had erected between you two. Maybe this will signify a new beginning for the both of you.

You stood at the threshold of Viktor's lab, the basket in your hands, a mixture of determination and apprehension coursing through you. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open, revealing the room filled with the low hum of machinery. There he was, hunched over his desk, his goggles on, and his attention fixed on the hex crystals emitting a mesmerizing blue glow. You took a moment to stand and study his figure. The blue light hitting his jawline, and the hair clinging to the sweat adorning his forehead. If only…

As you observed him intently focused on his work, you found your voice. "Ahem."

He didn't react, so you cleared your throat a bit louder as you walked closer to him. "AHEM!"

His body jerked in surprise, and he quickly removed his goggles, his sharp eyes locking onto yours. "What do you want?" he snapped, his words dripping with venom.

You held out the basket toward him. "I came to give you something," you said, your voice steady.

He eyed the basket with suspicion. "What's that?"

"It's a gesture of goodwill," you replied, your tone softening. "A mixture of things that might help you, including an oil blend I've crafted."

He scoffed dismissively. "Why would I need your remedies? I have my own methods."

You felt a hint of frustration bubbling up. "Viktor, I know we haven't exactly been on the best terms, but I genuinely wanted to help. You've been working hard, and I thought this might offer some relief. Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I want to see you in unnecessary discomfort.”

He sneered, his gaze icy. "You're so eager to play the helpful caretaker, aren't you? Trying to fix everything with your herbs and oils."

Your patience was wearing thin. "I'm not trying to fix everything, I just thought..."

"Save it," he interrupted, his voice cutting you off. "I don't need your pity, and I certainly don't need your homemade concoctions."

Anger surged within you. "This isn't about pity or charity, Viktor. It's about being human and showing empathy."

He leaned back in his chair, his expression mocking. "Empathy? Spare me."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. "Fine, have it your way. But I'm not here to argue. I wanted to extend an olive branch, and if you're not interested, that's your choice."

He waved you off with a dismissive gesture. "Just leave it on the table and go." He sighed, not waning to waste more time subjected to your pity.

You hesitated, frustration and hurt battling within you. After a moment, you set the basket down on a nearby surface and turned to leave, frustrated but still relieved he accepted, a smile almost creeping onto your cheeks. But as you reached the door, you heard a thud behind you. You spun around to see him glaring at you, the basket now in the bin.

"What's your problem?" you demanded, your patience finally giving way to your own anger.

His gaze bore into you, cold and unyielding. "I don't need your pity gifts, and I certainly don't need you."

The words stung, and you realized that any attempts at goodwill were futile with him. The feelings you once held for him, sympathy and kindness left you that moment. With a bitter scoff, you turned and walked out of his lab, closing the door behind you. The chapter of attempting to mend the divide between you and Viktor had come to a bitter end, leaving you with a resolve to no longer extend kindness to someone so resistant to it. This encounter did signify a new beginning for you two, just not the one you had expected.

#viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #chamomilekisses #arcane x y/n #arcane x female reader #arcane x reader #arcane x you #from now on we are enemies #enemies to friends to lovers #viktor arcane #I love this man with my heart soul and body but he’s so meannnnnnn

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austinsmutler · 2 years

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Austin x reader with prompt “You Drunk?”where Austin comes home late after being with friends..Austin’s drunk attitude takes a turn the reader is trying to help him out but Austin is to stubborn but then realizes his actions.all ends in fluff

Omg thank you so much for this request! I haven't written drunk!anyone before but this idea is so damn cute I had to try :3

"You Drunk?"

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (before the story starts) other than that, nothing! Just tooth-rotting fluff.

Word count: 1300

You weren’t expecting the knock at your door, but you weren’t surprised. Even though Austin had his own set of keys and you’d been living together for almost three years, he still insisted on knocking… well, only if he’d been doing shots. And tonight was his bachelor party and he’d been out with Brad and Colin, so really it was impressive he’d made it up the stairs to your floor on his own.

You were about to check the peephole when ringed fingers you recognized lifted up the mail slot.

“Helloooo? Oh!”

Blue eyes looked up at yours from the other side of the door. “I missed you.”

His voice was slow and slurry from drinking.

You rolled your eyes and unlocked the door. Austin was on his knees looking up at you like he couldn’t believe you were really there. His white button-up shirt must have come more and more unbuttoned as the night went on, because it was entirely unbuttoned now, only on his shoulders because it was still tucked into the front of his jeans.

Your fiance looked positively debauched.

He bit his lip as he looked up at you. “Are you mad at me?” He squinted. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t wake me, Aus.” You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing and leant down to help him up.

Instead, he grabbed your hand and yanked you down for a kiss. If he’d been sober, it might have been cute- but he yanked too hard and you wound up on your back on the hallway carpet. “Austin!”

He hissed through his teeth. “I- ‘m sorry, baby, you just looked so beautiful-”

Austin’s voice dipped a few octaves lower than usual, to the same one he’d been stuck with after wrapping up filming Elvis. Even with voice coaching, the Southern drawl came back every now and again. Especially if there were jagerbombs involved.

