#shoot these people ive had enough

[faunandfloraas]

Didn't look at twt all day but then the first thing I see is someone being like Um. No. it is okay that we track down lee knows friends personal accounts and leave invasive comments on their posts about him bc one of them liked a comment one time! And I'm just sitting here like 😐

[fondwand]

not to be brave and controversial but rw&rb the movie is exactly what antis and puritanical fandom wants from queer media like the most bland sanitized rote dull unsexy no tension no chemistry unfunny surface level romance and representation. give me dirt give me real bodies give me imperfect humans give me natural dialog give me complex relationships explored in the silences give me kink and complicated sex and guilt and anger and selfishness and imperfection, imperfection, imperfection. and most of all give me forgiveness for imperfection and the knowledge that an imperfect thing becomes beautiful because it communicates with the imperfection all fallible beings experience on a day to day, not because the beholder is morally corrupt.

anyway. sorry if you liked it there's nothing wrong with that. go forth and live your life.

[aro-ortega]

had a dream about pirates but not about my pirate characters.. so i guess i have new pirate characters now

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (01)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.2k

Aliyah's Notes: this is my first series on here so go easy on me (#adele) pls + some things are not going to be obx canon ... at least some of yall are warned. anyw im so excited for this cause lord knows the amount of time ive wanted to make a fake dating fic!!!!!!! anyw i hope you all will enjoy this i had so much writing the first chapter

The clatter of high heels against the marble floor echoed in perfect sync with the ticking of your watch. Every step was deliberate, poised—just like your life had to be. Perfection, it seemed, was not a choice but a requirement for survival.

You adjusted your sunglasses, your gaze skimming over the glamorous expanse of the fashion agency's lobby. People buzzed around you like bees in a hive, their worlds spinning, fueled by the weight of names, status, and flawless images. You smiled politely at the receptionist, offering a nod, though your mind was miles away.

To the outside world, your life was golden. The covers of magazines, the invitations to high-society events, the million-dollar deals with luxury brands—it was a fantasy that others could only dream of. It was your dream some time ago, too. 

But today, your reality felt like walking on the edge of a tightrope, the safety net fraying below you.

Your phone vibrated in your purse, interrupting your thoughts. You fished it out, your pulse quickening when you saw the text from your lawyer. Three words that sent a chill through your carefully constructed façade.

"We need to talk."

Your heart sank. The issue of your visa had been hanging over your head like a storm cloud for months now, growing darker by the day. You’d known this was coming, but knowing and confronting it were two different beasts.

Fame didn’t shield you from the cold bureaucracy of citizenship laws, and your time was running out. One misstep, one delay, and your golden empire could crumble. In a matter of months, you could be deported, left behind by the very country that had built you up.

With a deep breath, you silenced your phone and slid it back into your purse. This wasn’t something you could dwell on right now, not in public. Your expression remained serene, even though your mind was anything but. You had a shoot in an hour, a charity gala that evening, and at some point, you had to meet with the lawyer to discuss "options"—a word that had started to feel more like a trap than a solution.

As you exited the building, the cool breeze caught your hair, the city unfolding before you like a glittering stage. New York City. You looked out at the streets, the people, the life you fought so hard to build. The car pulled up to the curb, and you climbed inside. On your way to your lawyer.

You stepped into the law office, the familiar scent of polished wood and stale coffee wrapping around you like a tight band.

"Ms. Y/L/N, good afternoon," Nicolas Ramirez, your lawyer, greeted you, standing behind his desk. His expression was composed, but you knew him well enough by now to spot the unease in his eyes.

"Hi," you softly smiled at him. Your heels clicked softly on the floor as you sat down, crossing your legs tightly, as if holding yourself together. "Let’s just get straight to it, okay? How bad is it?"

Nico sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Your visa expires in less than three months."

You felt your stomach twist, your worst fear inching closer to reality. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "And what about the appeals? The extensions?"

"We’ve exhausted every possible option—work visas, artist visas, even humanitarian grounds. Immigration laws are tightening, and without a permanent solution like citizenship or residency, you’ll be forced to leave the country."

"Leave?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the nightmare you’d been living with. 

Leave? Go back there?

The country you had fought so hard to escape. The country where your childhood had been marked by suffocating poverty, where your parents had already planned your marriage before you even turned 15. Where your dreams had been a distant, impossible hope until that one person changed your life forever.

You felt your throat tighten. You couldn’t go back.

Nico’s gaze softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I know what this means for you. I know how difficult—"

"You don’t know," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended. "You… You don’t know—I can’t go back there, Nico. I just… I can’t."

He nodded, giving you a moment of silence to compose yourself, but the pressure in your chest only grew. You took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"So what now?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Is this it? Am I out of options?"

"Well… There’s one option we haven’t explored yet." his tone was cautious, like he knew what he was about to say would open a new can of worms.

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

"Marriage."

The word hung in the air, thick and heavy. You blinked, unable to comprehend at first. "Marriage?" you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the absurdity of it clear.

"It’s one of the few legal paths left," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "Marriage to a U.S. citizen could secure your green card and, eventually, permanent residency. It’s a legitimate route—many people in similar situations have done it."

You sat back in your chair, the tension in your body coiling tighter. The thought of marriage, of attaching yourself to someone you barely knew for the sake of staying in the country, made your skin crawl. You had already sacrificed so much for your freedom, for your career. And now this?

"You’re telling me the only way to stay here is to marry someone I don’t even love? Just to avoid being sent back to a country I don’t belong in anymore?"

"Not necessarily," Nicolas said, his tone measured. "It wouldn’t have to be a traditional marriage. Think of it as a business arrangement. It’s a legal partnership—nothing more. And it could save your career, your life here."

You crossed your arms tightly, your mind racing. Marriage. It was a word that had haunted you ever since your parents had tried to force you into it as a teenager. Back then, it was their way of controlling you, of keeping you bound to a life you didn’t want. Now, it felt like the universe was throwing the same chains back at you, just in a different form.

"I’ve compiled a list of potential candidates," Arjun continued, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward you. "People who might be open to an arrangement like this. Athletes, businesspeople—individuals who might benefit from a similar deal."

You glanced at the paper but didn’t pick it up. The names blurred in front of your eyes. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You’d already lost your family, fought tooth and nail to get out of your country and build something for yourself in the U.S. And now you were at risk of losing everything—again.

"I don’t know if I can do this, Nico," you said quietly, shaking your head. "I’ve already sacrificed so much. My family… I gave up everything to be here. And now you’re telling me I have to give up even more?"

"I’m not telling you that you have to do anything," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "I’m saying this is an option. One that could keep you here, legally. But the decision is yours. I’m just laying out the possibilities."

You swallowed the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. 

"I can’t go back there," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "I’ve worked too hard to get here. I can’t lose everything."

He nodded slowly. "Then maybe it’s time to consider unconventional options."

You finally picked up the paper, scanning the names but not really seeing them. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Marriage. It felt like a trap, just like it had back then. But maybe—just maybe—it was the only way to keep your future intact.

"I’ll think about it," you said, standing up and smoothing the front of your dress. "But I’m not making any promises."

"Of course," he said, standing as well. "Just let me know. We’re running out of time, but I’ll support whatever decision you make."

You nodded curtly, turning toward the door. As you stepped out into the cool city air, your chest tightened with the weight of everything you stood to lose. The lights of New York City flickered ahead of you, just out of reach, as though the life you’d built here could vanish at any moment.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly afraid.

Your phone buzzed, dragging you out of your spiraling thoughts. You fished it out of your purse, heart skipping a beat when you saw the name: Nina. Your agent.

With a shaky exhale, you answered. “Nina, hi.”

“Hey, babe!” Nina’s voice was all cheer, a stark contrast to the storm inside you. “So, I have amazing news! Guess who just got major campaign offers coming in? You! Chanel, Loewe, and oh my God, don’t even get me started on Louis Vuitton. The year starts beautifully for you!”

You should’ve felt ecstatic, but instead, the words passed over you like an echo. All you could think of was the countdown Nico had set in motion: three months. Three months before everything you’d built here would be taken away from you. 

“That’s… amazing, Nina,” you managed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Really amazing. Thank you so much.”

“Are you okay? You don’t sound like your sunshine-self.” Nina’s voice softened, concern creeping in. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause. Nina had been there through all your ups and downs, from your rookie days as a model to your rise in the industry. But the immigration issues, the fear of being sent back to a life you couldn’t return to—that was something neither of you could control. 

“Three months?” she repeated, her voice going higher. “Oh my God—what the fuck? I thought… I thought you had more time.”

“So did I.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Nina, I don’t know what to do. I’ve called Nico and he tried everything—extensions, appeals—but the laws are tightening, and he said there’s only one real option left.”

There was a brief silence before she asked, “What option?”

You bit your lip. “Marriage. Nico says I could marry someone for a green card.”

“Marriage?” Nina’s voice came out in a shocked squeak. “Like a fake marriage? Babe, are you serious?”

“I don’t know!” you burst out, frustration and fear colliding. “I don’t know what to do! I can’t go back there. I can’t. My parents… My parents already wrote me off as dead, and if I go back, I’m stuck in a place I spent my entire life trying to escape.”

Her voice softened. “I know, honey, I know… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound—God, I can’t imagine how scary this is for you.”

You took a shaky breath, grateful for her understanding. Nina wasn’t just your manager—she was one of the few people who you actually close to. She was a 34 years old American-Filipina woman. You trusted her with your life. 

“Okay,” Nina said, her voice more focused now. “Okay, now listen. We’ll figure this out. I know Nicolas wouldn’t suggest something like this unless it was a real option. Do you trust him?”

You sighed. “Yeah. I do. But the idea of marrying someone just to stay… it feels like another version of what my parents wanted for me. Like I’m back in that same time of my life.”

“I get it. But this isn’t like that. You’re in control this time,” Nina said. “If this is what you need to stay here, it’s not about love or being owned by someone.”

You nodded to yourself, trying to absorb her words. “Well, um, Nico gave me a list of potential candidates—people who might be willing to make an arrangement. You’ll never guess who’s on it, though.”

“Who? Shawn Mendes? Harry Styles? Tom Holland—”

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, cutting her off. “The basketball play—”

“Yeah, I know who that man is, Y/N. His reputation is a total mess right now. It’s not surprising for him to be on that list.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “It’s a perfect business arrangement for him, too. He needs a way to look respectable again, and I need to stay in the country.”

“So, you’re actually considering this?”

You leaned against a streetlamp, staring at the city around you. “I don’t know. Maybe? It just feels wrong. Like I’m giving up a part of myself.”

“As nicely as this can be said, you are being dramatic here, babe.” Nina sighed softly. “Look, I’m not going to push you either way, okay? But I do think you need to look at it from a different angle. You’re not giving up on yourself. You’re doing what you need to do to stay here, to keep fighting for your career and your future. And Rafe—or whoever you’ll end up marrying—is not your parents. He’s not going to control you or he’ll get slapped.”

You closed your eyes, trying to let her words sink in. She was right—you were in control now. This wasn’t the same as being forced into a marriage you didn’t want. This was about survival. About keeping your life in the U.S. intact.

"Yeah… I guess you’re right," you said softly, feeling some of the tension release from your shoulders. "I just need time to think."

TWO WEEKS LATER.

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm light across your living room. After two relentless weeks of back-to-back fashion shoots, campaign meetings, and gala appearances, you had finally found a moment of peace. You curled up on the plush sofa, sinking into its embrace as the hum of the city outside became a distant murmur. The oversized, loose pajamas you wore were a far cry from the designer gowns and couture you’d been draped in recently, but they were yours—soft, comforting, and familiar. Your hair was twisted into a lazy bun under a satin bonnet.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight of exhaustion slip from your shoulders as you closed your eyes.

Buzz. Buzz.

The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table pulled you from the calm. You groaned softly, reaching for it with one hand, expecting to see another notification about a meeting or event. Instead, it was a message from Nicolas.

“Any thoughts on who you're going to marry? We need to move quickly if we want to ensure everything goes through in time.”

The familiar weight of the situation you’d been trying to avoid crept back into your chest. Two weeks had passed since your lawyer had first laid out the reality of your visa situation. In those weeks, you'd thrown yourself into work, hoping the constant flurry of activity would drown out the anxiety. But now, in the quiet of your home, the decision loomed large again.

You typed back, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

"I haven’t decided yet."

A few seconds later, the reply came through.

"We need to discuss this in person. Can you come to my office today?"

You frowned, your eyes darting around the cozy room, not quite ready to leave your home.

"How about you come here instead?" you typed. "It’s been a long week, and I’d rather talk in private."

There was a pause before the three dots appeared, and then the message followed.

"Sure. I’ll be there in about an hour."

You put your phone down and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, but it was necessary. Time was running out, and you knew you had to face it—whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed in a blur, and soon enough, you heard the knock at your door. You padded across the room in your socks, your oversized pajama pants swishing softly as you walked. Opening the door, you found Nicolas standing there, looking as composed as ever in his tailored suit.

“Come in,” you said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

Nicolas entered, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. "You look... relaxed."

You gave a soft chuckle, gesturing to your pajamas. “Don’t mock the pj’s until you’ve tried them.”

He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of emergency in his expression as he took a seat in the armchair across from you. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, but we really need to make a decision.”

You nodded, sitting back down on the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. “I know… I’ve just been avoiding it.”

“And I noticed,” he said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. “But with the visa expiration approaching, we don’t have much time. We need to find someone—someone who understands the situation and won’t make things harder.”

You bit your lip, holding a smile, glancing at the folder in his hands. “You bought the list?”

He nodded, and handed it over, and you flipped through the names, recognizing some immediately. Athletes, businessmen, even a couple of actors/singers. And then there was Rafe Cameron, his name standing out like a bold headline.

“I’ve looked at these,” you said quietly. “I just… I don’t know who to choose. None of ‘em feel right.”

Nico leaned forward. “It's not about right or wrong. It’s about who can offer the least amount of personal complications and help you secure your residency. Rafe Cameron, for instance—he’s someone who could benefit from this arrangement as much as you. His reputation needs mending, and this could be a mutually beneficial situation.”

You stared at Rafe’s name, the memories of seeing his name in the news about how much of a womanizer he was… Could you really tie yourself to someone like him in a fake marriage?

“Alright, but I need you to help me decide,” you admitted, looking up at him.

He nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. Let’s break it down together and figure out who makes the most sense, not just legally but for your peace of mind.”

Nicolas opened his briefcase again, pulling out more detailed files on the potential candidates. He laid them out neatly on the coffee table, each name with a stack of information—financial records, personal histories, public perceptions. It was all very businesslike.

You leaned forward, looking at the pages in front of you. Each one represented a major decision, a shift in your life you weren’t entirely ready to accept, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Let’s start with the most practical options,” he said, sliding the file on Rafe Cameron toward you. “I know his name has come up before. He’s wealthy, influential, and… well, let’s be honest, he could use a boost to his public image right now. It’s a good match on paper.”

You stared at Rafe’s name again, tapping the edge of the file with your finger. “Yeah, but he’s also a bit of a mess, isn’t he? I mean, the media paints him as this… whore, and his personal life is always talked about. What if that blows back on me?”

Nicolas raised a brow. “That’s something to consider, but you also have to think of the benefits. His public image might not be very clean, but he’s powerful. Marrying him would put you in a stable position, and if it’s a business arrangement, his private affairs don’t have to concern you.”

You exhaled slowly, still feeling uneasy. Rafe Cameron was trouble, and you knew it. But at the same time, trouble might be exactly what could make this work—for both of you.

“What about the others?” you asked, flipping through the files. “There has to be someone who’s… less complicated.”

“Well,” he said, tapping another file. “there’s Owen Turner. He’s a succesful tech entrepeneur, keeps a low profile. No scandals, no messy reputation. He’s reliable, but you’ll have to approach this differently. He’s more private, less likely to want his personal life on display.”

“And boring—plus, he seems like the type of white guy to want a traditional wife. Like he would expect me to cook for him every night… and he has an ugly name.”

“Owen won’t be expecting home-cooked meals, Y/N. He’s a tech guy; he probably lives on energy drinks and instant ramen,” Nico pointed out, trying to steer you back to the serious topic. “But if we position it as a legal arrangement, he could see the value in it.”

You sighed, leaning back on the chair. “Okay, maybe Owen is the safer options. But can you imagine our wedding announcement? ‘Succesful Tech Entrepeneur Married Famous Model: They Share a Love for Cats and Instant Noodle.’”

