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shayyprasad · 20 days

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cool | peter parker

a/n: this concept was so sweet to me, and i had to write something for it. okay, so yeah, this is technically irondad + spiderson... but i wanted to add to it.

repost because this fic flopped with, like, 10 notes. if you look at the og, it says 700ish because of the prev notes of what i reblogged. interact with this fic, it's what keeps me going!

summary: you find that a brown haired boy is always at the restraunt you work at, covered with cuts and bruises. you're curious, so what do you do?

warnings: cursing, minor angst (not really tho, mostly fluff)

pairing: fem!reader x post-nwh!peter parker

word count: 1.5k+ words

you're working late, you don't normally. it doesn't hurt though, having a side hustle outside of college. with shit parents, community college is really all you have as an option, so extra money is welcomed.

it's 20 minutes until closing time, and you're the only one left. you've read enough articles and watched enough true crime to be at least a little paranoid. not expecting anyone else, you spray a table, wiping it down with a rag. might as well get started with cleaning, right?

so when you hear the familiar chime of the door, you've got the right to be suprised. looking up, you're greeted by the sight of a boy. he's got soft brown curls, and (you find, once you meet his gaze) matching dark, hazel eyes.

you wave at him and move behind the register. he looks harmless, but don't most men that have bad intentions? not that you think he's going to do anything.

you're just a woman. it's the way of life, this thought spiral.

"hi, what can i get you?" when he's closer, you can see the cut he's got on his cheek. it's dried blood, but still enough to make your eyebrows shoot up. in fact, he's got a bruise too.

under his left eye, and by the yellow-green, you can tell it's fresh. it's not your business to ask, well, it is... but you're only asking about his order. he runs a hand through his hair, obviously trying to tame it.

there's a leaf at the top, tangled in there. you want to take it out.

he sniffs, eying the menu. you've never seen him here before, and you've been working here for a while. now that you're looking at him, his eye looks swollen - like someone socked him. "a- a cheese-"

you're not sure where the sudden courage comes from, but you cut him off; "do you want an ice pack? or, uh, maybe frozen peas?"

he looks startled for a second, as if he were just now knocked out og this long train of thought. he pauses to touch his eye, "um," you can tell he doesn't want to trouble you, but you're intrigued now.

"seriously, it's no problem." (on the account you have frozen peas, then it would be no problem. if you didn't... a pack of cold, raw meat-?)

"sure, yeah."

"cool. er- stay right there." you go to the freezer room, rummaging around for frozen peas. it takes you a minute, and you're afraid there are none for a moment, but there are. triumphantly, you bring them back out.

he's standing in the same place, although you're not sure why he would've left. "peas!" you sing-song. handing them to him, you smile.

he throws one back, though it's forced and kind of hollow. you're afraid you've made him uncomfortable, or that you're too much. are you too much?

he squints at your nametag, "thanks, uh, gertrude?"

you're confused for a second, "oh, she's dead."

"i- sorry?" he tilts his head, now he's confused too.

"no, i mean, this isn't my nametag. it's old. like, super old. manager's dead wife. this place is too cheap to get new ones, so we, like, basically catfish people."

he nods, "okay. what's is it then?"

"huh?"

"your name."

you mentally smack your forehead, of course that's what he was asking. "y/n."

"cool. i'm peter. peter parker."

"nice to meet you peter peter parker," it's your attempt at a joke, paired with a lopsided grin. it makes peter smile though, so you consider it a win.

peter presses the pack to his eye, a wince turning into a sigh. oddly enough, it sounds sexual to you, and your face is heating up. what's wrong with you? seriously?

"okay, well, um, i assume you still wanna order something?"

"yeah. maybe just a cheeseburger and fries?"

"you got it," it's closing time, but you don't mind. peter is cute, and he seems nice as well. you're more than happy to stay around longer. "on the house," you say when he tries to offer you money, "seems like you had a rough night."

"no, i-"

"no sweat, parker."

you ring up his order, get it ready, and by the time you're done, he's settled at a table. "here you go. enjoy!"

you go back to sweeping, but you want to talk to him more. "you live around here? i haven't seen you here before."

"uh... not exactly. i don't come here often. i, um," he presses his lips together, "had a friend that brought me here. once or twice."

you frown, "oh, i'm sorry."

"what?" peter looks up from his meal.

"i just- well, you used past tense so i assumed you don't... aren't in touch anymore?" maybe small talk was a bad idea.

"oh. yeah. i guess. he's not really... around. he passed a little while back."

it's like your heart physically aches. "that's sad to hear."

"yeah. 's okay though, getting by fine. or- or better."

"mhm. it gets better. lost my sister a few a years back."

"really? i'm sorry." they're empty words, you've probably heard them a lot, he knows that. you know he knows that.

"thanks."

"yeah," it's quiet for a little while longer.

"so, uh," he pauses, taking a sip of his water, "are you still in school?"

"college," you pause, slightly embarrassed, "community, i mean."

"oh. cool. i'm at midtown. it's not, like, super fancy or whatever..."

you cut him off, shrugging, "better than community. and isn't it like so stupid, how they basically tell you that college is a must, and then have you pay all this money? 'oh, you need it for a good future!'" you mock, "aw, really? then make it free!"

you freeze, realizing you've gone on a tangent. "sorry," you say, flushing.

"no, it's okay," he laughs. "it's cool you're... passionate."

"thanks," you put the broom away. "um, i have to go take out the trash. would you mind... not stealing anything?"

"i'll try," he jokes.

"cool. i believe in your ability of self-restraint."

"cool," he says, matching your tone.

"cool."

"okay, that got weird after the, like, second time," you make a face.

"no, yeah, i agree."

"cool," you say, staring at each other in dead silence, before bursting into laughter. you hold up the trashbag, "yeah, so, one sec."

you push open the back door, tossing the bag in the dumpster.

he's so nice, you think. look at you, falling for a basically stranger. you walk back in, closing the door behind you. you notice he's done, so you throw out his things, cleaning down the table.

"hey, uh, when do you close?" peter asks.

you check the clock, "mm... 15 minutes ago."

"holy shit, really?"

"yeah. it's cool though. i was closing anyway, and the company didn't hurt. also... it looked like you needed this."

he looks down at his shoes, smiling, "yeah, no, i did. thanks. and sorry."

"like i said, it's cool."

"cool," you stop, "are you in a cult?" you blurt.

"um, sorry?"

"sorry, like, i just, you look... beat up. and i was wondering if you were in a gang... or something." you squint at the dried blood on his knuckles.

"uh... i am not."

"then how'd you get those?"

he looks conflicted, and you've probably crossed a line. "oh my god, i'm so sorry. obviously, it's not my business. i was just... curious."

you wipe down your last table, cursing yourself internally.

"no, it's cool. i'm..."

"seriously, it's not my business. don't tell me, actually. plausible deniability," you joke.

he says something, and it's so quiet, you don't hear it. "what?" you ask.

"i'm spider-man!"

"uh. what?"

"you don't know spider-man?"

"no, of course i know spider-man!"

"well, yeah. that's me. suprise." he says, doing a small show of jazz-hands.

"there's legit no way. i know i catfished you earlier, but that was on accident!"

he tilts his head, as if he's weighing his options. in reponse, you narrow your eyes at him, trying to figure out if it's one big joke. after that, it's so quick, you barely notice. something hits your hip, not harshly, and then you're spinning towards peter.

"holy-!" you look down at your side, trying to figure out what it is. you're tucked into peter, and you realize it's... a web. "no. way."

"yes way."

"why'd you tell me? now i can't plausibly deny anything! also, isn't this supposed to be a secret? isn't that the point of the mask? how do you know i won't sell you out?"

"that was a lot."

"i know. but it was very valid."

"i don't know. i just wanted to. you're nice and sweet and pretty-"

"oh, so pretty privilege?"

"no! no, of course not!"

"well, um," you wrap your arms around his neck, "thank you for trusting me. i won't tell anyone."

"cool."

his hands are on your hips, and he's leaning in, but you pull away, smirking.

"no kissing until the second date, i'm afraid."

"we're going on dates?"

"if you don't want me to broadcast to the world, yes."

"well, i would've asked to take you anyways."

you smile at him, enjoying the moment.

"wait, are those cameras?" there's absolute panic in his voice, and you giggle.

"those are fake. it's cardboard to scare people off."

"oh. cool."

"cool."

you end up kissing him anyways.

@whatsupstark@ell0ra-br3kk3r@idli-dosa@susvale@kdbsr-h@littlemsbumblebee @sflame15-blog @twinsunkithies @chocolateshepherddreamclod @one-piece-frvr7

#tom holland #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker imagine #angst

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willowser · 6 months

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i had to call the awful evil witch from tech support at my job today, and it had me thinking about getting the little error message and feeling your heart sink and you lean over to your coworker to whine,

"i have to call and get an override,"

and she snorts because she knows what that means, and despite what she says—there is an evil little gleam in her eye. "maybe midoriya will pick up."

you throw your head back dramatically, letting it hang over the chair until you feel the blood rushing to your ears. "i never get midoriya! what menu options are you choosing to get him, because it's never him for me!"

your coworker shrugs, turning from her computer again to smirk at you. "i don't know, man, it's just whoever picks up."

you stare at the window box in the center of your computer, the red ! at the front of a set of codes you loathe to see. hard as you try to find hope that you'll get lucky and izuku will pick up the phone—you don't think it's likely.

"will you call for me?"

"oh my god, just do it already."

and that's how you end up biting at your thumbnail, staring down at the phone on your desk as the automated voice greets you—happily—and begins to list out the different menu options. you consider choosing something random, to see if that will get you to a different, nicer member of the support team, but you wait too long and the options repeat and you decide to just bite the bullet.

it only rings for a moment before you get,

"task solutions. 's'bakugou."

you roll your eyes up to the ceiling and back and snap to stare at your coworker, mouthing a soundless 'fuck!' as she bursts into a fit of laughter.

"y'got five seconds before i hang up the—"

"sorry, hi, sorry! hi! i'm here!" you muster up all the kindness you can, smiling politely so that it will transfer in your voice. "i just need an override, please."

there's not much he says that he doesn't have to, only grunting in acknowledgement when you give him your name and employee id, read off the error message that brought you into the lion's den.

the support team for your company works off-site, so you've never met him. bakugou. hardly know anything about him outside of the name he barks out when answering the phone, and you don't think you'd like to, really.

it's incredibly frustrating to have to call him for help because he knows the system better than you do, knows your job better than you do—and is quick to call it out when your math is wrong or your input is off. if validation didn't fail every once in a while when the program is overloaded you'd be fine—but here you are.

a tense silence fills between the phone as he works, and you know he can only log in and see your screen but it feels like he's watching you, entirely. to be polite, you ask, "are you, uh, goin' to conference this year?"

the silence becomes a void, all consuming, before he murmurs out a sharp, "no."

"oh, bummer," you chuckle nervously, sweat building on the back of your neck as you watch his mouse click around on your screen. "are midoriya and iida going?"

bakugou sighs, heavy with frustration. "probably," he answers, though, to your surprise. "they like to sit around and do fuck—nothin' all day at the damn booth."

you've been by the task solutions booth every year at conference, mostly because they hand out nice steel cups with metal straws, but the faces you've seen there are never unfamiliar. for a moment, you try to imagine it: walking up to get your free goodie from some sour asshole, only to have him bark at you as you try to reach for it.

the mouse stops in the bottom corner of your screen, hesitating. you hold your breath. this is usually when he chastises you for something he makes sound so simple.

"you goin'?"

"uh," your mouth hangs open for a second, because this is the most you've ever spoken to him that didn't involve scolding of some kind. "yeah, yeah! our team will be there for day 2!" there's a soft hum from the other end, and you see the opportunity for what it is: a chance to get on good terms with this guy, so you can stop being so afraid to call the help desk. "you should go! i don't—i don't think we've ever met before."

it's hard to tell how he takes that, but you only assume not well considering your screen flashes as he logs off, taking the error message with him.

"uh, yeah, whatever," he grumbles, "is there—you need anythin' else?"

"oh, nope! that's it, thanks!"

"alright," the line doesn't disconnect immediately and you curl into yourself, as if you could hear anything else by pressing the phone harder to your ear. then he says, "later." and is gone.

#sheila this one's for you #she's so mean 🥺🥺🥺#but i dont want to meet her at conference i want to fist fight her at conference #this is so self shippy LMAOOOO #okay bye i wrote this on lunch #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou

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copperbadge · 6 months

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What do you mean by digital cleaning?

It's something I've been working on more this year because I had a bit more travel than usual so couldn't do actual home cleaning, but I always take a couple of days in the Month Of Cleaning where I'm focused on my digital life. It's good to make your physical home a comfortable place for yourself, but it's also good to recognize that we have "digital" homes that need attention. And often this is at least less physically demanding, so it's good to keep it in your back pocket for days when you're mentally okay but physically too tired or sore to do more of that kind of work.

In the shortest possible terms, digital cleaning is just making sure that your phone, computer, socials, and other digital "presences" are organized in a way that you find helpful, and that you take a moment to either answer those messages you've been putting off or give yourself amnesty on doing so.

This tends to make a lot of people extremely anxious in a way ordinary physical space cleaning doesn't, so I'm going to put the rest of it behind a cut...

So when I say digital cleaning, I refer to stuff like going through my likes on Tumblr and clearing them out, going through my drafts and turning them into queued posts, answering my asks. I spend time in my email inboxes, either responding to messages or removing them. I am not an "inbox zero" kind of guy, but I like to keep the read-but-not-answered messages to a minimum, and towards the end of the year that usually means a clear-out and amnesty. I clean my Google Drive -- delete old files I uploaded for others, move documents I'm no longer using into an archive, move documents I want to work on into a central work folder. I go through my catch-all folder on my hard drive and organize it; I sort through the year's photos and organize those, partly to archive them and partly because I make a scrapbook from them each year. I don't usually have a ton of tabs open but often have more than I'd like, so I go through them all and either read, bookmark, or get rid of them.