I’m going to kill Brad and Colin, you swore to yourself before standing and pulling Austin up with you.

He stumbled but you somehow made it to the couch where Austin collapsed, pulling you down on top of him. His hands fisted your pajamas, reveling in the softness of you.

“You smell good.” You let him pull you close for a minute before you stood up. “Where’re you going?”

“You need pajamas.”

Austin looked at his jeans, seeming to notice the entirely-unbuttoned shirt for the first time, a frown slowly forming on his face.

“Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He reached for your arm to tug you back down, but you were too fast and disappeared into the bedroom. Luckily, sober Austin was a creature of habit: his gray sweatpants and a ‘keep calm and listen to Elvis’ shirt Brad bought him as a present were always neatly folded below his pillow.

You stopped by the kitchen to pick up a glass of water and some potato chips. Austin needed to be loaded up with carbs, and you could use a 2AM snack anyway.

“Aus?” You didn’t know what you were expecting when you came back into the living room, but Austin’s jeans were around his ankles and he was fiddling with the buttons on his shirt- the first and last buttons were now done, but the others were in a state of disarray while he tried to un-do them.

You placed the glass of water in his hands and watched him drink it a little too quickly. “I’ll get you another in a second.”

“I don’t want one.” He frowned. You rolled your eyes.

“Well, you’re having one. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You held up the pajamas and Austin let his head fall back as you unbuttoned his shirt with your other hand. “That’s nice.”

“Put these on.”

“Maybe you should help me.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“You can dress yourself.” You wrinkled your nose and he pouted.

“Would you do it for Elvis?” He said in that deep Southern drawl that shot heat through your entire body.

You shook your head.

“Fine, Darlin’, if that’s what you want.” Austin drawled out every word. How was it possible he didn’t slur in that accent, no matter how many shots he'd had, but when he spoke regularly he was barely understandable?

He pulled on the sweatpants, smirking when he noticed you eyeing his torso. How could you not? Austin was the perfect man, from the well-muscled arms that loved to pull you close at night to the deep V that led your eye straight to his… gray sweatpants. Just gray sweatpants. You tried not to think beyond that waistline.

“No touching, remember?” In an instant he was back to being himself, studying you with a more sober gaze- not sober enough to drive by any means, but sober enough to be aware of the effect he was having on you. Drunk enough to be cocky and a little mischievous about it. “You said I can dress myself.”

“Maybe you need some help with your shirt though.”

Austin pretended to mull the idea over, before sitting back with his arms up, letting you straddle him enough to pull the shirt down over his head.

Your lips were inches apart, his hands on your lower back, tugging you a little closer.

“I should get you more water.”

“You should kiss me.”

He tasted like everything; like whiskey and jagerbombs and vodka, like Austin underneath. Your Austin.

Most men could be a little forceful when drunk. They’d pull a woman too close or kiss her so hard their teeth clacked together, all tongues and hair pulling and possession. Then there was drunk Austin.

Austin was the opposite. His touches were feather-light and considerate when he was drunk, as if he thought he might hurt you with the slightest squeeze.

He pulled you closer just to press light kisses all over your face, from your cheeks to your forehead, nose and chin.

“I love you.” The drunk slowness in his voice was gone, though his lips still tasted like a night of fun.

“I love you too.” You kissed him on the lips. “Let me get you more water.”

This time, he didn’t protest. But he did follow you to the kitchen to wrap his arms around you from behind. Austin might not be a possessive drunk, but he was a clingy one. By the time you’d poured him a glass of water your neck had been peppered with kisses, his hands rubbing up and down the soft curves of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you, baby.” You hummed at his touch. “Drink up. It’s Saturday tomorrow and I want to enjoy my weekend with you before my bachelorette party, preferably not by holding your hair back while you puke.”

“I’ll do my best not to be hungover.” Austin drank every drop of the water, and then another glass. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, but the glassy look was gone from his eyes.

“If you puke anywhere but the toilet, I’m postponing my party.”

He pouted. “Don’t do that. I feel fine, honest!”

Austin walked into the kitchen door, apparently not noticing it was closed until he smacked face-first into it. It took everything in you to stifle a snort.

“Let’s get you to bed.” You smiled, turning your head so his lips caught your cheek instead of your mouth. He whined a little (clearly not as sober as he looked) but allowed you to lead him to the bedroom.

Safely in bed and under the covers, Austin pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. “You take such good care of me.”

“Always.” He smelled like fabric softener from the clean pyjamas, but underneath there was his cologne, a dirty mix of musk, leather and sandalwood that suited him perfectly.

Austin was already half asleep, hand under your pajama shirt so he could feel the warmth of your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. The last thing you heard before falling asleep was the soft rumble of his voice. “I’m going to take care of you tomorrow. And every day after that. I promise.”