Nico shook his head, trying not to smile. “Focus, please. This is a serious matter.”

“Right, right, sorry…” you said, wavering your hand dismissively. “But, what do you think about Rafe?”

“Rafe Cameron is the most straightforward option,” he said, his tone now more measured. “He’s already in the public eye, which means there won’t be as much of a shock if you’re suddenly married. Plus, his need for good press aligns with your need for stability.”

“And personally?”

He smiled softly, a rare gesture from him. “Personally, I think you should go with the person you think you can manage.”

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. Staring at the stack of papers in front of you, Rafe Cameron’s name glaring up at you from the top of the list. Every name on the list had its pros and cons, but something about Rafe’s file felt different. Maybe it was the intensity of his media coverage, the scandals, or the way he dominated the headlines for all the wrong reasons. But as much as you hesitated, his name kept pulling you back.

“I know his reputation isn't spotless,” Nico said, sensing your hesitation, “but in this situation, a clean reputation isn’t the priority. You need someone powerful, someone with enough influence to make this arrangement stick without getting tangled up in emotional complications.”

You nodded, again.”But I don’t know if I can handle all the baggage that comes with Rafe Cameron. His public image is a trainwreck. Wouldn’t that only complicate things more?”

Nico leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Possibly. But think of it this way: his personal life is already so chaotic that a stable, respectable marriage might be exactly what he needs to repair his image. And that’s where you come in. You’d be helping each other.”

Your eyes dropped back down to his file. "Do you think he'd even agree to something like this?"

Nico chuckled softly. “If there’s one thing I know about men like Rafe Cameron, it’s that they understand deals. His reputation is hanging by a thread, and a marriage to someone like you—someone with a pristine public image—could be the ticket to restoring his credibility. It’s a win-win, really.”

You considered Nico’s words. He was right. Rafe had everything to gain from a marriage of convenience, just like you. And while his scandals were messy, they didn’t define him entirely. He was still an elite athlete, one of the best in the game, and with the right PR strategy, you could both come out looking better.

But the thought of marrying someone like him—a notorious playboy with a history of messy breakups—made your stomach churn. 

“You know,” Nico continued, “if this were just about your visa, we’d be having a different conversation. But this is about your entire future. Your career, your freedom to stay here, everything you’ve built. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice, but it’s one worth considering.”

You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "What happens if it falls apart? What if things with Rafe go wrong?"

"That’s why we’ll draft a contract," Nico reassured you. "This won’t be a traditional marriage, Y/N. You’ll both have clear boundaries, and legally, we’ll protect your interests. If things go south, you’ll be covered."

You stared at the file a little longer, then closed your eyes.Rafe Cameron. He was cocky, possessive, and reckless—everything you usually avoided. But maybe that was the key. You wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to control you or make this anything more than a business transaction.

It would be messy. It would be complicated. But it would also keep you here, in the country you’d fought so hard to call home. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the solution you both needed.

“Okay,” you said softly, your decision finally settling. “I’ll do it.”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up, a little surprised at how quickly you’d made up your mind. “You’re sure?”

“No,” you admitted with a weak smile. “But I think this is the best option. I’ll marry Rafe Cameron.”

Nico nodded, closing the folder with a satisfied smile. “Good. I’ll set up a meeting with him. We’ll get the ball rolling.”

Oh God, you were going to marry Rafe Cameron…

chapter two

[wibbley-wobble]

Four hours guys come on we can still win this infiltrator sweep

I don’t think this is going to gain any traction but curious

[letorip]

crimson & clover

“now i don't hardly know her, but i think i could love her"

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x mute!reader

summary: people fear that which they do not understand. it makes sense then, why you and wednesday fall in love and help each other

warnings: erm you killed a lot of people on accident, angsty in the middle there, threats of violence, descriptions of violence

word count: 5.1k

A/N: heavily inspired by black bolt, who i really do think is one of my favourite heroes. there will likely be a part 2 or 3 to this but for rn my attention is on kiss with a fist. THERE WILL ALSO BE A PART [IV] OF SOMETHIN' STUPID

KISS WITH A FIST [IV] WILL BE UP NEXT SUNDAY

===+++===

===+++===

There were certain things you couldn’t have, when one had the ability to do incredible damage, if they just opened their mouth.

When you did so, on a random Saturday morning at 10 years old, and your house burst apart, it took your parents and a chunk of the neighbourhood with it in a fiery tempest that stabbed you right through the heart. You learned then, that maybe you weren't meant to have a family.

At age 12, when the kids at the Home for Outcast Children strung you up from the monkey bars by your ankles, and you couldn’t hold in a laugh from how the world looked funny when the sky looked like the floor, you learned you weren’t meant to have friends, sitting silently in the dirty crater where the playground used to be with your head tucked into your knees.

You had thought it would be implied then, that you would never have a lover, either. But then again, there was Wednesday Addams.

It was still a mystery, why she chose you. You had assumed she would want nothing to do with you just like she didn’t want anything to do with most people, and you couldn’t have been more wrong.

The both of you met about a week after she arrived at Nevermore, in the dead of night on one of the walks you always took when everyone else had gone to bed and there was no one to watch you, no one to murmur as you went past. You didn't pose a danger to anyone, then, and it was liberating and also deeply melancholic.

That was when you were most at peace. Your thoughts, even though well-reasoned, could not be expressed. You wrote often, in a leather-bound notebook you’d let no one see, but the power was given to writing through reading it, and there was no one you could have close enough to do so. It made you tired, to be around people you couldn’t communicate with. Few people wanted to wait for you to write something out on a notebook and even fewer wanted to learn sign language.

Kinbott had a dry-erase whiteboard in her office that was just meant for you and the only deaf person in Jericho, though the old man had gone missing a few months ago, without a trace. It was humiliating, at first, and you used to write two-word sentences, curt responses doing the bare minimum, often out of anger— whether it was anger from your situation or anger at being a teenager, you didn’t know— but now you could fill it with paragraphs and kept a notebook for when communication was especially necessary.

That night itself was peaceful, with gentle, twinkling stars that were only lightly polluted by the quad’s towering lamps. You could still see their faint outlines above you, with casting shadows down the lawn from the roof’s spires, and it smelled as if it were going to rain soon.

When you heard the scuttling of something on the floor, you jumped, startled, eyes shooting down to where you were certain you had felt someone’s fingers grip at your leg. Your eyes widened in surprise at the disembodied hand, racing up the uneven cobblestones and then up the leg of someone at the far end of the quad, landing finally on her shoulder.

Wednesday with her arms crossed, looking at you with a comically large bag slung over her shoulder that must've contained all of her belongings, like a runaway in the night.

Oh. That's what she was.

You blankly stared back at her, blinking at her figure. She took a menacing step forward, her grip on the bag tightening. "Are you following me?" she asked, tone icy. When you kept looking at her without so much as opening your mouth, her apathetic eyes narrowed. "If you tell anyone you saw me, they will never find your body. Don't say a word."

It was intended to be a threat, and if it had been anyone else, it probably would've made their blood run ice over just from how cold her gaze was. But you just raised your eyebrows at her, unable to stop the amusement from tugging at the corners of your lips. The irony was very far from lost on you, and the more serious she seemed the more funny the blunder was.

"What?" she snipped. "Is something amusing to you?"

Again, you could not say. You silently shook your head, tilting it then out of curiosity, and gently pointing towards the hand on her shoulder. It sat up at your attention, sending a friendly wave in your direction. Your eyes widened, waving before Wednesday could clear her throat and pull your eyes back up to hers.

Her eyes in question were dark and intense, but beautiful, even under the dim lighting, and you had to swallow what felt like a lump in your throat, in order to regain your composure. "Why are you silent?" she asked, narrowing them at you. You were under her microscope, and she scanned you, looking for anything that would impair your immediate voice.

You raised up a hand as if to say ‘hold on,’ before tugging your notebook out from your overcoat, flipping it open and pulling out your pen. With a click, you were scribbling down on the paper, and Wednesday narrowed her eyes at you again, scanning you in suspicion.

When you were done, you flipped it around, holding it up to her eyes with a gentle smile. 'Trust me, I don't think you'll need to worry about me telling anyone anything, anytime soon.'

Her eyes combed over the words, then glanced back down to you. "Why is—" she opened her mouth out of curiosity, but a heavy door slammed shut down the hall, and she whipped around before she could finish the question.

You both could hear the footsteps coming closer, and Wednesday straightened up, grip tightening on the bag over her shoulder. "You didn't see me, and you won't ever again," she said, coldly.

You nodded, not that you believed she'd make it out. You yourself had tried to run away for the first month and a half, and after long enough, one just gave up. Nevermore was hard to escape; you doubted she had readied a good enough plan in just a few days of being there. Still, you wished her luck. The forest was dangerous, and especially now.

With a final nod in your direction, she hastily walked off, down the corridor the opposite way. You watched her go, calmly sitting near the fountain. A few moments after she disappeared down a different hallway, a very tired looking Weems came down the stairs in her nightgown, holding onto a rusted lantern.

When she saw you, she sighed. "What did I say about those nighttime walks of yours, (Y/n)?"

You smiled, tilting your head to the side and shrugging at her. Weems huffed at your attempt at cluelessness, shaking her head fondly. "Just make sure you get yourself to bed soon, alright?"

You nodded, leaning back on the fountain edge and tracing the grout lines with your thumbs. Weems turned back to the hallway Wednesday went down. "I guess Miss Addams is planning to escape tonight?" But you didn't write anything down, raising your eyebrows at her as if to say 'duh.' Weems adjusted the hem of her nightgown from where it had dragged gently on the steps. "Thank you, (Y/n). I'll see you tomorrow."

She began to follow down the path Wednesday had taken, letting the lantern lead her through the dim corridor, and you silently yawned, picking up your notebook and figuring you had enough adventure for the night.

===+++===

That was your first unofficial meeting, at least. You almost forgot it had happened the following morning, except for when Wednesday showed up in class the next day looking more displeased and unhappy to be there than normal.

It was amusing how frustrated she was, mouth drawn into an annoyed line and eyes looking especially dark. When she caught your eye as she went to take her seat, you averted your gaze back down to your notebook to hide your cheeky smile, resuming your doodle in the margin and running a nervous hand through your hair.

She kept staring throughout the lecture, as if silently daring you to mention her failure, not that you could aloud. You weren’t willing to look back, but you could see her dark eyes shift up and across the round of tables towards you from the corner of your eye, which you made sure to keep on Thornhill.

After long enough, Xavier noticed too. He whispered something to her and then glanced up at you with a look that was far from friendly. He hadn't liked you one bit, but neither did any of the other kids, when they found out. You couldn't exactly blame them, either. The school was full of monsters, but you were a monster among monsters.

"Wednesday, Xavier," Thornhill called out, crossing her arms. She wasn't angry, though. More playful. "Is something more important than our study of carnivorous plants?"

Xavier began to shake his head, starting an apology, but Wednesday cut him off, blankly staring back at Thornhill as it left her mouth. "Yes."

At the challenge, the whole class seemed to let out a comically loud gasp. Thornhill's previously teasing smile dropped to a displeased frown, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her overalls, motioning to the large glass enclosure on the table behind her. "I don't suppose you can tell me what this is, then?" At the question, you can see Bianca smirk and raise her own hand, eager to steal it away, "I haven't said the name out loud yet, and it will be on your test next—"

"—Dendrophylax lindenii." The interruption came swift from her lips, but Wednesday's eyes are still steeled over and unimpressed by Thornhill's attempt to be put on the spot.

You have to hide your amusement again, at the shocked look on Bianca's face, but she rushes to make up for it by adding something of her own. "It's also known as the Ghost Orchid—”

"—First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1852," Wednesday adds, and once more she's won. Or, she would have. You can't help the shake your head does, or the cheeky smile on your face that Wednesday locks onto, like a heatseeking missile. Her eyes are like daggers, stabbing you through and through. "Is something funny?"

She says it across the entire classroom and everyone goes silent, less focused on the plants now and more the fact that she's acknowledging your presence. You shrug, trying to diffuse the situation, but it only makes her glare at you harder. "No, go on," Wednesday demands, her tone just as icy as she had been the night before. "Tell us, what was so funny?"

"Wednesday," Thornhill warns her, sending you a sympathetic look, but she ignores her and so do you.

"Or are you still at a loss for words," she draws out, and in doing so, the rest of the class fills with 'ooh's and 'woah's. You stare at her for a moment, then silently, your hand goes to your notebook.

The moment you begin writing in it, the classroom tenses again, waiting for you to finish. You make them as big as possible, large enough that she'll be able to clearly read them across the room. When you're done, you flip it around and hold it up like a sign, face blank.

discovered 1854, not 1852

idiot.

You've circled it several times in messy pen, to make sure she really sees. The room roars even louder in surprise, and however bad Wednesday's stare was before, the new one she gives you is infinitely worse. Her face is still deadpan, but her eyes flick away down to her notebook. It’s the only time you’ve seen her approach something resembling embarrassment or fury. You're sure the 'idiot' bit didn't help, but you were far too annoyed by her poking of you to not have poked her right back.

"Well...," Thornhill tries, "It seems the Ghost Orchid isn't the only carnivorous plant in here, today." But the class is too far gone to focus up again, sending you wary glances. They don't like Wednesday, but they like you even less, so it's confusing who they should root for.

You hold her gaze until the bell rings, finally breaking it to gather your things and leave as soon as possible. Her eyes are still on you as you go, and just before you exit the room, you can hear someone mutter "freak," under their breath. You tuck your books under your arm, and duck out into the hall.

===+++===

Fall was always your favourite time of year; for once, Jericho wasn't entirely unbearable. The leaves turned a warm orange and red, falling from the trees in abundant piles on the ground, and the air fermented into something crisp and especially breathable. You let it fill your nose as much as possible.

You sat on the lawn, listening to the birds flit about and the wind brush under the branches and hem of your jumper with a book in your lap and a frown on your face. It wasn't a good book- something the internet had said was incredible but had firmly left a bad taste in your mouth, and part of you wanted to put it down and turn to something more useful. But another part of you wanted to keep reading, like being unable to look away from a car accident.

The book was so engrossing in its awfulness that you didn't notice her watching you from afar or, more so, aiming in your direction. That was, until you turned the page, and her throwing knife whizzed past your ear and lodged itself into the tree you had been sitting against.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the noise, and you turned your head to the side, looking at the shiny, reflective silver. The letters W. A. stared back at you, engraved just below the knife's spine. You frowned, and when you looked back, she was standing over you, arms crossed and expression as deadpan as always.

You raised a questioning eyebrow, looking over at the knife and then back to her as if saying, 'What was that for?'

"Your attention was required," she replied dryly.

You rolled your eyes, dog-eared the page of your book, and placed it down next to you, pulling out your notebook and your pen. You wrote a single word.

dangerous.

"Believe me, if I wanted to hit you, I am entirely capable of aiming to kill," Wednesday said. Then, after a brief look around Nevermore's green, her eyes flicked back down to you. "I'm here on business."

You search her face for a moment, narrowing your eyes. They locked in on the small bandage on her forehead, and you nodded up at it, asking her what happened with the look on your face. Her frown deepened.

"I'm in the process of crushing a bee... and almost getting crushed by a gargoyle." You blinked, but Wednesday continued. "But I won't have to do either if you agree to my request."

It's hard to deny that her words massively pique your interest. Wednesday in general massively piques your interest, and you write down the thing you really want to know.

people say you eat human flesh...

You turn the page back to her, and Wednesday seems to process the words for a moment. She looks over at you, unimpressed by the allegation. "I don't eat it. My menagerie of pets do. And even then, that's nothing close to what Enid's said about you."

You stare up at her, then scribble a couple of words on the paper.

and what's that?

"That you're dangerous. That you’re somehow infinitely worse than I am, which I'm doubtful of," Wednesday says without missing a beat. "Enid won't say anything more, and neither will Xavier." She looks around again, over the green. There's a picnic of sirens by the lake, and a few of the werewolves are playing with a frisbee. She looks back at you. "I've been warned to stay away, and your propensity for being obnoxious has made that task fairly easy so far." You begin to write again.

so why are you here

"Because," she states like it's obvious, "I want to break out of here. And you're somehow the person to have gotten the closest."

and yet

i'm still here

You turn the page to her and jab the bottom bit several times with your pointer finger.

"Well then," she says, "help me succeed."