I look in my phone's file tree to make sure I delete files I don't need (mostly menu downloads, Restaurants Stop Making Your Menus PDFs Challenge 2K24) and I sometimes go through each app on my phone, make sure I still use it, and make sure it's set how I want it. If this sounds like a nightmare, bear in mind that I very rarely put apps on my phone to start with -- I think my mother has more apps open at any given time than I have apps on my phone ever.

Everywhere I clean, I look for files named things like "notes" or "deal with" or "random" and move them all into one place so that whatever is in them, I can sort through it and make sure it goes somewhere permanent. Logins go in the login/password spreadsheet I keep, addresses go into my contacts, story notes go into a "fiction scraps" file, random thoughts either get moved into a journal file or put into drafts to become Tumblr posts, etc.

If this sounds like I might have some kind of compulsion disorder, I get that; when I explain my digital hygiene systems a lot of people look at me like I'm spouting a mad but harmless conspiracy theory. But it's something I used to have to do periodically even before I created National Clean Your Home Month, because otherwise I could never find anything, and everything was just...harder. As I once told a boss who admired my organizational skills, "It was this or endless chaos."

Putting addresses into my contacts list means I always know that the addresses I have for my friends are up to date. Putting logins into a spreadsheet means that five minutes spent now will not result in five weeks of procrastination later because I can't find the login and can't do anything else until I do that. Going through my email and archiving old conversations means not only can I find them easily when needed, I don't have to look at them the rest of the time. Sometimes I even go through my various wish lists and remove old/purchased items, or clear out all my "save for later" carts.

There's no doubt this is stressful, but like every part of NaClYoHo, it's broken down into smaller tasks; I don't have to look at my computer and organize everything on it all in one day. I can answer a few asks, then sort photos (something I find very soothing up until the moment I Don't), then read and delete some emails, then I'm done for the day. I can spread "answer or file all your work emails" out over a couple of days. I can maybe empty out my Likes but just turn the ones I actually want to reblog into drafts for now and deal with them later in the "drafts" phase of cleaning. And if I don't manage to empty out my inboxes, at least they're emptier than they were.

I'm struggling this morning with having put a bunch of physical cleaning on the to-do list but not feeling physically up for it, so I did what I felt capable of doing (measuring cabinets for new shelf liners mainly) and later today I might sit down and start building this year's photobook. Or not -- I have to code Radio Free Monday, sort out a prescription and possibly go pick it up, plus a very full day of work and a couple of afternoon appointments I can't shirk, so today may simply be a "get through the day" kind of day. That's okay too; some days the spirit is willing but the schedule is full.

#naclyoho #national clean your home month #digital cleaning

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unabashegirl · 5 months

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Enticing 34 || Harry Styles

Summary: Harry is a young billionaire and CEO of his own company. He mostly keeps to himself, he is stern and very meticulous when it comes to business. He also likes to keep his personal life very private for the sake of his newly born son Oliver Styles. It isn't until he meets Y/N Y/L/N that everything changes. She becomes his new nanny after his previous one quits due to personal reasons. She is young, caring, and sweet. Will they ignore their feelings? Will Harry's girlfriend accept their love and leave them? Will she be able to cope with his busy agenda? What about Oliver's mother? Where is she? Who is she?

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Y/N found herself seated in the cozy confines of the Indian restaurant, the warm ambiance and enticing aromas tantalizing her senses. She glanced down at her watch, the minutes ticking away as her anticipation grew. She had arrived a bit early, eager to honor the plans she and Harry had made for their dinner date.

As her gaze flitted over the menu, a mixture of hunger and curiosity stirring within her, the entrance of the restaurant caught her attention. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Harry walking in, his presence commanding attention even before he reached her table.

Harry's eyes scanned the room briefly before landing on her, and a genuine smile lit up his face. The sight of her sitting there, waiting for him, was a reminder of the connection they were trying to rebuild—a connection that had been tested by time, distance, and unexpected revelations.

Y/N couldn't help but admire Harry's impeccable appearance as he approached her table. His perfectly tailored suit accentuated his form, the elegance of his attire matched by the warm sincerity in his gaze.

"Y/N," Harry greeted her, his voice a mixture of warmth and fondness.

"Harry," Y/N replied, her smile mirroring his.

As he took his seat across from her, their eyes met in a silent exchange that held a hint of vulnerability. The weight of their shared history and the newfound dynamics they were navigating was palpable, but so was the desire to bridge the gap between them.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," Harry apologized, his expression sincere.

Y/N waved off his concern, her gaze softening. "No worries. I just got here myself."

Harry's smile deepened, a touch of relief evident in his features. "I hope you're hungry. I've heard great things about this place."

Y/N chuckled softly, her laughter a testament to their shared humor. "Starving, actually. And Indian food sounds perfect."

As they perused the menu together, an air of camaraderie settled between them—a comfortable familiarity that held the promise of eased tensions and genuine conversation. The tension that had marked their previous interactions seemed to fade in the warmth of the restaurant's ambiance.

As they engaged in light banter, the layers of complexity that had once overshadowed their connection began to peel away. Their conversations flowed with ease, and Y/N found herself laughing more freely than she had in a long time. In the space of the restaurant, they were just two individuals, connecting over shared experiences and the prospect of a future that held hope.

As the evening progressed, their connection deepened, the weight of their history giving way to a sense of rediscovery. The wounds of the past were gradually being replaced by the potential for healing and growth—a future that was as uncertain as it was promising. And as they dined together, their laughter mingled with the flavors of the food, creating a tapestry of shared memories and newfound possibilities.

Harry and Y/N's conversation continued to flow, carrying them through topics that ranged from their shared history to hopes for the future. As the evening progressed, a pivotal decision emerged—a decision that held the potential to shape the path ahead.

Harry looked down at his phone, his fingers tapping against the screen as he navigated the sensitive topic that lay between them. He took a deep breath and met Y/N's gaze, his expression earnest.

"Y/N," he began, his voice gentle yet resolute, "about the paternity test..."

Y/N's attention shifted to him, her curiosity evident. "Yes?"

Harry's gaze held hers, a mixture of seriousness and determination in his eyes. "I think we should schedule the appointment for the day after tomorrow. I want to get this over with."

Y/N nodded in understanding, the weight of his words settling between them. "I agree. It's something that needs to be addressed."

There was a pause in their conversation as Y/N a bite out of her coconut chicken green curry, her thoughts mingling with the flavors on her palate. Harry's decision to confront the issue head-on resonated with her, a testament to the complexities of their situation.

Harry's fingers danced across his phone's screen as he responded to a message from Andrew, his assistant. A sense of purpose seemed to guide his actions as he navigated the logistics of their decision.

Andrew had taken the initiative to set up the appointment with Harry's family doctor, knowing that this step was significant for both Harry and Y/N. As Harry typed out his response, his focus remained on the conversation at hand, the weight of the decision they were making still heavy in his mind.

Y/N's gaze shifted from her plate to Harry's face, her expression a mixture of understanding and curiosity. "Did you manage to set up the appointment?"

Harry nodded, a sense of accomplishment in his gaze. "Yes, Andrew's already on it. The appointment is scheduled for the day after tomorrow."

Y/N's appreciation was evident in her smile. "Thank you"

Their conversation continued, intertwining with the decision they had made.

As the evening unfolded, the air around Harry and Y/N seemed to hold a delicate balance—a balance between reconnecting, addressing their shared past, and navigating the uncharted territory that lay before them. With the paternity test scheduled, the topic of their future was bound to arise.

The aroma of their meals still hung in the air as Y/N's gaze met Harry's, curiosity evident in her eyes. "Harry, what's going to happen after the paternity test? I mean, if it confirms everything..."

Harry's expression was contemplative, his gaze steady as he met her eyes. "I've been thinking about that, Y/N. And honestly, I'd like you to move in with me—for the duration of the pregnancy."

Y/N's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a mixture of emotions flickering in her eyes. "Move in with you?"

Harry nodded, his tone sincere. "Yeah. I want to be there for every step of this journey. I want to support you through the pregnancy, and I want us to share this experience together."

There was a moment of silence, the weight of Harry's words hanging in the air between them. Y/N's mind raced as she processed his request, a complex mixture of feelings swirling within her.

"I appreciate your offer, Harry," Y/N began, her voice soft yet resolute, "but I can't accept that."

Harry's expression shifted to one of confusion, his brows furrowing slightly. "Why not? I just want to be there for you."

Y/N's gaze held a mixture of determination and vulnerability as she spoke. "I'm in the process of renting out my first apartment. And more than that, I want to continue to be independent. I know you mean well, but I can't simply move in with you. We're not together anymore."

Harry's features softened with understanding, his gaze reflecting a sense of empathy. "Y/N, I get it. I respect your need for independence. But this is about supporting each other through a crucial time."

Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her emotions on display. "Harry, how can you expect us to live together now, when we're not together as a couple anymore? It's not the same as it was".

Harry sighed, his gaze dropping to the table momentarily before meeting hers again. "You're right, Y/N. It's complicated. But my intention is just to be there for you, to share in this experience as parents."

Y/N's gaze softened, the vulnerability in her expression matching his. "I know, Harry. And I appreciate that. But we have to find a way to navigate this in a way that works for both of us. I want to continue to be independent, even amidst the pregnancy."

Harry nodded slowly, understanding her point of view.

Their conversation lingered in the air, the weight of their decisions and the complexity of their feelings forming a bridge between them—a bridge that held the potential to guide them forward, even as their paths diverged. The future was uncertain, but in their shared dialogue, they found a glimmer of understanding—a reminder that despite the challenges, they were united by the life they were bringing into the world and the journey they were embarking upon, together in a new way.

The evening had been a delicate dance of shared moments and honest conversations, woven together by the flavors of their dinner and the warmth of their connection. As they finished their meal, Harry's insistence on indulging in dessert had elicited a smile from Y/N—a momentary reprieve from the complexities that surrounded them.

With the Indian restaurant behind them, they found themselves strolling through the streets, the cool evening air a balm against the tensions that had simmered beneath the surface of their discussions. Their steps were unhurried, their conversation light as they explored the cityscape that surrounded them.

As they walked, their path led them to a baby store, its display windows showcasing an array of items meant for the tiniest members of society. Their gazes lingered on the storefront, both hesitating just outside the entrance.

Nervousness mingled with curiosity as they exchanged a glance, the unspoken fears and uncertainties hanging in the air between them like a fragile thread.

Harry's voice broke the silence, his tone soft yet tinged with vulnerability. "I never thought I'd be standing outside a baby store like this. Not even after Oliver. I sent out someone to buy everyone for him”.

Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the store's window, her emotions visible in the furrow of her brows. "Me neither." Y/N remembered that Harry wasn't there for Oliver's pregnancy. Ashley had taken that away from him. She had almost taken that away from him.

For a moment, they stood there, their shared history and the circumstances that brought them to this point weighing heavily on their shoulders. The future was uncertain, and the prospect of parenthood together had brought them to a crossroads—one that was filled with both hope and apprehension.

Harry's fingers brushed against Y/N's hand, his touch a gentle reminder of their connection. "It's okay to be scared, Y/N."

Y/N's gaze met his, vulnerability and uncertainty mirrored in her eyes. "I know. It's just...it's a lot to process."

Harry nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "It is. But no matter what happens, I'll be here for you".

As they continued to stand outside the baby store, the moments of shared silence and understanding seemed to knit their connection closer. The complexities of their situation had not faded, but the willingness to confront their fears and navigate their shared journey was a testament to their growth.

With a deep breath, Y/N turned to Harry, a mixture of emotions playing across her features. "You're right. We'll figure it out. And maybe...maybe we can step inside and take a look."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Harry's lips, his gaze holding a mixture of warmth and reassurance. "Only if you're ready, Y/N."

Together, they stepped inside the baby store—a physical manifestation of the path they were treading together. As they explored the aisles and examined the tiny garments and necessities, a sense of unity seemed to settle within them, quieting their fears and strengthening their resolve.

TAGLIST: @0oolookitsme, @happycupcakeenthusiast, @kennedywxlsh, @hsfics, @stylesbrock, @cuddlingwithharry, @sucker4angstt, @bluemoonedwings, @cherriesrae, @vornilla, @mellamolayla, @harryscurls21, @stilesissaved, @be-with-me-so-happily, @harryssattelitestomper, @jerseygirlinca, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @lomlolivia, @stylesfever, @daphnesutton, @n0vaj3an, @breezykpop, @kathb59

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 3 months

Text

That Summer, Chapter 1

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Frank Castle has been on the move ever since he "retired" as The Punisher after finding out the truth about his family's murder and handing his former best friend, Billy Russo, off to the Feds.

With his new identity as Pete Castiglione, Frank decides to settle down in a small town in Iowa, where he finds employment as a farmhand/handyman for you, a widow who's struggling to keep your farm running by yourself after the untimely death of your husband a year prior.

As Frank grows closer to you, his past -- and true identity -- begin to catch up with him, putting his chance of finding peace -- and both of your lives -- at risk.

Warnings/Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, The Punisher S1 Compliant ONLY, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Frank calling Reader "Ma'am" is it's own warning 🥵

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: This is all Jon Bernthal's fault for looking so damn good in a flannel shirt and jeans.

Title from the Garth Brooks song of the same name.

Taglist: @danzer8705 @carolinaxvz @thepunisherfrankcastle

BangBangBangBangBang!

Frank Castle grabbed his pistol out from under his pillow as a sudden loud knocking on his motel room door startled him awake.

He had pulled into a small town in Iowa around 2 AM and had gotten a room, hoping to get a decent amount of sleep… but apparently there was no such luck since someone was banging on his door at fuck-o’clock in the morning.

He let out a deep breath and relaxed as he realized that the commotion was actually coming from a few doors down, the banging now followed by a woman's angry voice yelling that she knew that someone named Roger was ‘in there with that skank’. Sounds like a lover's quarrel .

He stashed his gun back underneath his pillow then looked at the bedside clock, which read 7:23 AM.

He sighed. Might as well get some breakfast since I'm up anyway.

He took a quick shower then dressed, noting by the silence that whatever had been going on between the angry woman and the allegedly-cheating Roger had apparently already been resolved.

