#since they’re the disaster couple
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Is now a good time to mention that ‘mon petit chou’ (ie: my little cabbage) is a term of endearment in French? I know that Simon isn’t French but by god someone in this universe has to refer to that little cutie by that plEASE
I can’t get over the thought of Fae!Ghost carrying the baby and calling her cabbage as a term of affection🥺🥺🥺
The way I think Ghost generally is such a girl dad, like he just has the vibe. I can't explain it. He would love a daughter so much and I can't believe that I'm going along with this dubiously Canon garden baby.
She has the tiniest little fingers Simon's ever seen. The sweetest little pink lips, and scrunchy nose when she yawns and cuddles close against his chest. He could stare at her for ages and never get tired of it.
"She has your nose," he says, soft and low, fingers tracing the lines of the baby's cheek, the folds of its ear, "clingy like you too."
"You can spare her a compliment," you smile, resting your head against his shoulder to look down at where your little seedling is nestled in the crook of his arm.
"Those are compliments," Simon huffs. He likes you clingy, loves every piece of you including this tiny big surprise. You reach to adjust the makeshift onesie, fingers delicate as you take her little hand between your fingers. He's never seen you so gentle with anything.
"She's really ours," its half a question, you almost sound like you don't believe it. Simon understands the sentiment. Nothing this delicate, nothing this needy and perfect, should ever have come from anything he did. "God she's really ours." You choke, your absolute and overwhelming joy lighting up gold in his chest. Simon turns his head to kiss your temple, feeling the wetness of your tears through the fabric of his shirt. The feeling is mutual.
"You hold her," he coaxes gently, you sob around a smile and nod as he transfers the newborn to your arms. You look so sweetly down at her, eyes still brimming with unshed tears, Simon can't help pulling you into his lap. His big arms wrapping around you to hold you close against his chest, chin resting on your shoulder to keep an eye on the slumbering infant. "Little cabbage needs a name," he smiles feeling your shoulders shake with repressed laughter.
"The cabbage needs a lot of stuff, let's start with diapers and formula before we get to the big shit."
"Lets watch the fucking language in front of the baby." That gets an actual laugh from you, water and pure.
"We're going to be such awful parents." You tell him, cuddling closer, and Simon thinks his heart might squeeze just a bit too tight. Something about the way you sigh and relax against him, the way you hold his child, his child. Both of you safe and his in his arms.
He doesn't stop purring for hours.
#it’s literally so cute#although now that I think about it#since they’re the disaster couple#all I can think about is their kid coming out like the cabbage pail kids#XD#god this is so stupid
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Crashed
Word count: 876
Pairing: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader
Summary: Lando Norris' peaceful Sunday brunch with his girlfriend Y/n in Monaco quickly turns into chaotic fun
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Lando Norris and his girlfriend, Y/n, were enjoying a peaceful Sunday brunch at a cozy little café in Monaco. It was one of those rare, perfect mornings: the sun was shining, the coffee was strong, and they had no plans except to relax. Lando was mid-sip when his phone started buzzing incessantly on the table.
"Group chat," he mumbled, glancing down with a sigh. Y/n smirked knowingly. The Formula 1 drivers' group chat was infamous for being total chaos, and it seemed today would be no different.
Charles Leclerc: Oi, Lando! Where are you? We’re all in Monaco, and you’ve gone radio silent. You ghosting us or what?
George Russell: Bet he’s with Y/n. You know how he gets. Suddenly, we're not cool enough for him. It’s all brunch and romantic walks now.
Charles Leclerc: Right? Ever since he started dating Y/n, he's become so… couple-y.
George Russell: Proper couple vibes. They’re probably sitting there, sipping overpriced coffee, talking about feelings.
Lando smirked, typing back as Y/n giggled next to him.
Lando: Confirmed. We’re having a romantic brunch without you peasants.
Y/n leaned over, chuckling as the messages flooded in.
George Russell: Whipped. So whipped.
Max Verstappen: He probably ordered avocado toast. That’s peak Lando.
Lando let out a dramatic sigh. “I don’t even eat avocado toast!”
Y/n raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You literally had it last week.”
He shot her a look but couldn’t argue. Before he could come up with a witty comeback, more messages lit up the screen.
Carlos Sainz: Leave Lando alone. He’s probably just trying to enjoy some quality time with his girlfriend while you lot are sitting alone in your hotel rooms watching Netflix.
George Russell: How is that any worse than watching him awkwardly try to impress Y/n with random facts about coffee beans?
Pierre Gasly: Bet he told her something like: ‘Did you know this is a single-origin Ethiopian roast?’
Y/n burst into laughter. “Okay, that does sound like something you’d say.”
Lando’s eyes widened. “I don’t—well, okay, maybe once! But it was a fun fact!”
Suddenly, Carlos chimed in again.
Carlos Sainz: Real talk though, why wasn’t I invited to brunch? I’m in Monaco, too. You didn’t even text, bro.
Pierre Gasly: Same. Feel the betrayal. I’m coming to crash it. You owe me.
Lando quickly typed: Lando: Please don’t. Seriously, we’re fine. I’ll catch you later.
But it was too late. Y/n giggled as they saw Pierre’s typing bubble pop up again.
Pierre Gasly: Nah, I’m close. Be there in 10.
Lando groaned, throwing his phone on the table. “Of course, he’s coming.”
Sure enough, ten minutes later, Pierre strolled into the café like he’d planned to be there all along. With zero hesitation, he sat across from Lando and Y/n, grabbed Lando’s plate, and took a huge bite of his toast.
“Are you serious?” Lando asked, glaring at him as Y/n laughed beside him.
Pierre grinned, chewing thoughtfully. “You didn’t invite me, so I invited myself. This is what you get.”
Y/n covered her face, laughing. “This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”
Just as Lando opened his mouth to protest, his phone buzzed again.
George Russell: Wait for me. I'm on my way too. I can't miss this.
Charles Leclerc: Me too. Lando’s face must be priceless right now.
Y/n leaned over to read the messages and giggled. “You’re going to have the whole grid here by the end of brunch.”
As if on cue, George and Charles soon arrived, each pulling up chairs as if they were part of the original brunch plan. George waved casually as he slid into a seat.
“I told you,” George said, smirking. “You can’t have a romantic brunch without us. We’re like your annoying little brothers.”
Lando slumped in his chair. “This is not how I envisioned today going.”
Y/n chuckled. “You should’ve known. It’s never just ‘us’ when you’re involved.”
Carlos arrived next, holding up his hands like he was walking into a crime scene. “I didn’t want to intrude, but since everyone else is here…”
Lando shook his head, trying to contain a smile. “Of course, you’re here too.”
Carlos sat down and grabbed the menu. “So, what’s good here? You guys ordering pancakes?”
Finally, Max strolled in, looking entirely unsurprised by the chaos. He glanced around at the full table and shook his head. “This is why we can’t have nice things, Lando.” He grabbed Lando’s coffee without hesitation. “I’ll just take this.”
Lando threw up his hands in mock defeat as Y/n tried not to burst into laughter. The entire grid was now surrounding their table, chatting and making themselves at home. What was meant to be a quiet, romantic brunch had turned into a full-blown Formula 1 summit, with Y/n as the honorary member.
Charles grinned at Lando. “So, how’s your romantic Sunday brunch going now?”
Lando glanced around at the chaos, George making jokes, Pierre stealing more food, Carlos debating whether or not to order a mimosa, and Max texting under the table while sipping his coffee.
“Just perfect,” Lando deadpanned. “Exactly what I had in mind.”
Y/n squeezed his hand, smiling sweetly. “You love it.”
Lando sighed dramatically but couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I do.”
#lando norris x y/n#fanfiction#fanfic#f1#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#fluff#f1 fanfic#reader insert#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando x reader#max verstappen#george russell#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#f1 fic#formula 1#formula one#formula racing#fem reader#x reader#f1 x female reader
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bracelets - leah williamson x reader
With Leah being out on concussion protocol, the club doctors ordered her to take a couple of days off to rest. While she is still able to do light activities here and there, she just had to be careful with things that would cause too much strain on her brain, like being on her phone, watching TV, reading a book, etc.
Although it is unfortunate that she cannot play for a bit, you both are grateful that you two get to spend some time together, especially Leah, since she likes it when you take care of her.
You have been doing your best in terms of trying to keep her mind off of her short recovery in the form of many different mini hobbies such as; diamond painting, legos, and puzzles. At one point you had faith that you could get Leah into baking but of course the second she passes the threshold into the kitchen disaster strikes.
Today you decided to get Leah to do something that will not only keep her busy but will keep her away from her phone for a bit.
Walking into your shared bedroom you greet Leah with a kiss on her forehead and say, “Put your shoes on, we’re going to the crafts store.”
“The crafts store? Is this another one of your little hobby ideas to keep me busy?” she says getting off the bed to walk to her closet.
“Yes, even though this is nothing like your ACL days, I just know how you get when you are stuck in your head for too long,’ you tell her.
“That’s very sweet of you babe. I appreciate you putting up with me these past couple of days,” she replies.
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As you two walk around the crafts store you point out certain things that might pique her interest, but not quite caught her eye.
“You should do these,” you say, grabbing a container full of different colorful seed beads. “You can make cute personalized bracelets for your teammates and maybe even some to give back to fans since they’re always making some for you.”
A big smile grows on Leah’s face as she takes the beads from you to observe them. “This is a great idea baby. Let’s get colorful threads too so we can make friendship bracelets,” she says looking around the aisle for the threads.
Looking around a bit more you find individual color bead strands making you think of a TikTok you saw a couple of days ago. You grab a few different shades of blue and walk over to Leah putting them up against her eye.
“What are you doing?” Leah giggles giving you a confused look.
Smiling at her, you put another shade of blue next to her face and ask, “Do you remember that TikTok video I showed you the other day? Where couples would find beads that matched their partner’s eye color and then they would combine the two colors to make a bracelet?”
“Yes, I do remember that. Wait let me go find one that matches your eyes too,” She says walking over to the bead wall in search of a color that closely represents her favorite set of eyes.
“Yep, these will do. I can’t wait to wear these all the time,” she says looking at you.
After grabbing the rest of the stuff you need for the bracelets such as stretchy string and little initial beads, you make your way to check out and head home.
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Leah immediately sets up all the stuff you two got on the dining room table while you go into the kitchen to get her some water and pain meds since her head is starting to hurt again.
“What do you want to do first?” you ask, sitting across from her.
“Let's make the eye color ones first,” she replies.
While making the bracelets you two sit in silence with music playing softly in the background just enjoying being in each other’s presence.
“This was such a great idea, love. Can you tie mine on my wrist?” she asks, and you do so.
When you are done tying her bracelet you tell her, “You know I used to make these and sell them at school. I wanted this pair of boots so bad, and my mom said that if I can come up with half the price of the boots she’d pay the rest. My classmates came up to me with special color requests and in two weeks I had more than half the price, and I got them the next day.”
“I could tell you’re a pro at this. You’ve always been a hard worker,” Leah says smiling down at her new bracelet.
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A couple hours later you and Leah were still at it making bracelets. Well Leah was making bracelets, you were cooking dinner and would stop every now and then to tie them so they would not fall apart.
“FUCK!” you hear Leah shout from the dining room making you rush over to check on her.
“What happened?” you ask with concern in your tone.
Leah lifts up the clear string with no beads on it and says, “I just tried to tie it and the beads exploded everywhere. I don’t know how you do this, it’s so hard.”
She gets down on her knees and starts to pick up all the stray beads. “I mean they are everywhere, we’re going to be finding random beads for weeks.”
You stifle a laugh as you go to help her pick up the beads, “I’ve had years of practice baby, it’s okay.”
“I can pick them up babe, I don’t want you to burn dinner because of me,” she says.
“Alright, why don’t you try the threads and make friendship bracelets for the girls,” you suggest walking back to the kitchen.
“Yea I’ll need your help with that, I can’t figure that shit out to save my life. I can’t believe how many different patterns there are to make a bracelet,” she says, rolling her eyes, still picking up beads.
“It just depends on the design you want, but I’ll help you,” you call out.
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After dinner you and Leah were back at it, this time making thread bracelets so it would not be as messy.
“I finished Beth's, that should be the last one. Man my hands hurt,” Leah says, cracking her knuckles.
You finish tying Beth’s bracelet and say, “Let’s clean up and head to bed. You can give these to the girls tomorrow.”
As you two walk to your bedroom you hear Leah let out a small yelp making you quickly turn around. “I just stepped on a damn bead,” Leah says, holding up a small red bead.
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The next day before you two head to the game Leah grabs all of the bracelets she made and puts them in her bag.