===+++===

“And how do you think that made you feel?” Kinbott asks, eyeing her various pages of notes to the left of you. Some of the other patients in Kinbott’s care had small, yellow folders, but you had a larger red one, with your name in highlighted block letters on the front. It looked like it should’ve had a top secret sticker in the corner, not that you weren’t appreciative about your records being sealed.

You erased the board, writing a single word.

seen

Then, underneath it.

idk, like i was really there?

Kinbott nodded. “You’ve said people often ignore you a lot. Why do you think that is?”

they’re scared. they think i’ll hurt them because they heard rumours about what i did.

i can’t blame them, really

She frowned, wrapping her hands around her knee. “But that’s not really fair, is it? When was the last time you’ve caused damage with your ability, (Y/n)?”

You shrug, thinking for a moment.

about four years

“And you haven’t made any sort of mistakes, right?”

well, no

“Then why should they be afraid of you?” Kinbott asks. She’s leaning forward, looking at you with her eyes softened. “You’ve trained yourself to silently yawn, you don’t cough, you don’t sneeze, you don’t snore. I think you need to trust yourself a little more, (Y/n).”

You shrug again, but don’t write anything down, so Kinbott sighs and sits back in her chair. “Principal Weems says that she has another little Harry Houdini on her hands?”

You write down Wednesday on your board. She nods. “I’m seeing her in a little while, actually.” It makes your eyebrows raise in surprise.

why?

Kinbott shakes her head. “You know I can’t share that. Therapy is private. It seems she doesn’t plan on staying, though. Wednesday has already tried to escape.”

i know.

she asked me to help her

Her eyes scan over the words and then look back up to you, warily. “You know better than to help her, right? Nevermore could be good for Wednesday. And I thought you were actually starting to like it here.”

You nod.

i already said no

it’s too dangerous, in the woods right now. with the attacks and stuff.

“Good. And please, tell Principal Weems if you learn of any plans in the future.” You nod again, much less committed, and Kinbott looks down at her watch. “I’m afraid our time is over, (Y/n),” she says with a smile. “I’ll see you next week.”

You write a quick thank you down and stand, shoving your socks back into your shoes and tugging on your jumper, tucking it underneath the collar of your shirt and fixing your Nevermore tie. Purple stripes was never your pattern, and Weems had long since given up on trying to make you wear the coat. She figured it probably made you less likely to run away.

Wednesday is sitting in the lobby when you get down the stairs, with a bored-looking Weems come to babysit. You send her a glance, and then give Weems a nod of your head in acknowledgment.

She beams back at you. “Ah, (Y/n). We’re here for Miss Addams’ session. If you want to wander around Jericho, we can take you back to the school when we're done, if you’d like.”

You send another look at Wednesday, whose face is just as deadpan and unhappy as before, and shake your head. You point at yourself and then mime walking with your two fingers. Principal Weems frowns, but gives you and okay, and you turn around to leave.

You can feel Wednesday’s eyes on you as you head for the school. You know she's annoyed by your refusal to help her, but you can't exactly tell her why you're refusing either, especially since you're lacking any evidence for your theory. So you just told her no.

===+++===

Even from deep inside the forest, you can hear the carnival. There's a Ferris wheel towering over the trees in front of you, and circus music blasts from a few speakers so that you can faintly hear it amongst the windy branches, leaves blowing along the ground and caressing your shoes from time to time as you walk through the dark.

You're looking for something, anything, indicating someone would've been there. Sheriff Galpin had found all sorts of hikers, recently, all almost unidentifiable, with how bloodied they were, but they had yet to find anyone with a hearing aid, so you were unsatisfied. It was believed he was on vacation, but you knew the old man went to his therapy appointments every single week. He hadn't missed a single day, so you failed to believe that theory. You didn't even know his name, really.

On a tree not too far from you, there was a claw mark sunk deep into the bark, and you looked towards it, at the pattern. The idea a bear was responsible for all the deaths wasn't exactly convincing, and looking at the claws, your doubts only amplified. You pulled out your camera, aiming it towards the mark, ready to snap a shot, when you heard footsteps pounding past you.

"Rowan!" called a voice behind you, and you froze, putting the camera down and flicking your flashlight off. The last thing you needed was word getting out that you were lurking in the woods. People thought you were scary enough.

But the words weren't directed at you. You listened intently, and then you heard the faint but panicked voice again. "Rowan," Wednesday says again, and the moment you realise it's her voice, you take off running towards it.

You find Rowan with his hand held up, crushing Wednesday against a tree, and before you can stop to think, you're rushing forward, shoving him in the back and pushing him into the dirt, where he struggles to catch his breath. The moment his hand splays out in front of him, Wednesday is dropped to the forest floor. You run to her, checking her over quickly for injuries, making sure she can run. When you find none, you grab her arm, hoisting her to her feet. You send a wary look over at Rowan, who's already trying to right himself and take Wednesday's hand in yours, pulling her deeper into the forest.

It isn't long before you hear him calling out. "Wednesday!" he yells, and you freeze, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her behind a tree. You push her flush against the bark and cover her mouth with your hand, getting as close as possible so that you hide better against the trunk. She seems too scared to comment on the touch, eyes wide and chest heaving from the running. You raise your other hand and press your finger to your lips.

"Wednesday, I'm doing Nevermore a favour," he tries again. "One massive favour. You're dangerous. My mother's seen it. I can see it. Anyone who knows you can see it."

Your eyes flicker to Wednesday's in confusion, processing his words. She's staring up at you, eyes dark and full of worry, begging for him not to find you. Any idea you had about her not getting scared goes out the window. She's just as human as you are. You send her a comforting nod, peeking around the tree trunk. Rowan's a few trees away, with his back turned, scouring the area.

You begin to back away from Wednesday, gesturing over your shoulder. If you both can sneak off and go back to the carnival without Rowan noticing, you can ensure safety. She gives a curt nod, letting you take her hand in yours again. You're faster than her, she knows that. You slowly pull her with you, quietly stepping away and towards the fair.

You only make it a few steps, until Wednesday steps on a branch.

The small twig cracks under her boot, and within an instant, Rowan whips his head around to you both, staring back at him like a pair of deer in headlights. He takes a few menacing steps forward. "There you are," he draws out in between wheezy breaths. His hand comes up, ready to crush her, but before he can use his ability, a large, hulking creature grabs him by the leg, whipping him around and down onto the ground.

You and Wednesday watch in horror as Rowan screams, and the creature rears up on its hind legs, coming down and smashing Rowan with its fists. You can hear the crunching of his bones and then the tearing of flesh as the creature's claws dig into the boy's skin. Wednesday's hand is still in yours, and she squeezes it harshly, small black fingernails digging into the back of your hand, pulling you down to the ground with her and then scooting back.

The attack is short but brutal, and you see bits of Rowan's chest go flying and pure red maw. The creature whips around to you when Rowan goes silent, staring at Wednesday with intensity in its big eyes. Then it scrambles off, tearing through the woods and into the darkness.

As soon as it's gone, Wednesday rushes forward in the leaves, going to Rowan's side. You clamber to your feet, watching the direction the creature went with wide eyes. When you turn back to Wednesday, you catch her shoving something in her pocket. You don't ask what it is, but you make a mental note to ask later.

"Please," she says, a bit panicked. Her fingers are coated in Rowan's blood. "Go get Weems."

===+++===

Another not-too-awful thing about Nevermore was the breakfast. You sat at an abandoned picnic table in the corner of the quad, finishing your eggs, when Wednesday slammed her hands down on the wood with a loud thunk. You jumped in your seat, startled by the noise, dropping your egg back onto your plate.

"What exactly did you see last night?" she demanded, glaring.

Your eyes widened at her tone. It was harsher than normal, and she wore her frustration on her sleeve. A few students at nearby tables sent you suspicious and wary glances. Over Wednesday's shoulder, you could see her roommate, Enid, staring at you.

Most important was Weems, who looked down at you from the balcony above. You composed yourself and looked back down to Wednesday, shrugging nonchalantly, as if to say you didn't know.

Wednesday gritted her teeth harder. "But you do know. We saw Rowan get eviscerated by that creature. You were there. So why did you tell Weems you didn't see anything?!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head at her, doubling down. This was no place to get into it. No place to tell the truth. You slid your notebook towards her.

i saw him this morning.

She huffed, stomping off. You knew exactly why you saw him that morning, actually. Weems had shown you her powers a time or two, and you knew that 'Rowan' was just her in disguise. But you also didn't know if it was something you wanted to share yet. You, too, had been a bit miffed at seeing Weems pretend to be Rowan, but you also knew Weems' powers gave her an advantage, and you were too loyal to take that away from her. You owed her too much.

The question of why still rang in your mind, though. Why was she so eager to cover it up? She had never at least lied to you, so this lie seemed out of left field.

You saw the fake Rowan several times throughout the day. Each time you did your best to let Weems know you knew, and she seemed wary of you, avoiding you at every intersection. You spent the night thinking, wandering around Nevermore, stopping in the library and pulling out several books.

Wednesday had shoved something in her pocket, something that Rowan had. Something about her dooming Nevermore, about being dangerous. You raked through all the books about prophecies, not finding anything of interest and giving up at around one in the morning. No books were missing a piece of paper, and no books mentioned Wednesday's name. You could find a few references to someone named Goody, but she seemed unimportant among the other Addams ancestors, having been dead for hundreds of years. You made another mental bookmark to look more into it, later.

You trudged back to your dorm, already regretting your choices, considering you had an 8 am class in the morning. The school was peaceful again, and as you climbed the stairs, you could hear the trickle of the fountain.

But the moment your shoe placed itself upon the landing, you froze. Your door hung open slightly, just cracked, and right in the way was the same hand you had seen on your first night. You straightened up, feeling more awake, and more annoyed, now.

You pushed your own door open, knocking loudly on the wood like it wasn't your own room, illustrating your frustration. Wednesday turned towards you, unimpressed. She had your journal in her hands, the other one not meant for your communication but for your theories.

It was open to the photo you had just taken, of the claw mark. Right above it you had put the photo of the deaf old man, and right on the photo of the claw mark, you had 'Rowan' written in red sharpie and underlined several times.

You crossed your arms, glowering at her. The hand scuttled towards her, stopping halfway. "So you were hiding something," Wednesday says. "You know that Rowan isn't Rowan. You know he's dead."

You silently swallow, crossing the room until you are right in front of her. Wednesday's eye contact is intense, and you look down at your own notebook, feeling her watching you as you take it from her hands. You can feel her breath fanning against your face, and she smells like pomegranate and fresh petrichor. You turn the page to the drawing you've made of the creature. It's a little off; some of the details are fuzzy regarding last night. But it's the creature as best as you can remember it, and Wednesday nods.

"That's what I saw, too. That's what I want to find," she says. "That's what you're going to help me find."

This time, you can't find it in yourself to refuse.

===+++===

this was the first episode and a bit of episode 2. i really liked doing the mute reader but boy is it hard to write communication without dialogue. it does so much heavy lifting for characterisation. can't wait to see where this one goes, and it'll probably take me two or three parts to get through the whole season, is my hope.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Sleep

a/n did this need to be this long? No. But is it impossible to not make everything slightly sexual with these eepy boys? Yes. Someone needs to take my phone away. I also have exhaustion fever so this is actually a fever dream. Edited version.

summary: Sleep token with a model reader (preferably fem, but you can totally make it gn) like she's not a famous model, but like she's good at what she does and so eepy boys are like, "ooh they make good sht what if we hire her for an album cover or something"

warning: slightly sexual….?

sleep token boys x reader

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“You’re looking at her like she’s the last supper," ii snorted after a while of watching Vessel practically drool over you. The post-show gatherings were rare. Well, the ones where the team could bring plus ones were. Boys usually stuck around for a quick photo, their way of showing how much they appreciated everyone’s work before they disappeared into the privacy of the back rooms. But not today. And for the very first time, it felt worth it.

“She might be," iii snickered, his eyes equally as pleased with the sight in front of him. “Let me clean your drool”, iv brings a napkin towards Vessel’s lips, one that the lead singer is quick to push away. “She would fit the next album," it’s barely a whispers, but they all fix their gaze on you now.

“I’ve seen her around," iii mutters, trying to think where it was, but the sea of people after a while just goes mushy. “Yeah, because you’ve been liking her pictures," iv says, crossing his arms over his chest. “As if that’s not weird. How the fuck would you know that?”, but the look iii shoots at his bandmate is met with a middle finger. "Vess, we already have the shoot planned for Friday”, ii is quick to interfere. He is always the most put-together one, making sure the plan stays where it should, once the ground rules are placed. "Yeah, but I don’t like what we got,"  Vess waves his hand around, “We need her," and here it is, no longer a maybe but the tone of a man who had set his mind. 

“She could be sleep”, it’s almost a plea as Vess looks among the guys. “Look at her."  Crocking his head to the side, Vess once again lets himself shamelessly admire you. “The hair, the skin, and the eyes, look at her eyes." As if feeling all four sets of eyes burning into your skin, you finally glance their way. And it’s as if, with your gaze alone, you had set off the panic. “Don’t look, don’t look,"  Vess hisses, head down, with iii grasping for his beer that nearly slipped through his fingers. “How old are we, three?”, iv hisses, placing his bottle down, before stepping forward. "Ivy,"  Vess catches his arm, but iv only gives him a serious look before adding, “This is creepy; we need to go talk to her, not gawk like a pack of creeps”. 

You watch him approach you. The confidence oozing off him feels infectious. As if the whole room is pulsing to the beat of him. "Hey," he says as he slides down the booth to get closer to you. "Hi," you greet him, smiling, as you shoot him a little wave. “Never seen you before," his voice is smooth, steady, and perky enough to make you guess that he’s smirking beneath the mask. “Is that why you were staring?”, you ask, watching his eyes. He chuckles lightly before lifting his hands up, “Caught red-handed." And you can’t help but chuckle alongside him. 

“I don’t know if you know...", iv starts after a moment. "Who you are?", you finish for him, and he visibly halts. Because that had been exactly what he was going to ask. “I do; I’m friends with Sam,"  you point to the man in question, who’s posing for a picture with a mask as well. 

“Lucky son of a bitch," iv mutters, watching him for a moment before pulling his gaze back to you. A slight silence falls. “Join us for a drink,"  he says, nodding towards the table he came from. You gaze there, earning a salute from ii. iii just lifts his bottle up. It’s Vess, whose eyes you can’t see, but you know that they are set on you. “Is this a kidnapping?”, you look up at iv. “Most definitely,"  he nods, and you’re quick to follow his actions. “Alright then.”

It feels as if an unexpectedly found puzzle piece that fit to Vess as he watches you in the glass little pool. The mesh material of your dress is soaked and floating all around you. And the rain installation slowly turning from clear to pitch black. Drowning you out in darkness. “That’s it,"  he hears the director shout, “Look up." But Vessel doesn’t even look at the actual footage the camera is getting; his gaze is glued on you. An actual vision in front of him. 

“She’s fucking good; you've got to give her that,"  ii mumbles as he too watches the shoot. All of them are here. They were never here for shit like this, but today they were almost first. “I need a picture with her; can we get her in some promo shit too?”, iii once again pushes the narrative he had been trying to shove down everyone’s throats the moment you agreed. “She might not want to,"  Vess trails off. “Have you asked?”, iii nudges him, like a kid who’s not getting the exact candy he was looking for. 

“Can you get horny from watching someone…", iii changes his tone, but iv is quick to clasp a hand over his mouth. “If you make her feel weird, I will de-ball you myself,"  he hisses, giving him a little shove. The crew helps you step out before someone is quick to drape a dry towel over your shoulders. “Here to investigate your investment?”, you shoot them a smile, surprised to see them here. Mostly because everyone reassured you that they would not be here. 

“I like to follow the process,"  Vessel blurts out. “Hope it’s up to your liking,"  you mutter right as he brushes the strand of hair away from your face. “More than exceeded my expectations." His words throw you off center for a heartbeat before a smile spreads across your face. “Mind taking more pictures?”, iv nods your way. Your shoulders sag lightly as you glance at the screen, “You don’t like these?” “Oh shit, not like that, I mean with us,"  he quickly adds. You look at them. Blinking slowly. “But you... you don’t take pictures like that,"  you frown slightly. You’ve read through the papers their management sent out this morning. There was the underlined part that said no content regarding bad members would be taken. “Just feel like changing shit up,"  Vess glances at the setup. “This won’t do, but I have an idea.”