There was a small hole-in-the-wall diner directly across the street from the motel, so Frank decided to just walk over there for breakfast.

He headed in and sat at the end of the counter, groaning when his back cracked.

He pulled out the bottle of aspirin he had bought at a gas station on his way into town and opened it, shaking out a couple of pills before popping them into his mouth and swallowing them dry. He'd certainly slept in worse places than the back of a van and cheap, shitty motel rooms back when he was in the military, but now that he was getting older his joints were definitely preferring a nice, soft bed to sleep in.

The waitress, an older woman whose nametag read Mildred , walked over and poured him a cup of coffee. “Welcome to Sal's, what can I getcha?” she said.

Frank quickly scanned the menu. “Uh, I'll have the bacon and eggs, eggs over easy, please.”

“Sure thing, hon. Coming right up.”

Frank looked around the mostly-empty diner as Mildred shuffled off to go put his order in with the cook.

An old jukebox stood along the far wall -- its choice of music being country ranging from the 1950’s to the 1980’s if Frank had to guess -- while a framed black-and-white photo of the diner sat above the jukebox, the presumed Sal standing proudly in front of the building and pointing to a brand-new sign.

Frank glanced back towards the door, a hand-written flyer pinned to a bulletin board catching his eye.

“You lookin' for a job?” the waitress asked, setting a plate in front of him.

“Uh, yeah, actually, I might be,” Frank replied, still looking at the flyer. He had been considering settling down somewhere for a while and figured that The Middle of Nowhere, Iowa might be just as good a place as any.

He pulled out his phone and flipped it open, only to notice that he had forgotten to charge it the night before and that the battery had died. “Ah, damn, my phone's dead. You happen to know where this is located?”

Mildred nodded. “Yeah, it's down at the end of Route Six, just past Eureka Creek at the edge of town.”

“Mind giving me directions?”

“Sure, when ya leave here head right on Route 3, go down a ways ‘till ya see the sign for the hardware store, then hang a left on the road right past it and go all the way down. Ya can't miss it.”

“Can I take the flyer?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” Frank finished his breakfast and coffee then pulled out enough cash to cover his bill and leave Mildred a nice tip before setting it on the counter. “Here ya go.”

Mildred walked over and took the money, counting it quickly before heading towards the register at the other end of the counter to close Frank out. “Thank ya, hon. You have a nice day now.”

“Thanks, you too.”

Frank took the flyer off of the bulletin board and folded it before sticking it in his pocket.

He headed back across the street and packed his duffle bag before checking out of the motel.

He unlocked his van and climbed in, reviewing the directions in his head before starting it up. Right outta here, left onto Route 6 after the hardware store… past Eureka Creek all the way to the end of the road. Got it.

He turned out of the diner's parking lot onto Route 3 and headed towards the edge of town, turning left past the hardware store down a gravel road with a faded sign that declared it Route 6 .

After a few minutes of bumpy driving he crossed a rickety-looking wooden bridge built over a small waterway (what Frank presumed to be the aforementioned Eureka Creek), which transitioned to a winding dirt road leading to a two-story farmhouse.

To the right of the house was another building that appeared to be a cabin, and beyond that was a barn, an older model truck half-covered with a tarp, a tractor that clearly hadn't run in a while, and a fenced-in pasture whose fence was in dire need of repair.

Definitely seems like there'd be plenty for me to do around here, Frank thought as he climbed out of the van.

He could hear barking coming from inside the house as he shut the door and began walking towards the front porch.

He paused just shy of the front steps as the front door opened slightly and you appeared.

You eyed him warily from behind a screen door, which remained closed. “Yes, may I help you?”

“I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am, especially with it being so early,” Frank began as he dug the flyer out of his pocket and unfolded it. “But I was told you were looking for someone to help out around here?”

You nodded, glancing briefly at the flyer in his hands before looking back up at him. “Yes, that's right.”

Frank cleared his throat. “I apologize for not calling first but my phone is dead, so Mildred over at the diner gave me your address. Is now a good time to talk?”

You hesitated momentarily. “Yeah, now’s fine, just give me a minute though.”

Frank nodded. “Sure thing, ma'am.”

He waited as you closed the door, hearing a heavy lock turn on the other side. He couldn't blame you -- he'd be cautious too if some strange person turned up on his doorstep unannounced.

After a few minutes, he heard the lock click again and the door open.

A large black and white dog came bounding out past the screen door, stopping in front of Frank and sniffing cautiously at his boots.

You followed, this time carrying a tray holding a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses and wearing a much friendlier look on your face. “Sorry about him,” you said as you set the tray down on a small side table and closed the door once again. “He's friendly though, I promise.”

“Ah, that's alright.” Frank squatted down to rub the dog’s muzzle. “What’s his name?”

“Frank.”

Frank chuckled. Guess that's a sign that this was a good idea. “Frank, huh?”

You shrugged. “That was the name he came with. He's a rescue.”

Frank turned his attention to Canine Frank. “Nah, that's a good name, huh boy?”

He stood. “I'm Pete. Pete Castiglione.”

You introduced yourself in return. “Would you like some lemonade, Pete?”

Frank nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I'd love some.”

He walked up the steps to the porch as you poured two glasses of lemonade.

You handed him one of the glasses. “Here, have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Frank took the glass and sat before taking a sip of the cool, perfectly sweet drink. “Mmm. This is excellent. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” You took a sip of your own lemonade as Canine Frank settled himself at your feet. “So, Pete, do you have any farming experience?”

Frank shook his head. “Actually, no ma'am, I don't, but I'm a real fast learner and I don't have a problem with getting my hands dirty. And whatever needs fixing, I can do as well.”

Your eyes flicked down to Frank's battle-scarred hands. “Well that's good to know, at least. I'm afraid it's been a bit of a struggle trying to keep up with repairs around this place while also tending to the animals.”

You took another sip of your lemonade. “Where’ya from, if ya don't mind me asking?”

“New York.”

You eyed him carefully. “Long way from home. Running from or towards something?”

Frank chuckled and shook his head. “Bit of both, I guess.”

“Honest answer. That's good. Honesty’s important around here.”

Frank nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Honesty's important to me too.”

You looked out towards the farm, then sighed. “I’ll take you on on a trial basis -- let's say two weeks. If it seems like you're at least starting to catch on to everything then you can have the position permanently, if not then I'll give you the half month’s pay that I'll owe you and we'll go our separate ways. Sound fair?”

Frank nodded in return. “Yes, ma’am, sounds completely fair.”

You stood. “In that case, how about I show you around?”

Frank finished his lemonade and set his glass down on the table. “That'd be great.”

You led Frank towards the barn. “We're a small farm, with just 6 horses and 5 cows, a dozen hens, a couple of bee boxes, and Frankie boy here. We used to be much bigger but… well, it became too much to handle on my own.”

Frank had a feeling there was more to that story, but said nothing.

You tugged on the barn door, grunting in frustration when it didn't budge. “That's one thing on the repair list -- this damn door. It's always getting stuck.”

You tugged one more time, the door finally letting loose with a loud pop and sliding open.

Frank followed you into the barn, which was neat and tidy -- well, as neat and tidy as a barn could be. “I can take a look at that door for you now, if you'd like.”

You nodded and waved a hand at the door. “By all means, go right ahead.”

“Got a ladder?”

“Yeah, just a second.”

You walked towards the back of the barn and unhooked a short folding ladder that was hanging on the left wall. “Will this do?”

Frank nodded. “Yes ma'am, that'll work.”

He waited as you brought the ladder to him then climbed up. “Ahh, yeah, I see the problem right here. One of the tracks is loose so they keep catching on each other.”

He looked down at you. “You got a screwdriver handy?”

“Yeah, there's a toolbox over here.” You walked over to a large tool chest and began rummaging through it, quickly producing a screwdriver. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Frank quickly screwed the track back into place and stepped off of the ladder. “Go ahead and try that door now.”

You walked back over to the door, which now slid easily in both directions. “Ah yeah, there we go. Thanks.”

Frank shrugged. “No problem, ma’am.”

You led him towards the stables. “Alrighty, so here are the horses. We've got Sunshine, Missy, Eclipse, Nutmeg, and Amaretto.”

You stopped at a stable that was further away from the others. “And this is the aptly-named Midnight.”

Frank looked between the jet-black horse and you. “Why is he being kept separate from the other horses?”

“He's not tame yet. I've been trying but haven't had any success.” You paused. “My husband was the horse trainer, I just don't seem to have the knack for it.”

There it is. “Was?”

You nodded. “Tom passed away just over a year ago -- car accident. He was coming back from Des Moines with a load of feed when his tire blew out and he ran off the road. Struck a tree, killed him instantly.”

Frank winced. “I'm so sorry. I know what that's like, though, I… I lost my wife and kids a few years ago too.”

“I'm sorry for your loss as well.”

Next you showed him the cows -- Lulu, Clarabelle, Daisy, Petunia, and Millie -- then the area where you kept the bees. “I usually handle them on my own but there might be an occasion where I would need you to help me harvest honey. You're not allergic, are you?”

Frank shook his head. “No, ma'am. That won't be a problem.”

“Okay, good. Let me show you where you'll be staying.”

You took him back around to the cabin. “Here it is.”

Frank followed you up the steps to the small porch and waited as you unlocked the door.

You opened it. “Come on in.”

He followed you inside and took a look around. To the left of the entranceway was a small kitchen, complete with a stove/oven combo, microwave and coffee maker.

“There’s a grocery store in town if you want to stock up on groceries,” you explained, “but you're also welcome to come have meals in the main house too if you'd like.”

Frank nodded. “I’m not much of a cook, so that would be nice if you wouldn't mind the company.”

“Not at all.”

Beyond the kitchen was a living area that connected to another side porch, then a small laundry room with a washer and dryer. “This was Tom’s and my place before we built the main house,” you explained as you showed him the bedroom and bathroom. “It wasn't much, but it was home while we needed it to be.”

Frank shook his head. “Nah, this is perfect.”

You handed him a key. “Breakfast is at six, lunch at noon, dinner at seven. Work starts tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Alrighty then, I'll give you your privacy, leave ya to get settled in. Let me know if ya need anything.”

“I will.”

Frank went out to the van to get his duffle bag as you headed back to the main house, Canine Frank on your heels.

He headed back into the cabin and unpacked his meager belongings, hiding his pistol in the nightstand next to the bed before plugging his phone in to charge.

He put a load of laundry on to wash, glad to have his own washer and dryer to use rather than having to find a laundromat.

He returned to the bedroom intending on taking a nap when he looked out of the window, spotting you carrying a large square bale of hay towards the barn and looking like you were struggling.

He headed outside and walked towards you. “Here, let me help you with that.”

You stopped and handed him the hay bale. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“No problem. Where we headed?”

“Horse stalls.” You wiped the back of your arm across your forehead. “It's been taking a lot longer than it's supposed to to muck them out because I've been having to transport the hay by hand and in smaller bales ever since that tractor’s been broken, not to mention having to move the horses to another stall instead of being able to let them pasture during the day because of the fence.”

Frank glanced over at the broken-down tractor. “Listen, I'm not really one to sit around and be idle, so instead of starting tomorrow why don't I help you with the stalls then go ahead and get started on that repair list for you? I can fix the fence then maybe take a look at that tractor, see if I can't get it running for ya tonight.”

You nodded. “That would be great. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You quickly showed Frank how to muck out the horses' stalls, and together the two of you managed to get them cleaned and re-lined with bedding in just a few hours.

“Okay, that's the last one,” you said as you finished mucking out the stall you used to temporarily house each of the horses. “Thanks a lot for your help.”

Frank shrugged. “That's what I'm here for.”

You looked at your watch. “It's just about time for lunch, so how about you wait till after we eat before starting on the fence?”

Frank nodded. “Alright.”

You led him to the back of the main house. “Lunch usually consists of something simple like sandwiches and chips,” you explained as you went up the steps of the back porch and took off your boots. “But there's chili cooking in the Crock-Pot for dinner tonight.”

“Both sound great,” Frank replied, taking his own boots off before following you into the kitchen. “I'm not a very picky eater.”

You washed your hands then went to the refrigerator and began to gather the makings for sandwiches. “I've got turkey and ham, cheese, and fresh lettuce and tomatoes from the garden along with some pickles. Help yourself to whatever you like on your sandwich.”

Frank washed his own hands as you set everything out on the counter along with two plates, a bag of chips, and some condiments. “Thank you.”

You made your sandwich and set your plate on the dining room table. “Something to drink?”

Frank nodded as he made his own sandwich. “Some more of that lemonade would be really nice.”

“Sure thing.” You walked back to the cabinet, pulled out two glasses, and set them on the counter, then pulled the pitcher of lemonade out of the refrigerator. “Go ahead and have a seat, I'll bring this over.”

Frank sat a couple of seats down from you, thanking you as you set his glass of lemonade in front of him.

He picked up his sandwich and took a bite, chewing and swallowing before asking, “What else is on the repair list?”

You huffed out a light laugh and shook your head. “Honestly too much to name, but I can give you a detailed list tomorrow.”

Frank nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you continued eating in silence, Frank stealing a glance at you as you looked thoughtfully out of the window.

He could see the pain of loss on your face as well as determination to keep the farm afloat and silently vowed to do whatever it took to help you succeed.

#lotmf writes #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #That Summer Masterlist

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bagerfluff · 2 months

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haii!! im the anon you just responded to and i wanted to request a short fic of leo valdez and his little gloomy boyfriend hanging out:)) maybe have it be like them on a cute little date?

also!! could i be ur 💀 anon:3

Thank you for requesting 💀 anon. Your wish is my command, and I also really like this prompt. I hope you like this and have a good day and don't forget to drink water :)

Gloomy Coffee Date

Leo Valdez x Male Reader

Prompt - Coffee Date

"Come on Y/n".

You glanced over at Leo as he pulled you along the streets. You and Leo were currently making your way through New York.

Since this was the first day in months that you and Leo had a day off, Leo wanted to spend it doing something.