Currently, you two are sitting in the stands with her mother and brother waiting for the game to start. “Do you think they’ll like their bracelets?” Leah asks you while her eyes are on the field.
“Of course baby, I think they’ll love them,” you tell her, kissing her cheek.
She had already given a few lucky fans some bracelets and their reactions warmed her heart. She liked being able to give them something that she made for once instead of the other way around.
After the final whistle blew she grabbed your hand pulling you towards the field with her where she started handing out the bracelets.
“Aww Leah for me? These are so cute,” Lia said, pulling Leah into a hug.
“Is this how you spend your recovery time? Also matching one your lady,” Beth teased, putting on her bracelet.
“Yeah, it was my girl’s idea. It’s our eye colors see,” Leah beamed as she turned around, watching you speak to Viv who also got a bracelet.
“Of course it was, this is very sweet. Thank you, Leah,” Alessia says.
Why Leah was still chatting with the girls, she felt your arms wrap around her waist making her lean back into you. “I told you they would love them,’ you said, kissing the side of her beanie-covered head.
“I know, it was a great idea on your part,” she says, turning around in your arms, “Thank you for taking care of me, I know I can be a lot sometimes.”
“You’re just fine baby, I love taking care of you,” you tell her tightening your arms around her.
As Leah leans in for a kiss she gets interrupted by someone making a gagging noise. “You two are so cute it makes me physically sick,” Katie yells, causing everyone around to laugh.
Leah rolls her eyes and gives you a kiss, sneakily showing Katie her middle finger.
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note: idk fam.
#leah williamson x reader#leah williamson#womens football#woso#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso community#leah williamson imagine#woso fanfics
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“Okay – I know what this looks like.” Your Orc Boyfriend held his hand out to you, defensively. His face was stained with soot, along with one or two of his fellow cooks, both shooting glares into the back of his head. “But I promise you, it was for a good cause.”
From behind himself, he pulled out a charred and burned mound of… something. Raising your eyebrow, you looked between him and the plate. You weren’t trying to be rude, really, but… for your life, you could not recognise what was on the plate in front of you.
Your Orc looked hopefully at you, but at your confused expression, he let out a sigh. His shoulders slumped, his head hung. “I knew your birthday was coming up.” He said, “and I was able to sort your presents. But then you started going on about cake… so I tried to make one and…”
Cake, to you, was one of the best things in the world. The problem was, every time you had tried to purchase a cake from a village or town since joining the Orc camp, it was always taken from you at the last moment. Sold out at the last moment in a bakery or - when you did finally get a hold of one - was knocked from your hands by accident from a clumsy Orc.
You felt it was wrong to just invade the Orc’s supplies and cooking stations to make your own, so you resigned yourself to a cakeless existence.
Your Orc Boyfriend, who had never had anything but meat for food, was intrigued by the pastry. “So, it’s like a sweet bread?” He asked you once you finished explaining the concept to him.
“I…” you hummed in thought, “I guess so? They’re easy to make, pretty much anyone can do it.” You sighed, “I wish I could have it for my birthday.” It was only two weeks away by this point, the thought of having such a costly present made your mouth water.
“Why specifically your birthday?” Your Orc asked, curiously.
“It’s a human tradition,” you explained. “You get presents too, but cake is more of a luxury for the common folk.”
After that conversation, you found your Orc evasive.
You knew his routine like the back of your hand; Every morning, he would get up at early dawn and then go out hunting. A couple hours later, he would return with game and crash for a nap in the afternoon. Then, he would rise for dinner and then stay up late to sharpen his weapons.
But for some reason, he would forgo his nap, extending his time out of the camp. The first time he did it, you assumed he was just trying to make sure he got all the game in the area and when you asked the others, they confirmed your suspicions.
You tried not to take much notice of it after that. Although the absence of your Orc began to worry you slightly. Was there someone who was forcing him to leave the camp? If he had been given extra work, he would have told you about it… Right?
Your worries continued until the morning of your birthday. A boom shuddered through the camp ground, causing you to jump up from your bed. Rushing out, fully prepared to defend the camp in case of an attack, only to find the rest of the camp roaring with laughter, their attention directed to the food tent.
Pushing your way through the Orcs, you found yourself standing at the entrance of the tent, Orc Boyfriend covered in soot and holding a smoking, charred lump on a plate.
You knew your Orc was not the best in the kitchen. This was why he was given hunting duties over being in the kitchen with the other Orcs… But you had no idea that it was this bad.
“We don't even know how you blew up the kitchen.” One of the Chef Orcs grunted. The crowd eventually dispersed and the Orcs returned back to their duties.
And so, those were the events that led up to this moment.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to make you happy.” Your Orc looked away from you, eyes downcast to the ground.
Your heart stung at his hurt expression. He really had tried, hadn’t he? Even if it had ended in a disaster. He really wanted to give you that cake huh?
Walking up to him, taking out a handkerchief, you wiped his face free of soot. He still didn’t look at you, as though he were ashamed by what had happened. Cupping his cheeks, you force him to look at you. “Thank you for trying.” You kissed his nose. “It’s the thought that counts.” And with that, you pecked him on the lips. “But, maybe I should be the one to do the kitchen work from now on.”
At that, a small smile overtook your Orc’s frown. “Yeah. That’s probably for the best.” And with that, the two of you made your way back to your tent and opened your gifts.
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#monster lover#orc fiction#monster romance#monster x female#orc romance#monster x human#orc x reader#orc boyfriend#monster x you#monster x reader#orc x reader fluff#orc x human reader#orc x female!reader#orc x human
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Monsters Reimagined: Kobolds
I started playing d&d during 3rd edition, which presented kobolds as a trap happy gaggle of dragon obsessives who were counted as the weakest but smartest of the traditional dungeonfodder humanoids. Other than being lizardy they were presented near identically to goblins, both being petty and cruel and resentful over their small stature and the place it meant they occupied in the world. This overlap is actually one of the reasons I haven't gotten to kobolds before now, as I kinda felt like I covered most of it in my writeup for goblins a couple years ago.
Since Kobolds are a reoccuring request however I eventually decided I was going to give the people what they wanted. My plan was to talk about d&d dragonsimp kobolds vs. warcraft candleloving kobolds vs. jrpg dogpeople kobolds, and how all of these relate back to creature's mythological origin but hey wait a minute the official forgotten realms wiki says WHAT ?
Huh, that sounds like a weird sort of projection from a man who's super insecure about his height. I wonder if the original dragon magazine listed as a source here has anything more to.. Oh.... OH-NO
Living space, huh? Extinction of weaker peoples, eh? A religion based around survival, insularity, obedience, and the defeat of stronger enemies through attrition, yadon'tsay? Man, the canine kobolds might be on to something because there's an ORCHESTRA of dogwhistles going on here.
Friends, there's a lot to unpack here, so like a kobold with a pickax lets dig in
Where it started: the connection between kobolds and goblins and gnomes predates d&d back to mythological roots, as all are names shared by the european folklore character of "weird little guy who lives under the hill and plays tricks on us". Kobolds have an even more delightful bit of etymology attached, as miners blamed them for magically transforming valuable silver for (at the time) worthless cobalt. Originally my rehash of kobalds was going to centre on them as tinkerers/engineers for this reason, as alchemical cobalt batteries sound rad as hell.
Kobolds are in this way also part of the greater traditions of "mine spirits", Knackers, tommyknockers, and the like. Who play tricks on miners, and are just as likely to cause disaster when displeased as they are to warn of it when befriended.
Then the d&d authors did what they always do, they pilfered the name of folkloric creatures for the game while ignoring actual mythology, drawing hard and fast lines and making up rigid catagories as they went.
What's wrong: Given their proclivity for traps, sneak attacks, and guerilla tactics you end up getting a LOT of comparisons between Kobolds and the Viet Cong… which I find very telling. So many of the original d&d antagonists were vessels for middle aged geeks of the 70s and 80s to hit back at their insecurities ( whether it be challenges to their masculinity, sexuality, or something more existential) it doesn’t surprise me at all that d&d has an enemy that let american boomers rehash their nation’s at the time biggest military debacle.
Kobolds are so weak and undeserving you understand, they’ve only survived because they’re tricky, but this time we’ll get them, if we come in with enough firepower and hirelings to get through the meatgrinder we can finally hit them where they live and deal with them for good.
D&D worldbuilding imagines kobolds as “the other” from an occupier’s lens: resentful of their rightful displacement, nursing their hatreds in the shadows, emerging only to attack or to steal and despoil what they’ve been denied. They have no ambition, no culture, no wants beyond being a threat for the new dominant power. They’re cowards for using traps and poison and tactics on those here to plunder their homes.
What’s worth Salvaging: While the 3e revision of kobolds as dracomaniacs is a welcome change from their old lore I’m not especially fond of it. Overuse of dragons is one of the things that most turns me off general fantasy media. Any group of sapient creatures serving a dragon is just as likely to form a dragoncult, it doesn’t make kobolds special.
That said, if you did want to double down on kobold dragon worship you might consider spicing in a few elements from my revamped version of Tiamat, painting their reverence not just as ego and overcompensation but as a desire to emulate and become…certian kobold enclaves possibly using sorcery or alchemy to transform a chosen among their people into a fully fledged wyrm.
While we’ve mostly tossed alignment to the curb where it belongs,to distinguish kobolds from goblins it might be worth leaning into their lawful aspects; Underfoot foremen and notaries and work crews addressing things with a utilitarian collective effort before scurrying out of sight when the shift change occurs. Where as goblins are screwball and slapstick onto the verge of cartoonishness, perhaps kobolds are practical and industrious to the point of causing problems: They dam a river to access a sacred cave heedless of the disruption and flooding it’d cause, they tear down, occupying and restoring a derelict mill and restoring it to function regardless of who owns it, undermining the foundations of the duke’s palace following a vein of copper in the nearby hills.
This efficiency-focused attitude also helps thematically define mechanically minded kobolds against gnomes and dwarves as the game’s other tinkerers: They share the practicality of dwarven artisans and the inventiveness of gnomish artificers, but lack the sentiment the other two place on what they make. Kobold craft is often regarded as lower quality, but that’s because resource efficiency and easy replaceability are primary metrics upon which they judge something.
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Hiii!! Your Mithrun headcanons are amazinggg!! Do you think that you could maybe do some headcanons for post canon Mithrun with an So that also used to be a dungeon lord? Like she is more recovered then he is but still has a habit of forgetting to eat or sleep so they just kind of try and take care of eachother? If not thats also no problem,
Have a lovely day and dont forget to hydrate✨
Thank you! I appreciate it <3
Ex-dungeon lord couple, I love it. Give it up for
Trauma!
‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊
Mithrun gets it. He canonly shows empathy for dungeon lords. Despite choking Thistle, he intended to save him. And despite attacking Marcille, he intended to help her and save her from that fate. Once he decided they were too far gone, though, he didn’t hesitate to take action. He’s not a bleeding heart, he just gets it. And since he wished he’d been killed, he probably thinks killing a raging dungeon lord before they have their desires eaten is a mercy on his part. (Also it saves other lives because he’s preventing another Utaya disaster from happening.)
Post-canon, he still feels that empathy. He doesn’t really show it unless it’s the heat of the moment or if there’s reason to do anything about it, but he still feels it. I don’t think he’d naturally gravitate to other ex-dungeon lords, but if he meets one then he can understand what they’ve gone through.
So, there you are, someone he understands. He would be a bit interested in how you’ve recovered. You would surprise him sometimes with your ability to desire, no matter how small it is. He envies that. Then, you remind him that his envy is a desire in and of itself and he's like Oh.
Mithrun lives by routine. I believe his routine would mirror yours, or if you don’t have one then he’d create a routine for you through his own. Meaning, if you forget to sleep, then when it’s the time of day for him to sleep he’d just drag you to the bedroom and make you sleep with him. Is it out of concern? Maybe. Is it because if you collapsed in his kitchen then he’d have to clean up your drool on the ground? Probably. Porque no los dos?
You talk to each other. A lot. They’re not particularly emotional conversations, but still soothing as you recount your experiences. He’s more open to talking to you about his past because he knows it’s not a shock or a big deal to you.
Since you both spent so much time having no desire for food, forcing yourselves to eat out of necessity, then you both experiment with food a lot. Sometimes it’s horrible. Sometimes it’s great. Sometimes it’s very spicy, but you’re pleased Mithrun is able to taste it at least.
You take a lot of baths together. It starts out as something convenient because it helps you remind each other, and it would just be easier to bathe at the same time. But as his desires return, it becomes an intimate ritual, with lots of hands going places and lots of kissing and fingers tangled in wet hair- out of breath as you're in his lap and pressing your forehead against his. Very hygienic!