What follows after that is a slight madman frenzy. You watch Vess explain exactly what he wants from the production team. Going as far as scribbling the placement of objects on paper. “Is he always like this?”, you ask after a moment. “Passionate?”, ii ask, and you’re quick to nod. “When inspiration strikes, yes," iii nods along. “He pretty much fell out of a second-floor bunk in the middle of the night once because a lyric came up in his head and he had nowhere to write it down."  A chuckle slips from ii’s lips, and you can’t help but glance at him. Having him be so talkative feels like a gift in a way. “That’s beautiful,"  you muse, “loving something so much." The boys simply hum in response before the makeup and clothes department ushers them in. 

“Vess will direct it from now; follow his lead; and don’t overthink it,"  the lady walking you back on stage, brushes your hand in reassurance. The place is a lot dimmer now. Yet the lights reflect off the water just as beautifully. There’s a drum set in the middle of the set, with extra support beams intact too. You frown slightly as you hand the tower off to your makeup artist. “Do you mind lying down?”, Vessel asks. “In the water?”, you ask, but Vess is quick to shake his head. “On the drums." You swallow, glancing at ii, who’s already standing by his seat. "Sure," you breathe out, stepping onto the rearranged platforms. His eyes follow your every move, and he’s quick to gesture to his chair, no doubt as a step stool for you to get on. 

“Let me help you," ii says, taking hold of your hands before steadying your steps. “Won’t I break it?", you ask, looking at the drums. “It’s a fake; even if it breaks, it doesn’t matter."  The smoothness of II's voice sends shivers down your spine as you step onto the drums before slowly lowering yourself down. ii’s hands stay nearby, you can feel their warmth but not their touch. Your eyes lock right as you sprawl out. Letting the top of your body bend over the set. 

"Fuck."  It’s so quiet and low that you’re sure you’ve imagined it. Someone warns you about the water before your body and the drums are drenched. “I’ll only hit the plates; don’t get spooked out," ii warns you, yet you don’t have a chance to answer. The drizzle picks up, you gaze up, meeting his eyes, and the sound around you erupts, alongside the flashes of the camera. It goes like that for a couple of minutes. It feels like forever and then a blink of your imagination. And then you’re being pulled back up. “Good?”, ii mutters. You nod, and he mimics your movement. “Good. It will be hard not to see you every time I look at my drums now,"  he admits before stepping aside, the prep team swarming all around you. Making your head dizzy. 

Someone’s saying something about how sets with guitars will be less challenging, and you catch the sight of iii stepping on with a mask you hadn’t yet seen. “Scary?”, he chuckles. "No,"  you say, shaking your head, feeling slightly breathless. “It’s... mesmerizing." He lets out a low laugh. “That’s a first." And within a heartbeat, you’re sitting in the water with iii towering over you. Your hands are snaking up his legs and lower stomach as you arch your head up to watch his face. There’s no way to read his emotions. However, the vein in his neck says enough. You’re aware of the flashes, but it’s as if that part of reality is not there. iii’s body disappears after a while, and then he’s right there, inches from your face, leaning forward to look right at you. 

iv strolls in almost immediately after. Sharing a look with iii as they pat each other on the shoulder. And then the man built on confidence is right in front of you. “Care for a cuddle?”, he muses, sitting down in the water and spreading his legs apart. You just stare at him. Feeling your head spin. “Do I need to sit you down?”, he shoots you a daring look, and you instantly sink to your knees. “You minx,"  he says, shaking his head, “Come on, lean against my chest." You follow his lead, sliding between his legs and letting your back rest against his chest. He pulls his guitar in front of you two. Your fingers slip onto his thighs, then slowly upon his arms and towards his guitar. Before you look up, to find his blue orbs watching you with unmatched insanity. “Get why you left II and III in shambles now,"  he says, ever so slightly brushing his masked lips against your ear. 

You feel in a trance by the time you see Vessel standing behind his keyboard stand. “Do you mind?”, you’re not sure what exactly he’s referring to, but you shook your head. And then you instantly regret not asking because his hands are around your waist as he lifts you onto the keyboard. You let out a slight shriek, and his face instantly turns to you. “It’s okay, it’s okay; just didn’t expect that,"  you’re quick to reassure him. “Just do what feels natural,"  Vess mutters before turning to step in front of the keyboard. You pull one of your legs up, bending it beneath you, and turn slightly so you can face him better. His fingers move over the keys, head down. You watch him for a moment before slowly reaching out. Fingers brushing the exposed part of his face before ever so slightly inching beneath the mask as you turn his face towards you. Trying to figure out why a man of such talent and power wasn’t all that quick to take control. 

“How much freaky is too freaky?”, you ask him. Vess crocks his head to the side before asking, “Have you seen us on stage?” You smirk, bring your other leg over the keyboard, spreading your legs enough to make room for Vessel to stand in between. “Own it then,"  you say, reaching for his hands, moving one to your hip and placing the other in the middle of your chest. “The question here is, what keys are you playing, Vess?” You stare right at him before leaning back. He’s quick to steady you. Leaving his hands where you had placed them before lifting the one resting on your chest up as if he’s pulling your soul out of your body, right as you arch your back. “Fucking vision, fucking sleep,"  Vess grunts under his breath, drinking in the sight of you. 

The photograph shouts cut, and you let yourself breathe for a moment before holding onto Vessel’s forearms as you pull yourself up. “You are something else,"  he grunts, helping you down, and you can tell that his hands linger. “They do say that I’m good at what I do."  You wink at him. “Wrapping four grown men around your finger, you mean?”, he smirks at you before nodding to the side. You glance up only to find three sets of eyes looking at you as if you had been a vision sent by god, or maybe the devil himself. 

[python333]

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—” 

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of. 

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you. 

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece. 

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?” 

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder. 

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up. 

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.” 

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder. 

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.” 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up. 

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.” 

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about. 

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy? 

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up. 

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.” 

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?” 

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin’ talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?” 

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.” 

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return. 

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.” 

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.” 

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers. 

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open. 

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price. 

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap. 

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk. 

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” 

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well. 

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?” 

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.” 

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.” 

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.” 

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact. 

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.” 

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle. 

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].” 

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?” 

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.” 

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.” 

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic. 

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought. 

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.” 

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.” 

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.” 

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.” 

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort. 

“Muppet?” 

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.” 

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.” 

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?” 

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.

[romanhughesy]

Aftertaste

quinn hughes x indie singer!fem reader

summary: quinn is dragged out to a show at a dive bar, and finds himself drawn to the lead singer...

wc: 5.3k

notes: ive seen a lot of nhl stars x pop girlie reader (a slay every time) but something about the idea of straight laced quinn x indie girl compels me..

As a professional hockey player, it was one of Quinn’s biggest gripes when people told him he only cared about hockey. Mainly because people always said it like it was a bad thing, something they were uncovering that Quinn didn’t know about himself. Something he should be ashamed of. But Quinn knew, and he wasn’t ashamed at all. Hockey was in his blood, inextricably linked with his real biggest priority. His family. Luckily, hockey and family had always gone hand in hand for Quinn. Even when hockey took him far away from everyone, even when people tried to pit him and his brothers against each other, it never strained their relationships. They all knew it was just the nature of the game. Reaching his dreams, being an impactful player, it took thick skin. All three Hughes boys had been raised with that knowledge. 

But, that didn’t mean things didn’t rattle him occasionally. Like now, sitting on a teammate’s couch, trying to savor what he thought would be a chill afternoon sprawling into a quiet evening. Until someone’s phone rang. Dakota Joshua’s girlfriend was on the line, trying to convince everyone to go out. Her friend was in a band playing that night, and ‘there was no cover, so everyone should come.’ Because a bunch of professional athletes worried about paying an entry fee. A couple guys said sure, a couple more said they had plans, and when it was more or less worked out who’d be going, a few of them turned to look at Quinn. He shook his head, not moving from his slumped lean against the back of the couch. He was tired. And comfortable. So he verbally answers, “I’m not a huge live music guy. But thanks for the invite.” 

He hadn’t expected his voice to carry through the phone, really just speaking to his teammate. But the girl on the other line must’ve heard, because she scoffed. “Is that Quinn?” her voice crackled through the speaker. “Figures. He couldn’t care less about anything that isn’t hockey!” 

Quinn could hear that she was joking, but it still stung. He didn’t even know this girl that well. Why was she looking down on him for prioritizing his job, that he was, frankly, great at? Joshua immediately came to his defense, shooting an apologetic look over his shoulder and saying, “Hey, Captain’s locked in. Can’t complain, especially with the way the season’s going.” 

The conversation shifted, and then ended altogether, but Quinn was lost in his thoughts until some of the guys who weren’t going to the bar stood up to leave. What would he do with his evening, if he did go home? Slump on his own couch, watch tape or other games on TV that evening, talk to his mom or Jack or Luke, if they were free? Those were all things he enjoyed, that brought him joy, but none of his excuses sounded good enough when the guys asked if he was sure he didn’t want to go. So, he lets himself be half-dragged into the bar, and if he’s nursing his beer on the edge of their crowded booth a bit grumpily, hopefully everyone will let it slide. The group of people was bigger than he’d anticipated for a free show at a pretty run down bar. Quinn’s not even sure this is technically a concert, as very few people are lingering anywhere near the stage, and no one seems to be paying any attention to the people tuning instruments up there. 

“So, wait, how do you even know this girl?” Quinn hears someone ask, and that brings his attention back to the situation at hand. Joshua’s girlfriend, clearly pleased to hold the attention of the table, smiles widely. 

“Oh, we went to university together! It’s been awhile since we’ve hung out, but she was always so talented. She never actually made her own music in school though, which I thought was strange. So when she mentioned joining a band, I just knew they’d be great!” 

Awesome. Quinn’s been dragged out to see an amateur musician who’s a former classmate of someone he barely knows. He might need a couple more beers to make it through this. 

“What kind of music do they play?” Someone else chimed in, apparently not as put off by the previous answer as Quinn was. 

“I’m not really sure. I think, like, indie rock? She mentioned they’d be doing a lot of covers, because they’ve just recently started playing together. She said they wanted to go ahead with gigging to work out what kind of sound they wanted for their own music, so cool!” 

Quinn was seriously impressed by this girl’s loyalty to her friend. He wouldn’t call himself a big indie rock fan, but there were way less palatable genres, so maybe he’d survive after all. He looked towards the stage, at the band tuning their instruments and checking mics, and turned back to the table with a question of his own. 

“Is she the brunette with the bass?” 

“Nope!” Joshua’s girlfriend answered, eyes bright. She obviously hadn’t expected Quinn to show any interest. “She’s not up on stage right now. But that white guitar they’re sound-checking right now is hers. I recognize it from her Instagram.” 

Quinn nodded, curiosity satisfied. Conor rose from the other side of the booth, clearly heading to the bar, so Quinn slid out too, maybe a bit overly eager to step away from the larger group. Lucky for him, they lingered by the bar even after getting their drinks, so Conor was either a mind reader, or just felt similarly. They made easy chatter, and Quinn felt some of the tension in his shoulders unwind. Before he’d even thought of rejoining their other teammates, the bar lights dimmed. Quinn hadn’t even realized it was possible to make the space any dimmer. Turning his gaze towards the stage, all the same people as before were settled with their respective instruments, leaving a gap in the middle of the stage. Quinn’s eyebrows raised. A few seconds later, the missing member quietly entered the stage, smiling bashfully. 

Quinn felt like he’d been hit over the head, and that was putting it mildly. Fiddling with an acoustic guitar, high points of her face getting kissed by a spotlight, the lead singer was maybe the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

“Hi, everyone. We don’t quite have a name, or much original music right now, but we’re gonna play some of our favorite songs for you guys tonight. Hope you enjoy.” Her voice was soft, tinged with nerves, but still warm. Quinn couldn’t look away as she adjusted her grip on her guitar one more time, and shared a glance with the bass player on her right. The band started playing, and Quinn’s breath was stolen. 

They were playing an older song Quinn vaguely recognized, quiet, soft rock. He hadn’t really ever considered someone’s singing honest before, but that’s how it felt. Clear, sincere. Just singing from the soul, like she would sound the exact same even if the room was completely empty. 

“You live your life, you go in shadows

You'll come apart and you'll go blind

Some kind of night into your darkness

Colors your eyes with what's not there”

He stood, transfixed, until Conor elbowed his arm and tilted his head towards the booth. He looked like he had some taunts ready, but spared them as the men moved through the mostly quiet room. 

Back of his neck burning, Quinn slid back into the booth. Most of the group had gone to stand by the stage, bringing the amount of people at the table to a much more manageable amount. For Quinn’s social capabilities, at least. Not that he was paying much attention to anyone at the table, eyes glued to the middle of the stage. 

The band had launched into their second song, this one apparently not requiring the singer to also play guitar.  Quinn appreciated its absence, as it gave him an unobstructed view of her. She was in a sleeveless black mini dress and calf-high boots, which should’ve been little dressed up for the dingy bar. But, she pulled it off effortlessly, hair down and catching the light as she tossed in time with the music. Quinn certainly wouldn’t call himself an expert, but he wasn’t even sure if she was wearing makeup other than some lived-in eyeliner. She looked like a girl in a 90’s movie, effortless yet put together, all at once. It was intimidating, but something about her presence was also unmistakably warm and open. Quinn couldn’t look away from how she moved with a casual grace, the way her whole body seemed to respond to the song, guiding her voice. 

“I feel naked when you look my way

You can see it on my face

You're the only reason I came here

You're the only reason I stayed here

And I'm livin' on the aftertaste

Don’t you tell me it’s too late”

Dancing along to the music was obviously shaking off a lot of her nerves, but even far from the stage, he saw the singer’s cheeks flush as the crowd applauded at the end of the song. Cute. After saddling her acoustic guitar once again, the singer leaned into the microphone. 

“This next one is one of my favorite songs. Hope you guys like it.”

“During practice she’d say that about, like, six different songs. I just have to let everyone know.” The person sitting behind a keyboard chimed in, and the singer’s shocked laughter made Quinn feel lightly carbonated. Fizzy, reactive. What was wrong with him?

“I’ve got a big heart. Anyway!” 

She led the band into the next song, and they continued to play a few more, with minimal commentary. They weren’t playing anything Quinn was familiar with, but he didn’t really mind letting the music wash over him. The band were talented, and Quinn could see people around the room who clearly did know the songs enjoying themselves, further validating his assessment. At some point, Conor disappears, and brings back new drinks for the both of them, giving him that taunting look again. This time, he delivers. 

“You know, I thought you weren’t really a live music guy? Seem to be enjoying yourself plenty.”

“Oh, shut up.” 

“What? Just making small talk. Need me to be quiet so you can focus on the music? Maybe she’ll sign your forehead at the merch table later.” 

Quinn lets out a long-suffering sigh. There’s nothing he’d change about his life, really, but he sometimes dreams of a world where he’s a scary captain that people don’t make fun of for their own entertainment. That’d show them. He settles, instead, for making fun back, like any respectable adult with younger siblings. 

“Signed a lot of autographs lately? She could probably teach you how.” 

Conor lets out a shocked sound, but their back and forth is cut off by applause echoing through the bar. 

“Thank you!” The singer is once again guitar-less, nervously fiddling with her mic stand with dainty hands that Quinn’s eyes get stuck on. They must be tough, for how deftly she plays her guitar, but they look small. Quinn buries a half-formed thought of brushing against them, holding them in his own. He’s losing it. 

“We’re gonna do a few songs with some different vibes, if that’s okay with you guys. We’re still working on pinning down what style of music we really like making as a band, so we’d love to know what you think of these. This first one is called Starling, and it’s actually an original of mine.” 

Her cheeks flush at the scattered cheers through the room, and once the song starts, Quinn understands why. The song is raw, subdued instrumentation highlighting her voice. She sings most of it with her eyes shut, but not tightly. Not fearful. She’s swaying gently, and her voice soars through the dingy bar. 

“And she says we're the lucky ones

And you know why

To meet another is a miracle, let alone you and I

You and I, you and I”

The applause at the end of the song is noticeably louder than the songs before. Quinn claps, and Conor doesn’t even make fun of him, because he’s clapping too. The lead guitar player pats the singer on the back as she takes a swig of water and visibly tries to settle her nerves. 

“Okay, that was scary! Let’s have fun now.” 