You wanted to hang out in your house. Read a book, watch a movie, cuddle. Something like that. But Leo wanted to go out and visit a new coffee shop that he saw online. You didn't want to do that, you didn't like going out. But the smile on Leo's face made you cave.

So off you and Leo went, hand and hand down the street to the shop. It was a nice day out. It was sunny with no clouds.

It wasn't windy, and lots of plants were in bloom. But not even the flowers could mask the sent of the city.

You were the opposite of the day.

You had a scowl on your face. You weren't the most excited about going out. But the smile on Leo's face helped.

"Come on, Sunshine, stop looking so gloomy", Leo looked back to you to say this. You rolled your eyes. You had no idea how many times how many people have said this.

You weren't gloomy, you just had a resting bitch face. You mostly kept to yourself. People never liked talking to you. Saying that you were too blunt.

You never minded.

You were shocked when Leo started talking to you. He didn't seem to mind that you were gloomy. He didn't mind that you were you.

You smiled as you walked. "Where here!" Leo yelled and you looked up. In front of you and Leo was the coffee shop. "Come on!" Leo yelled again and walked in.

You started to realize that maybe it wasn't the best idea to take Leo to a coffee shop. Oh shit. Well, to late to turn back now.

As soon was Leo walked in he dragged you to the counter and rang the bell. You watched as someone came up and asked Leo what he wanted.

You weren't really paying attention, you were reading the menu. That was until Leo tapped you on the shoulder and asked you what you wanted. "Plain black coffee please", just because you looked impolite doesn't mean you are.

"Boring", Leo said. "Just because I don't want to put pounds of sugar in my body doesn't mean I'm boring", you countered. Leo rolled his eyes and waited by the counter.

Leo let go of your hand and you left to find a table. Once you found one in the corner you sat down and started out the window.

The sun was glaring into the shop, the curtains on either side of the window did little to stop it. There was a ledge and a couple flower pots on said ledge.

They smelled nice but someone them looked like they were dying. Once you heard footsteps you looked over at saw Leo walking towards you with two cups of coffee and a cookie.

Great. More sugar.

Leo sat down and handed you your drink. Leo sat right next to you and immediately started to eat is cookie. You and Leo mostly stayed quiet.

Saying something every once and a while, but mostly not talking. You two were mostly just enjoying each others company.

Leo was the one who talked more, but that was normal. Once you and Leo were done you threw your trash away and Leo dragged you out of the coffee shop.

Leo was talking a mile a minute as you sped walked back to your apartment. Leo was dragging you along but you didn't mind.

This was better then staying home.

#lgbtq #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x male reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x male reader #percy jackson x reader #heros of olympus x reader #heros of olympus #pjo series #pjo hoo toa

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

Text

Wasted 10

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥

The other girl in this one is from Black Light

Part of The Club AU

You stopped being surprised by men a long time ago. So it hardly fazes you when Bucky sends a picture of a tackily short red dress with the caption, 'make sure you show some ass for my guy'. You roll your eyes but find something suitably similar. A darker shade but just as short; just as demeaning.

You do your make-up and grab a light jacket and your purse. You have the address and upon Googling, you find it's for a rather upscale restaurant on the far side of the city. The area code well outside your bank account's depth. You can spare some of your cut for an uber.

Your vigilant as you sit silently in the back seat. As you approach the restaurant, you look up and down the street, and across it. You're not stupid. It feels like a set-up, more than just a date, but you see no other way to get this jerk off your back.

You step out and strut across the pavement. You pull out your phone and re-read the message; 'reservation under Rogers'. Great. You're really not feeling this.

You enter and greet the hostess curtly, giving her the name for the table, and waiting with your hands folding around your purse. She offers to take your coat and hand it over, happy to shed the extra layer. She leads you along the bar and towards the back of the place. You take in each face, perusing all the seats, searching for that slimeball. Bucky is nowhere to be seen. That's hardly a comfort.

As you approach a booth, a figure slides across the seat and your eyes fall to the slender man from the cafe. Steve. He runs his hand over his neatly combed blond hair as his cheeks glow red. You try to smile. You feel suddenly bad for him. You wonder if he even knows about the blackmail.

"You look gorgeous," he greets breathless, "er, I'm sorry, hi. I... let's sit."

You nod as he waves you towards the table. You glide over the seat as the hostess promises a server will be with you shortly to get you drinks. Steve sits and mousishly inches closer and closer as you grab the wine menu.

"Nice place," you remark as you look up at the light hanging above you.

"Yeah, I... I thought so," the nerves tremble in his voice chords, "you do look really nice."

"Thank you, Steve," you face him, "I love your tie."

He reaches to touch the bowtie at his neck, smiling broader, "really? Bucky-- I, my friend, made fun of it."

"Don't listen to your friend. Better yet, find better friends," you scoff.

"Yeah, uh, it's just... he's... I, let's not talk about him."

"Let's not," you agree and reach to still his hand as he fidgets, "Steve, chill. This is weird but not awful. Let's order some wine and try to enjoy ourselves."

"Okay," his voice peaks and he clears his throat, bringing it back down to baritone, "yeah, that sounds great."

He stares at you and a genuine smile breaks through. He seems genuinely awe-struck by you. It's flattering. Men leer and lurk and loom, but something about him is disarming in a very sweet way.

"Well, looks like we're onto the small talk," you chuckle, "so, I work at the transit commission. I sell bus tickets. It's not exciting. At all. And doesn't pay well. So, what do you do?"

He stares at you, marveling, eyes sparkling, like you just said something absolutely amazing. He stutters and combs his fingers through his hair again, a shank sticking up as he brings his hands down to grip his jacket lapels. He chews his lips and blows out a breath.

"I'm an artist," he admits as he lowers his chin, "it's not very exciting either. I do online commissions. Nothing revolutionary. Mostly portraits of dogs."

"That's adorable," you say as you reach over to smooth his hair out. He flinches and peeks up at you. He bring your hand down to your chin and tilt his head up, "I wish I was creative. At all. I'd love to see some of your art. I mean, if you'd like to share."

"Oh, um, as long as it doesn't bother you for my phone to be out at the table," he teethes his lip sheepishly. You shake your head and shrug. He reaches under his brown jacket and takes out his phone, "this one... well... I did a portrait of this cat. For a friend. Cat's a real jack-- meanie," he corrects himself, "but pretty."

He shows you a crosshatching of a white cat, dignified and defiant. You smile. Yes, you see the attitude. He's captured it so well.

"Wow, that's amazing," you lean in, "I have a friend, she's the same way. She just sees the world so different and I could never..."

"Everyone makes their own type of art. Maybe yours is people. You make them feel... safe," he suggests.

You laugh but quickly stop yourself, "yeah, maybe."

Before the silence can grow awkward, a server approaches. Steve seems shy even with her. He searches the wine menu rather cluelessly and you make a suggestion which he accepts. The server promises to return with the bottle and lean back into the seat. He's looking at you again.

"Can I show you something else?" He asks. You nod. He flips through his phone and turns it towards you, "I drew this that day at the cafe. After you left. So I'd remember your face." It's a drawing of you, you look radiant and not your usual skeptical self. "I didn't think I'd see you again.”

“Funny how things turn out,” you say, “so, I wanna know more about your art. Do you have like a super awesome project you want to do one day? Like the Sistine Chapel or Mona Lisa?”

“Uh, I wouldn’t compare myself but… yeah, I have a few ideas,” he seems to come alive as he takes your bait. It eases the mood and chips away at your own wariness. If you have to be here, you may as well try to enjoy it.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #steve rogers x reader #drabble #wasted #the club #au #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #avengers

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suzukiblu · 7 months

Note

Guessing game: Farm

Context: a familial soulmates AU is happening to newly-decanted baby clone "Superman" and Ma and Pa "it's free alien baby" Kent.

The waitress comes back with the drinks and asks if they're ready to order, and then they have to actually read the menu. She leaves them to it. The Zesti does taste really good, but Superman has a hard time concentrating on the menu and barely resists the urge to glance up at Jonathan and Martha every five seconds.

"Oh, wait–can you read yet, kiddo, or do you need some help with that?" Jonathan asks with a faint frown as he glances up at him himself, and somehow the question doesn't sound judgmental at all.

Weird, Superman thinks again.

"Yeah," he says. "Um–Cadmus was educating me with information uploads. I didn't finish them, but I can read and write and do, like . . . well, some math, anyway. I got through trig and precalc, mostly. Uh, and some chemistry and biology. And, like, I can speak English and Spanish and a little Mandarin, and I know basic ASL. I don't think I'm actually as smart as they thought I was gonna be, though, some of it's kinda . . . confusing, to be honest? And they only ever showed me stuff once, I think they just thought I'd . . . you know, get it."

"You're two weeks old!" Martha says with an exasperated huff. "Those damn morons, you're gonna need a lot more than two weeks' worth of yellow sun before you're going to get the eidetic memory or the enhanced intelligence."

"The–what?" Superman blinks. Jonathan and Martha glance at each other, oddly, and then back to him.

"Superman had perfect recall," Jonathan says. "Hyperthymesia. A photographic memory, you might call it."

"Oh," Superman says, blinking again. "Uh–I didn't know that."

"I don't know how much most people ever thought about it, so far as his powers went," Jonathan says with a shrug. "Not quite as flashy as the heat vision or the flying. Actually it's a surprise you can fly this quick, come to think."

"I'm sort of . . . cheating," Superman mutters, ducking his head. "My Kryptonian physiology isn't developed enough to give me the real powers yet and they didn't know how long it might take for them to come in, so they sort of . . . there's like this . . . field, kind of, that the original Superman put off? Subconscious telekinesis, I guess. Skin-tight force field, basically. It's why bullets weren't ripping up his suit all the time and why he could, like, pick up a whole freaking bus or whatever one-handed and it wouldn't just break in half from the fucked-up–uh, the messed-up support. The field would just wrap around whatever he was touching and reflexively keep it together. So Cadmus just kinda . . . copied that and cranked it up to eleven, for me. So I'm telekinetic, kind of?"

"Huh," Martha says, looking a little puzzled. "You know, that never even occurred to me, but it certainly explains a few things."

"It only works when I'm touching something," Superman says, fidgeting uncomfortably and feeling kind of like . . . well, he guesses his powers not being the same as the original Superman's were yet isn't gonna disappoint the Kents, right? Like, why would they care? "It's tactile-based. But I can always use it on myself. So I can fly and pick up real heavy shit and hit like I've got super-strength and make it look like I'm invulnerable. No heat vision or ice breath or X-ray vision or, uh, eidetic memory, though. Or super-speed or super-senses."

And definitely, definitely no enhanced intelligence.

"So you mean you're going to be stronger than Superman was?" Martha asks with a little frown, and Superman . . . blinks.

"Uh . . . I don't think so?" he says uncertainly, not sure where she got that idea. "I don't know how the hybridization of my DNA will affect, like . . . any of the Kryptonian powers. They might turn out weaker than his were, since my genes are sort of already adapted for a yellow sun."

"I don't know, being primed to process yellow sunlight might make your powers end up stronger, on that logic," Jonathan points out reasonably. "Once you grow into them a bit, anyway. And either way you'll have the telekinesis enhancing your strength and invulnerability, and that might get stronger too. And, well, at least some hybrids have a tendency to turn out bigger and stronger than their parent species."

Superman tilts his head. Blinks a couple times.

"Huh," he says.

Well, there's a really freaking cool and absolutely fucking terrifying thought.

"How do you know all that?" he asks. "Are you a biologist or something?"

"I'm a farmer, son," Jonathan says wryly. "I'm talking about mules and wolfdogs."

"You're a farmer?" Superman repeats in absolute bemusement.

"We both are, dear," Martha says. "All our lives. We live out in Smallville, actually, we're just here visiting . . . well. Clark's fiancée. Her name is Lois."

"Where's Smallville?" Superman asks, still bemused.

"Kansas," Martha says. "We have a little farm out there. And . . . well, we'd very much like to take you in, obviously, though I don't know where you're staying right now."

"Just, like–wherever, right now," Superman says awkwardly, trying not to sound as pathetic as he's pretty sure he does even as he wonders how that's supposed to be "obvious". He's not, like, a little kid or anything. It's not like he can't take care of himself. "Like, it's not really . . . just wherever."

Jonathan and Martha glance at each other. Superman feels embarrassed. It's not like it matters where he's staying, and like, he'll find a place, eventually, just . . . he hasn't quite figured out how to do that yet. That's all.

Cadmus, unfortunately, did not prepare him to ever live . . . well. Outside of Cadmus.

"Would you like to visit, at least? Take a look around?" Jonathan offers. "It's not too far a flight from Metropolis."

"Um . . . maybe," Superman says, really not sure what he'd ever do on a farm of all places. Like, in what way is a farm a "Superman" kind of place to be?

Though he guesses it'd be politer than making Jonathan and Martha come to Metropolis. And if they actually . . . if they really want to see him . . .

He could swing by sometimes, that's all. He guesses he'd have to be careful about doing it because probably the Kents aren't gonna want anybody to know they're his soulmates, given the whole "being civilians" thing. Maybe he can just . . . just pretend to be . . . he doesn't know, exactly? Just–maybe some random distant relative or something. Maybe they have some cousins or whatever. Or just . . . something.

Superman actually has no idea how many people hang out with their extended family members like that, to be honest, but it's the best idea he's coming up with right now.

#kon el #superboy #ma and pa kent #superfamily #rinfic #kamkong #long post #wip: jon and martha professional soulparents

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gracegrove · 1 year

Text

Billy walks into the little corner coffee shop off the square. He's meeting a date, and he's a bit early. So he heads to the counter to order something so he won't feel or look so out of place while he waits.

"Hey. Uh, can I get a medium Short and one of those scones?"

The barista behind the counter was fiddling with the many knobs of the coffee maker. "Yeah, just a sec!" He threw his hands up dramatically before wiping them on his apron. Turning to face the new customer, the barista ran a hand through his thick mop of hair, carefully readjusting it atop his head as if it were a crown.

"What can I get you?" the barista asked.

"A medium Short." Billy repeated, "and a scone."