Perhaps because you’re still trying to regain some of your desires, you don’t realize when you’re feeling bad, about to collapse. This really frustrates him because he’s a clingy and protective partner. You’re one of his few desires and he refuses to lose you. He knows you’re just out of mana or dehydrated or something, and that you’ll be fine, but it puts him on edge. He gets a bit snippy, or gives you the silent treatment later when you’re okay. And you have to remind him that he also collapses frequently and has no right to be irritated. He doesn’t care though, he’s still tense. Just give him either space or excessive amounts of attention.
While the demon is gone, he still holds a lot of anger in his heart. He’s found relative peace, but there are days when he’s resentful and bitter over what’s happened. This increases when he sees you displaying a lack of desires, because he loves you and he wants to rip the demon apart for hurting you and for hurting him. (No longer does he desire to be devoured, obviously, what’s left is the urge for revenge.)
But of course, the demon is gone so there’s nothing he can do about it. If it could come back for a few seconds so he could rip off its head in your honor, that would be nice.
Sometimes, you both stay up late into the night because neither of you recognize that you’re exhausted. It’s kind of nice, though. Intimate. The world is quiet and asleep and at that moment it belongs only to you and Mithrun.
If you were a different kind of person before becoming a dungeon lord, he’s not really interested in how you were, to be honest. He acknowledges that that person was you, but now you’re the person he loves and he has no desire for you to change.
The same goes for his past self. He doesn’t talk about his old self much, but when he does it’s in a negative light. It’s not that he prefers himself now or whatever, he can’t bring himself to care about that, but this is his life now and he’s learning to be content with it. So why reminiscence? He’s more focused on his few burgeoning desires: noodles, maybe a stiff drink, holding you, kissing you, talking to you, staring at you, touching you, etc.
He will be very blunt when you talk about your escapades as a dungeon lord. If you mention that you were going a little crazy and you formed weird monsters, he’ll totally agree that you went crazy and not even attempt to reassure or comfort you lol
Oh oh what if you first met during one of his missions pre-canon? The canaries went into your dungeon to confront you. Despite how rough and determined and ruthless Mithrun was, you still recognized his empathy and desperation to save you from the demon. And I believe those interactions, that desperation, would form a strong connection later down the line.
I'm just imagining the chaos, the fight to drag you out of the dungeon and back to the surface. Looking down at Mithrun from the balcony of your lair, or perhaps you're on the ground looking up at him as he prepares to teleport you to the surface. And at that moment, you're everything. You have every ounce of his focus. The world narrows down to you. And neither of you have any clue that one day you'll be everything again, just in a very different way.
Or, perhaps the canaries found you after you’d gotten your desires eaten. And now post-canon, Mithrun recalls the moment he met you. For most couples, that would be a nice memory. But he just thinks about the look in your eyes and he feels his heart clench in his chest. He can’t put a word to the emotion and has no desire to do so. Physically, he feels a little sick, but he doesn’t know what to do about it because he doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong or why he feels that way. His hand shakes and his mind goes to thoughts of what his world would be like without you.
Bad, of course.
But no need to focus on that. It’s good now, because you’re here. And he glances up to see you fiddling with one of your hobbies, and he recognizes himself forming a new desire; to toss aside whatever you’re doing and kiss you until you forget everything but him.
‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊
#yaaay#asks#mithrun#mithrun of the house of kerensil#dungeon meshi imagines#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi#dunmeshi#dungeon meshi x reader#mithrun x reader#reader insert#dungeon meshi headcanons#x reader
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Falling for an Oblivious Reader Headcanons
↳ Characters included are Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli. Gender neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.
A/n: Exploring these guys’ inability to spit it the hell out was extremely fun. What a couple of disaster men.
Warning(s): None.
Johnny Joestar
At first, he’ll wonder if he’s just out of practice.
Johnny’s never been interested in someone so oblivious they miss every little hint or flirtatious remark he throws their way. Having been a famous jockey, people used to flock to him; he hardly needed to even try.
But by the time of the Steel Ball Run, he hasn’t been with anyone romantically in a good while. He could count how many years since, but he would rather not keep track.
And you’re not exactly making things easy for him.
Going about your day looking the way you do… and then having the audacity to not pick up a single signal from him (Or anyone else for that matter). Honestly, it should be illegal.
Johnny’s natural instinct, unfortunately, is to immediately assume he’s not what’s clicking. Lord, am I… not being obvious enough? he often wonders.
It’d be one thing if you wanted to outright reject him; he can handle rejection (No, really, he can). It’s just the way the horse gallops sometimes.
But you don’t even seem to notice at all and that’s what’s so frustrating to him.
Just thinking of it can make annoyance fester inside his mind. Gyro throws him a knowing look whenever it’s visibly getting to him; to you it just seems like his mood spikes at random.
His annoyance isn’t directed at you, of course, but at himself (As much as he outwardly blames you, it’s really just a front).
Has he really lost his ‘skills?’ Did the passing years make him completely forget how to flirt with someone? Gyro seems really keen on telling him that’s the case.
And Johnny is nothing if not contrarian to everything Gyro says.
The guy is bending over backwards, doing anything he can do to try to impress you. All while Gryo is not-so-subtly ragging on him over it in the background.
“Quit it! For the love of God-“
“Awe, c’mon Johnny, it’s not like they’re noticing anyways!”
Johnny hates how right Gyro can be.
He’s metaphorically tripping over himself left and right, feeling like he’s at the same level of a clueless middle schooler desperately trying to seem ‘cool’ in front of a crush. Gyro’s damn near crying of laughter at his struggle to make you get it…
But all you do is just stand to the side. Smiling kindly, and blinking without an ounce of procession of his actual intent behind your pretty eyes.
Agony… Johnny Joestar is in pure agony… you’re lucky he finds you cute.
You’re so frustratingly oblivious he can’t even tell if you might like him back, and at this point he’s honestly just trying to get a read on your feelings before he spells it out for you bluntly.
Such an approach is needed with you, apparently.
It’s around this time too that he realizes… Holy shit, they’re really just that oblivious.
Someone else approached you at a bar during one of your numerous stops during the race. Both Johnny and Gyro knew exactly what they were getting at the moment they walked over, a sly smile presented on their face.
All while you sipped from your drink, your expression and tone of voice so casual one might assume your simply discussing the weather.
Johnny isn’t ashamed to admit he felt a sense of pride as the person ultimately walked off, giving up.
Luckily for you, Johnny is not.
You’ve stolen his heart so completely without even trying… he can admit to himself it’s a beautiful thing- if he detaches himself from his own frustration.
He’s going to keep trying to get you notice; try to get a read on however you feel about him. Even if it takes him the entire Steel Ball Run to do so!
And, yes, it does take that long.
Gyro Zeppeli
So what, you didn’t notice the first time he winked at you? It was real sunny out that day- the light probably shined in your eye and made you miss it.
Whatever, if his first flirtation or two ultimately fell on deaf ears. Statistically speaking, not every line is going to land the way he wants.
Who cares if his apparent interest in you is obvious to literally every one other than you? It’s your loss, to be honest.
Not that he really cares.
And you know what? He doesn’t care so much he’ll snap at Johnny for bringing it up. He’s not bothered by it… so why does the guy feel the need to mention his failed attempts at showing interest? Really, it’s just a little annoying the jockey thinks it matters to him at all.
… it should go without saying that he does not handle the frustration well at all in the beginning.
He won’t necessarily blame himself.
He is aware of his own ability to flirt, and his past has granted him a sense of confidence in it. Gyro’s certainly the forward type, and knows that.
Yet, everything he says or does seems to go right over your pretty head. It’s a not a notion meant to flatter you either- one he keeps to himself with pouted lips and arms crossed.
It’s a rather childish anger directed towards you, but it doesn’t last too long.
Eventually, he also comes to the (Begrudging) conclusion that he really cannot blame you. Gyro realizes this around the same time he figures his liking of you goes far deeper than a casual fling.
And if anything, he’s going to start directing his frustration towards the people in your past.
Clearly, no one’s really hit on you before… or worse, something happened to you that made you think no one ever would- so thick-headed in that belief that you don’t even perceive it.
It’s in Gyro’s nature to let his mind ponder the ‘why’ behind your obliviousness- especially when he thought he was being so obvious about it.
Either possibility makes him want to find whoever contributed to your inability to pick up a signal, grab them by the shoulders, and shake them violently.
But with time, he’s going to find it endearing (Not that he’s ever admit it out loud).
Look at you… riding your prized horse as if you’re not the most beautiful person in the Steel Ball Run. And the smirk doesn’t at all falter even when the three of you stop at a dingy town for the night.
“I’ve had three strangers walk up to me since we entered the saloon… the people in this town are so friendly!”
“Y/n, dear, they’re all trying to hit on you.”
“What? No way! They just wanted to talk about the race over a drink or two. One of them said they had gin from France up in his hotel room. Can you believe that? Sounds delicious, right?”
“… good lord, Y/n.”
It’d be funnier if he wasn’t another trying and failing to flirt his way into making you open your damn eyes.
At some point, Gyro just has to spit it out.
It comes during the climax of one of the race’s many stopping points. It’d been looming over his mind for weeks, and if someone were to ask him (Okay, if Johnny asks him) he would bitterly grumble that it’s been affecting his scores.
His logic behind doing this at specifically that point in time… flawless.
How are you going to blissfully remain in the dark if he’s shouting his confession at you from the finish line in front of a large group of confused onlookers?
They just wanted to see the race… not one of the top contestants with a heavy Italian accent declaring his love for you while damn-near standing on top of his horse.
#this fic was brought to you by maggot brain by funkadelic#and the cosmetics store i work at#jjba#johnny’s work#jojo’s bizarre adventure#manga#anime#steel ball run#sbr#johnny joestar x reader#gyro zeppeli x reader#gender neutral y/n#jjba x reader#headcanons#fluff#sfw#fanfiction
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False Pretenses
fwb!Jungkook x Reader
Summary: Just how fair does the ‘benefits’ aspect between Friends with Benefits actually extend? Based on this meme.
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: crack to fluff, suggestive moments and ending, swearing, Jk has side by side washer/dryer units cause it’s funnier, reader’s referred to as ‘Ma’am’, not proofread
A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Sorry it took me soo long to get to, I hope you’ll still like it tho! (I’ll also be posting a couple more pieces with this pairing in the next couple weeks, so keep your eyes peeled if you liked this)
Masterlist
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It was the type of text you had gotten more than used to receiving from him over the past few months, smirking down at your phone as you waited for the elevator in his building.
“Need you so bad rn. Come over?❤”
The heart was a new addition, he must be feeling particularly needy today, you thought to yourself as the elevator doors finally opened.
Since the two of you had established this new part of your friendship, it was rare for you to go more than four or five days without receiving some variation of the same short message from him.
You were still slightly surprised by his text, seeing as you had only been over the night before, but you weren’t complaining by any means. Though you may have enjoyed pretending that Jungkook was the needier one in your arrangement, if you were completely honest, you were just as affected by him, finding yourself missing him on the nights you didn’t spend together.
When he opened the door, you noticed he looked a little more disheveled than usual, his hair sticking up all over the place, as if he’d been running his hands through it, a habit you knew he did when he was stressed.
“You got here fast.” He noted, letting you into the apartment.
“Well, your text made it sound kinda urgent, didn’t want to leave you waiting too long.” You said, wandering through into the living room, slowing to a stop as you caught sight of the chaotic state of the space, cleaning supplies and laundry scattered around, furniture moved all out of place.
“What happened in here?” You asked, turning back to Jungkook, who was now avoiding your eyes. “Koo?”
“I lied, I didn’t want sex.” He said guiltily, looking up at you. “I need you to help me clean.”
“I-, what?” You blinked at him, unsure if you heard him correctly.
He slumped back against the counter, looking stressed as he ran his hand through his hair again. ”My parents decided to surprise me by announcing they’re coming to visit tomorrow, but I’ve done nothing but sleep since I got home from tour last week, so the house is a fucking mess and everything’s a disaster and I need help, please.” He pleaded, staring at you.
You immediately began pulling your coat back on, turning back towards the door. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Y/n, please!” He quickly followed after you, catching your sleeve. “I’ll do anything you want! I’ll buy you dinner, I’ll rub your back, I’ll even let you pick what we watch for a month!”
You paused, turning to look back at him with a raised brow. “Even if I want to re-watch ‘Our Beloved Summer’ for a third time?”
He bit lip, trying to fight back a pained grimace before nodding slowly. “Whatever you want.”
You stared at him for a long moment.
“Fine.” You said reluctantly, caving as you saw the genuine desperation in his eyes. You could never say no to him.