The next song is folksy and upbeat, old-fashioned. It reminds Quinn of something his parents would listen to. The band really digs into it, the audience responding in turn, and Quinn feels weirdly connected to it all. It reminds him of being on the ice, a good shift where he feels like a live wire and can anticipate the moves of all of his linemates. Everything ramps up towards the end of the song, and it’s actually Conor who’s shoving Quinn out of the booth, towards their teammates closer to the stage.

“Seems like the last few songs are fun. Let's be social.” 

Quinn lets himself be dragged, like he has all night, folding into the group. A couple of the guys seem shocked to see them, Soucy throwing a “We thought you guys bailed!” over his shoulder. Quinn shrugs, but tries to fake-nonchalantly answer before Garland. Whatever Conor might say would do him no good. 

“Nah, just hanging back at the booth. Still tired from earlier.” 

“Nice. They’re doing a good job up there. Joshua’s girl is losing her mind.” 

Quinn is too, a little, but he refuses to say that out loud. Luckily, they’re interrupted. 

“Thanks for really getting into that last one. That’s one of my favorites.” One of the other band members snickers and starts to interrupt, Quinn sees their teasing smile from where he stands. The singer cuts them off, grinning widely and continuing her sentence,

“This is our second to last song. Laugh at me if you want, but it truly is my favorite song these days. Not one of my favorites, just my favorite. This is Juna by Clairo. Let’s dance!”

He’s never heard it before, much like the rest of the set, but this song is definitely his favorite, too. It’s still playful, but has a sensuality that’s completely out of left field. Taking the microphone from the stand, the singer slinks across the small open area of the stage. Her hips sway, free hand gesturing with the music, and she looks so good Quinn almost can’t bear it. She’s singing directly to the audience, confident and present in a way he hadn’t seen from her so far. And he’d definitely been paying more attention than he’d admit to anyone. 

“You know me, you know me

And I just might know you too, know you

Come to me ready”

Joshua’s girlfriend throws her hands up when the singer looks their way, and the singer looks down at her friend with a dazzling smile, sweeping her eyes over the rest of the group. Quinn has a weird instinct to avert his eyes, or run away, but he’s too late. The singer is looking at him. Quinn swears he sees her eyes widen, just a fraction, but the moment breaks, the rhythm moving her across the stage. He spends the rest of the song— and most of the following one— in a daze. He claps when everyone else claps, lets himself be moved like the crowd moves, but he’s mostly just drinking in the singer’s appearance. Her charm, her confidence, it’s magnetic. He’d be embarrassed, but he’s definitely not the only one looking. And that makes something smolder in him, stifling and warm. 

“Thank you all so much for being here. This was actually our first show all together as a band, so it’s been very special. Enjoy the rest of the evening!” 

The audience gives one last hardy round of applause, and the band don’t bother with theatrics, unceremoniously beginning to break down all their equipment. Quinn, as per usual, lets himself be led to the bar for another round, and then back to a table. Some of the girls in the group are chatting about how much they liked the set, how they’d love to see them again, but one comment in particular lands heavy on his brain. It’s Joshua’s girlfriend, pretending to be casual when she boasts,

“I told you guys Y/N was amazing! I texted her and told her she should come hang with us for a minute when they’re all packed up. I hope she has time.” 

Conor elbows him. The little shit. Quinn gives him a withering look, but he knows at least one of the other guys had to have noticed the interaction. 

“Oh?” Dakota raises an eyebrow at him. “Interested in meeting Y/N? Didn’t really think you cared for live music, Cap. Had to drag you into the bar and all.”

Quinn visualizes the alternate universe where he’s intimidating his teammates, and decides to play dumb in real life. 

“Who? The only reason I haven’t left is because Garland keeps buying me drinks.” 

Joshua doesn’t quite buy it. 

“That’s nice of him. Means you have room for a couple drinks for Y/N on your tab, then. She was the lead singer. Seemed like you were keeping an eye on her.”

“You know, not a huge live music guy, myself, but I’ve heard when people are onstage you’re supposed to pay attention to them.” Quinn chirps, perhaps belatedly realizing getting defensive about the girl would only make things worse. The guys laugh, and the conversation moves on, so he must’ve said just enough to be let off the hook. 

Quinn lets his thoughts wander, rather than taking part in the mindless chatter. He really is tired. Everyone will tease him for leaving, but he’s been more than a good sport. He’s absolutely far surpassed his “not hockey” quota for the day. Just as he decides on getting up and telling everyone goodbye, other people around the table are standing, and some of the girls are fussing. Did someone else decide to leave before him? Even better, he can just tack onto someone else’s goodbye, slip out with even less attention on him. He gets out of his chair and realizes he’s fallen into a trap of sorts. 

In the middle of all the commotion is Dakota Joshua’s girlfriend, bragging about her friend while wrapping her in a tight hug. The lead singer. She’s clearly overwhelmed by the enthusiasm, but gives the group a genuine smile. 

“This is my boyfriend, Dakota, and these are a bunch of his teammates!” She rattles off their names, as if the singer will remember them, and Quinn feels something inside him ignite when he locks eyes with the girl again. 

“Nice to meet you guys. Thanks for coming out! So glad I didn’t realize who you all were until now. I would’ve freaked out.” The singer’s smile turns shy, and Quinn sees a couple of the guys almost visibly puff up their chests, enjoying the recognition. He is too, sure, but he hopes it’s not too obvious. 

“Big Canucks fan?” Joshua asks while slinging an arm around his girlfriend, pulling her closer. 

“Born and raised. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love a picture to send to my parents. They’re gonna lose their minds.” 

Dakota’s girlfriend is already whipping out her phone before the singer can finish her sentence, gathering everyone into the frame. Conor, ever the meddler, shoves Quinn towards the center, and he ends up right next to the girl he’s been admiring all evening. He breathes in her clean, citrusy perfume, and isn’t sure he remembers to smile for the picture, dazed. Joshua’s girlfriend looks through the photos and seems pleased, so Quinn must look normal enough.

“They came out so cute! Y/N, do you have a favorite player? If he’s here let’s get a picture of just you two!”

The singer, Y/N, he mentally corrects, stammers out an excuse, but she seems to quickly learn the lesson Quinn learned in his earliest days in the sport. Give hockey players an obvious weak point, and they’ll exploit it, on or off the ice. A few of the guys tease, lightheartedly, but still pressing for an answer. 

“Um… it’s 43. Hughes…” She’s avoiding his eye, and the guys are going wild, but Quinn hardly notices. He’s floating, mentally thanking every extra rep in the gym, every early practice, even his parents for loving the sport so much they passed it onto him. Quinn can’t help his small smirk as Joshua’s girlfriend gestures for Y/N to hand her phone over, opening the camera and telling them to get together and pose. 

Quinn takes a step closer, hovering his arm around her waist, until he finally catches Y/N’s eye. He tilts his head, wordlessly questioning. She nods and wraps her own arm behind his back, so he lets his hand settle. It’s not hard to smile for the picture when he’s pressed against her side. His guys are jeering, but he pays them no mind as Y/N is handed back her phone. Now or never, probably, Quinn thinks to himself. So he dives. 

“D’you mind sending those to me?” He asks, trying to keep his voice low amongst all the chaos of the group. He doesn’t exactly want commentary as he’s trying to shoot his shot. 

Y/N blinks up at him, and he finds her visible confusion endearing. 

“You want me to send you the pictures of us together?”

Quinn just nods. She blinks some more, brow furrowed. 

“Yeah, sure, I can. Why?” 

Quinn wishes he had some witty or charming response, but there’s something about her straightforwardness that disarms him. She doesn’t seem to realize how interested Quinn is, for better or for worse. 

“Well,” He rubs the back of his neck, “It was the most casual way I could think of to ask for your number.” 

At that, Y/N’s eyes widen, but she also smiles in a coy way that makes Quinn think he might be in over his head. 

“Oh! Well, in that case, I’d be more than happy to send you those pictures.” She hands Quinn her phone, already open to a new contact, and he takes it from her outstretched hand.

“You guys did great up there, by the way. Especially for a first show. I never would’ve guessed.”

Y/N gives him that warm, happy smile, and he melts. 

“Thank you! I haven’t performed in front of a crowd since middle school choir, so I’m honestly just proud I made it through the set at all.”

Quinn, once again, is floored. Sure, she seemed anxious at first, but he still gets visibly nervous before stepping on the ice all these years later. The idea of doing something for the very first time with so much grace makes him jealous, in a weird way. He doesn’t know how to express all that to a stranger, so he doesn’t. 

“Really? You looked at home up there.”

Y/N’s gaze softens a bit, something that wasn’t quite shyness— maybe vulnerability— creeping in. 

“That means a lot. It’s something I’ve always dreamed about, always craved. But I was too scared until really recently.”

“That’s really brave.” he responds, thrilled by her flushed cheeks and bashful smile.

“That’s funny,” Y/N says, taking a step closer, holding steady eye contact now, “I find it really brave to hold onto your childhood dreams. I never had that strength.”

Now Quinn is the one flushing. Of course, plenty of people praise his hard work, but many also say his success was handed to him. He’d never deny his good fortune; his amazing parents were certainly the foundation and entry point for his dream. But, he couldn’t have gotten to this point if it was just his parents’ dream for him. He held firm through a lot of exhaustion, pain, and uncertainty. Someone else acknowledging that makes all of the old feelings almost tangible. It’s an uncomfortable sensation for Quinn, one he doesn’t like to linger on.

“It takes a village.” He answers, trying to sound at ease. Y/N laughs.

“How diplomatic! I forget you guys get media trained.”

At that, Quinn laughs, too. He’s fascinated by the discerning sharpness that almost underscores the warmth and openness the girl projects. As if, somehow, she’s looking right through him, but she likes what she sees. He wants to see more of her, in turn. 

“You’ll need some of that too, soon enough. I bet the band’s gonna get big.”

“Let me get used to playing in dive bars first, even just thinking about anything bigger is going to give me a panic attack for the foreseeable future.”

“You don’t wanna come sing the anthem at a game?” Quinn can’t help but tease, rewarded by Y/N’s eyes going wide. 

“That honestly makes my knees weak. Do you ever get used to playing in front of all those people?”

Quinn tilts his head, considering his answer. He doesn’t want to sound full of himself, but he wants to be honest. 

“A lot of times, I’m not really thinking about the audience. I’m just focused on the ice. But, when the crowd gets really worked up, it can definitely impact the game.”

Y/N nods, brow furrowed as she thinks over his answer. 

“For better or for worse? Depends on where you are?”

“Yeah,” Quinn answers with a smile, but it’s tight around the edges. “Some places can be fun to play but not exactly welcoming.”

“That’s so interesting. I never thought about how much of the game is mental. No wonder you guys try to be so even-tempered in interviews and stuff.”

Quinn’s lips lift into a smirk. 

“You watch a lot of my interviews?”

Y/N huffs, rolling her eyes, but he sees her cheeks darken a bit.

“Oh, hush. I mean, like, whoever gets star of the game or whatever. Always giving generic answers.” 

She’s certainly not wrong. Quinn wants to keep talking, but the bass player of the band steps into the conversation, with an impish smile and hand on Y/N’s shoulder. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but Y/N, do you still want a ride? I’m about to head out.”

“Yes, please.” Y/N replies, and if Quinn wants to believe there’s a bit of reluctance in her tone, he will. She turns back to him with an apologetic smile that certainly helps his interpretation. “It was really nice meeting all of you guys. Thanks again for coming out. We’ll absolutely be bragging at every show about how the Canucks were at our very first gig.” 

“Of course,” Quinn replies. “We’ll have to get you guys out to a game soon.”

“A cultural exchange, of sorts.” The bassist chimes in with a laugh. Y/N shakes her head, but Quinn laughs along.

“Exactly! See you guys around.”

If he watches the two girls walk away, heart thudding when Y/N looks over her shoulder to wave goodbye, that’s between him… and Conor, who scurried over the second the musicians walked away to clap a hand on Quinn’s shoulder and shout something that sounded vaguely like “Attaboy!”. He must’ve had a few more rounds after the show ended. 

—

A few days later, Quinn’s just getting home from an early morning practice when his phone buzzes. He mindlessly opens the notification, not realizing it was a text from an unsaved number until he’s staring at pictures of him and Y/N, with a caption that makes the corner of his lips raise. He saves the contact, and pretends he’s not looking at the photos some more. 

From: Y/N 🎤

so… when’s the next game? :)

To: Y/N 🎤

Coincidentally, tomorrow. You guys free?

Quinn busies himself with preparing lunch, refusing to sit idle by his phone, as much as he wants to. When he sits down with his food a while later, he allows himself a glance at his messages, as a reward for his restraint. 

we don’t have to do the anthem, right?

Not this time. Just show up and have fun. As long as we get some tickets to the next gig, of course

well then… i’d love to! 

everyone else says they already have plans :(

Quinn takes a deep, calming breath, trying to summon up some courage. He thinks of Y/N, wide eyed and beautiful, calling him brave, but the image actually makes him more nervous. He shoots off a text anyway, before he can overthink it too much. 

Tough crowd. But you still wanna go? We could grab dinner or drinks after

He does a few laps around his apartment, wearing down his rug a bit more, before his phone buzzes. Quinn’s not proud of how quickly he dives back onto the couch, but at least no one is around to see. 

i was hoping you’d say that :) 

see you then!

Well, that settles that. Quinn does a few more nervous laps, suddenly feeling keyed up despite very recently finishing a grueling practice. He’s trying to mentally settle himself before he does something dumb, like tear through his closet and stare at every game day suit he has and decide he hates them all. But, he’s not quite sure where to put all the nervous energy he has. He forces himself to sit back down, thumbs moving across his phone screen. 

Need any gear? I can have someone bring you some

He doesn’t want to name the feeling that compelled him to ask. But it grows when, a few minutes later, Y/N answers. It’s another picture, but not from the other night. A mirror selfie. She’s in leggings and a Canucks jersey, facing forward but twisted just enough for Quinn to read the backwards 43 on her arm. His stomach soars, or free falls, he’s not quite sure which.

[image]

born and raised fan, remember? my parents would disown me if i showed up to a game without a jersey

He decides to play it cool, trying to slow his heart rate by joking around.  

Looks good, outdated though. Gotta get a C patch

Y/N’s response is quick, like she’d been waiting around for his reaction. Quinn tries not to think about it too hard, tries not to put too much stake into all of these little signs that a girl like Y/N is interested in him. 

🙄 not all of us have an equipment team

I’ll take care of it. See you tomorrow, Y/N

see yaaaaaa

good luck! 🍀

Quinn swears he moves through the rest of his day like normal. He goes through the motions, and he tries to pay as little attention as possible to his wandering thoughts. He’s used to fixating on hockey, trying to predict how games will go. Forecasting what will go right, and, maybe more importantly, what will go wrong. He’s built his career off of his attention to detail, his extra effort. It’s easy, and comfortable, to prepare for games with his team. As the hours go by, inching ever closer to puck drop, he can’t deny his excitement. For the opportunity to keep playing the game he loves, with his guys, for their fans. And maybe, just maybe, he also pictures Y/N, swathed in one of his jerseys with red cheeks from the cold of the rink, wearing that bright smile. He thinks about taking her on a date after the game, and how badly he wants to impress her, like she impressed him with her music. Thank goodness, he’s been working all his life to rise to the occasion when he’s out on the ice.

--

hiding a playlist/song recs in this fic bc i love u all.. songs directly referenced are fade into you by mazzy star, aftertaste by katie gavin (title inspo!), and juna by clairo! the "original song" is actually starling by sarah kinsley, and her music is GORGEOUS i highly recommend if you like indie singer/songwriter vibes.

some other artists i'd recommend you listen to ~for the vibes~:

phoebe bridgers, boygenius, mitski, fiona apple, and the newest beabadoobee album was super inspirational for this!!

if u made it this far you should send me a song rec of your own hehe

[lebbys-world]

Secrets, Soba, & Smiles

Todoroki x gn!reader; teenagers in love, fluff, reader gets caught off guard a bit

notes: thanks for all the love on my last post :) im glad that so many people enjoyed my writing !! the kitchen scene is very artem from tot coded, which makes sense bc ive been obsessed with that game recently. anyways, hope you enjoy !! <3

You peered down the hall, checking to make sure it was clear, before walking towards the elevator.

The soft hum of the door opening led you to walk inside, pressing the button for the fifth floor.

You looked down at your phone to check the time, quickly noticing you’d received a follow up text from your boyfriend.

Before leaving your dorm, you had sent him a message letting him know you were about to be on your way up. 