#austin butler #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #requests #austin butler request #austin butler fluff #austin butler drabble

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byzantine-suggestions · 1 year

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@suburbanbeatnik OK SO:

As far as the “mixing up different historical eras” problem goes, this actually happens in a lot of different novels. Theodora by Samuel Edwards is the most blatant example I can think of at the moment—near the end of the book, a horde of Huns, inexplicably led by Khosrow, starts marching on Constantinople while Justinian is in his plague coma, and Theodora sells the crown jewels (I don’t believe the narrative specifies the buyer) to fund Belisarius and his troops, who are the city’s last defense. Khosrow is similar to Mehmed II, Theodora takes on the role of Anna of Savoy, and the overall political situation is implied to be very bad for Byzantium, with Constantinople on the brink of total failure and most of the empire's territory gone. (Like, there’s discussion of Justinian and Theodora meeting the invaders at the gates so they can die together, because they think the whole empire is collapsing.) The story does end with the Byzantines winning (using Greek fire, another anachronism), and Theodora gets her jewels back (I do not remember how), but yeah, the author completely blended two very different periods together. Different variants of this exact plot appear in different novels—a *lot* of books treat the 540s as politically similar to the 1200s or 1300s, and a *lot* of books have Theodora sell her crown for some reason or another, usually to fund the defense of the City or one of Justinian’s schemes. (One book–maybe one of the ones by Marié Heese? I can’t think of the title, sorry)—had her sell her jewels to fund the building of the Hagia Sophia. (She gets them back in that book, too—I think Narses literally just discovers an enormous stockpile of gold somewhere, and that fixes the financial problems.) And a lot of different books put Belisarius in a Heraclius or Basil-like role, although I’m less well-versed in Belisarius books than I am in Theodora books. (The Sarantine Mosaic by Guy Gavriel Kay definitely did this—the character of Leontes is pretty much Heraclius and Belisarius combined, while Valerius and Aliana are straightforward Justinian and Theodora equivalents, except for the fact Aliana is the equivalent of an iconodule rather than a Monophysite. But that gets a pass, imo, because it’s not pretending to be totally accurate.)

Religious inaccuracies and mixups are also really common overall, especially in older books. One Victorian-era book called Blue and Green, or the Gift of God: A Novel of Old Constantinople was very bad with this, presumably because the author was a British Protestant who made no secret of his disdain for the “pagan heathenism” of the Byzantine Empire. (His descriptions of religious ceremonies are very funny, because he describes them as, like, Christian ceremonies, if Christian ceremonies had strippers and drugs. The inciting incident of Theodora’s spiral into prostitution is her doing an erotic dance at a respectable, aristocratic wedding—not a bachelor party, an actual wedding—and this is presented as normal.) Really, you can probably just check out any Byzantine book from before, say, the 1980s on archive.org, and there’ll be weird religious anachronisms all over the place. Lots of authors bring iconoclasm or the East-West Schism (the one that happened in 1054) into the sixth century, I guess because those are more recognizable and dramatic than the Monophysite thing. Authors tend to put Justinian and Theodora on the opposite sides of these conflicts, and Theodora is usually on whatever side they consider “wrong,” which differs significantly from book to book depending on the author’s religious leanings.

Regarding the Theodora/Macedonia thing—Ross Laidlaw’s Justinian: The Sleepless One definitely did this (there were a couple of cringe sex scenes in this book—he always referred to Macedonia as “the other one,” I guess to avoid saying her name a bunch of times? It’d be like “Theodora felt the other one’s lips...” and so on. It sounded so strange.) Macedonia was Theodora’s main love interest—Theodora does marry Justinian, and she likes him well enough as a person, but she’s pretty explicitly gay and uninterested in men, and she has an affair with Macedonia until Macedonia dies in an earthquake. I believe Stella Duffy’s Actress, Empress, Whore duology also had Theodora and Macedonia hook up, but Duffy’s sex scenes were less fetishistic and cringeworthy, and their relationship didn’t last for the entirety of the novel. Theodora having sex (or sexually charged interactions) with Antonina, Macedonia and her other female friends is reasonably common in shitty Theodora novels in general, but it’s never, like, a plot point. It’s just an excuse for the author to write about attractive young women getting it on in the Roman baths, or whatever other fetish-y nonsense piques his interest.

These points aren’t even the weirdest things about most of these books, though. I should just sit down one day and do a full post about all of the absurd things that happen in Justinian and Theodora stories, because shit gets real weird in most of them. Messy historical anachronisms and fetish-y male-gaze lesbian sex scenes are nowhere near the strangest aspects of some of these books—remind me, one day, to talk about all of the Penis Diseases these authors invent to explain away Justinian and Theodora's infertility.

#penis disease segments #sexy Amalasuintha murder scenes #cringe Narses/Belisarius/Justinian/Theodora/Antonina love dodecahedrons #Evil Comito Bullshit #some of them give Theodora a fictional evil stepmother and stepsisters so she can be Cinderella #it's wild out there

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