“Thank you!” He sang, catching you in a tight hug and spinning you around in a circle. “I promise I’ll make it up to you!”
“Yeah, whatever,” You grumbled as he set you back on your feet. “Where do we start?”
“Laundry room?” He offered. “It’s mostly done, I just need to vacuum behind the machines.”
Do you really think your mom’s gonna look back there?” You raised a brow, following him down the hall.
“She’s very thorough.” He said seriously.
“Fair enough.” You shrugged. “I don’t quite see why I’m necessary for this part though?”
“I was afraid if I tried to clean back there by myself, I’d slip and get stuck or die.”
“So you want me to slip and die behind your washer instead?” You shot him an accusatory look.
“No! I’ll hold onto you and keep you safe,” He smiled reassuringly. “You know, like the buddy system.”
“I thought the buddy system was for camping so you didn’t get lost or eaten by bears?”
“It’s a multi-purpose system!” He said, his earlier agitation starting to flare up again at your teasing. “Are you gonna help me or not?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it, pass me the vacuum.” You relented, boosting yourself up on top of the dryer.
He held onto your hips to keep you balanced as you cleaned, his mind beginning to wander as he stared at your ass, his fingers starting to slowly knead your flesh absent-mindedly.
“Koo.” You warned, shooting him a quick look.
“Right, sorry.” He snapped back to attention, ceasing his movements and focusing back on the task at hand.
You finished up quickly, passing the vacuum attachment back to him and letting him help you down.
“Thank you.” He said.
“You’re welcome.” You answered, looking around expectantly. “What’s next?”
The apartment wasn’t nearly as bad of a mess as he claimed it to be, but it still took both of you several hours of work to get everything back in order, finishing off with laundry and changing all the bedding.
“Why are these sticky?!” You asked, mildly horrified as you helped him strip the sheets off his bed.
“Relax, it’s just caramel sauce.” He said.
You looked up at him confused. “We didn’t use-?”
“No no, that was just me,” He explained quickly. “I had ice cream last night.”
“Without me?!” You said, clutching your chest in feign hurt, making him roll his eyes as he let out a huff of laughter.
“I’ll add that to the list of things I need to make up for, okay?” He said.
“Eh, it’s better than where my mind went.” You said, only half joking as you grabbed the fresh sheets from him and turned back to the bed. “Almost thought you were fucking around behind my back for a second there.”
Facing away from him, you missed the way his expression suddenly turned serious as he looked at you. “I would never.”
It was strange, despite the supposedly ‘casual’ nature of your arrangement, you both found yourselves making little comments like that, words and exchanges that sounded a lot more like things said between a committed couple, rather than just two friends helping each other out till you found something more serious.
“Alright, I think that’s everything.” You said, snapping him out of his thoughts. You had finished making up the bed, even turning down the covers for him.
“Thank you, y/n.” He said gratefully. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Probably called Hobi.” You smirked, making him snort.
“Now, you promised me food, and if you lie to me twice in the same day, I’m dumping your ass.” You said, earning another laugh from him.
“Alright, whatever you want, just like I said.” He said, leaning down to give you a quick kiss.
“Although, if you wanted, I could make up for my false pretenses from earlier in a different way?” He offered, eyes darkening slightly as his hands drifted over your hips
You lightly shoved his hands away. “Not a chance, Loverboy, I’m way too tired now. You’ll have to try and ‘make it up to me’ some other time.”
“How about tomorrow?” He said, eyes twinkling mischievously, looping his arms around your waist instead to keep you close.
“I thought your parents were coming over tomorrow?” You reminded, raising a brow at him.
“You could come over after.” He suggested. “Hell, you could even come to dinner with us, my parents like getting to meet my friends.”
“Friends?” You looked up at him skeptically.
“Yeah, what?” He laughed, squeezing you lightly.
“Do you let your other friends suck your di-?”
“They don’t need to know the details of our relationship!” He said quickly, his face flushing slightly, making you snicker. “You’re still my friend, one of my best friends actually.” He added, in a soft tone.
The way he said it made your heart twist in a weird way, though you didn’t quite understand why.
“So?” He asked, staring down at you hopefully. “Will you come?”
You chewed your lip, considering. It felt like a really big commitment to meet his family, regardless of what your relationship was, but you tell it would mean a lot to him if you said yes.
“I’ll think about it.” You said finally.
He beamed.
“Thank you!” He said, leaning in to kiss you again, his lips lingering longer this time, tracing over yours lightly, making you shiver.
You pressed closer to him, hooking your arms around his neck as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, letting your tongue delve into his mouth as his hands grip on your waist tightened.
When you pulled back for air, his pupils were blown wide, eyes almost black as he stared down at you, breathing heavily.
“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, your breaths equally unsteady.
“But I thought you said-?”
“I changed my mind.” You cut him off, tugging at the fabric impatiently. “Shirt off, now.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn
#jungkook imagine#jungkook scenarios#jungkook smut#jungkook oneshot#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x reader#jungkook drabble#jungkook fluff#fwb!jungkook#bts drabble#bts one shot#bts x y/n#bts x reader#bts scenarios#bts fluff#bts requests#7ndipity
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Are the any new fics (within the last couple months) that are good? I’m in a reading drought and I feel like I’ve read every Larry fic there is :( I got so desperate I even thought about looking into f/m fics..
NOOOOO NOT THE HET FICS. DON’T DO IT. 😆
I think I’m just going to use your ask to post my year-end favorite fics. Hope you don’t mind.
It’s been a tough year for me, and I haven’t gotten to read a ton, but these are all excellent.
Secrets, Santa? By @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 19K) disaster gay Harry in all his bumbling, endearing glory still manages to make his incredibly hot boss (Louis) fall for him. This one has snappy dialogue, great internal monologue, and scorching smut. I’d expect nothing less from this author.
your lips in the low light by etherealbliss / @givesuethemoon (E, 21K) It’s been a long time since I read a Larry Uni AU, and this one checked all the boxes. This author managed to really capture the immaturity and obsessive emotions of university age lovers arguing and breaking up, and making each other jealous, and fucking and fighting some more, and ultimately making up. Harry is bratty and sensitive and Louis is dense and long-suffering and they’re perfect for each other.
Scorpions et Madragores by Stria / @nooradeservedbetter (E, 23K) Read the tags and author’s note on this one because there are some themes that could be triggering. This is a dark fic and Harry is a pretty creepy vampire, but the story is very well told and there’s a happy ending.
2 a.m. texts by everysingleday / @sun-lt (T, 30K) This was very sweet and very funny and had just enough sexiness (although I wouldn’t have minded more. LOL!) Link is to a download.
The Doppel Effect by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright (T, 6K) the concept for this fic was so original and a really compelling read, I can’t help but hope the author gets inspired to continue this ‘verse.
Danger I Can’t Hide by CelticSky (E, 227K) This one’s got all the tension and drama you’d expect of a World War II story—life and death high stakes, friends and lovers unexpectedly torn apart, battles and heroism, plus the added stakes of classism and homophobia—then add a slow burn, high risk, scorching love affair spanning years. If you want a story that’s complex and fantastically researched, plus lovers to root for, read it. It’s long. But I couldn’t put it down. When I finally did, I picked it right back up and read it twice more. It’s that good.
one conversation by fondleeds (NR, 1K) This really is just a couple of scenes, and the story is open-ended, but, if for no other reason, read it for the beautiful way the sentences flow. My notes on every fic of theirs begin with: “I wish I could write like this.”
Night Shift by banaanipoika (E, 9K) This was incredibly sexy and beautifully written. I loved that there was such a unique setting with so much descriptive language making me feel like I could smell and feel everything in that hospital room.
On The Pull by @homosociallyyours (E, 4K) Short, but really sexy and just the right amount of bittersweet and hopeful. Loved the characterizations and the smooth writing. So few people write canon Larry these days so this was a nice change of pace.
Devil in my brain, whispering my name by @lunarheslwt (E, 9K) i i thought this author struck a great balance between the dirtiness of a demon defiling an angel and the way the angel gave in to his desire to be defiled. Super sexy.
pull you closer (kiss me harder) by @sunshineandthemoonlight (E, 6K) This was absolutely beautiful — just the perfect amount of tension and wistfulness to make me tear up. But then it was sexy and full of hope at the end. I loved how Louis supported Harry and gave him exactly what he needed (and really, H gave Louis what he needed, too).
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Vigil
Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)
Summary: For a man who has faced down gods, monsters, the end of the universe, this kind of fear is new to him. It’s not the enemy outside he fears—it’s the thought of losing you, of failing to protect you. Again.
Warning: Mention of sex / Fluff & Angst / Protective Steve / Jealous Steve /
Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Natasha Romanoff / John Walker
Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.
1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia | 8: Lull
It ended just as expected. Steve cummed twice in the shower—once in your mouth, because, damn, he tasted amazing after cleaning up, and again inside you, because you smelled just as irresistible with that jasmine scent in your hair.
So here you are, three cups of coffee later, and about to nap on your desk. The body Hydra gave you was strong, but you’ve been in a car chase, with the Iron Army hunting you down, fought in a nightclub, and probably had four or five rounds of sex with Steve. You honestly don’t know what was more exhausting. You’d guess the mission that had gone rogue, but honestly, the sex just left you breathless.
"Oh, rough night?" Robert handed you a fourth cup of coffee, eyeing the dark circles under your eyes. "Need the adrenaline shot?"
"Um…" You actually considered it for a moment. Your body metabolized stuff like that too fast, though—it would only last for a couple of hours, tops. "Nah, forget it.” You need your brain clear to process everything that happened.
“I’ve heard…” Dr. Lin’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he leaned casually on your desk, his eyes scanning the room where your colleagues were clearly whispering about you. “That Captain America had quite the adventure yesterday. Right after leaving the UN, too.”
He tsked and pulled out his phone, showing you a few grainy clips. Footage from CCTVs and some shaky handhelds—probably from people who had their phones out at the right moment. “A broken bridge, streets on fire, and…a fight in a nightclub? You’re gonna need more than coffee to survive this shift, I think.”
You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Too late for damage control, huh? Is it all over the news?” You could only imagine the hell Steve was going through with Commander Hill: ‘I gave you 1,278 security protocols, and you ignored them all?!’ Yeah, you weren’t setting foot in the command room today.
“Not quite all over the news yet—mostly social media.” Dr. Lin was clearly enjoying the UN’s PR disaster a bit too much. “I think they’re working overtime behind the scenes to sweep it under the rug. Captain America gets attacked his first time outside the compound during ‘The Reconciliation of the Century’? Yeah…someone’s having a bad day in PR.”
“Anyway…as I was saying…You’re gonna need more than coffee, we’ve got company today…”
“What? Company?” You were surprised. “They’re letting people in?!” After yesterday’s security breach?
“Seems the first New Era Project agent that the UN sent was a fraud or didn’t work. And since we visited them yesterday already, today, they’re sending some new guys.” Dr. Lin looked at you, lowering his glasses: “Yikes, right? So for today, we need to pretend we’re working. ‘Cause we’re not sharing our real stuff…which will make this day unbearable.”
Oh. You grimaced after Dr. Lin turned around and began “working.” Yeah, you knew everything about how the last agent went wrong. But actually, this ‘pretend to be working’ thing was good—you needed to analyze everything that had happened.
You opened a document connected to Tony’s hub and started typing, outlining the details for him in your usual style. (It was your private little system—documents stored in The Crib, or what the three of you called the ‘Geniuses’ Sticky Notes.’) You’d barely finished bullet point five when someone in a crisp military uniform appeared beside you, smiling next to your screen.
“Hi, Ilithya. Ilithya Lancaster—whose phone number is still confidential. Nice to see you again.” John Walker said smiling, quoting the line you’d once used to refuse giving him your number.
Oh dear Lord, he really should have taken a nap with you when he had the chance, instead of those three—no, four rounds of sex you had in the dressing room and the shower.
Steve thought after suppressing another yawn, trying to focus on the screen, where Thadeus Ross was losing his temper again, explaining why the UN had nothing to do with the attack he and you got yesterday.
But who was he kidding? Steve almost smiled. Nope, no way he’d have preferred the nap over the sex. That was exactly what he needed after being hard almost the entire afternoon. And four times weren’t enough—he would have gone on if you weren’t in the dressing room.
For fuck’s sake, when is this over? He couldn’t wait to get back to your private lab-slash-home, have a light dinner, and get in bed with you.
Oh, that’s a nice thought: a sex marathon for the weekend is all he needs after this hellish week. He started thinking of your intertwined bodies, your begging moans that sounded like heaven... Yeah, okay, he needs to focus. Maybe listen to what the Secretary has to say instead of thinking about your messy hair, your heavy breath, your skin that felt like silky sweet milk, and your mouth... Yup, stop. Let’s hear Ross, so he doesn’t get hard again in the middle of a full meeting room.