You smiled to yourself as the elevator made its way up the floors, shooting him back a quick reply.

More often than not, you found yourselves having these late-night dorm dates as a means to compensate for the lack of public relationship.

Throughout the school day, you two were just seen as close friends, allowing any suspicions to just be laughed off. After all, there was no sense in blatantly lying about your relationship to your friends.

But if you both feigned ignorance, it managed to keep their suspicions at bay. 

With all earnest, you weren't necessarily trying keeping your relationship with the icy-hot boy a secret from your peers.

You never had concern for them finding out - albeit the barrage of questions and attention may be a bit overwhelming.

If anything, the concern you had was for the general public finding out that two rising heroes had feelings for one another.

You feared the worst case scenario: a villain using your adoration for each other as a weapon.

Maybe you were overreacting, but the nightmare situation it was, you wanted to prevent it in any way you could. So, as a safeguard, the both of you had agreed to just keep things to yourself.

This agreement worked well anyways, as you and Todoroki settled into the awkward ins-and-outs of first time teenage love.

So, yes, for now, things were okay being a sort of ‘secret’.

It was a secret for you two to share.

You were his, and he was yours.

The elevator door opened once more as you reached the fifth floor, stepping out into a familiar, yet different, hallway.

You made your way to your boyfriend’s room, before giving a gentle knock on the door.

Soon enough, the doorknob turned, the door creaked open, and heterochronic eyes met your own. 

You laughed to yourself before commenting, “well, I made it here in one piece.”

He gave you a soft smile back, “yeah, you did.”

That was the smile that always managed to killed you.

A smile that you never saw him quite show to anyone but you.

The way his lips turned in adoration, a genuine love and joy meeting his face. His eyes would crease with that smile, and, every time, without fault, you’d melt at that smile.

It was a smile that felt like it was only for you.

Interrupting your star-struck daze, Todoroki tilted his head.

“I meant to tell you before you got here, but I still wanted to grab some snacks from the common room.”

You stood up straight, pulling yourself back together.

“Oh, I could’ve just picked them up on the way.”

“It’s not a problem; I’ll just go now. You can set your stuff down. I'll be back shortly."

He started walking past you to begin his quick mission, when you followed on his heels. 

“I’ll come with you! Two people are better than one!”

He paused, gave a nod of appreciation, and the two of you carried on towards the main floor.

The short trip there was spent debating what snacks would be best for this late night excursion, with you insisting that your favorite food was the only way to go.

By the time you'd made it to the kitchen, Todoroki had been pleading his case for soba - per usual.

“Look,” he said, now pointing to a something sat on the shelf of the pantry. “They still have some left over. We could probably make two servings.”

He met your eyes with diligence, looking like a young child begging for a toy at the store.

As much as your favorite snack was calling your name, you thought to yourself that maybe some cold soba would be nice as well. 

“Fine, but I’m making the sauce.” You sighed, accepting his pleas. I mean, how could you not when he had given you such a cute look?

He smiled, his invisible tail practically wagging as he pulled out a pot and began to fill it with water. 

Nearby, you opened up the fridge and pulled out a few ingredients to start making into a light sauce.

You swiftly put on an apron, and started mixing things together before feeling complete with your makeshift recipe.

You took a spoon and dipped it in, giving it a taste. Having it meet your own liking, you called your boyfriend over, making sure it would suit his taste as well.

Continuing to stir, you thought to yourself how something about this unplanned cooking trip had just felt so right

It was almost as if you two were a married couple, working on making dinner together after a long day of work.

The idea made you blush.

Deep inside, these calm nights were the kind you hoped the future would bring many more of.

You were about to turn around and call to him again when you were suddenly met with two arms wrapped around your waist.

You let out a small gasp of surprise as Todoroki took the spoon from your hand, following through on your request and trying the dipping sauce you had made.

He hummed a tone of satisfaction and let his head rest atop your shoulder. 

“It’s really good, Y/N. Thank you, for your help.”

At that moment, you thanked God that your boyfriend couldn't see your overwhelmingly red face.

You doubt you would’ve even been flustered if Todoroki wouldn’t have pulled that hugging-you-from-behind cliché.

I mean, heck, he probably didn't even realize he was doing something that even could catch you so off guard.

Your boyfriend probably just thought he was hugging you, sharing his adoration for your cooking and determination.

And here you were, heart going overdrive all over his simple motions.

Having felt your heart rate spike, he let go after a moment, returning back to the care of draining the pot of soba. 

You took a moment and collected yourself a bit, finally giving a delayed reply:

“Yeah, anytime, Sho. It’s what I’m here for.”

He looked at you again, turning his gaze away from the sink, and gave you that melting smile of his.

That smile that makes you feel like everything in the world is okay, even if just in this moment.

Somehow that smile managed to calm your panicked heart, reminding you to take this all one step at a time.

You returned his smile with your own. A smile of your own that you hoped he admired just as much as you did his.

“…”

“...SHOTO, THE SOBA-”

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. © @lebbys-world 2024.

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[the-summ0ning]

Obsessive/Possessive!Bestfriend!Vessel HC :(

content warnings: swearing, oblivious ves :/, aware reader, poor editing, rambling, two idiots in love

a/n: I personally have beef with this one bc my Tumblr kept crashing as I wrote this on multiple occasions through the week, and I got fed up oops (so sorry if this is a bit eh). Pt 2 perhaps when I'm less ready to throw my phone and laptop against a wall maybe a more NSFW edition?

Bsf Ves who thought it was normal to feel intense emotions towards you. He was always intense and profound about his feelings in general, so why would that exclude his best friend?

He was protective, but he was protective of all the people he cared about?!

So of course it was so normal for him to always walk you home after hanging out even if your place was a breezy block away. It was only a bonus to keep the hang out going for fifteen extra minutes with one of his, if not, his most favorite person!!!

Especially during cold nights, and you’d grab his hand intertwining your chilled fingers with his. Always telling him how he was so warm and inviting, leaning into his touch. That flush on his cheeks? Psh from the brisk weather, nothing else, why’d you ask?

Ignoring the annoying feeling of butterflies in his stomach whenever he was in your presence

and you ignored the fact you weren't down bad for him

he was the first person you showed your shopping hauls to.

His personal favorites were when you'd send pictures in the dressing rooms asking for his opinion. Not caring if there nearly 20 attachments to go through

he was simply no help, he was but a guy, and thought you looked good in everything hehe

close best friends just always were overly affectionate with one another, right?

Like cuddling casually, legs entwined, his rough fingertips slipping underneath your shirt tracing patterns on your tummy :( not bc he liked how soft your skin felt, but bc it calmed you and made you less restless

or or or when he'd be writing lyrics or gaming, he'd be sitting on the floor, and you on the couch running fingers through his hair. All solely to help him focus. You couldn't help how he'd stop what he was doing to crane his neck upwards to stare dreamily at you with a dopey smile

When you knew you'd be spending the night at his house, you'd lotion extra, and spritz a couple more pumps of fragrance on you and your things. Not bc you had hopes it'd linger on his sheets, and you wanted to get his on and off situationship you weren't fond of secretly to get the hint to buzz off finally BUT bc you just liked to smell nice and clean to rot in bed with Vessel

And he totally didn't use boys night as an excuse to stay up and occasionally glance at your location, while you went out with pals, awaiting your “just got home” text. Finally feeling tired enough coincidentally once he got the notification and kicking everyone out or going home to bed.

Or pushing past his social anxiety, to go out and make his rounds with IV or Sam to the pubs for a pint or to watch a match. He was /totally/ a big sports guy like his two friends so why wouldn’t he enjoy a loud rowdy overstimulating environment to watch a game?

He, in fact, did not care for sports like Ivy and Sam did and only knew enough to keep up with conversations.

And he definitely did not subject himself to these nights only bc he knew you liked to end nights at these specific pubs or occasionally came out to meet your mutual friends for drinks. And certainly not to see you in real time in your going out outfit, even though he looked at the picture you sent him before leaving your place frequently throughout the night

“Oh hey! I didn’t know you’d be here? Let me buy your next drink darling!”

You knew Vessel too well, knowing his disdain for these social settings. So every time you saw him at your favorite pub, you’d shoot him a look and he’d only sheepishly smile.

“The guys dragged me out of the house. So annoying.” He’d groan, and rub the back of his neck in annoyance

Yeah he was so normal about you.

Like a normal best friend would disregard every person you dated right? You only deserved the best and dating that person is settling in Vessel’s eyes?

Scowling immediately when he’d meet them, grilling the fuck out of your date. Watching how their hands lingered on you throughout the night, and how his chest tightened, knowing that should be him beside you, touching you like that

It wasn’t jealousy, never that. Just that protectiveness he felt for you—and all his friends ofc (can’t forget his other friends)

After a series of failed dates, tonight taking the cake, you showed up to Vessel’s house, disappointed needing the comfort of your best friend. You came right from the date to his place still in your pretty outfit you wore.

His chest tight and aching seeing how upset you were curled up on his couch, in his hoodie and sweats, blundering on everything you could have done wrong rather than accessing what your date did wrong

Seething about it actually, how could the person that brought him so much joy think they could have royally screwed things up?! He’s met a handful of the people you dated, they were all so wrong for you!

If they were wrong, who was right then?

That is when it smacked him in the face rather aggressively, feeling agitated hearing you ramble how you must have been unworthy and so broken for someone to love you. But he had loved you so effortlessly, it was one of the easiest feats he has done in his lifetime. Your imperfections and all were laid bare to him, and he still hadn’t recoiled because of it.

“But I love you.” It tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

A half hearted smile on your face, sniffling, wiping your stray tears with the floppy oversized sleeve of his hoodie. “You’re my best friend, Ves. It’s different.”

What he didn’t know was your miserable effort to date was to distract and repress what you knew was love that blurred that bordered more than platonic would be unreciprocated. Realizing months ago, it was always more, but rather staying friends, keeping it locked away, in fear he'd reject you. That most of the conversations on your dates involved stories with him, only tonight, realizing that was your flaw so blatantly.

He was the brightest star of your universe. An overbearing presence that made your dates uncomfortable, but you had considered him and you a package deal for anyone wanting to get to know you

And when you'd moan about your love life woes, it subtly included him as well.

“Would it be so horrible if I love you more than a best friend should?” It was a quiet confession that you thought you imagined if he wasn’t on the other side of the couch facing you. Leaving air caught in your throat, speechless. The air growing tense with the silence between you two

“It wouldn’t be horrible.” You finally willed the words out, but your nerves were clawing at you not at the realization that your feeling were reciprocated.

"So let me then." he willed, inching closer to you. "Let me show you how you deserved to be treated, and stop entertaining these lame fucks." His face now so close to yours, hand cupping your cheek

You searched his eyes for any chance he was messing with you. This had to be dream right?? The brush of his thumb on your cheekbone the only thing grounding you back to earth. Only nodding dazed at his words making him smile gently. "I need words, dove." his thumb trailed to your bottom lip, dragging it down a bit.

"That's all I wanted to hear for months." You admitted shyly.

That was all it took for his lips to be pressed against yours in a soft kiss, all the tension dissolving and encrypted into the gesture. The love, frustration, and yearning melding between your mouths, his hand wrapping in the hair at the nape of your neck to bring you impossibly closer.

"We were never meant to be just friends." He mumbles against your lips.

"Never." you agreed, crawling into his lap.

[sturnsmadl]

mute 2.

< previous

contains-no use of y/n, cursing, light fluff, unestablished friendship, mentions of tough time at school

pairing- grumpy!chris x mute!reader

please read the authors note at the bottom :)

its chris' second day and to your suprise he's not very liked so far, you managed to escape from him yesterday but today was different. it was like he was tracing your every step because when you turn around? he's there. it was lunch period and normally you go to the old makeout cupboard, where everyone would go make out with their boyfriends, seniors, ex's and even other people's girlfriends. that was until the teachers found out and another random closet started getting used. instead of constantly sitting in a bathroom stool and getting made fun of you starting using the closet to finally eat lunch in peace.

Flashback!!

after you left the classroom you head straight for the cupboard and sit down on the floor against one of the shelving units. you open ur beat up, pink lunchbox you've had for as long as you can remember and look over what you packed for yourself today. lunch ends just before u can finish and you pack up quickly, needing to leave the cupboard before the halls fill up and people realise where you disappear to at lunch.

Flashback ends!!

unfortunately chris had a feeling, and a strong one too. chris could sense something was off about your silence and even if you were hated for it he would figure out what it was, he'd made the effort to follow you around like a spy for the whole day and at lunch he finally saw where you disappeared into yesterday. he has no clue why your hiding in there all the time but he knows he's going to find out either way. he follows you and waits a few minutes before opening the door and going in, closing it behind him. you look up from the floor and see him, your heart immediately stops and you, as usual stay completely silent.

"what the fuck..."

he stares at you then you see his expression slightly soften which suprises you as its completely different from the whole mean, tough demeanor he gives off. he sits down opposite you and sighs to himself as he looks around where youve been sitting at lunch for god knows how long.

"what are you doing? there's empty tables out there.."

you shrug softly obviously not going to speak and tell him your hiding so no one can see you eating alone, he looks at your beat lunchbox, your old backpack and your clothes and he can already tell your not the luckiest of people but he still thinks your insanely beautiful and just simply misunderstood.

weeks later

its been around 2 weeks since chris found your spot and everyday without fail he's came in and sat on the cold floor with you to eat his lunch just so ur not completely alone. he's always rambling about his day or how another teacher has become one of his worst for simply asking him to do his work, of course you dont say anything but you listen to him and you nod to show him your listening. you've weirdly became kind of comfortable around chris which isnt a feeling youve felt in a while and your honestly thinking about speaking to him while he rants on about how shit his old school was and how he's glad he was finally kicked out so he could start again. your so tempted to speak and while he's mid sentence you crack.

he groans " and the gym teacher? actually the biggest dick ive ev-"

"chris." you whisper just loud enough for his head to shoot up in shock.

a/n- ok i know this is also very boring :/ but i swear now that shes talking its gonna be a lottt better and more entertaining!

edit- wait i hate this dm omg. i promise promise promise that next part will be juicyyy

tags! @bellaonthelow @muchloveforhacker @moonk1ss3d @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @fratbrochrisgf @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @watchu-mean-baby-keem @babyalliah-777 @imtheprett @sturniolo-fann @coochiedestroyer1 @scarlettbitches

[jetblack4realz]

lake days iii - jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary - jake becomes a regular to your family's adventures and a regular in your life

warnings - def no

word count - 4.5k

pt i , pt ii , pt iv

______________________________________________________________

when jake was the first one pushed into what was deemed the 'murder tube', he was less than pleased. it was a rather large blow up toy, looking like saturn with a big ball in the middle and a ring surrounding it. there were handles every so often, meant for five people to ride, but he was certain that they wouldn't be enough to keep him from flying off.

you jumped next to him, gripping a handle next to him to keep from slipping down as you shot him a quick grin. "you ready?"

"as i'll ever be," he grunted, looking up quickly as he heard his name called.

"catch me," finn instructed the man. jake scooted forward, holding his arms out as logan gently tossed finn into the tube. jake grabbed him around the middle easily, shooting the boy a grin as he helped him maneuver to his own spot on the tube.

"leila, you gonna come sit with me?" you asked, holding your arms out. she smiled, jumping to join you just as logan leaned to give her a boost. your eyes widened as you moved to catch her quickly, sitting her next to you. "you gotta hold on tight, okay?"

brynlee stepped on in between her kids, the final circle complete as darren pushed you guys off. finn was practically shaking with excitement next to jake as the man wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"i don't think you're ready for this guys," brynlee mused with a laugh as you looked over at jake.

"i beth i'll sthay on longer than you," leila taunted in her usual lisp, grinning at jake.

"game on, sister," he said back, returning her excited and slightly competitive smile. seeing him with the kids made your heart warm and you were sure brynlee could tell based on how she was grinning at you.

logan called back to make sure you were all hanging on tight, receiving five confirmations and an eager yell to start from the five year old.

jake turned his attention to you, smirking a bit as he leaned towards you. his voice lowered as the boat started off slowly: "i bet i'll stay on longer than you."

you leaned closer to him, smirking as well. "game on, hangman."

his brows furrowed, surprising you as he pulled his head away. "i like it better when you call me jake."

"what?" you asked, but suddenly you'd gotten up to speed and your attention was on the handles to your sides. leila shrieked in excitement next to you as the tube started to rotate on the ball part, spinning the five of you.