The barista blinked at him, and then turned and looked up at the menu board. "Med- shor-...?" He scratched his head pulling out one sized cup, and then another, smaller sized cup with the other hand. "How is it both?" he asked himself, looking at the board again.

"A medium..." he began. "Yes", Billy picked up. "A medium Short," they finished in unison.

"Huh." the barista mused. "I'll get you that scone, but you'll have to give me a minute or two to figure this out."

"Take your time, I got plenty of it," Billy huffed lightly, putting a $5 on the counter and taking the freshly plated scone. Setting the plate down at a table near the corner, Billy looked over the small bookcase. Mostly paperbacks that were heavily thumbed through, their pages having yellowed from many a day in the sun. He slid one out and sat down.

"Ah! Son of a -!" Billy looked up from the line he was reading, "You alright?" The barista was shaking his hand out, letting the steam off the latch from the machine too soon. "Yeah, I'm ok!" He hollered back.

Clattering around behind the counter, and breaking a plate, the barista gingerly pushed a finished coffee onto the counter in trepidation. "Sir, your coffee's ready. Your uh..."

"Medium short." they both finished.

"And it's Billy. Don't call me sir." he placed a hand around the saucer, heading back to his table.

"Steve!"

Billy turned around, "What?"

The barista rubbed his neck. His cheeks dusting a rosy pink. "My name's Steve. ... Y'know. Since you told me your name."

Billy gave him a small smile, "Nice to meet you, Steve," before returning to his table.

Sitting down, Billy turned the ceramic cup and absent-mindedly lifted it to his lips. His eyes watching the door. His date was late, it was already 10:38. Taking a sip he paused full stop, the sweet taste of steamed milk hitting his tongue.

Leaning on the counter, Billy gently cleared his throat. "Aham. Excuse me."

Steve was delicately attempting to balance the pastries in the display case. "Yeah?" Shooting up, he hit his head on the curved glass, toppling his carefully arranged viennoiserie. "Dammit." he sighed.

Billy looked at him guiltily. "Uh, this isn't a Short." he stated as gently as possible, placing the cup on the counter. "I think you gave me a cappuccino."

Steve looked at the small cup with defeat in his eyes. "I'm sorry." He looked at Billy so apologetically. "I've only been here two weeks, but wrapping my head around all these types of coffee is gonna drive me nuts!"

Billy laughed, hooking one foot over the ankle of the other and leaning over the countertop on his elbows. "It's not too hard. If you let me back there I can show you."

Steve looked around at the empty shop, "but aren't you waiting for somebody?"

Billy cocked his head toward the door, "I don't think they're comin."

"Well that's shitty. I'm sorry man." Steve seemed genuine in his concern.

"So you gonna let me teach you how to not make shit coffee or what?" Billy pressed, flashing a bright smile at the brunette.

Steve unlatched the faux counter and stepped aside. "I mean, I thought shit coffee was what this place was known for... have you seen the line?"

Billy barked an obnoxious laugh as he grabbed a fresh cup.

He wasn't all that bummed that his date flaked, in fact he might even go so far to be grateful. He now had a favorite coffee shop.

@every-dayiwakeup

#harringrove au #coffeeshop au #harringrove #billy x steve

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tragicxensemble · 3 months

Text

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One More Chance (At Love) (Pt.1/?)

Slowburn Mark Sloan x Reader x George O'Malley

TW/CW: Mentions of medical terms and just overall Grey's anatomy gore, social anxiety/ anxiousness, Christina being passive-aggressive to the reader of you squint, Love triangle, jump cuts

Disclaimer/Summary:

‼️ SEASON 2 SPOILERS!! ‼️

AJ's a new intern at Seattle Grace Hospital and the niece of Miranda Bailey. She has an average reputation and never heard of 'McSteamy' a.k.a Mark Sloan upon moving to Seattle and working at Seattle Grace. Not understanding the hype around him nor falling for his charm, he ends up falling first and hard because he thinks she's "hard to get". He tries his best to flirt with her but to no avail, because she never picks up on any of those social cues to realize that he has been flirting with her the entire time because of her being neurodivergent (specifically AuDHD). Besides Mark, there's also someone else who has been eyeing AJ since they met.

Ps: This is mostly a self-insert but you can still read and enjoy this!! It's been a while since I've made a fic and I think it's time for a fresh start :). This takes place in mid-season 2 (specifically episode 9, a month before the Thanksgiving part of the episode starts then jumpcuts to the events of the Thanksgiving episode) to around the end of season 3. There are a lot of jump cuts in this fic and rhe reader is black

Wc: 3.4k

» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── «

@spexialvixtimxunit @verytalented

Seattle Grace Hospital. A hospital filled with opportunities and so much drama that it could be a full-course meal. That is, of course, if you're interested in having surgeries and nonstop sleepless nights on the menu. If so, then sign me up. Having the opportunity to work in the same hospital as my Aunt was a blessing and a curse. She knew that I was studying to become a surgeon, but what she didn't know was that I would be working in the same hospital as her. The other interns around me called her 'The Nazi' but I simply called her Auntie Mandy.

No one knew that she was my aunt so they had no room to treat me differently because of my association with her. I deserved to be in that surgical program just as much as they did. I worked my ass off to become a well-respected doctor, not a punching bag for bottomless insults. So, my strategy to survive the internship came in 3 easy rules. A guide that I follow every day.

1. Befriend the Nurses.

This step was relatively easy. I'm always kind to everyone I meet unless they give me a reason to be mean. Plus, I would hate to get stuck on doing rectal exams or sutures for hours on end just because I pissed a nurse off. They're human beings just like me and deserve equal respect because it took them years of med school to get to where they are.

2. Keep to myself and only speak when spoken to (a.k.a practically become invisible to almost everyone unless I'm given instructions to complete a task.)

Now, this step is a relatively difficult one to follow. I have no clue who I will encounter upon being on Auntie Mandy's service and they would make my experience at SG unpredictable. I won't let them get to know me upon surface-level things about me. It's too risky for them to find out even the smallest incriminating detail about me. I'll just have to wait for the right moment to tell anyone that Bailey is my Aunt.

And lastly, my most hated rule.

3. NEVER unmask, unless necessary.

Masking in itself is extremely difficult. If I show any sign of my neurodivergence to neurotypicals who don't understand what it's like to hide parts of yourself every day 24/7, I'm looking at weeks of being a laughing stock and judged by everyone. Even though this is a possibility, the road to being a surgeon is never easy for anyone.

So, with that being said you would say that I have 3 impossible rules to follow. I would have to try my absolute hardest to not expose myself but also to be on top of my game in this program if I want to make it in the real surgical world.

-------

My alarm rings at the ripe time of 5 am. I had to be at the hospital by 7:00 am before 7:30 am rounds started and before I could officially be assigned to my resident. I knew before today that I was going to be assigned to Auntie Mandy because of the letter in the mail a few weeks ago declaring my official internship and transfer to Seattle Grace. As well as what day I would start working. Transferring hospitals is like transferring schools, you have to start all over again in a new place. New environment. With completely new people. People who are already used to each other and probably friends with each other. Whereas I'm the new kid, the outcast. The kid that sits alone during lunch while everyone has already created their cliques.

I took a few deep breaths before getting out of bed to stop myself from becoming anxious at the thought of all the wrong outcomes that could happen. I made sure to pack comfort snacks the night before and an emergency meltdown/overstimulation bag that consisted of earplugs, a few small but effective fidget toys, compactable noise-canceling headphones, and an mp3 player that has my comfort songs on speed dial. I made my bed, as I usually do to start my morning. Following up on that, I meditated and did yoga for an hour and a half. It's a way to calm and ground myself before I tackle whatever the day brings me.

I did my morning routine and skin care before heading back to my room, to change into my outfit.

By this time it was already 6:40 am. I had enough time to spare to moisturize my locs and bring a scrunchie with me so that I could put my hair up when needed at work. I made sure to grab my messenger bag and my snacks for the long shift and promptly left my apartment at 6:50 am. The drive to work was roughly 15 minutes but ended up being 20 minutes with traffic. I didn't live far away from the hospital, which was alright in my opinion. I arrived there at 7:05 am and began to park. After I parked and got out of the car, a motorcyclist drove up loud and parked 2 spots away from me.

Right in the middle of my car and the motorcycle came another car with 2 women and a guy who I'd assume knew the female motorcyclist because the group of 4 joined each other and I began walking into the building behind them. Mid-walk, another guy joins the group after what I'd assume was his morning jog. He was huffing and saying something I couldn't make out because of me keeping my distance from them so that they wouldn't assume that I was following them even though I was. I had no freaking clue on where anything in this ginormous hospital was. Sure I had a tour of the hospital but it's so easy to forget the layout when I've only been in it once.

While we waited for the elevator I quietly said, "Excuse me," as I tapped the shoulder of a brown-haired guy with cute doe eyes. He stopped talking with the blonde-haired woman and turned to face me. "I'm sorry, but could you help direct me to the surgical locker room? I'm not entirely sure where it is." As I was speaking the rest of the group turned to look at me, which was not intimidating in any way. (Yes it was.) "Yeah sure, We're actually on our way there." says the doe-eyed guy. "I'm George O'Malley by the way, that's Izzie Stevens, Alex Karev, Meredith Grey, and Christina Yang. We're all surgical interns." George introduced the names to the faces of everyone and I hoped for the best that I could remember their names.

"Oh, I'm AJ. AJ Brown. I'm also an intern here. It's my first day." I spoke. "What! That's cool, we could show you around sometime!" Izzie said as the elevator dinged. I nodded and followed their lead and got on the elevator with them, standing near the back of it. I listened as they talked about how their mornings went. The elevator stopped at the second floor. After making a few turns into the corridors, we finally made it to the locker room.

"What's your locker number?" Meredith asked as she began to walk to her locker. "Uh, it's G - 23," I responded as I looked around at my surroundings. Everyone was already getting changed. "Oh, nice you have a locker next to me!" Izzie smiled. The digital clock on the wall read 7:15 am, there was enough time to change into my scrubs and have my pager and stethoscope ready. As I was putting my shoes on Meredith spoke to me, "So, AJ, where are you from?" She asked as she closed her locker door. "Oh, I'm from a small town in Illinois," I answered. "What's a city girl like you doing all the way here in rainy ol' Seattle? Besides to work here?" Alex chimed in, "Family, stuff." I spoke shortly, in hopes of ending the conversation.

"That's nice that you can be near family here. Also, who's service are you on?" Izzie asked. "I have Dr. Bailey," I spoke as I stood up while closing my locker. "Awesome, she has the Nazi too." Christina deadpanned as they all began to finish up. "Christina, be nice!" Meredith nudged Christina's arm and tried her best to whisper that to her but failed. "We can show you where she is today." The group leaves the locker room and I trail behind them to find my Aunt.

We head to the elevator and we make it to the third floor, where we come to a spacious waiting area and a front desk that I'd assume contained charts and other important patient information. Among the crowd of people walking around stood Auntie Mandy, writing in a chart binder at the front desk. "Good morning Dr. Bailey." They all said one by one, before George spoke, "I think we have a new intern with us that's on your service." That sparked her to look up from the chart. "New intern? What new intern?" She said almost with an attitude. They all miraculously parted like the Red Sea to reveal my presence to her.

"Well, I'll be damned! If it isn't AJ!" Bailey replied with a smile before running up to hug me, which shocked the group as if they had never seen her act sweet towards anyone. She released me from her grasp and said, "I had no idea they were assigning you to my service! How's your mom? I know everyone must miss me back there in Illinois." Bailey chirped. I hesitated and replied shortly, "Everyone's fine and they do." I laughed awkwardly. "Wait? How do you know Dr. Bailey and how does she know you?" Christina asked, answering the burning question that was floating around in everyone's head.

"She's-" Before Dr. Bailey could finish her sentence our pagers went off. Talk about being saved by the bell. Or beep in this case. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding in as we all began to follow Bailey's orders on where to be assigned. George ended up being the one to be my guide for the day as I helped him with patients and got used to doing checkups and filling out charts for a few hours. After that, Bailey assigned George to teach me how to run labs and work on sutures in the pit, as well as prescribing actual medicine to the patients. Before I knew it, it was lunchtime.

"Hey, would you like to have lunch with me? I'm usually with everyone because we all eat together sometimes." George asked softly as we headed to the cafeteria I assumed. "Uh, sure." I agreed. I brought a simple lunch with me, a turkey sandwich, apple slices, and carrots. While George offered to buy me apple juice. As I began to sit down next to George, Christina let out a loud groan and said lowly to herself, "Why did George invite someone we barely know to lunch, it's like she's his pet or something." This time Merideth kicked Christina's leg under the table, which caused her to verbally say 'ow' in response.

Upon hearing that comment, before I could start eating I got up and excused myself by saying, "I think left my pager in my locker. I'm gonna go get it." I grabbed all of my things and left immediately, what did I expect from a bunch of strangers? I found an empty hallway with abandoned beds and I ate in silence.

George's POV

AJ grabbed her things and speed walked away. Christina scoffed and spoke, "Looks like she ran off to go find her mommy, Dr. Bailey," Everyone let out laughs at Christina's 'joke' if you even call it that. "Enough!" I yelled as I slammed my hands on the table, "She has been nothing but nice to you guys and this is how you treat her on her first day? People deserve chances and you guys never even gave her that option to one." I grabbed the rest of my lunch and stormed off in hopes of finding AJ, before hearing out what everyone was going to say to my brief speech.

AJ's POV

I was almost done eating my lunch when I heard a familiar voice say, "There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" It was George. What a relief. "You have?" I said as I finished the last of my apple slices before I threw away the remaining trash. "Look, I'm sorry that they were mean to you, they don't like new people coming into their space." George apologized before he sat somewhat next to me. "You don't have to apologize for them George, it's not your place to apologize for them." I feigned a smile to try to reassure him.