He felt a glare on him, so he looked around and saw Agent Sharon Carter staring with her eyebrows raised, as if saying, “Gotcha, pay attention.” Steve suppressed a smile and looked down. Oh boy, this was going to be a long day.
“I thought your super friends were going to be attending this meeting too.” Once the screen was off, Sharon smiled at him while picking up the folders and files.
“Well... Hill and Sam are still in Fraser’s interrogation. Tony and Bruce are tracking back the security breach. Natasha and Clint took over my place in training since I’m busy with other things. So...”
Basically, what happened was that when Tony asked who would be taking this mission, everyone stepped back, and I was the only idiot at the front. Steve shook his head internally.
“In that case.” Sharon gave him the usual confident wink. “I’m glad. It’s been forever since we shared a mission.” She grinned. “Last time almost cost me my career.”
“Yeah...um...lucky, things sorted out on that one...” He was a little embarrassed but still grateful for Sharon’s help during the Civil War chaos.
“I’m kidding with you, okay?” Sharon teased. “It’s not like I almost got into federal prison or anything.” She sighed a little, lowering her voice: “Although, I wouldn’t have minded if I had to.” She said with a soft voice and a sparkle in her eyes, looking at Steve with sincerity, which made him stiffen.
“So, how have you been?” Steve nodded and asked with a polite smile, pressing the elevator button for her as they headed to the cafeteria floor. “How does it feel to be at the UN? I heard the benefits are better than the CIA, though unfortunately, you’ll need to deal with us again.”
"Ah, I don’t know what you're talking about," Sharon said with a wink, grinning playfully. "Every agent’s dream, right? Dealing with the Avengers, working alongside the great Captain America... even if, well, my boss would rather face another alien army than deal with the politics of this initiative."
“Well, that’d make two of us.” Steve chuckled, and opened the cafeteria door for her.
The hum of chatter and the clinking of dishes filled the air. The compound’s cafeteria was large, efficient, and—much to Steve’s relief—quiet at this time of day. It was near lunchtime, but still a little early for food service, so the air was full of a coffee’s aroma that lingered from breakfast. They got in line for coffee and a quick snack, and Sharon gave him a sideways glance, her expression teasing as she grabbed a sandwich.
“Oh wow, you guys have affogato as dessert? I could consider getting back to work with you guys just for your catering service.” Sharon said, breaking the brief silence as they moved along the counter.
“Well, if you consider that, I could make my best effort to get your agent’s number back.” Steve grinned, grabbing just a cup of coffee.
“Oh yes, lucky number, huh?” She stopped for a second as she laughed and said, “Remember that place we went to… Venice? What was it called, the best affogato in the world.”
“Benicio’s?” Steve nodded. “Yeah… it’s closed now. I mean, gone during the Blip, hopefully reopened now.”
“You didn’t have the affogato, though,” Sharon said with a playful hint in her voice. “Mr. ‘I don’t know how to relax since I got into a fight with Stark and we’re on the run.’”
“Hey, I was the international most wanted. I think it was okay for me just to stay out of the loop. Imagine if I got caught because of ice cream. That would’ve been…”
“Funny? Quite a story to tell? Best date I’ve ever had?” Sharon shrugged.
“...Embarrassing.” Steve said with a smile. “Or awkward, or even humiliating.”
Sharon shook her head and laughed. They found a table by the window, where sunlight poured in, and Steve took a seat across from her. He could see the curiosity in Sharon’s eyes, the slight hesitation before she spoke again.
“It really was, actually. One of my top three dates.” Her smile turned more serious, her voice low enough that only Steve could hear over the ambient noise. “Too bad it ended so… abruptly.”
Steve wanted to say, "We would never have made it too far", but he only sighed.
He didn’t want to dismiss her feelings, and he couldn’t deny that something had existed between them. It was brief, but also real. A shared history they couldn’t quite forget or ignore.
Sharon was strong, smart, and capable—someone he admired deeply and cared about. He appreciated her confidence and her courage, but that connection, though meaningful, was nothing compared to what he felt for you now.
That had been a stream. With you, it was tides, waves, the entire ocean.
“We made a good team.” Steve said with a smile, being honest and looking directly into her eyes.
Something about it made Sharon hold her breath.
She could remember moments in the past when Steve had the same effect on her. He would just gaze at her, and her heartbeat would skip or beat too fast.
Maybe that’s why she hadn’t pushed harder when it didn’t work. If she had fallen, completely and madly, as she’d wanted to, the power he held over her would have been overwhelming.
She had risked her entire career just to help him, and they were… nothing. Just a kiss, just some kisses or dates. So what would have happened if they’d continued? She couldn’t imagine a life where she had so little discipline about her feelings, mind, or heart.
“I know.” Sharon spoke softly, still holding his gaze. She was taking a leap of faith now. Cause she couldn’t help to wonder—could it have worked?
What if…they gave it another chance? They didn’t have the menace of the universe’s destruction now, the chances of Steve (or her) being a fugitive again were none after Thanos, so what… what if…?
“But…” She began, but Steve suddenly turned as something caught his attention.
It was lunchtime, and the employees began to arrive at the cafeteria, you among them, with Dr. Lin at your right and John Walker at your left.
“Captain Walker, I really don’t need a date. I have a boyfriend, no, um… fiancé.” You said as you picked up a tray and started serving lunch on your plate, remembering how Steve just highlighted this morning that the ring was indeed, a ring.
“It’s John.” Said a very cheerful John Walker, who was not stepping back from asking you out, even though you had been determined and clear about your “NO”s and reasons.
“Well, does this fiancé have a name? And where’s the ring?” he said while picking lunch and placing food, walking backward with a gracious wink.
“OH MY GOD!” You and Dr. Lin said at the same time, your eyes widening as you noticed the ring was missing from your finger.
“Where’s the ring? D…did you lose the ring?!” Robert was panicking. Did you just lose the engagement ring Captain America gave you?!
“I don’t know, it was on my finger...” You were looking in your lab coat pockets and in your clothes.
“It’s a tracking device, equipped with the last of Stark technology, how...how can you lose a tracking device?!” Dr. Lin couldn’t believe it.
“Your boyfriend put a tracking device on you?” John hmph'd with a laugh. “What a douchebag!” He put a hand on his chest. “I promise, I would never do such a manipulative, controlling freak thing to you.” He winked. “I’ll look out for other guys who come close, of course, but that’s another level of jerkiness. Ugh...a tracking device, what is he, a psychopath?”
“It’s an engagement ring,” you replied, frowning, though you didn’t think of giving out too much information to him. You thought back to the last time you saw the ring, which was before you took it off when you entered the UN HQ.
You pulled out your phone, wanting to send a message to Steve just to confirm.
Some strands of hair curved in front of you when you looked down, and John, who was standing in front of you, couldn’t help but stretch out his hand and brush them to your shoulder. His fingers ran through your hair, and his fingertips touched your ear as he accommodated it for you.
Before you could react, a loud crash echoed through the cafeteria, like the sound of a broken cup or mug.
Sharon stood in shock as Steve slammed his cup down so hard the porcelain shattered. His face was livid, veins bulging in his neck, and his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
He abruptly stood, the chair scraping loudly behind him, and stormed in your direction.
"I've got it, babe." Steve said. He didn’t miss a moment of the interaction and was at your side in an instant. He took your hand, his eyes locked on John Walker, and carefully slid the ring back onto your finger. “It was in the pocket of your gear.”
Both captains exchanged tense, serious looks. You could feel the sparks fly between them as they made eye contact, and after a long moment, Steve finally smiled.
“I’m guessing you're here as a representative of the New Era’s Project, Captain Walker?” He said, placing a firm hand on your waist, his grip tightening slightly.
“Yes.” John replied with a polite but sneering smile.
“The knowledge exchanges from R&D have been…quite enlightening. I can’t wait to see what the best of your team has to offer…to me.” He said as he raised his jaw and tilted his head toward you. You could feel Steve’s body tense, like a bow stretched to its full capacity and ready to snap back.
"Take whatever gear or armory you want, Walker," Steve said in a cold, measured voice, as the entire cafeteria fell silent, all eyes locked on the tension between the two men.
"But the best of this compound is far beyond your reach. And don’t think for a second that you could ever put a finger on that." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, teeth clenched. Touch my girl’s hair again, and I’ll cut your arm off.
"Steve." A calm voice cut through the tension as Commander Hill appeared at the doorway. She walked in with steady confidence. "We’ve got news. I need you and Dr. Lancaster in the Command Room."
Steve didn’t immediately move. His gaze lingered on Walker for a few more seconds, with unspoken warnings in his eyes. Then, without a word, he turned to you, gently taking your hand in his, and led you out of the cafeteria. The weight of Walker’s stare followed behind you both, but your focus stayed fixed on your fiance's figure.
No one spoke in the hallway as you walked toward the Command Room. You could see Steve’s rigid expression. He was pissed, his jaw tight, shoulders tense as if holding back more words.
But you were… well, trying your best to hide the curve of your lips. Just like he had back in the car when you sobbed that you’d go to Wakanda and talk to plants for the rest of your life if he ever left you to go back to his gorgeous ex.
Oh, so he was this jealous? Even a little possessive? He got this mad just because a guy touched your hair? Now, if Steve were any other guy, maybe this would seem like a giant red flag, but this was the love of your life, so…
You slid your hand into his palm, pressing your skin to his, and intertwined your fingers with his.
Steve’s expression softened, and he looked at you, letting out a quiet sigh. He smiled when you mouthed, I love you.
Commander Hill, however, wasn’t in the mood for your lovebird moments. Her face remained stern as she waited for the door to close behind you, sealing the room.
"Agent Frazer was found dead this morning."
The words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. Steve’s hand tightened around yours as his expression shifted from softened warmth to immediate alertness.
You lowered your sight.
Somehow, you had a feeling this was coming anytime soon. It was weird, though. Agent Frazer was not your brother; he just pretended to be for some time (and then actually tried to brainwash slash attack you). But for a moment, you wished that had been true, that your brother was alive, even if he had been turned against you. So now he is dead, and you feel strangely sad.
Your way of dealing with it? Throw yourself into the facts.
“How?” you asked, almost mechanically. “Was it because… his neural synapses overloaded, triggering an energy surge that short-circuited his cerebral cortex in under a millisecond? Like… like someone or something… wired his brain to self-destruct?”
Maria’s eyes widened, and she gave a quick, silent nod.
Steve’s grip tightened, haunted by your words. At that moment, he panicked, cold sweat through his shirt, fear dominating his senses when the possibility of losing you suddenly struck hard in his mind. So, could anyone do that? Snap their fingers and cause you a brain dead?
His body was merely processing under this thought. He felt the urge to hug you, to feel your warmth and heartbeat under his skin, to feel you entirely safe in his arms. But you were in the command room, so he didn’t move.
“Can we make sure that…” His voice trembled slightly. “What happened to Frazer…” doesn’t happen to you?
Commander Hill noted his panic, so she gave him some time to process.
“Oh no.” You noticed too, so you reassured him, squeezing his hand back: “That won’t happen to me. I’ve only been through one brainwash. It takes more than that—multiple processes, open surgery. And Hydra… they didn’t have the tech to pull it off. Not back then.”
“But…” Your mind raced ahead, piecing things together. “Whoever did this? They’re desperate.”
You rubbed your forehead, and as your hands dropped, Maria noticed it: that look on your face.
The same intense, calculating look Steve wore when he was seeing things no one else could—analyzing every possibility, tracing out the most brilliant, cunning plan, whether on a battlefield or at a table of white collars and power brokers.
“Jarvis, any chance Bruce and Tony are in the crib?” You needed to process your ideas, but you also needed someone who could remember everything you’d said.
“They are on their way here, Dr. Lancaster.” answered the A.I. “Crossing the elevator’s door at this moment.” said Jarvis as both entered the room.
“Please tell me you already have a preliminary conclusion?” said Tony, stepping into the room.
“Okay…” You stood in the middle, your mind moving faster than words as you started laying out the analysis.
“They have access to Hydra files—there’s no other way to explain it. Clearance levels that aren’t just high for regulars; files that were locked, or used to be locked, behind old S.H.I.E.L.D. encryption. And the remains of my file? Only a few could access those after Hydra was dismantled.”
Tony leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, tracking your every movement. Bruce sat at the edge of a table, hands loosely folded, but his furrowed brow betrayed his concern.
“So, leftover Hydra goons or former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents?” Tony asked. He didn't want to say it aloud, but there was also another possibility: a breach, here, inside the Avengers.