"oh shit!" jake yelled leaning towards you to keep from falling on finn.

"language!" you laughed, your face falling suddenly as you got dragged the opposite way.

logan was not afraid to pull you guys quickly around the water, even though his own children were on it.

you realized later that maybe it was because they were his kids when brynlee and leila switched out for everleigh and kyrie and he slowed down his rather aggressive efforts. jake enjoyed it more that way, taking the time to mess around with finn and trying to stand up. he pulled at your hand that was closest to him, resulting in you smacking him instead.

he laughed, dramatically holding his bicep before turning on his stomach with his feet against the middle and offering his hands to you and finn. logan was still going slower and not making aggressive turns, but you both saw him acknowledge jake's newfound confidence and reach for the throttle.

he held a hand out to you. "you gotta keep me on!"

he was eying you with a little smirk, nodding at his hand as he shook it in front of you again.

"you wouldn't want me to fall off now would you?" he asked.

"you'd be surprised," you answered with a laugh.

"grab his hand!" finn shrieked as the tube started moving faster, spinning as it grazed the water. jake grabbed your hand instead, pulling you swiftly off of the little grip you had on the tube and down onto the ball next to him.

"jake!" you yelled, reaching for a handle that was slightly too far over as he laughed, managing to grab onto one finn was supposed to have a grip on but was holding onto the other with both hands instead.

you held his hand tightly in yours, pulling yourself closer to him when you started to slip down. when logan pulled the boat straight again, you let go, jumping forward to grab your handles again just as it flipped on its side.

you dangled off the edge, feet skimming the water with a yell. jake and finn laughed loudly before they got flipped over too and you all three were just hanging on for dear life as everleigh giggled from the other side of the tube.

you hit a large wave and saw finn go flying, logan immediately pulling the boat to a stop as you pulled yourself back up. you rounded back to where finn had landed, gideon pulling the boy out of the water as he giggled.

"that was fun, dad!" he yelled as he sat next to his mom on the seat.

"yo, you two are out!" darren yelled as gideon climbed onto where finn had been.

you laughed as you climbed out, taking your teenage brother's hand to step onto the surf deck. you turned to help jake back on as darren replaced you, but he was standing on the edge of the tube, back to the water. he winked at you, mock-saluting before back-flipping off the edge.

you cheered, clapping as he emerged from the water, his hair in his face. he wiped it back as he swam towards the surf deck, accepting your hand as you pulled him up to stand in front of you.

"you're so cool," you told him with an amused grin.

"i know," he said, winking before crossing by you and dragging you to the front of the boat. instead of sitting in the designated seat across from brynlee, he sat where you had before with his back to the bow, patting the spot next to him. you obliged, letting your legs lay across the seat as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. you leaned your head on his, making direct eye contact with brynlee and kyrie who'd traded her spot to leila. their grins are spread the widest you'd seen all weekend.

you just rolled your eyes.

you and jake didn't get back on the tube for the rest of the drive and when you returned for lunch you spent it laid on the surf deck, a sub sandwich in your hands and sunglasses on your noses.

well, each other's sunglasses. he had insisted the moment you pulled yours out that he take yours, smiling cheesily as he explained how you liked his better anyways.

after lunch you messed around on the kneeboards again, spending most of your time bullying gideon with splashes and crossing in front of him to mess up his board. darren went with jake and bullied him, you yelling all your techniques to jake with an amused grin as you leaned off the back of the boat.

that weekend was finished with more boat rides, tubing craziness with your nieces and nephews, and a final family barbecue. throughout the last two days your sister-in-laws wouldn't get off your back, always making sure to note how comfortable you seemed around him and he with you. between the small smiles, inside jokes, and hugs the two of you shared they were certain he was smitten with you.

"he's just... jake. he's jake, this is how it is," you told them, eyes lifting to where he was throwing a football around with barrett, who had a lot of pent up energy from staying on the beach with his pregnant wife and was excited to have you all back to mess around. jake tried to run from finn and keep the ball from the boy, but pretended to let him overtake him and steal it from his hands. it brought a smile to your lips, something they wasted no time in pointing out.

"you're in love with him," kyrie insisted. "and i can't blame you there, sweetheart. he's the picture of a gentleman, is so sweet with the family, obviously cares about you so much, and gosh is he a looker."

"no," you laughed with a shake of your head. "i mean, yes. but, we're friends. good friends. i could never change that."

"hey darlin'," jake said with a grin, standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders, rubbing mindless circles with his thumbs. "are you ladies talking about me?"

"definitely not," you laughed, while alice just smiled and nodded a, "maybe?"

he looked down at you with raised brows, his grin widening slowly. "all good things i hope?"

"they're convinced that we're a thing," you told him simply. it was not the answer he expected, that was for sure, but it didn't keep him from smirking and looking to the other women.

"whatever do you mean?" he asked, playing coy as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before running off to where logan had joined josh and finn in football.

you sighed as he ran off, watching as he barreled into your big brother's side, grappling for the football before finn slipped between the two, pushing it out of their hands and into his own. you couldn't help the smile that returned to your lips. you didn't even look at the girls surrounding you, instead holding up a finger as you continued to watch jake play around. "don't even. i know."

when you returned to your house, you desperately wanted to clear the air. all the little touches, teases, kind words, and the wonderful way he treated you and your family was getting to your head. this was hangman, he couldn't be seriously into you. you, of all people, his wingman, a navy girl, and someone you never would assume he would go for normally.

"you're really good with finn and the kids," you told him with a smile as you tossed your keys on the kitchen counter. "i didn't know hangman seresin had a soft side like that."

he laughed lightly, resting his arms on the countertop as he stood across from you. "yeah, i guess i do."

"what were you saying earlier..?" you asked, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "about me not calling you that?"

"calling me what?"

"hangman," you answered quickly. "i mean, i always call you hangman."

"nothing," he hummed. "just weird hearing my callsign when we're not on base."

"i'll stick with jake. if you want," you offered.

"whatever you want to call me i'm fine with darlin'," he told you, smiling gently. "but i'd be lying if i said i wasn't partial to jake. or babe. or honey, darling, sweetheart, husband." he continued on, earning a laugh from you as he grinned at you.

"husband is crazy," you told him, the smile never leaving your lips. "at least take me to dinner first."

"that can be arranged." he leaned closer to you, his smile infectious as ever. you breathed an awkward laugh.

"you serious?"

"why wouldn't i be?"

"because you're hangman."

"jake," he corrected. "and i would love to take you out to dinner. on a date. as soon as possible."

"are you serious?" you laughed again, his eyebrows shooting up as he joined in your laughter.

"yes! dead serious, i want to date you y/n," he told you.

"oh, more than one date," you teased.

"if you'll have me," he answered and you realized that he was, indeed, serious. "this weekend of seeing you with your family just solidified what i already knew about you. you're funny, and sweet, and adventurous, and if i'm being completely honest, seeing you play with the kids is the hottest thing i've ever seen you do. next to you surfing yesterday - you really know how to work a surfboard, sweetheart."

"yeah, i do," you agreed with a laugh.

"so," he started. "you think you'd go on a date with me?"

"when would we even have time?" you asked, reminding him of the mission you both were set to begin that thursday and would take at least three weeks.

"well," he hummed, moving around the counter to stand in front of you, glancing back at the time on the stove. "right now works for me."

"jake, it's seven o'clock and we have to leave early for work tomorrow morning," you said, letting him take your hands.

"didn't say we had to go out. we've had a very busy day, i'm happy to order us a pizza and we could watch a movie," he suggested.

"jake seresin doesn't want to go out?" you mused with a short giggle.

"jake seresin just wants to be with you," he answered quietly, smiling softly at you.

"i've liked seeing this side of you, jake," you told him, squeezing his hands. "it's always been easy hanging out with you, but the way you've been treating me - i like it. i like you."

"is that a yes to pizza?" he asked, grinning.

"yes," you laughed. "you order it, i'll get the movie up, and then we'll get started."

"sounds like a plan," he said with a nod. as you stepped away, he pulled you back, hand dropping yours and coming to your cheek as he tugged you close and pressed his lips to yours. it was short and quick and he was grinning widely. "been wanting to do that for a while."

"well i've been wanting to do this," you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close, indulging him in a much longer, much sweeter kiss than he'd initiated before. he smiled into it, arms around your waist holding you against him.

when you pulled away he pulled you right back in, earning a smile from you. you slid your hands down his shoulders and onto his chest, pushing him away slowly. he chased after you, kissing you one, two, three times before you finally stepped away with a giggle.

"i didn't expect this weekend to end this way, but i'm so glad it is," you told him, pressing another short kiss to his lips. "now, go order a pizza and i'm gonna pull up a cheesy romcom that is gonna show me if you really like me or not because you'll watch it with me."

"i'll watch it," he told you. "hell yeah, i'll watch it."

"good, it has ryan reynolds in it and it's my all-time favorite," you laughed.

"well, now that i know it has ryan reynolds in it i'm definitely watching it," he told you, kissing your lips again with a smile. "want hawaiian?"

"how'd you know that?" you asked.

"it's the only kind you ate when they bought us pizza after deployment," he answered with a shrug.

"you're my favorite," you laughed.

jake saw your family frequently in between missions over the next few months. they occasionally took the boat out for a saturday and a time or two you stole it away from logan's house using jake's truck to just go out yourselves. the lake was your favorite place to be, jake quickly learned. and you quickly learned that the wilderness was jake's.

it was a few weeks after a month-long, carrier-dwelling mission that you couldn't tell finn about even though he asked a million times, that jake was on another adventure with your family.

darren had suggested that you bring him along on a four-wheeling escapade with logan, josh, your dad, and one of darren's friends who'd grown up with you all. gideon had returned to houston, so it was back to just the four of you siblings. jake was a little offended you hadn't suggested this before, but you simply hadn't thought of it. whenever you had a full day off with guaranteed no calls in you really only thought of your boat.

jake drove to pick you up, then back down the road to your parents' place to collect the atv's. he'd begun driving you everywhere as you searched and searched for a suitable truck online. you didn't want to blow $13,000 on a brand new ford, and frankly you didn't like the look, but you wanted a cool truck that could pull the boat.

jake had managed to find an old 1986 f-150 for sale by a guy the next town over for only $2,000. it was old and beat to crap, with a few engine problems, but he insisted that he could fix it. when you told him it was a little small to tow the big ole boat trailer, he only looked at you with a grin and said, "well, that's fine. my truck can pull it." you'd never felt more attracted to a man before. and frankly, the promise that he'd be around long enough for you to rely on that made you a little giddy inside.

"my favorite brother-in-law!" darren exclaimed as you and jake hopped out, a laugh on your lips already.

"y/n, when did you get married?" his friend, frankie, asked you with furrowed brows.

"i'm not married. this is jake, my boyfriend."

"he's a pilot like y/n," darren said with a wicked grin. "only a lot cooler."

"that is so rude!" you exclaimed, whacking him in the shoulder.

"nice to meet you," frankie said with a laugh, shaking jake's hand.

"where's dad?" you asked.

"just gassing up the quads," darren told you. "got the side by side too if you and jake wanna take that."

"why? where's my quad?" you asked quickly, eying the boy accusatorially.

"in the garage. don't know if it still works though, you haven't been around to drive it," he hummed, looking to the side dramatically.

"oh that's bull, i know you've been driving it," you told him.

"it's cooler than mine!" he sighed.

"then buy a cooler one, you can't drive mine," you said.

"i tried to get dad to buy a 600 like yours but he said it was too much," he answered.

"that's because you weren't the one buying it," you said with a roll of your eyes. "i had to buy a quad for myself when i was your age if i wanted to ride with the boys."

"i can't afford it!" he cried.

"because you spend it all on food," frankie said, causing you to laugh.

"seems fitting," you hummed. "you take the side by side with frankie and then josh can take yours."

"why does he get mine?" he asked.

"because his is broken and you have a guest, so suck it up."

you all approached the toy garage where your dad, logan, barrett, and josh were waiting.

"hello jake," logan said, smiling as he clapped hands with the man at your side.

"what's up, dude?" jake said, nodding at josh and barrett as they all got on their respective quads.

you skipped up to your black and blue beauty of a four-wheeler. "hello sweet thing!"

"you are my favorite person ever," jake mumbled in your ear as he grinned at your excitement. he'd never been with a girl like you, so adventurous and well, texas.

you laughed as you climbed on, patting behind you for jake to follow. he joined you, arms resting on his thighs next to you.

"you been four-wheeling before, right jake?" barrett called from next to you.

"of course i have, i am from texas after all," he answered with a grin.

"good, you'll have fun with the trails we've got over here," josh said. "maybe not with y/n's driving, though."

"what?" jake laughed, looking at you. you shrugged.

"i'm a little more... conservative with my driving," you told him.

"but you're crazy driving the boat?" he said.

"yeah, well, falling in the water hurts a lot less than falling into the mud," you said.

jake laughed loudly. "just don't be dumb and you won't fall off."

"you calling me dumb, seresin?" you asked, turning to look back at him.

"not yet, we'll see after this," he answered, smirking.

"come on lovebirds!" darren yelled, soaring past you as you quickly started up the quad. logan, barrett, josh, and your dad all followed after him, you taking the back.

you all started down the back trails of the forest, the beautiful pines zipping by as jake wrapped his arms around you, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

"you really are slow, aren't you? taking the back so you don't slow down the group," he hummed, chuckling in your ear.

"it's more scenic," you said, having to yell a bit over the wind. he pulled away from your ear, laughing.

"sure it is."

the views really were beautiful though, as you all followed darren and frankie up to the top of a hill you all called olympus, since it was the highest point on your property. well, that you could reach on the quads at least.

jake's arms stayed wrapped around you even though you definitely weren't going fast enough for him to have to. he was warm against your back and you were not complaining, just enjoying the feel of the wind on your cheeks and your boy behind you.

there were a few times that your brothers stopped for a minute, sending dramatic looks your way as you pulled to a stop. "what?"

"hurry up!" logan called, zipping away quickly as jake laughed, squeezing your waist.

"catch him!" he encouraged, but you still waited for everyone else to follow him the rest of the way up the mountain.

once you reached the top, you all got off your rides and stood out over the edge.

"pretty, ain't it?" you asked, coming up next to jake with your arm around his torso. he wrapped his around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"not as pretty as you," he whispered.

"you did not just say that!" yelled logan as darren and frankie laughed next to him. josh and barrett just exchanged grins, your dad rolling his eyes at the boys' antics.

"leave them alone," he told them. "don't want to scare him off."

"i don't scare easy, sir," jake said, turning to face them with a grin. "if the boat trip wasn't enough to prove it, i've got a few tricks up my sleeves when it comes to quadding."

"you want to drive?" you asked with brows raised.

"of course i want to drive," he answered.

"let's do it then," logan said, climbing onto his quad with your dad behind him. "let's see what jake's got."

"come on," jake whispered, quickly mounting the quad with you behind him and starting it up. "hang on."

and he was off. you squealed as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, looking around as he expertly descended the mountain. there were beautiful fields around you, stray cows munching on the grasses, but jake wasn't interested in that area. nope, he wanted to get into the real trails. he turned right, zipping into the forest, rocks trampled under the big wheels and jake grinning as he dodged puddles.

he wasn't sticking to the trails, moving around the edges and dodging between trees and rocks. he was focusing more on the off-roading portion and not enough on the speed part when josh suddenly rode past him. as per most situations, jake took this as a challenge.

he turned back onto the trail, following josh as he directed them back out onto your main riding trails out by the meadows. the road widened and jake took the opportunity to pass josh, mock-saluting him as you cheered.

"you can always drive!" you yelled over the wind as you leaned into him.

"oh, we doing this again?" he teased.

"as much as you're willing for as long as you're willing," you answered.

it had only been a few weeks, but you and jake spent even more time together than you normally did, with a lot more intimacy than normal, and you were loving every minute of it. he squeezed one of your hands around his torso and you could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, "i'll always be willing, darlin'."

you rode around for a few hours before you had to be the one to drag them back to the house. "i've got to go buy me a car."

"you're actually getting yourself a car?" darren asked. "you ain't driving mom's old thing around anymore?"

"jake found it. old 1986 ford f-150 some dude is selling for $2000," you answered as jake parked the quad back in the garage.

"does it even run?" josh asked with a chuckle. "no way you're getting a vintage ford for that cheap."