"Sometimes they make fun of me too. And I wonder if they're my friends or if I'm convincing myself that they are," George confessed. "Well, can you be yourself when you're around them?" I questioned. George didn't answer. "If you have to think about it for a long time then maybe you should reconsider if they are your friends. Real friends don't make fun of you for being you. They appreciate your uniqueness and don't judge you." I declared. "It seems like you're a friend expert." I laughed a little at his comment. "I've had a lot of friends but never kept any of them so I know what it's like." I spoke truthfully, "Thanks for the lunch, George." I thanked him before I walked away once again.

-----

By that evening, my hands and feet were tired from walking and constantly talking to all the people. I desperately needed time to recharge my social battery because I could feel myself starting to get overstimulated. The lights were starting to get too bright and the bustling noise could make anyone go insane. I had a few minutes to myself in the on-call room so I spent it playing with my Tangle fidget toy and listening to a playlist of my favorite Michael Jackson songs in the dark while lying down on one of the beds on the bottom bunk. Needless to say, I ended up falling asleep for a good hour before I faintly heard the door open.

"AJ, wake up, Dr. Bailey needed me to find you," George said as he tapped my shoulder in an attempt to wake me. I groaned before sitting up on my elbows and glaring at him for waking me up, "I'm sorry to wake you but she needs more hands in the pit." He confessed which caused me to roll my eyes. I nodded before shoving my MP3 player and fidget toy down in my lab coat pocket. I put my shoes back on while George watched and we both headed out to the pit together.

Only a few more hours to go.

------

My first 12-hour shift was finally over. The aching in my feet was beyond compare even though I had comfortable shoes on made for walking. I went back to the locker room to change and I found myself left with a few people and George changing near me. "Are you autistic? I mean, if you are that's okay with me. I won't tell the others if you don't want to tell them so that they don't make fun of you. I'm not saying that they will but they can be mean sometimes. Well, not Izzie. Wait no, Izzie can be mean sometimes but not in-" I just stared at him until he finished rambling.

"Sorry, that was rude. I didn't mean to assume or anything. It's just that I-" George began again before I stopped him. This must have been on his mind all day. "Yes, I'm autistic and I have Adhd as well. And I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone because I don't want any attention on me about it. People will treat me differently." I shrugged it off to George as I grabbed my bag. "Can I ask why?" George said as he sat down on the bench. "Why what?" I replied, not looking at him. "Why don't you want to tell anyone?" I let out a huff and closed the locker before I faced him.

"This is breaking my rules," I mumbled, "Rules? What do you mean?" There was confusion in his voice but I could hear that he wanted to understand. "Ever since I was a kid, I always knew that I was different. I never had a lot of friends growing up and I never was invited to birthday parties because of how people treated me for being different. I don't normally spill my life to people I just met but I feel like I can trust you. I've been judged about my diagnosis of AuDHD. There's no point in trying to be myself when I can be what people expect me to be."

"But doesn't that get tiring? Having to mask all the time?" He asked and I nodded quickly. "It's hard to get a break and for people to not stare at me when I stim and fidget," I said disappointingly, "But what do I expect?" I shrugged it off and began to make my way to the door. "It's hard being myself in a room full of people who don't get you, but thanks anyway for trying to understand George, have a good night."

And with that, I once again walked away. It's becoming a habit now.

------

(A month later, at the start of episode 9)

------

Izzie had invited me over to help cook and decorate the house for Thanksgiving. I wore a simple outfit, a black long sleeve with denim jeans and black Converse. My favorite brand of shoes.

When I arrived I was greeted by Izzie rushing to get me inside. "I need you to get George for me, he's upstairs and he's supposed to be helping me cook but he hasn't left his room yet," Izzie said frantically. "Oh, okay. Um. Where exactly is his room? I've never been here before." I said while taking off my leather jacket and Izzie hanging it up for me.

"It's up the stairs, down the hall, and to the right." I listened to her directions and I reached George's room. I gently knocked on the door and waited for a reply. "Come in!" George said from the other side. I carefully opened it and saw him fully clothed on his bed with his eyes shut. "Why are you just lying on your bed?" I spoke as I closed his door behind me. He quickly opened his eyes, not knowing it was me.

"AJ! I- when did you get here?" He hurried and sat up to look at me. "I got here just now, not too long ago. You know Izzie wants you downstairs to help right?" I sat down on the end of his bed before he plopped back down with a huff. "I know but I'm afraid to go out there." I quirked a brow, "Afraid? Why would you be afraid?" As I said that he held his hands up and began counting down from 10. A thunderous noise arose from downstairs, and just when he reached zero, 3 men barged into his and screamed, "O'Malley!!"

Startled by the sudden noise, I looked at George for an answer. "Because of that." George huffed again. "Georgie, since when did you have a girlfriend? And she's hot too." I was taken aback at the man's comment. "C'mon, you know Georgie never gets laid," George rolled his eyes before getting up, trying to hide his embarrassment from me. "Please ignore my idiotic brothers," He began to go to his closet and grab camo wear. "Where are you going? Aren't you going to help Izzie?" There was desperation in those chocolate-brown eyes of his, and just when he was about to explain himself the older man chimed in and said, "Our Georgie is gonna kill his first turkey this year, I can feel it!"

"Dad you know Georgie isn't gonna kill a turkey, he never does." His eldest brother spoke, "No, he's gonna chicken out like how he usually does-" "Shut up!" George says while his brothers laugh, his face turning as red as a tomato now. "I'll be back as soon as I can to help. I promise I won't miss dinner." George tells me as he puts on his beanie and I thought he couldn't look any cuter. "Well, you better tell Izzie that," I scoffed as his family began to drag him out of the room chanting 'O'Malley' over and over again until they were down the stairs and out of the door.

"I don't think they're coming back any time soon." Izzie whined, "I hope he doesn't actually kill a bird."

---

#greys abc #greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy #meredith grey #alex karev #george o’malley x reader #george o'malley imagine #george o'malley #izzie stevens #christina yang #slow burn #love triangle #angst to fluff #fluff to smut

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iavenjqasdf · 5 months

Text

❄cubbification🐻

I don’t mind the Cubs. I’m not really a big sports guy, so I don’t know if they’re like, problematic or anything. They kinda just seem like any other baseball kinda team to me? (Please let me know if I’m ever swerving out of my lane by saying something like that, by the way; I’m really trying my hardest to learn and do better.)

But when you're visiting the beautiful city of Chicago, and you're so cold from having just got kicked out of the hostel where all your stuff is, because they don't believe that you ever checked in or were ever supposed to be in there in the first place, and when you start to choke up in frustration they say they’re going to call the cops if you don’t immediately leave the property, so you have no choice but to run out into the cold city night without even a jacket, snow swirling all around, catching the taillights of passing Ubers in a shitty bleary unromantic gray kind of way, and you try to take a hit off your $10 disposable weed pen ($14 after tax) for a bit of warmth, that little disposable oil battery that you were so brave for sneaking through the TSA all the way from Cali (where the weed is cheaper AND it's actually good for you), but the light blinks because its out of juice and you don’t know where you can go to recharge it, and suddenly you realize as you're standing on the curb that a kind stranger has found you and is offering to give you a real taste of Chicago if only you'd get in the back of his big warm car, and hey, the whole reason I came here was because I want that authentic experience, and also to not freeze to death, and who better to make both of my dreams come true than a local, and he's even wearing a Cubs hoodie, you kinda can’t say no, right?

So I climb into the second row of his nice toasty American-made SUV, and he punches Portillo's into the GPS and I buckle up, and suddenly it’s just like I’m a kid again, going out to eat with my parents-

well, just one of them, but that��s accurate to my childhood experience, too.

He asks if I have anywhere to be, if anyone’s expecting me anywhere, and I get a bit whiny when I say nooooo, but he just chuckles and tells me that that's good because he’s gonna show me someplace really cool, and I say that sounds nice.

My legs dangle around as I begin to warm up. I look out the window, and the traffic lights and snow are a cute little screensaver again, instead of a bitter cold reality I can’t shelter myself against.

I reflexively try to take another hit off the weed pen, forgetting that it’s still empty. He tells me not to smoke in his car.

It’s kind of hard to say no to in the moment.

We pull into the Portillo's drive thru, and I squint through the snowy window, unable to read the menu. He says don’t worry, I’ll order for you, so I settle back into my seat, listening to the faint Christmas music playing from inside the restaurant, or maybe from the car ahead of us, but also enjoying the otherwise mostly silence in this one.

A few minutes later, the window hands him three bags, and he hands one back to me as he pulls back onto the road. I gleefully tear into it, there’s a big thing of fries and a sandwich with beef and gravy and several types of peppers (I'm sure there's a term for it, but I'm not a local foodie, so I don't know what it is, sorry), and he hands me a big milkshake too, and I’m so excited and so happy, I have warm food and warm feelings and feel safe and happy again.

The next several minutes are spent laser-focused on ravenously devouring my meal, and it’s only when all the food is gone, all the greasy wrappers and fry boxes and an empty Styrofoam milkshake cup carefully crumpled up and placed back into the bag for easy disposal, that I sit back, rubbing my stuffed overfed belly as I glance out the window again.

All I see is a gray dead snow stretching into the dusk all around, and I realize we’re no longer in the city, or any place I can actually recognize.

I ask where we’re going, and he doesn’t answer. I theorize he just didn’t hear me, and continue not testing that theory.

It’s getting kind of cold again; I realize he's had his window sill cracked this whole time and the heater isn’t on anymore, so all the warmth has slowly leached out of the car into the dark snowy expanse, draining my energy along with it.

I scrounge around, and realize the floor of the car isn’t covered in plush limousine carpet; it's just old clothes strewn around. With the Italian beef aromas now safely contained within me, I realize it smells kinda bad in here actually.

I awkwardly tug at the door handle; not because I want to hurl myself out onto the road or anything, just to see if it would open, for future reference. But it doesn’t. I try taking a hit off the weed pen, but it's still empty.

I think about asking where he’s taking me again, but I realize there really can’t be a good answer to that question at this point.

My stomach grumbles, and I wish I was back somewhere warm and safe again.

---

It’s dark out when I come to again.

(Yeah, so I fell asleep. It was actually my choice to do that. In this weather, 5 miles from civilization might as well be 500, and I'm not asking for another ride even if one comes. I gotta maintain appearances, conserve my strength, wait for the right moment to make my lucky escape back to the civilized world.)

From back here, it’s hard to get a good angle on his face, dimly lit up by the navigation app on his phone that says we’re only a few minutes away from somewhere.

His brow tightens; he must've noticed me waking up. I think I ask him where we’re going again, and maybe he just didn’t hear again, because he definitely doesn’t answer.

He still hasn't closed his window, but he’s now wrapped in a crusty old green and yellow blanket, the one I remember staring at on the floor as I dozed off.

If I’d woken up with really miraculous timing, maybe I could’ve gotten away while he was getting that, but if I had that kind of luck, I probably wouldn’t be locked in a stranger’s car on a dark snowy night to begin with.

The GPS helpfully informs us that we've arrived at our destination.

He pulls off the side of the road onto a dark shoulder, overlooking a sad little ditch; it's only a couple of feet down, but it’s flat enough all around that it'd be enough to hide me from the road for long enough that he’d get away with it.

He kills the lights, and I hear him unbuckling his seatbelt, form silhouetted by a distant streetlight, flurries of white piling up on the glass and all around us as he emerges from his blanket cocoon, tugging his hoodie off.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, too, shivering and whimpering as I scoot back to the third row, but he doesn’t miss a beat, just keeps approaching me in the dark with that silent unknowable menace.

By the time I hear his switchblade click open, I barely even have to react. I knew it'd be coming any second now. I’ve read movies, I’ve seen books.

"Didn't your mommy and daddy ever tell you not to get in a car with a stranger?" he asks. Kind of a shitty joke to make to someone with divorced parents but whatever.

The light behind him crescendos, his blade catching the reflection just so. Horns swell on the soundtrack, the sight of it burns into my wide terrified pupils as he raises it over my cowering form. The dark space is illuminated for just a moment, then for another moment, and then another, getting brighter…

And those horns are starting to sound a lot like a truck’s-

The entire world slams apart around me as an out-of-control 18-wheeler veers off the road into us, ramming through all those feet of steel designed to deform and crush, deflect the impact away from my vulnerable little body. We tumble around in the washingmachinelike sleetstorm of twisted metal and shards of ice and cold glass and ragged shirts and stale fries and a big heavy bleeding body as the disaster skids into the icy dark. As the SUV comes to a rest on its ceiling, I somehow find the strength and coordination to scramble my way through, using a thick piece of cloth that catches underhand to wriggle out through a jagged windowpane, squirming towards the fire illuminating the flurries under the darkest indigo sky, a beacon blazing in the darkness, like the cherry at the end of a cigarette of a trailer, brandishing the BUCK-A-POP'S DOLLARSTYLE MERCHWORLD logo in chic saturated colors, paint peeling off from the heat of the flames roaring all around.

In the numbing cold, I tug the tattered cum-stained Cubs hoodie I'm holding onto my scared shivering body. It smells like menace and onion ring grease, but it provides me with enough warmth that I’m able to stay conscious until the paramedics arrive at the scene and get me to stop sitting cross-legged on the snow, breathing in the toxic merchandise fumes, still trying to hit the dead weed pen clutched tight in my fist.

When they finally pull him out of the wreckage, they find the switchblade lodged in one of his arteries, honey mustard still clinging to his lips.

ao3

#📝#standalone #go cubs!!!!!!!!!#original fiction #Chicago Cubs

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glorious-spoon · 4 months

Text

and we are homeward bound [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie | 2/3]

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 6000 / chapter; 9400 /total Warnings: None Other tags: Established relationship; Relationship reveal; Domestic fluff; Character study; Insecure Evan Buckley; Fluff and smut; Love confessions

and we are homeward bound (Chapter 2 on AO3)

"Okay, what did you do?" Maddie demands when he shows up on her doorstep with a bottle of wine.

"Who says I did anything?" Buck protests. "I have the evening off, you have the evening off, I wanted to see my sister and my favorite niece—"

"Your only niece." She gives him a shrewd look. "I take it Eddie was busy?"

"He traded shifts with Bennington 'cause her daughter has a dance recital tonight," Buck admits. "Are you gonna let me in, or what?"