“Or both.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives who went dark when Hydra fell. People who know how to stay hidden but had deep ties to the old Hydra infrastructure.”
“Even if they had the files, they’d need money. A lot of it, if they’re working with the kind of tech that got into Frazer’s head.” Bruce said, swiping through the files on the screen.
“Yeah, this doesn’t sound like some underground merc group.” Maria said, standing beside him as she watched the files on the main screen.
“This is serious, billionaire-level investment. Whoever’s backing them has access to bleeding-edge tech. Retinal implants, memory manipulation… that’s not standard black-market operation. The kind of power they’re throwing around is something only the Avengers or S.H.I.E.L.D. had access to—the old S.H.I.E.L.D. when they were still around.”
“So, they’re gearing up for something big, or they’re hitting a wall. What are they trying to accomplish? Why use Frazer as a puppet?” Tony followed the line of thought.
You hesitated: “I think… They’re close to something. A breakthrough, maybe. Or…” You stopped and narrowed your eyes, thinking aloud. “Or they’re failing. Desperate. They’re making bold moves because they need something critical. And that something is… me.”
Steve’s expression shifted. His fingers locked onto yours, tightly.
“The attack was directed at you. Frazer was pretending to be your brother. And to confirm your existence.” Tony sighed, frustrated and feeling a pang of guilt. He hid you all these years, thinking you would be safe. He should have let you out of the New Eras Project. The Avengers had so many ways of detecting enemies without using your powers. Fuck, he should have listened to Steve when he warned him to let you out of the Project.
“Of the twelve of you, you’re the only one with… those powers.” Steve murmured, almost clenching his teeth. He felt the urge to hug you, as if you were going to disappear or vanish in the next second.
“And a success case.” You said, not wanting to scare him but knowing you all needed the entire picture. “The only survivor, the only… prototype. Still alive. In my body is the source code for why these experiments or creations worked.”
“Wait…” Tony’s glare was fixed on you. “If the endgame is to copy your ability… What could they even use that for?” But it was a self-answering conversation. He was just thinking aloud: “…a soldier who could walk into a building and identify every weak point before the first shot is fired. Or worse, detect something we’ve built to be undetectable.”
“Why stop there, Tony?” Maria’s expression was serious and cold. “Why would there be only one? Hydra made a dozen back then, and they didn’t even have half the tech we have now.”
Bruce frowned deeper, his voice low: “If they’re that close, then we’re on borrowed time. They’ve already brainwashed Frazer, and now they’re playing with neural implants and synaptic overrides.”
“Exactly.” You nodded. “And they are so desperate, they don’t care if we know they’re out there now, because they’re so close they can taste it. Once they succeed, they won’t even fear the Avengers’ powers anymore.”
Tony exhaled sharply, his glare cold. “So, they’re building something. A super soldier, or an army of them—enhanced with tech that would let them see through just about anything.”
“And they’re not far from getting there. But for now, I’m still the key to unlocking that power.”
The room went quiet for a moment as the weight of your words settled in.
“Well, isn’t that just fantastic.” Tony applauded, the whole thing giving him a headache. “We’ve got super soldiers with x-ray vision on the horizon. And they’ve got you in their crosshairs.”
“So basically, we need to see what triggered this sudden desperation.” Bruce leaned forward, and his mind began to analyze: “We could scan for energy centralization around the globe. Human creation needs vast electromagnetic fields to power high-level bioengineering, especially when manipulating neural pathways at this scale. We need to track when or where all this is happening. But…”
His voice was tense.
“I’ve got a feeling they’re at the door already. Because whatever they’re building… they’re almost done.”
The way back home was silent. You could feel the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension. Steve hadn’t said much since you left the command room. His usual warmth and quiet strength seemed overshadowed by something deeper—fear and anxiety, clunging over him like a dark shadow, haunting him at his heels.
You wanted to speak, but your mind was processing too. You were trying to remember everything you knew about yourself and your siblings, every memory, every piece of paper you’d seen in Hydra labs, every layer of analysis they’d made you go through.
The ride home was silent, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed on the road, even your house slash lab was after all the securities protocols and protective layers Maria had put, he was still alert, as if there were something in the grass and trees of the compound that would attack anytime. You could feel the weight of his thoughts, pressing down like a storm waiting to break.
"Babe there's no need…" You said as Steve moved around the house once you've arrived.
He checked every window, every door, securing them with an almost obsessive care. He paused at the front door, his hand lingering on the lock as if it was the only thing standing between you and the threat he couldn’t control.
You watched him, knowing that this wasn’t just about protecting you—it was about the fear within him.
"Steve, I'm here." You stopped him. Placing your hand on his back: "I'm here. With you."
He turned to you, his face pale. His eyes were haunted, wide with the kind of fear you rarely saw in him. He’s worried.
No, not worried, he’s terrified.
Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you like you might disappear if he let go. His grip is firm, desperate, as trying to shield you from an invisible danger that only he can see.
His breath is uneven, and you can feel the tension radiating from him. For a man who has faced down gods, monsters, the end of the universe, this kind of fear is new to him. It’s not the enemy outside he fears—it’s the thought of losing you, of failing to protect you. Again.
You don’t say anything at first. Words won’t soothe him. So you just hold him back, resting your head against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. Slowly, you lifted your hands to gently press them on his neck, cupping his face to make him look at you.
"I'm here. And we will be ok." You say softly.
These words made him tremble. Will you? How can you be sure? How could he know? What if…
He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he lost you.
“I won’t let them take you.” He said, as a sacred oath, tatooed in his soul. “I’m going to set up more protocols.” He muttered, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression one of steely resolve beneath the worry. “More security. I’ll have Tony upgrade the system. I’ll have guards outside. I’ll—”
You stayed still in his arms, feeling the rawness of his fear. His body was tense, and you could feel the tremble in his muscles, the weight of his panic pressing against you. He wasn’t just holding you for comfort—he was holding you like you were the last solid thing in a world that was quickly unraveling.
“Steve,” you interrupted softly, placing a hand on his chest. “You can’t protect me from everything.”
His eyes locked onto yours. “I can try. And I will.”
"Babe…this is the Avengers compound. This is…the safest place on earth. Or even the universe."
"It took only one protocol. One permission. Approved by me." He said with teeth clenched. "I gave him clearance. One, to bring Frazer in front of you, I won't ever, ever let that happen again." He said with conviction, his expressions somber as he remembered everything you went through.
But beneath his determination, you could see the cracks: the anxiety gnawing away at him, the overwhelming fear that no matter what he did, it might not be enough.
"Steve…"
“You don’t understand…” His voice is strained, thick with the fear that he hasn’t been able to shake since the moment he realized you were being targeted. “I’ve seen too much. I’ve lost too many. If something happens to you—”
He pauses.
“I can’t lose you.” He whispered, his voice barely audible. He was a man made of iron will and conviction, but here he stood, vulnerable and raw, stripped bare of all his usual defenses.
“Hey, hey, hey…Listen.” You said, holding his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I’m here. Right here. I’m not going anywhere. I'm here, with you, I'm safe.”
He looks at you and feels a pang of pain to your innocent even naive words.
Safe? Were you safe when he was on the other side of the wall and couldn't do anything but watch as you almost fell under Frazer's brainwash? Were you safe when you pressed a tranquilizer to yourself?
The memory of you in his arms, unconcious and slipping away was so vivid.
His hands tightened around you again at that thought, his grip shaking slightly. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about it.” He admitted, his voice strained. “What if I can’t get to you in time? What if something happens and I’m not there? What if…”
“I can’t take that risk.” He mutters, more to himself than to you. “ I can't. I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”
You pull back just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest. His blue eyes are filled with a vulnerability you’ve only seen in rare moments— when the weight of the world is too much, even for him.
“Steve.” You say soft but firmly: “We’ll get through this. Together.”
For a long moment, he just looks at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to find reassurance in the depths of your gaze. Slowly, he exhales, but he doesn’t let go. That deep-rooted terror of losing you, isn't going away anytime soon.
His arms remain wrapped around you, protective and unyielding, as though he’s made a silent vow that nothing—no person, no secret organization, no force on Earth or beyond—will ever take you away from him.
If only that could be true.
THE End but TBC
Continue to Chapter 10: Eclipse
Alright I'm SO SORRY I'm late!! 2 Full time jobs really is consuming me!! I hope you enjoyed it!! Sooooo I have a really serious question RN, could you doooo me the favor to lmk your thoughts!!
Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28
*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3
#captain america x reader#steve rogers x ofc#steve rogers x reader#captain america x you#chris evans fanfiction#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x female reader#captain america x ofc#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fluff#chris evans characters
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clegan drabble 💞📑⚖️
— secret relationship / lawyer au
Gale is deep in thought, staring at the papers in his hand with a slight frown. He doesn’t look up when someone knocks on his open office door — mainly because he can tell it’s Bucky without having to check. It’s evident by — well, everything, the rhythm of his steps when they approached, the way the air smells of smugness and his favorite cologne, and the firmness in which he knocked.
Fair enough, the footsteps continue further without waiting for invitation. Gale puffs out a breath, gesturing with his occupied hands, still not looking up. ”I know we’re supposed to be having dinner right now but I just got the new evidence on the Hausmann case this afternoon and- Mpfh!”
He’s very rudely interrupted by a pair of insistent lips pressing to his. Bucky isn’t bothered by him not being ready for it in the slightest, just pulls him close by the waist — which is not tiny by the way, no matter what Bucky keeps insisting every time he grabs it in bed — and bites into the lush lips with his own with a passion that suggests it would’ve been quite a while longer than a couple of hours since he last did it.
Gale surrenders to the antics like it was a natural disaster — why fight what is inevitable? — but when John snatches the papers from his hands and throws them carelessly to the table behind himself Gale makes a protesting sound and presses his newly freed hands to his chest in mild protest.
”John,” he whines and the smirk on Bucky’s face makes him want to punch him almost as much as he wants to kiss is again, ”what are you-” ”The damn new copying machine jammed again, and I figured the only way I wouldn’t kick it was if I could jam my tongue to the back of your throat in turn.”
Gale looks at him blankly. ”That’s. Not-” ”I would of course prefer to destroy it by having you over it so hard that they’d have to buy a new one. We could really help the whole office with one easy, selfless act, doll.”
Gale scoffs but he knows Bucky can tell he’s fighting a smile. The second kiss is more gentle but still quite too intense for a work environment. Bucky has one hand around Gale’s waist and the other on his cheek, Gale’s are resting lazily on his hips as they indulge in each other, breathe quietly in their lovers lips and enjoy the forbidden bliss of doing this at work — it feels more meaningful than it is, really, like they’re not only breaking the rules of their office but also the deeper system it is embedded to; pleasure at work fights with the ideals of capitalism themselves, Gale would probably muse if he wasn’t so damn busy not thinking about anything but how lovely it is to kiss someone you love. He pushes John gently towards the table behind him and exhales as he bites his lowelip when John pulls him against his spread legs.
He needs to catch his breath though, and that’s when he realizes they are not even as thinly veiled as he would have hoped. ”You left the door open,” he says, trying to push him farther so the pose wouldn’t be so damning, ”my secretary-” ”I sent him away,” John says, uninterested, and tries to pull Gale closer by his tie. The younger doesn’t budge, though, but rather lifts a hand to his own lips and then looks at the fingers as if he could from there see how swollen, how incriminating, the scene they make looks.
”Anyone could walk in.” John groans and bites the air between them, running his hands down Gale’s sides. ”Don’t get me more excited than I already am, damn, sweetheart.” ”Oh for fuck’s sake-”
Bucky kisses him again to silence him, and despite a weak fight Gale allows it well enough. After, when Bucky pulls away, he takes Gale’s face between his palms and makes him look into his eyes.
”Baby. Everyone else left like an hour ago. It’s 8pm. You work too much. Time to call it a night.”
Gale stares at him, blinking a couple of times before slowly checking his watch and realizing John is not joking. He really has been at the office for more than 13 hours. Oops.
”I…” ”Save it, cowboy,” Bucky says with the easiness that Gale so loves about him as he stands up straight and takes Gale’s jacket from the chair. ”I love how much you care. I also love that I get to be the one who tells you when you’re an idiot workaholic and need to go home for a bit so you can be an idiot workaholic tomorrow too.” Gale sighs dramatically but does put on the coat Bucky is holding up for him.
”Well,” he says sheepishly as Bucky drags him out of the office by the hand and stops to lock the door, ”I can’t cook anything nice to apologize at home but maybe I can think of something else to reward such patience for my crime of attempting to serve justice.”