"well, it's brakes are crap, transmission might be blown, and the upholstery is so trashed, but for what they're asking for and the condition the body is in i am willing to pay to have it fixed," you answered.

"a blown transmission? you know how much that will cost?" logan asked.

"like, my monthly salary," you sighed. "but i really love it. and it's blue and white, it's literally my dream."

"i'll do the work on it, so that'll save on mechanic prices," jake said.

"you know cars?" your dad asked.

"i like to think so, yeah," jake laughed. "worked to get a '92 silverado running when i was in high school and fixed up a '78 bronco for my pal in the navy a year or two ago. better with the old ones than the new."

"me too," you dad smiled, high-fiving him.

"so, we will see you later," you said, giving your dad a hug and waving to your brothers before walking backwards to jake's newer f-150. you waved to frankie. "good to see you frankie!"

jake grabbed the door for you before hopping in on his side and following your apple maps' directions to where the guy selling the truck lived.

"you wanna do the negotiating?" you asked him hesitantly as he held your hand over the center console. "i don't really know cars and i don't wanna get screwed over here."

"yeah, i got you baby," he said, shooting you a smile. "i'm pretty good at talking down a price. especially if we're gonna be investing a lot of time and money into it."

"you really don't have to," you told him. "it's gonna be a lot of work and a lot of time. i don't want you to have to spend your weekends off working on my truck."

"you willing to help?" he asked, grinning as he watched the road.

"well, of course."

"then i'll be spending my weekends with my girl, fixing a truck. it's every guy's dream, darlin'," he answered. you laughed.

"if you say so."

"and like i've said every time you drive anywhere, i can't be seen in a crappy old subaru. it's damaging to my ego."

this made you laugh harder, him squeezing your hand as you whacked him in the arm. "whatever."

"really, though. i'm happy to do it. happy wife, happy life," he hummed with a smile.

"take me out to dinner first, seresin," you said, grinning.

"still haven't been able to do that, have we?" he asked.

"nope. we prioritize take out and movies over a nice restaurant apparently," you hummed.

"and four-wheeling."

"and boating."

[gortash-week]

hello gortash nation. it is i, host of this week @sankttealeaf here! gortash week may "officially" be over but that means nothing when the archduke wants more! (he will not stop until he has more, please i miss my family he's keeping me locked away in wyrms rock prison and is making me dance for his amusement! i cant dance! help please!!)

anyway - despite the event ending, i will be leaving the AO3 collection open until the end of august / early september for those who found the event a little later and want to make something for these prompts. time is a weird soup after all, we don't follow rules here!!

if you've made something and have thought "oh no! its not the day of the prompt anymore - i cant post it" PLEASE share it!! i'm still accepting submissions and i'll still reshare any gortash week work here & tag whichever day its for! i know some people found out about the event as it was happening and if the prompts have inspired you - please share!!! i'd love to see it!!

thank you from the bottom of my heart if you've participated in this event - whether that's making things or simply engaging with the content shared. it means the world to me that people found the prompts interesting enough to take time out of their day to make something for it. i had no idea this event would be as big as it's become and i'm so so so impressed with the wide variety of work made and shared!! everyone is so talented and i cant wait to see what other things you all make and write <3

as for the future? well, i'd love to run more events like this! i've mentioned before about a hypothetical "gort month" that would include two prompts per week, 8(ish) prompts in total. that way there's a loooot more time to work on things & if people wish to join halfway through it's a lot less pressure to do so! my aim for running events is to keep them as stress & pressure free as possible because theyre here to be fun! i'm also open to comments & ideas & feedback on how you (yes, you!) found this event so if i do end up running something else in the future it can be better and better! pls feel free to shoot me as ask (anon or not it's fine! be respectful though, that's all i ask<3) if you have any post-event comments you want to air and i'll respond!!

again, if i've missed any of your work you've posted, please send it my way! no message required, just drop me the link & i'll share it asap!! thank you to those who have done that already!! i easily miss things and i dont want anyone to feel like im purposefully leaving them out!!

thank you again for making this week so enjoyable! ive had such a blast hosting it and if i see any other events i'll be sure to reblog them here (for those interested: i've seen a wyllmancer week, a galemancer week (both on twitter), and a lae'zel week on here that i can't seem to find the post for to link to :( )

again - super open to comments and feedback or even if you just want to say hi! i'm way more active on my main blog if you're interested in hanging out there :3

thank u so much for this week, it's been so much fun <3 <3

[accio-victuuri]

i’m someone who can’t get enough of (fake) stories from the time of cql shoot. so when i see a “story” that i haven’t before ( or maybe i did but forgot about it ), i get excited. lol. even if it’s not a juicy kind of information— i’m cool with it. 🤍 i like this one cause OP seems closer to wyb, it’s more of a short analysis of him & his relationship with XZ during that time.

the usual disclaimer: these are all fake and treat it as fanfiction. obviously, this content is for cpfs. if you don’t like it then scroll along. if you are somehow offended by stuff like this, it’s your problem. feel free to unfollow or block me.

i got the screenshots over here. enjoy!^^

W often catches up on sleep as soon as he gets on the car because he has a lot of engagements. He doesn’t talk much. Last year, he was not in good health. He had a cough and fever and went to get an IV drip at night. Many fans knew about it, so he talked even less in private. Later, I found that he talked a lot on the set. This is a matter of opinion. He needs to refresh himself when he is so tired.

But he does have a good relationship with X. He is not very outgoing, so he should not have many friends, but he is not the kind of person who really looks down on others and does not talk. Many times he does not know what to say (personal feeling hahaha), so he does not start a conversation. Some people are like this, thinking that it may not be meaningful to say it, so they do not say it. He has changed a lot in recent years, and this drama he has successfully made friends with X.

W didn’t communicate much with me. After all, we had never met before, so I could understand the distance. Once, I was discussing tomorrow’s arrangements with the coordinator. He had just finished shooting a scene and passed by me and suddenly asked me if I had a hemostatic patch (this is a consumable item in the crew, and I had just used it up and didn’t bring a new one). I was shocked. I said no, and he didn’t say anything and seemed to go to the bathroom. Later, I don’t know where he asked, but it was a very girly pattern. I feel that he may have asked around, but I didn’t see him use it. That day, I saw a new hemostatic patch on X’s leg, but it wasn’t the one that was used by the transporter?! When I was chatting with the coordinator, I found out that someone had given it to X first, and W saw it and quietly put away the one with the girly pattern. At that time, he had just joined the crew not long ago. Because we were really not familiar with each other, he might have felt that it was too obvious and a bit embarrassing.

W and X have a lot of scenes together. As the main characters, they interact a lot, much more than what is shown. X is not as talkative as the footage shows. On the contrary, he is a person who cares about other people's feelings. In the footage, we can only say that he was: 1. He fainted from the heat (he almost had a heat stroke), 2. He was too tired, and 3. He didn't expect that everyone would exaggerate it. W was the same. He was just joking and making faces, just like everyone would have some such pranks when they were in school. When he felt something was wrong, he quickly changed the subject.

The main reason was that it was really tiring and hot at that time. Every time I went to the scene, I felt that I could get a heat stroke at any time. They also wore long robes with wide sleeves, which was very hard (W didn't dare to eat too much to maintain the fairy feeling of the character) In short, although this matter fermented a lot, it did not have any substantial impact on the relationship between the two. At that time, the crew also knew that this was their childish behavior and was used to it. After all, they were like this all the time. The two are ordinary people who are more casual in private. If they have a good relationship, they will definitely play around, but they will not be fussy about such trivial matters. W's personality is very interesting. He will suddenly act weird and then return to being calm. When he acts weird, he acts seriously. When he is silent, he is serious. I later thought that this kind of personality may have something to do with his love of street dance, motorcycles, and skateboards. Whether it is physical, emotional, endurance, psychological quality or anything else, he wants to try to touch or even challenge the upper limit in all aspects. He is a true adventurer. Most of these people are quite opinionated. He also said that he is a male chauvinist and has a strong desire to control himself and the outside world.

A double-edged sword, not a weakness. Being serious is good, but it is always difficult for people to grasp the precise degree. If you exceed the limit, you will develop a conditioned reflex of vigilance, which will prevent you from revealing too much of yourself, and on the other hand, you will be wary of outsiders' attempts.

This kind of self-defense is actually related to his experience. One is that he left home very early to work hard, and the other is that he went to Korea for training. You must have heard about the trainee system there, which is fiercely competitive and full of intrigues, and it is easy to fail. Many young trainees don’t have much life experience. No matter how cautious they are at the beginning, they may not be able to play better than the older or Korean people. The habit of not offending others for many years has become one of his personality. I am not so familiar with W, so it is difficult to remind him, but I found that he has improved in his relationship with X. It is very subtle. It is generally a good thing. Hahaha. Maybe it is also due to experience. X’s past is relatively simple. He entered the circle a few years after graduating from college. Before entering the circle, it was relatively smooth. It’s not that he has never experienced setbacks and lows, but it is definitely not as shaky and cautious as W faced during adolescence. It directly changed a person. I believe that W is still a positive and enthusiastic person in his heart, but he doesn’t show it easily. He needs someone to guide him.

What I really found strange was one time when the two of them were standing on a downhill slope. The scene was built in a studio and was a bit high. X walked in front of W and slipped. There was a few steps between the two of them. W rushed forward in two steps and quickly grabbed X's waist. They both almost slipped. He intended to grab his arm with his fingers spread out, but he miscalculated and poked X's lower back. We shot that scene in two or three takes and it was passed. After that, W's hand was a little swollen. I found some ice cubes to apply to him and it stopped swelling, but it looked painful. There were still a few scenes that day, but he didn't tell me because he didn't want to delay the progress. He applied ice when he left the camera. Because he had to go to the hospital for an IV drip after work, I thought I would deal with it together.

The strangest thing about this incident was not his behavior, but that X did not see W come down to apply ice, and came over to ask if his hand was okay. W directly stretched out his hand to show him, twisting it vigorously, shaking his fingers flexibly, trying to prove that he was fine, but X grabbed his wrist and looked at it clearly. X said that it was swollen, and W said it was caused by the intravenous drip. X muttered a few words of doubt, and saw that there were indeed many needle holes on the back of W's hand. He believed it a little. I was about four or five meters away at the time.

The director often asked them to be more ambiguous. At the beginning, it was quite awkward because they were not familiar with each other, but it was fine after they got used to it. X made a lot of small moves, and W would shout his name when he couldn't stand it anymore. W was very smart and could find the door. He didn't lose to X at the beginning. It was forbidden to move. It was common for them to insult and fight each other.

Many people are talking about the drinking scene, so I'll share another one. After the day's shooting, W took off his makeup and walked unsteadily. After walking out of the studio, he was looking for something. I said the car was over there (the exit was narrow and the car was a little further away). He said he knew, and then he turned around and pounced behind me, which scared me. I subconsciously turned around and hid, and found that X also came out, but he hadn't taken off his makeup yet. W stuck to him like an octopus. X was also scared, and his wig was pulled by W, and X screamed in pain. His assistant came out the next second and quickly pulled W away. I reacted and supported W. X was not angry, and told me that W had secretly drunk some more later and might be really drunk, so he asked me to make some honey water for him to sober up. I said okay, thinking where would I find honey water in the middle of the night. W is very thin, but very strong. X's assistant couldn't pull him away completely.

I am a little anxious, but I can’t say anything, I can only worry.

X was in a good mood, and cheerfully patted him and said, "Isn't W laoshi known for not getting drunk even if he drinks a lot?"

W didn't refute, and hugged him so tightly that I felt X was about to suffocate, and then X said: "It's late, see you tomorrow." W let go as if he had suddenly lost his temper, reluctant to let go, wanting to look at X but not daring to. I don't know why, but I felt that he was a little sad.

X joked with him: "Go back after you graduate from kindergarten.

W said sullenly: "I will definitely beat you next time."

X changed his tone of voice and complained: "W wants laoshi to win everything. save me from losing a few times, okay?"

I went back to the hotel and asked X's assistant who the winner was. She said that the two of them competed to see who could talk in the other's ear without blushing, and the loser would drink a small sip. I was speechless. No wonder he rarely played mobile games last night, and went to sleep after chatting on WeChat (he got off work earlier yesterday). It turned out that he was saving his energy to play this today (wrong). I asked again, "No one took the photo (mainly referring to the fans who were waiting there.)" She said that it should not be possible, because the place where the two people were standing was difficult to take a photo.

-END.

[serejae]

WE CANT BE FRIENDS | 23. BUT I FEEL SO SEEN IN THE NIGHT

(written)

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pairing : myungjae x fem!reader | fluff, angst | w.c : 838

mstl

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-

"so are you guys like friends now?" woonhak asked as he recorded the 3 of you guys walking to the park together for a shoot.

"yep, we're best friends!" jaehyun said as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "don't push it myung" you glared at jaehyun making him turn to you and sulk, "you said we were friends though" he mumbled.

when you guys finally got to the park woonhak ran away hiding somewhere trying to find a good place to record you both without being caught. as he found a space, he zoomed into you and jaehyun walking. it was quiet for a bit before jaehyun spoke up "I'm sorry...i don't know why I'm so awkward alone with you..." he laughed slightly. you turned over to him and grinned at his loserness, "you're fine, we just worked things out like...yesterday. i wouldn't expect you to be all buddy-buddy with me you know?" he nodded and it went back to silence.

...

"how was your date with jaehyun?"

"i didnt go on a date with you...do you mean the fish one?"

"nono, JEONG jaehyun"

making an 'o' shape with your mouth you nodding understanding him now

"it was okay...i mean you should know, you were there." you smiled "i mean, it seemed like he was more on a date with me than you, he just ignored you and talked to me the whole time." "wow, way to rub it in myung..."

"no! i didn't mean it like that, i just wanted to know if you liked him or anything...just curious..." he peeked at you to see your head turned to him as you guys kept walking "well i didn't get to know him that much to like him you know? maybe if me and him actually TALKED, i could've but he wanted to go to a shooting range..."

jaehyun busted out laughing to which you playfully hit his arm "i took you on a better first date right?" he turned to look at you. and maybe it was the first time he fully looked at you since you two had met again but it seemed to him that you had gotten more beautiful than before, which he didn't even know was possible but it felt like he fell in love again for the first time. "you took me to a trampoline park on our first date..." "which was fun right?" "yeah, it was fun...really fun actually, then you took me to the laundromat because i told you my washing machine broke and you needed to do laundry" "hey we had hours to talk, a vending machine to which i paid for anything you wanted, as well as fresh laundry to come home to" "i never told you how much i enjoyed that, or when we went to the lame comedy club and wrote down our rankings on a piece of paper" you both stared laughing as you remembered the moment "i remember silly soosan, all we could write on her ranking was 'boo tomato tomato'" laughing you slightly lean towards him. "remembering these moments reminds me that our relationship wasn't so bad" you said looking at your feet, jaehyun nudged you a bit "ouch, but fair enough...

do you ever wonder how our relationship could've been if i didn't mess it up? like what would we be doing right now?"

"probably at another laundromat, ive been too lazy to do laundry."

"oh i get it, you would want me to do your laundry for you"

"and you would do it"

"i would..." he said under his breath

"what'd you say?"

"nothing."

"you would do my laundry?" you repeated

"oh i hate people like you, you guys pretend not to hear something then say exactly what i just said

but im serious." he stopped walking and held your hand making you stop to look at him

"what would we be doing if we stayed together"

"do we fix our issues?" you asked

"i mean we would have to sooner or later" jaehyun tilted his head slightly grinning

"do you choose music over me?"

"well, since we fixed our issue, no. no i wouldn't choose music over you"

"then we'd be-" you were cut off by your name being called.

"YN! YN!"

turning your head you see jeong jaehyun running towards you. when he caught up to you and jaehyun, jeong jaehyun caught his breath "hey..." he looked at you before turning to myung jaehyun. "whats uo Brodie" jeong said as he dabbed up myung.

"yn..." jeong jaehyun started "i wanna make it up to you and take you on a date to fix the first one"

jaehyun 1 felt like jaehyun 2 shouldve just slapped him at that point.

suddenly woonhak and leehan jumped ontop of jeong jaehyun

"WHAT THE FUCK- YN ILL PICK YOU UP AT 7 TOMORROW"

"KEEP WALKING

KEEP WALKING"

"NO-"

"JUST KEEP TALKING ILL TAKE CARE OF THIS"

"YN-"

the mix of leehan and woonhak fighting jeong jaehyun made you and the original jaehyun run.