"Sure," Maddie says. She stands aside to let him into the house, but she doesn't lose the suspicious look.

The dining room table is scattered with fabric samples and menus from at least seven different Los Angeles catering companies, so after a mostly friendly debate over which restaurant to order takeout from, which Maddie wins, they retreat to the kitchen to eat yakisoba and drink the wine that Buck brought. Jee has a set of training chopsticks with a little owl at the join, and she spends most of the meal intently dissecting her plate of noodles and occasionally eating.

"We're trying," Maddie sighs, in response to his look.

"She's doing great."

"Yeah." Maddie brushes a palm over Jee's wispy head of curls, and Jee ignores her to fish a piece of pork off of her plate and promptly drop it in her lap. "I'm just hoping more of it ends up in her stomach than on the floor. Are you going to tell me why you're here?"

"Um." Buck twists his hands together.

"Wait, did something happen? You said you were waiting on lab results from your last checkup, but I thought that was just routine—they didn't find something, did they?"

"No, no—Maddie, no, nothing like that, it's just." He sets his chopsticks down and clears his throat. There are several angles he could approach this from, and all of them feel unbelievably clumsy. "Uh, I've been seeing someone. Dating, I mean. Not therapy."

Although he could probably use the latter, honestly.

(Continue reading Chapter 2 on AO3)

#911 #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #my fic

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emonopolyman · 10 months

Text

Where did you go?

Why did you take my simple heart?

VI IS NOSTALGIC OVER HER PAST RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU.

ship : Vi x Fem! reader. Reader is non-descriptive, but mostly uses she/her pronouns.

genre : fluff. slight angst, but mainly just Vi being sad. From Vi's perspective!

synopsis : Violet never loved anyone besides the girl she met freshman year. The girl she dated the whole of university. The girl who left with her heart. Based off the song Angelina by Lizzy McAlpine. I am obsessed with it.

warnings : Angst. Violet does not express any emotional vulnerability. Reader is smart.

authors note : First try, please give me some feedback xx. I really tried to keep reader's looks outta question because I know some people express feeling unable to see themselves in fics when the reader is described as blushing or such! I'm always open to tips and idea!

The somber voice which held in the air echoed throughout Violet’s head, her eyes shifting over the people walking past as if evaluating for any resemblance of you in them. She found none.

It was evident to anyone that the past year had been rough on the girl, her back hunched as she narrowed her eyes with grimace at anyone who dared study her. She hated the thought of being known, of knowing. She couldn't move on, not when that night was still so clear in her head.

It was freshman year in college, somewhere between taking classes and trying not to fail exams Violet found herself at a loud party. Her hands moved to the bridge of her nose, the early signs of a headache cloud her eyes. She knew this was a bad idea, but she came still- no one to blame but herself. She didn’t even come to make friends because she knew her appearance was too intimidating; instead she focused on the way the bass rocked the floor and how people moved around the large area sloppily as the night continued.

It was way past midnight when she found her way onto the patio, leaning against the deep colored wood as she took a deep breath trying not to take notice of the deafening music being pushed through the house's thin doors.

She let out a small sigh, tucking her head into her chest. “The music’s shit.” She heard the voice before she even saw the face, it was coated in alcohol and calmness making Violet shoot her head towards the sound.

It wasn’t even special at the time, you sitting on the small patio chair as her eyes adjusted to your face, but that moment warped her life forever.

It wasn’t that you two were in love, it was that she was enamored. If it was how easily you carried yourself, or how you seemed to say the perfect things whenever she needed it. Slowly, her mind was consumed by you- even as she continued to mess around with other girls she always found some way to relate each person to you.

If it was your laughter, or how you stitched your eyebrows together when working, or even the clothes you found comfort in wearing. She knew you only saw her as a friend, but her mind couldn’t help but run. The way your fingers would linger over hers, or the way you would always help every bug you stumbled upon; gushing about how they weren’t as scary as we probably were to them. You were kind, and consistent- she knew that when she walked through the double door of that same party house she could easily find you hidden in the garden staring at the stars.

As Vi turned the corner, she studied the cafe before pulling out the first chair she found. The table was small and held only an ashtray and a dying rosemary plant. As quickly as she had sat down in the woven chair, a server came over handing a menu before Vi ushered her that she would only have a water for now; her mind was too full of nostalgia to read the words alongside deciding what drink she would want.

“Why do you always come to these things?” Your voice broke the muffled silence, “All you ever do is sit here with me.” It was mid autumn, and the party season had yet to peak again as the second year of college rang in. Vi’s hand’s flexed against the patio’s chair where the ingrained motions of picking had already begun to show signaling how many times this exact situation had repeated throughout the last year.

Autumn wasn’t always sweet to Vi, with the sudden gust of chill and the way the temperatures could change so drastically; she had spent everyday throughout the week waiting to see you on that Saturday night, to talk to you, to look at you. “I don’t know,” Vi shook her head, her eyes flickering between the wood under her hand and your face. “It’s just nice, I guess.” She knew it was nice, she knew she looked forward to this. She didn’t know what kind of control you had over her, but everything about you made her stutter and smile like a teenage girl.

“Laurie thinks you have a crush on me.” You said, innocently, as your eyes fluttered to the face next to yours. She hadn’t looked at you in a minute, processing her own movements carefully.

Vi let out a chuckle, looking up at you finally; blue eyes shifting in the moonlight. “He never knows when to keep his mouth shut, does he?” She said, smiling a toothy grin.

“Is it true?” Your eyes studied her face, seeing as her gaze fell down before she spoke once more.

“What’s true?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” You spoke, and suddenly Violet's throat felt dry and she felt childish for even thinking that she stood a chance. She cursed everything about herself. The way she liked girls, the way she liked you. Everything.

“I- wha-” Without even saying her reply, you cupped her jaw moving your body over both of the woven chairs. It felt like heaven, feeling your lips on hers as her body softened into the movement, her hands moving to hold your cheek, leaving her nervous fidgeting behind as she felt her body revel in the new feeling she had found.

You pulled back, she felt empty. You let out a steady breathe, and Vi could feel her cheeks heat at how you seemed to loose yourself for a second before talking again. “Vi, I like you alo-” You didn’t even finish your admittance of feelings before her lips were back on yours, mind finally processing what had just happened. You smiled into the kiss, and she felt her mind lose itself.

Two years, she had given two years to your relationship. Another year of friendship before that. She felt like some prank was being played on her, with the way you tucked your fingers behind her jaw as you kissed her in celebration. Vi’s eyes were pushed open, trying to decipher the emotion she felt.

You held the letter that risked everything, that risked your whole relationship. She knew how much you wanted this, and now she had the answer. She would choose the adventure, the internship.

You pulled from the kiss, waving the letter around in the air as you began to mock kissing it. Were you mocking her? Her eyes were awake, her mind was rambling. She felt fooled, she felt like she was in high school again. She felt like she had been dating a girl for two years straight only to be told that it was all a prank at the moment she felt complete, only she knew she was overreacting. She knew you weren’t breaking up with her. She knew that you were just happy. But that broke her.

Her face moved into auto-play, as she mocked a smile and moved to hold your hands. “When will you go?” She asked, trying not to sound different. She tried.

“October!” You smiled, moving to kiss her cheek as you danced around the flat. October, autumn.

When you had left her, she knew it wasn’t a goodbye. The way the sweater hugged you as you pulled alongside the suitcase, waving a sweet see-you-later to your girlfriend. It was like watching your life slip, if Violet was dead she would have not known it yet- her mind was replaying that moment for weeks after.

The way you moved so easily, and how quickly you turned your back as you entered the gate. How you held the pamphlet in your hands, mocking how much you were to live without her. For seven weeks, four days and thirteen hours Violet held onto that life with you until she couldn't remember your voice anymore, until she found your letters slowing to an end, till she felt as if she truly lost you.

Then she tried to move on. Tried.

She rocked back in the cafe chair, letting the cooling water chill her warm body. Summer wasn’t nice in Piltover. Her head ached slightly from last night's drinking, as her mind swarmed. Were the glasses too overkill, was it obvious she had only woken up an hour ago? Her fingers moved to pinch the wooden arm-rest, carving her anxieties into the material.

Her leg bounced, her eyes scanned the area. You mocked her. In every person she saw you. In every bartender, and drunken one night stand. In every bouncer, and every person who fed the cats at a cafe. She saw you, like a ghost- mimicking and mocking her every move. You were taunting her, making her mind run wild with the idea of you. She didn't realize until now how many people she liked because of you. You, it was all because of you.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. “Violet!’ Your voice broke the muffled silence of her head, her eyes moved up to the street seeing as your arm waved with a smile pressed onto your face. Fuck, you.

@ emonopolyman 2023

hope you enjoyed xoxo

tags: @iheartsadiesink @ffiahh

if you would like to be added to my tag list just go to the taglist section on my introduction post xoxo

#vi x y/n #vi x reader #vi arcane x female reader #vi arcane x reader #vi arcane #arcane #arcane vi #vi fluff #vi arcane fluff

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

Note

Now I can't help but think about the scene where

The Reaper!Rook tries for the first time the liver pate prepared by the Baker!MC.

Baker!MC. is just researching some new recipes from time to time for a seasonal menu. Rook with bliss looking at how the Baker!MC. flutters in the kitchen reading a recipe from an old book taken from the library. The Reaper has a great opportunity to be a taster on a permanent basis, pushing Ace and Deuce into second place.To their general displeasure and annoyance.

-What are these diligent, elegant and hardworking hands creating today? Ah, I'm looking forward to what will happen~

Listening with half an ear to Hunt's chatter, the Baker!MС. spreads some pate on fresh fried bread and passes it to Rook.

-Try and find out..I think I'm missing a little salt?

Curiously accepting the "offering" more like a piece for a sandwich, Rook, with all its inherent grace and dramatic, bites off one piece with a pleasant crunch of fried bread and immediately freezes. His pupils dilate and he can barely take a breath from delight.

Watching this little show to which the Baker!MС. was mostly indifferent, it seemed to them tha Rook at this moment looked like a cat that was gently stroked for the first time and given valerian.

-So?

As if in slow motion, chewing his first bite, the Reaper looks with the most sincere delight that could only reflect his face.

-What was this food of the gods that blessed my mouth?!May I dare to ask for some more of this divine ambrosia created by your hardworking hands?

-It's liver pate. Did you like it that much? - Thinking that at the moment the Reaper who scares the whole neighborhood like a local devil driving everyone to fear and devils, the Baker could not get rid of the thought that now Hunt is more like a child who first got into a candy store.

Now the Baker!MC. knows some of the preferences of this strange guest. Likes to try - whatever they give. Delighted and will not be silenced for the next forty minutes - liver pate with toasted bread. ***

One day the Baker!MC. made for the Reaper!Rook some sandwiches with liver pate. "So that he could have a snack with them later or between his business" And immediately, Rook without any thought dropped to one knee, taking off his hat, making the most pompous verbal marriage proposal that this city has seen and heard. ***

And more.

Baker!MC. probably also showed off from time to time in front of the Reaper, showing off their skills.

Like this guy from "Kiki Witch Delivery Service"

Baker!MC probably: Ah yes. Finally. a proper bribe to get him to shut up forever

Rook: *get's worse*

Baker!MC: I should have expected this

#Asks #Monster Mayhem #Rook Hunt

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princessisfinethx · 1 year

Text

Recom Miles Quaritch x FemReader Pt. 3

Part 3! Yay!

AND HERE'S THE WARNINGS: Mentions of fucking, sexual daydreaming, newly found size kink MINORS DNI

I'd also like to thank a lot of you guys, ya'll are so kind and I am still unsure of how to reply on comments but just know I see ya <3 I'm also super tired so I will post this to my A03 in the morning.

Hope ya'll like it! I read over it once, thats it.

-1 week later-

It was lovely up here.

Sitting on the cold metal floor, you peer into the vacant lonely wonders that was space. Millions of stars dotted the black. If you had a map, you could plot out which system or planet you were near. The ship intercom came on, “We’ll be entering a jump soon, please return to your pods for hypersleep.” You frowned, standing up and slipping your slippers back on. This journey couldn’t hurry and end already. You hated hypersleep, only because when you woke up you were prone to sickness.

Shuffling to the pod, you looked at the others. Only two or three others had woken up, while the rest had gone back to hypersleep. You watched as the other awake passengers went back to sleep, and you followed. Once you closed the pod however, the lights above went dim. A scream was heard and you gasped. “Hello?” You hit the glass, unable to break out. The pod was trying to put you to sleep. “Wait what happened?”

The pod ripped open, you screamed as you were thrown out of it. You scrambled backwards and looked up.

A xenomorph was hissing, stalking towards you. You screamed and tried to run, only getting nowhere as it grabbed you and shrieked in your ear. It did it again, and again, and again, and again-

Your eyes snap open, sitting up to find you were on the floor. You look up at your television and see the main menu for the movie Aliens. An annoyed groan leaves your chest and you stand up. Your body jumps when an alarm blares overhead. “Oh fuck!” You throw on some pants and a shirt you tossed on the floor from last night. You slip your shoes on and run out of your room. In the hallway, a few other residents were rushing to leave as well. You finally get outside, squinting at the sunlight. Everyone was outside, standing in groups and discussing the alarm. You rub your face and walk to a few familiar faces. “Well? Is everyone out?”

Alex turned around, also seeming like they awoke with a start. “Um, I think so.” They had on a robe and joggers. “This is the last drill alarm this month right?” They looked you up and down and made a face of concern. “Hey um, you wanna borrow my robe?”

You went to ask why but the alarms blared three times, then a few officers walked up to the large group of residents. “Good morning everyone. Thank you again for participating accordingly, we all know how important it is to practice these drills every month…” He began to go on, waving a clipboard which he should be checking off instead of preaching. Half the bodies here couldn’t hear from this far back.

There was a soft chuckle directly behind you but you didn’t turn around. “Mornin’ sleeping beauty. Is that how you usually wake up?” Your eyes glance to the side, seeing Alex biting their lip to hide a smile, maybe. When you turn your head, you only see the crotch area of some pants. Your eyes slowly lift up and you roll them away once you make eye contact with Quaritch. Behind him, a few other recom soldiers stood, mostly paying attention to the officers in the front.