Bucky chukles, leaning up from the lock and and taking Gale’s hand to his. ”That copying machine gets to live one more day then,” he says and kisses Gale’s knuckles. Gale tries to swat him but he dodges. They’re both giggling and Gale knows he must be too tired when he’s this careless at the office but to be fair it is late and everyone truly is home. He dares one more kiss when they wait for the elevator.
People at their office don’t need to know about his personal life. They don’t need to know he’s fucking his boss. They don’t need to know that it’s been going on for years but it wasn’t until yesterday when Bucky had taken him into a fancy restaurant and told him he loves him and wants to be more than friends who have sex sometimes (quite frequently lately) (and exclusively) but still, he wants to be even more than that. They don’t need to know Gale’s heart had bursted in the moment when his deepest, most hidden dream had come true, and butterflies don’t even begin to explain the sensations those words set in motion. They don’t need to know he and Bucky made love all night, that he fell asleep in Bucky’s bed, and that he plans on doing that again tonight.
He looks at Bucky and feels a fondness that’s almost like pain as it stretches over the places in him that used to be longing and achiching. He looks down shyly before raising his eyes again, kissing Bucky’s knuckles in turn.
”My place or yours?”
#clegan#buck x bucky#mota#writing#buck#bucky#i have no idea where this came from#absolute writers block for days and then boom#anyway it is once again so random i’m sorry!!#but i was included in a fic rec list for the first time in my life last weekend and the confidence boost as a writer was insane#so thank you for that to you who did it ❤️❤️#lawyers au
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Stoner!Bakusquad
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Summary: reader is apart of the Bakusquad and they all r stoners
Pairings: platonic!katsuki bakugou x reader, platonic!Eijiro Kirishima x reader, platonic!pansexual!Denki Kaminari x reader, platonic!Hanta Sero x reader, platonic!mina ashido x reader, romantic!Eijiro Kirishima x Mina Ashido, past!mina ashido x Hanta Sero, (Kinda)Mina ashido x reader (yall made out)
Warnings: language, marijuana and vaping, alcohol, mentions of sex specifically high sex, masturbation mentioned, plug!sero
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The most chaotic yet iconic smoke circle ever.
Twice a week everybody goes to Sero’s apartment for the smoke sesh
Usually hangouts are held at bakugou’s except he doesn’t like the smell trapped around his place
Bakugou actually has came to rely on the ritual. He lowkey gets annoyed whenever plans are cancelled
Sero smokes a lot it’s ridiculous
Sero and Mina both get horny when they’re high
one time before Mina and Kiri got together, Mina was so high and horny that she hooked up with Sero(who was also also high and horny)
All hangouts are pretty lowkey but Denki always tries to turn it into a party by bringing his speakers and a couple bottles of booze
You, Denki, and Mina are usually the ones who drink
Bakugou only drinks after a rough day, he claims the liquor makes him feel “vulnerable”
Kirishima doesn’t smoke too often but he loves the hangout vibes
When Kirishima and Mina got together he started smoking more except usually him and Mina left early so they could go home and fuck
Bakugou is actually really cute when he’s high don’t tell him that tho. He gets really giggly but if u annoy him he will quickly snap at you.
Denki usually winds up getting the munchies really bad and makes the group go to whatever fast food joint he’s craving that time
Everybody has a slightly different music taste so you guys pull straws each hangout to decide who gets control, somehow kirishima almost always wins
Sero likes to prank call when he’s high. No explanation necessary.
You and Mina play fight when your drunk, occasionally you make out
When you all were really stoned one time Denki confessed that he thought about all of you while masturbating atleast once
Sero makes weird food combos when he has the munchies
Sero also definitely sells weed and Denki buys off him
One time Denki convinced you all to host a party. It was a disaster. Bakugou was mad since you guys were at his apartment.
Overall a 9.8/10 💨 ⭕️
༺♡︎༻
Only sorta proofread😭🤞
#katsuki bakugo mha#mha#mha x reader#my hero academia#denki kaminari#pro hero bakugou#bakusquad#kirishima eijirou#mina ashido#sero hanta#kirishima eijiro x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#sero hanta x reader#plug!hanta sero#stoner!bakusquad#mha denki#denki x reader#mina ashido x reader
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may the best bait win! propaganda under the cut
hardwon and moonshine:
They’re DnD characters so they’re bi disasters canonically. Just not for each other The best way to describe Hardshine is this: “They’re soulmates” “Platonically or romantically?” “Yes” Literally they care so much about each other. Moonshine cured Hardwon’s vampirism by reincarnating him into a half elf and he told her “I’ve been half elf ever since I met you”. Moonshine is a high level elf druid which means she’ll basically live forever and literally the most emotional scene where she asks her mom “How long do half-elves live?”. Hardwon was always a fish out of water who never really fit in until he found Moonshine and the Crick. Are they dating? Queerplatonic partners? Siblings? Idk man they’re just in love it doesn’t matter how.
raleigh and mako:
Literally everything about the writing of Pacific Rim make it seem like they're setting up for a romance between these two and then they just. Don't. Despite this, "drift compatable" was one of the most popular AUs for couples after the film came out for a hot minute because of how romantic they (mako and raleigh) made the concept seem.
#devastating matchup once again if i do say so myself#this time it's just fate's fault not mine#straightbait tournament round 3#not another dnd podcast#naddpod#hardwon surefoot#moonshine cybin#hardshine#pacific rim#raleigh becket#mako mori#maleigh
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Sewing Zero Waste Culottes from The Craft of Clothes
Zero Waste Culottes From The Craft of Clothes
Behold! Fancy pants!
The pattern for these pants was one of my Christmas gifts. It comes from Liz at The Craft of Clothes, a zero-waste designer. I've really gravitated towards self-drafting and zero-waste sewing in the last couple of years, and this pattern has been on my list for a good six months, so I was excited to get into it.
Drafting
The first step (after reading the pattern through twice) is drafting the pattern pieces.
My biggest starting hurdle was deciphering "the culottes are designed to sit on your waist" when choosing the correct pattern size. Most designers consider "the waist" to be the teapot - that is, the true waist. (It's easiest to find if you bend to the side and stick your hand in the crease - like you're singing "I'm a little teapot".) But some consider belly button height to be "the waist". I generally wear my pants at the latter height, and there's a good 2" circumference difference between those two for me.
I eventually decided to call my belly button my waist, on the grounds that that's where I prefer to wear my pants. It's also easier to take seams in than out, if I guessed wrong.
Decisions over, it was smooth sailing from there. Pattern drafting is not a technically difficult process, as long as you have good instructions, and Liz's patterns definitely fit that bill. But there's a lot of attention to detail required to make sure the end result is good. That sort of thing always makes me nervous. Fortunately there was only two pattern pieces to draft, and they're 98% straight lines and based off rectangles.
Interestingly, this is the first zero-waste pattern I've tried that has you draft pattern pieces to use. The others I've seen (most by the creator of this pattern - our library had a copy of her book, Zero Waste Sewing) have had you draw directly on your piece of fabric to create the layout. (In fairness, I didn't have to draft my own pieces. The pattern came with the option of self-drafting, printing on A4, or printing on A0.)
I much prefer the direct-draw method to faffing about with pattern pieces. But given that this pattern is designed to have the pieces tesselate, having a set of physical pattern pieces does make more sense. It's also got me wondering if I could successfully make a pair out of old jeans legs, using one leg per pattern piece. But then, I'm always looking for ways to use up my denim pile...
Sewing
I prefer structure rather than flow in my butt coverings, so I was somewhat limited in my fabric choices for this first pair. (I know the fabric I really want to use, but I am being a sensible apprentice and trying things out on a nice-but-less-hideously-expensive fabric first.) Most of my stash acquisition has focused on stuff for shirts, since I wear those out faster than pants. I eventually settled on this nice brick red, 100% cotton, table cloth.
The picture is suffering from sun exposure. It's nowhere near this bright in person.
I laid out the pieces and huzzah! The fabric was just big enough! ... But only if I unpicked the hems (they're monsters, a full 3 cm/1.2" each side) and ironed them flat first. Thus, it was time for a marathon unpicking and ironing session.
After that was done, I checked the pattern fit again. Huzzah! I had enough space for all the pattern pieces, and not very much scrap left over once I'd cut them all out. (Of course, it was late and I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have been, so I didn't add an extra inch when I was forced to cut the waistband in two pieces. There was enough extra fabric that this was only an annoyance and not a complete disaster.)
The fabric at the top is scrap. All but a few inches of the stuff on the right became waist bands and plackets.
Sewing was a fairly straightforward exercise, though it required enough brainpower that I completely forgot to take any progress shots as I went. Almost every step of the pattern comes with a diagram to show you what to do, which helped me immensely. So did having the seam allowances specified at each point, as there's three different ones used in different places.
That's not to say I didn't screw up, of course. While sewing the crotch seam, I somehow managed to close up the front of the pants entirely and leave a gap for the placket open at the back. (That will teach me not to double check the direction the pockets are facing before I pin and sew that seam. Maybe.)
I also made a highly decorative and completely awful to sew with choice for topstitching thread, which I quickly became too stubborn to stop using. So the topstitching is, uh, not great. But it is purple and sparkly, and if I'd had any sense at all I would have left it til last (or even done some sort of hand embroidery with it).
I was tricked by the first line of stitching being so easy. LIES. It was all lies.
Why should I have left it til last? Because it turns out that the culottes are, in fact, designed to sit on one's true waist. Which meant I had a two inch difference between what I needed to fit me, and what the waist measurement was. If I hadn't top stitched the panels, I could have simply ran another line of stitching down the seams that didn't have pockets in the way, and taken the waist in without much fuss or bother. Unfortunately, I didn't do that, so I was left with two choices.
Take out the topstitching and take in all the panels, bitching and moaning about the effort I went to and the number of times the topstitch thread broke while I was sewing the stupid sparkly goodness onto things.
Work out how to take the waist in by the necessary two inches, using only the crotch seam and maybe some darts or pleats or something.
Choice #1 would have been the logical, rational decision, so of course I went with option #2.
An hour and change of basting, pinning and unpinning the waistband, and completely forgetting how seam allowances work later, I managed to get a fit I was happy enough with. I ended up grading in a dart-like object at the centre back. (If I decide later that I'm not happy with the fit after all, I'll try out the modification for adding elastic to the back waistband that the pattern also includes. Probably while questioning my life choices and lamenting the amount of time I spend with a seam ripper in hand.)
The original stitching line is in blue, the new one is in black.
After all that fitting woe, I wasn't in the mood to try buttonholes (my good machine, the one with the automatic buttonholer, is currently out of action). Instead I dove into my snap stash to close the placket.
I love using bright, vivid colours for inner details. It's the sewing equivalent of wearing leopard print underwear.
A nice bonus of using the snaps is that I could put them through just the placket, leaving the fly front clean. This did make the placket pull slightly when I'm wearing the pants, exposing a trace of bright red. I fixed that by invisibly whip-stitching through the placket and outer fabric to hold everything in place. Next time I'll also double check the understitching, and topstitch the edge if needed, before installing the snaps.
Field Test and Adjustments
Trying stuff on as you go is all well and good, but nothing tells you what you really need to fix like being out in the field. I quickly discovered several things:
The waistband needs serious help to stay where it's supposed to be. Which, y'know, I did make a size larger than I should have. This was not surprising.
The crotch needs to either drop a wee bit or (preferably) rise a couple of inches. The latter will likely spoil the skirt-effect somewhat, but it will be far more comfortable for my legs.
I need a loop on the waistband to hold my keys.
For the waist woes, I had a few choices - 1) belt loops, 2) suspenders, or 3) add elastic to the back waistband. Belt loops are fiddly to make and sew on, but would solve the key-hanging issue. Suspenders technically wouldn't need any sewing changes, but the clip-on style are notorious for pulling off when you're doing things. And while the pattern includes instructions for adding elastic to the waistband, I wasn't confident it would do the job I wanted (I stick a fair amount of junk in my pockets and elastic can't always cope with the weight).
After some dithering, I went with the suspender option for this pair. I like the look of them, and the "floating" effect they give when they pull the waistband a bit above where gravity wants it to sit is extremely comfortable. But I didn't want to deal with clips always popping off. So I indulged in a quick side-quest of improving my suspenders, then sewed buttons into the waistband of the culottes.
This used to hold the clips, but the wire was easy to bend flat with needle-nose pliers.
Gee, I wonder which buttonhole I did first?
Fashion Show
Overall, I'm quite happy with how it all came together. I'll definitely be making at least two more pairs - the "men's" version (less flare in the hems), likely out of recycled denim, and a pair in heavyweight stash linen.
The back panel adjustment is basically unnoticeable.
They have great range of movement - maybe I need to make a workout pair?
And I even have somewhere to hang my keys.
This post was originally published on my blog, Garak's Apprentice . I currently syndicate my content at Micro.blog, Tumblr, and Ko-Fi.
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An Arbitrary Collection of Book Recommendations
(put together for a friend out of SFF I've read over the last couple of years)
Cli-Fi
Tusks of Extinction and/or The Mountain in the Sea by Ray Nayler. They’re pretty different books in a lot of ways – one is a novel about discovering a certain species of squid in the Pacific might have developed symbolic language and writing, the other a novella about a de-extinction initiative to restore mammoths to the Siberian taiga – but they share a pretty huge overlap in setting, tone and themes. Specifically, a deep and passionate preoccupation with animal conservation (and a rather despairing perspective on it), as well as a fascination with transhumanism and how technology can affect the nature of consciousness. Mountain is his first work, and far more substantial, but I’d call it a bit of a noble failure in achieving what it tries for. Tusks is much more limited and contained, but manages what it’s going for.
A Half-Built Garden by Ruthanna Emrys. In a post-post-apocalyptic world that’s just about figured out how to rebuild itself from the climate disasters of the 21st century (but that’s still very much a work in progress), aliens descend from the sky and make First Contact. They’re a symbiotic civilization, and they’re overjoyed at the chance to welcome a third species into their little interstellar community – and consider it a mission of mercy besides, since every other species they’ve ever encountered destroyed themselves and their planet before escaping it. Awkwardly, our heroine and her whole society are actually pretty invested in Earth and the restoration thereof – and worried that a) the alien’s rescue effort might not care about their opinions and b) that other interest groups on earth might be more willing to give the hyper-advanced space-dwelling aliens the answers they want to hear. Basically 100% sociological worldbuilding and political intrigue, so take that as you will.
Throwback Sci Fi
Elder Race by Adrian Tchaikovsky is possibly the only thing I’ve read published in decades to take the old cliche of ‘this generic-seeming fantasy world is actually the wreckage of a ruined space age civilization, and ‘magic’ and ‘monsters’ are the remnants of the technology’ and play it entirely straight. Specifically, it’s a two-POV novella, where half the story is told from the perspective of a runaway princess beseeching the ancient wizard who helped found her dynasty for help against a magical threat, and half is from the perspective form the last surviving member of a xeno-anthropology mission woken out of stasis by the consequences of the last time he broke the Prime Directive knocking on his ship tower door and asking for help. Generally just incredible fun.
Downbelow Station by C. J. Cherryh is, I think, the only thing on this list written before the turn of the millennium. It’s proper space opera, about a habitat orbiting an immensely valuable living world that’s the lynchpin of logistics for the functionally rogue Earth Fleet’s attempt to hold off or defeat rebelling and somewhat alien colonies further out. The plot is honestly hard to summarize, except that it captures the feel of being history better than very nearly any other spec fic I’ve ever read – a massive cast, none of them with a clear idea of what’s going on, clashing and contradictory agendas, random chance and communications delays playing key roles, lots of messy ending, not a single world-shaking heroes or satanic masterminds deforming the shape of things with their narrative gravity to be seen. Somewhat dated, but it all very impressively well done.
Pulpy Gay Urban Fantasy Period Piece Detective Stories Where Angels Play a Prominent Role
A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark stars Fatma el-Sha’arawi, the youngest woman working for the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities in Cairo, a couple of decades after magic returned to the world and entirely derailed the course of Victorian imperialism. There’s djinn and angels and crocodile gods, and also an impossible murder that needs solving! The mystery isn’t exactly intellectually taxing, but this is a very fun tropey whodunnit whose finale involves a giant robot.
Even Though I Knew The End by C. L. Polk is significantly more restrained and grounded in its urban fantasy. It’s early 20th century Chicago, and a PI is doing one last job to top off the nest egg she’s leaving her girlfriend before the debt on her deal with the devil comes due. By what may or may not be coincidence, she stumbles across a particularly gruesome crime scene – and is offered a deal to earn back her soul by solving the mystery behind it. Very noir detective, with a setting that just oozes care and research and a satisfyingly tight plot.
High Concept Stuff That Loves Playing around With Format and the Idea of Narratives
Radiance by Catherynne M. Valente is a story about a famous documentarian vanishing on shoot amid mysterious and suspicious circumstances, as told by the recovered scraps of the footage she was filming, and different drafts of her (famous director) father’s attempt to dramatize the events as a memorial to her. It’s set in a solar system where every planet is habitable and most were colonized in the 19th century, and culturally humanity coasts on in an eternal Belle Epoque and (more importantly) Golden Age of Hollywood. Something like half the book is written as scripts and transcripts. This description should by now either have sold you or put you off entirely.
The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez is the only classic-style epic fantasy on this list, I believe? The emperor and his three demigod sons hold subjugated in terror, but things are changing. The emperor, terrified of death, has ordered a great fleet assembled to carry him across the sea in pursuit of immortality. The day before he sets out on his grand pilgrimage to the coast, a guilt-ridden guard helps the goddess of the moon escape her binding beneath the palace. From there, things spiral rapidly out of anyone’s control. The story’s told through two or three (depending( different layers of narrative framing devices, and has immense amounts of fun playing with perspective and format and ideas about storytelling and legacy.
I Couldn’t Think of Any Categories That Included More Than One of These
All The Names They Used For God by Anjali Sachdeva is a collection of short stories, and probably the most literary thing on this list? The stories range wildly across setting and genre, but are each more or less about the intrusion of the numinous or transcendent or divine into a world that cracks and breaks trying to contain it. It is very easily the most artistically coherent short story collection I’ve ever read, which I found pretty fascinating to read – but honestly I’m mostly just including this on the strength of Killer of Kings, a story about an angel sent down to be John Milton’s muse as he writes Paradise Lost which is probably one of the best things I read last year period.
Last Exit by Max Gladstone – the Three Parts Dead and How You Lose the Time War guy – could be described as a deconstruction of ‘a bunch of teenagers/college kids discover magic and quest to save the world!’ stories, but honestly I’d say that obscures more than it reveals. Still, the story is set with that having happened a decade in the past, and the kids in question have thoroughly fucked up. Zelda, the protagonist, is kept from suicide by survivor’s guilt as much as anything, and now travels across America working poverty jobs and sleeping in her car as she hunts the monsters leaking in through the edges of a country rotting at the seams. Then there’s a monster growing in the cracks of the liberty bell, an in putting it down she gets a vision of someone she thought was dead is just trapped – or maybe changed. So it’s time to get the gang together again and save the world! This one’s hard to rec without spoiling a lot, but the prose and characterization are all just sublime. Oddly in conversation with the whole Delta Green cosmic horror monster hunting subgenre for a story with nothing to do with Lovecraft.
Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh is a story about aliens destroying the earth, and growing up in the pseudo-fascist asteroid survivalist compound of the last bits of the human military that never surrendered. It stars a heroine whose genuinely indoctrinated for the first chunk of the book and just deeply endearing terrible and awful to interact with, and also has a plot that’s effectively impossible to describe without spoiling the big twist at the end of the first act. Possibly the only book I read last year which I actively wish was longer – which is both compliment and genuine complaint, for the record, the ending’s a bit messy. Still, genuinely meaty Big Ideas space opera with very well-done characterization and a plot that does hold together.
#meta#book recommendations#sff#sharing this mostly so I don't lose it next time my laptop dies#and also hey why not
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Rescuing Romance P2
Author: @crowleysgirl67
Word Count: 1044
Parings/Characters: Reader x Bobby, Buck, Hen, Chim, Maddie, Eddie
Warnings: show warnings, plane crash,
A/N: Thanks for reading!
“Yo Cap. What's with the cakes?” Chim asked, looking at the four different types strewn about the table.
“Help yourselves.” Bobby threw the dish towel over his shoulder and turned to face Chim. “You remember that Doctor who was hanging via the railing on the twelfth floor a couple months ago?”
“Uh yeah, (Y/N) right? No pain meds for that broken leg. You’ve mentioned her once or twice since then.” he answered, taking a slice of the chocolate cake.
“They’re from her as a thank you. The cakes are labeled with what they are and their ingredients in case any of us were allergic to anything in them.”
“Oh cool!” Buck exclaimed, jogging up the stairs to see the desserts. He looked them over before settling on an Apple turnover cake slice. “Damn this is amazing! It's just like a turnover but in a spongy moist cake!”
“The cakes are from that Doctor lady a few months ago.” Chim chimed with a mouth full of cake.
“(Y/N) made these? She’s so awesome.”
Bobby made a hum of agreement and was about to take a slice of his own when the bell rang through the house. “Duty calls.”
***
“Ok Ma’am the paramedics are here. Keep breathing.”
“(Y/N)?” Hen questioned upon seeing you.
“Hey Hen, Chimney. We’ve got one female, twenty-five weeks pregnant. Seems to be preterm labor. I’ve run a line and delivered some medication to slow that until you’re able to get her to the hospital.” you grabbed your bag and moved out of their way.
“(Y/N)?” you heard your name and turned.
“Oh hey Bobby. Or should I call you Captain Nash, you’re on duty after all.” you smiled.
“Bobby is fine. What are you doing here?”
“Oh I was on my way into work when a car a few cars ahead of mine veered sharp enough to cause a minor accident. So I pulled off to help.”
“That was kind of you. Here let me take your bag.” he hoists your bag onto his shoulder, before walking you back to your car.
A loud rumbling caused you to look up, just in time to see a smoking plane flying way too low and headed straight towards the area.
***
“9-1-1 What’s your emergency?”
“Our plane it’s on fire! We’re going down.”
“I’m sorry did you say your plane is on fire?”
“Yes!” coughs
“Ok Sir. Are you the one flying the plane?”
“No, I’m a passenger. It’s my buddy's 6 seater cargo plane.” coughs “Holy shit we’re headed straight at a freeway!”
***
“Bobby!” Buck shouted indicating the incoming disaster.
“Get down!” Bobby pulled you to the side of your car and hunkered down with you.
The plane crashed 50 yards from where you were.
“Are you alright?” Bobby asked, helping you stand and doing an assessment of the damage unfolding.
“I'm good. Go. I’ll grab my gear and follow behind you. We’re gonna need all hands on deck and you’re down two sets until Chim and Hen are back.”
He gave your arm a gentle squeeze and headed over to his crew to start giving the orders. You grabbed supplies and threw your pack on before going over to help.
“We need to find a way to get the truck down there.” Eddie says
“So we start tapping on cars. If they’re uninjured and able to move they need to get out of the way.” Buck states.
“Going car to car is going to take too long. We don’t have that kind of time.” Bobby looked around.
“I’ve got a bullhorn in my trunk. Would that help?” you ask
“Actually yeah that might.” Bobby nodded
“Cool. Buck, ask me questions later.” you note his confused look as to why you’d have something like that in your trunk.
“Right. I’ll go get it.” he jogged off towards your car and came back with the bullhorn and handed it to Bobby.
“If you are uninjured and can move your cars we need you to make a hole!” Bobby began walking and announcing this over and over.
Slowly people were able to move and make enough of a hole to get the truck close enough to the site. They started with their jobs while you started treating and triaging people the best you could.
“Looks like you could use a hand.”
You looked up at the sound of Chims voice. “Hey you’re back.”
“Looks like we missed the start of this mess.” Hen joined the two of you.
“By a few minutes yeah. I’ve got a system going. Green cards are good/ minor injuries. Yellow is a little more than that. Reds are urgents, and black are deceased.”
“Ah old school I see.” Chim nods
“Why change what works?”
“True that. We’re gonna head in closer to the site.”
“I’ll keep trying to clear the surrounding area.”
They nod and head in closer to the plane to start helping there.
***
It took several hours and any available hands to help clear away the accident.
“Hey. How’re you doing?” Bobby asked, approaching you after you finished up with another person at the scene.
“Hell of a first day back to work. And I haven't even made it there yet.” you replied tossing your used gloves into the trash sack you had at your waist.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“I’m ok. It’s a lot but that’s what the job is.” you gave him a small squeeze on his arm, “How’re you?”
“I agree it’s a lot.” he sighed softly, surveying the ongoing aftermath.
“118 come in 118.” Bobbys radio goes off.
“This is Captain Nash from the 118.” Bobby answered
“Captain Nash, you and your crew are relieved.”
“Copy that Chief.”
“Looks like you get to go home.”
“Come on, we’ll give you an escort to the hospital.” he offered his arm.
You smiled softly and took it as he walked you to your car. He rode with you as the team followed in the trucks.
“I’m probably going to pull a 24 or 48 hour shift.”
“Raincheck on dinner then?”
“Unless you want to join me in the hospital cafeteria. I don't have a predictable lunch schedule but I can give you a text or call when I’m free.”
“It’s a date then.”
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