“No, I usually sleep in furs and handmade quilts and wake up with perfect hair and a dolled up face of makeup and lies. You just caught me on a bad morning.” You cross your arms, a cold breeze hits your back and you sigh. At the corner of your eye, Miles bends down.

“Do you sleep naked or do you usually wear your shirts inside out?” His breath hits your neck and you feel a blush color your cheeks. He whispers so no one else hears him. “Unlucky for you, it's a bit uh, nippy ain’t it?”

At this, you groan and tighten your arms around your body. “Be a gentleman and offer a lady a coat or something next time.” You shoot back and he smiles, standing up straight. You hear Alex scoff and you look at them. “Not you, but thank you for offering.”

Miles hums while glancing between you and Alex before peering down at your form, seeing more of your exposed skin. You usually wore long sleeves or a coat to the office and seeing you in a tank top and pajama pants was kinda cute. As much as you tried to hide your chest, the man could see over you. Of course he was a gentleman enough not to stare, but he did see. He leaned down to whisper to you, “I’ll try to remember to bring one next drill, if you happen to still be working here with your sanity intact.”

“That sounds like a threat, Quaritch-”

Behind him, Lyle was watching the whole thing. He watched his commander bicker with you, and then he saw the Colonel's tail flicking left to right. Lyle smirked and backed up, elbowing Z-Dog to his right. She looks at him and elbows him back, “Fuck off it’s too early-” Lyle motions his head forward and she looks. She takes in the scene before her, seeing you turn your head towards Miles and hiss something low at him, causing him to chuckle and shrug. Z-Dog raises her eyebrows and smiles at Lyle. They both chuckle at each other, seeming to get the same idea.

Finally they were letting everyone leave, calling the groups out by hallway numbers and their residents. You didn’t waste a second as you hastened to get to your room. Miles watched, smiling the whole time while he turned and walked back towards his squad.

You get back in your room and flip the shower on. Grumbling the whole time you undressed and got in. You felt your face heating up again at his words from earlier. Of course something like this had to happen to you. With him. Maybe this was a good thing, his mind was in other places and that gave you time to plan. You were thinking if you really had to seduce him it wouldn’t be very hard. Would you have to climb him though? He was very much taller, obviously. Maybe if he were sitting down across from you, you could easily climb aboard that way. Obviously if he were into it he’d be grabbing you and pulling you onto him.

That made your legs shift together. You don’t know if he would be smiling or not. Sometimes you’ll catch his face when he’s thinking or focusing and you wonder if that's what he'd do. He'd be focusing on you, no smiles, all serious. You wonder if he’ll sit back and let you explore first, or if he’ll flip the tables and pin you to your desk or-

You hadn’t realized you were holding your bar of soap too hard until it popped out of your hand and fell to the ground. You curse lightly and pick it up, rinsing it off and just focusing on washing and getting out of the shower. Getting out, you dry off and towel dry your hair instead of blow drying. You get dressed properly this time and finally leave your room and head to the complex where your office and hidden cereal boxes would be waiting.

You push past the doors, round the corner to get to your office and see two Na’vi soldiers waiting. Your expression softens and you smile up at them. “Morning you two,” You get your keys out and unlock the door to your office, walking in and having the two follow you. “What brings you guys in today?”

Lyle smiles. “Morning Doctor. Just stopping by to say hello.” He shifted and his eyes glanced at the floor. “Yeah.”

“Oh please,” Z-Dog cuts in. “Sorry to be so straight-forward but are you and Quaritch fucking or something?” Lyle snorts and covers his mouth. You turned red.

“Jesus Christ Z, no! What would make you think that?” You were looking between them.

“I dunno, you two just seemed to be flirting this morning. And well, you didn’t hear it from me but it certainly looks like one of you wants to.” She shrugs. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” She looks at Lyle who shrugged as well.

“You two seem to be getting along nicely though, right?” He commented.

“Nicely?” You raised an eyebrow and your hands were on your hips. “Besides maybe two interactions between us that seemed fine, everything else this week has been a shit show…”

Outside of the office, Miles was leaning against the doorframe, his face was in a neutral expression.

“He insults my position, he’s accused me of ‘hiding secrets’, in the lunchroom a few days ago his tail tripped me and my bowl of soup was all over me.” One of the soldiers made a comment about remembering that. “He didn’t offer to clean it, he said whoops. That’s it. And now, just yesterday, I get a fucking paper-” there was walking and a drawer opening, and then papers being grabbed. “About an operation I have to attend, asked by Quaritch himself. ‘Dr. Linear, you are being asked to attend the 1st Recom Unit under Project Phoenix as medical personnel. Further instructions to be given.’ Who does that? Who takes a doctor out of their office to walk the jungle in case someone gets a booboo. Don’t you guys have people for that?” He hears the paper being put down harshly, then another drawer opening and something being pulled out. “It’s like he’s trying his damndest to piss me off.”

He heard crunching and he smiled just a little. He heard Lyle ask for whatever it was you were eating and you handed him the box.

“So no,” You continued, after eating whatever it was you had. “We’re not fucking. I don’t know what sources you’ve been listening to but neither one of us wants to fuck the other. Maybe he wants to drive me fucking mad. It’s possible. Hell, maybe he wants to hate fuck me, you never know, I could have pissed him off first day we met, god knows.” You sigh and he hears you slump against the desk. “I stayed up too late last night, had a stupid alien nightmare and I have a headache from it.”

Lyle hums. “You’re the doctor, you got pain meds.” His mouth was still full. “Tylenol?”

Z snorts. “I took a tylenol the other day, and that shit does nothing for me anymore.”

“Yeah your bodies don’t have the same digestive and blood system that humans do. Z if you needed pain meds you should have come to me. I don’t mind, really. It’s kind of my job.” You sounded concerned as you spoke, getting up and going to Z-Dog. “Was it the migraines again?”

“Ah don’t worry Doc, I’m fine now. Look we’ll be on our way, Lyle give her back the cereal, damn.” They were standing up and Miles waited outside the door. “We’ll see you later Doc. Don’t stress too much, you’ll have us on the mission too.”

“Yeah, trust in us.” Lyle cleared his throat. “We won’t let the big bad Quaritch ruin your week anymore okay?” At that, you had chuckled a little.

“You guys get going. And I’m serious about those pain meds, Z!” You called after them. Z was the first to walk out and her body froze when she saw Miles. Lyle was laughing a little and ran into Z-Dog on the way out. He was about to ask her what but saw him as well.

Miles motioned his head away from the office and they silently followed, walking away from the office door. Z spoke first. “How much did you hear?”

“Plenty.” He stopped at the end of the hallway, facing the two. “I have a few questions about that little meeting.”

~=~=~

You eye the paper on your desk, wanting to throw it in the shredder and give the colonel the middle finger. Nothing was that simple however. So you flipped the paper over and set it to the side. That brought you to a new problem. You wouldn’t be able to program your supply bot out into the jungle without someone noticing. You’d usually do this at night but you would be gone. For how long, you weren’t sure. Not long you suppose. You suspected this was a scheme of his, him trying to keep you distracted so you don’t realize he’s onto you.

You sat back in your chair and munched bitterly at your dry cereal, not wanting to travel to the cafeteria to get milk or a full breakfast today. Lazily, you look over at your coffee maker, wishing it would automatically make one for you. A knock at your door made you put the box away and wipe your mouth. "Door's open."

A tall blue form walks in and that knowing smile appears. Your small bit of happiness disappears. "Hello sunshine. Glad to see you're awake behind that desk." He closes the door behind him, standing at his full height and crossing his arms. The minute he called you sunshine you were out of your desk and making a pot of coffee, knowing you'll need it. "Well, almost awake." He walks up to the small counter you had your coffee station set up at. "May I have a cup?"

Your lips made a sort of pout. As much as you loathed the man beside you, you couldn't deny someone a cup of coffee. Especially when he asked so politely. "Yeah, do you take any sugar or creamer? I've got regular and almond."

"No thank you, I take mine black." He leans against the counter and watches as you fix two cups. Yours was in a decorative plant mug while his was in a much larger mug. There were a few of these specially made for the recombinant soldiers and you took two or three for instances like these. You had emptied most of the pot to fill the cup but it didn’t bother you since you had your cup already. You held it up and he took it from you carefully. "Thank you." He gives it a sip and hums. "Pretty good stuff right there."

"Yeah, I practically wrestled with the other facilities for that brand of coffee. Only comes in every few weeks." You smile softly at the image of you spotting Alex hiding coffee in their coat as you did the same. You remember both nodding at each other and you chuckled softly. Miles looks down at you and you clear your throat. “Funny memory is all. When I met Alex, we were both hiding coffee in our pockets and I spotted them while they spotted me, and we mutually agreed not to tell. They’re funny.”

“Ah, yes, the uh lab coat with huge glasses.” He watched as you smiled warmly at the memory. “You two good friends now or what?”

You gave a little shrug, thinking about the slow but progressive friendship you two had. “No, not really. Just coworkers.” You gave it some more thought, never looking up at him. “I think I would have lunch with them if they offered, Alex is a good conversationalist and we share similar views on a few topics.”

Miles had rolled his eyes slightly. “Glad to know you can make friends princess.”

“I don’t see you doing any better.” You got defensive and he had to hold back his smile.

“Oh I don’t make friends, I make soldiers.” He turned his body towards you and sipped his coffee again.

“Oh yeah and you plan to do just that by throwing me in the jungle?” You had forgotten your coffee now, setting it down to point up at him. “I don’t work under you Colonel, and I’m sure if I spoke to some higher ups and got the okay, I could refuse to go.”

“Ah, but you can’t.” He smirked. “I already asked our higher ups and they gave me ‘the okay’ to take you along.” He too set his giant coffee mug down. “And speaking of; you know how to use a gun, correct?”

You groaned and turned to face away from him. “That isn’t my job, I’m supposed to stay here, in my office!” You turned to him. “You really want me to quit so badly don’t you? You want my life to be hell, and for what? So you can get your shits and giggles?” He was walking towards you and you unconsciously walked backwards. “I have things to do here, I have other people to attend to, I am not only the recom’s doctor but I’m the human’s doctor too. Someone has to be here to do the paperwork and, and the check ups every day-” Your back hit the wall and you looked up to watch Miles squat down so he’s level with you. He reaches up and leans one arm against the wall behind you. You realized suddenly how trapped you were, how much you rambled without thinking and how much warmth his body gave off.

“What are you so scared of, doctor?” His eyes were so big, and the speckles of white that littered his nose were almost glowing. You felt your face burning up.

Your voice was a low whisper now. “I’m not a soldier. I’m going to die out there.” He stares you in the eye, and he could see some of the waterworks about to kick in. He smiles at you.

“You think I’ll let anything happen to you princess? I thought you had some smarts in that pretty noggin of yours.” He taps your forehead and you wipe your eyes while smacking his hand away.

“Enough smarts to know that’s bullshit. I’ll be drowning in some alien-like quicksand and you’ll just poke me with a stick.” You leaned back against the wall, staring at the desk behind him. “Just admit that you hate me already and leave. You’ve disliked me from day 1 and you hide it with witty smiles and jokes.”

“You’re overthinking it. There’s no quicksand here.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes. You went to walk away from him but he trapped you with his other arm. “I still have some matters to discuss with you.” You sent him a glare, he didn’t budge.

“I need to get my stuff together just in case I’m eaten alive in the next couple of days. Like a will and final wishes.” You watched him shift, so now he was kneeling in front of you. Your expression changed, he could spot it. From annoyed to surprised, to an angry confused look.

“While on the subject, what’s this rumor you’re spreading about me hate-fucking you?”

Your face dropped and turned pink in one go. “Excuse me? Believe me when I say I am not spreading any rumors, especially nothing as filthy as that.”

“Hm, my soldiers seem to think otherwise.” He glanced at the doorway, “I heard something being yelled earlier too. Something about ‘fuckin’ and ‘we’ being used a lot in most of those sentences-” He froze up when you grabbed his ear and yanked him down. It caught him so much off guard that his hands slipped off the wall and onto the floor on either side of you.

“I want you to listen to me clearly.” Your lips brushed his ear as you spoke unnervingly gentle. “I will restructure you an old and frail human body and put your subconscious inside just so I can kick your ass unfairly. I know you heard everything I had to say this morning clearly and if I have to repeat myself I will.” He flinched and leaned forward, causing your lips to press only slightly against his earlobe. You had let go and he sat up, looking at you with wide eyes.

Miles was strangely, but very turned on. His breathing was a little quicker and he hadn’t gotten off his knees. He was staring at you, flicking between your eyes and your lips and all mighty he wanted to feel you when you were pissed off like this. He wanted to run his hands through your hair from the back of your head then pull down so you looked up at him. He wanted to feel your nails scratching at his back, his shoulders, his chest and his scalp. He wants you on top of him, wants to see you use him while you’re infuriated. Just like this.

He wants you to hate fuck him.

You walked to your desk and sat in the chair. “You can leave if that’s all you have today.”

He slowly got up, leaning against the wall as his mind still carried waves of thoughts and ideas. “Yes.” He clears his throat. “I’ll be sendin’ more information later today. Thank you for your time Dr. Linear.” When he turned, he did it facing away from you. You didn’t miss how his pants were tighter in the front. When the door closed, you slumped forward again and covered your face with your arms.

You felt as if you had this strange power, this authority over him at that moment. You knew their ears were sensitive, but it couldn’t have been that sensitive that he was turned on from it. Maybe it was your words? Or maybe he was just sick in the head enough that he enjoyed this game you were playing. What was worse, was you were also quite bothered by the whole thing. His large form having been kneeling in front of you, then his heavy breathing…You swore he may have groaned at some point or maybe it was wishful thinking.

No.

Not wishful. Just lustful, clouded thoughts. Clouded thoughts that occupied your mind all day. His expressions, his eyes, his hands. Luckily, you didn’t see him for the rest of the day. You did however receive an email with a list of items you would need for the mission. A gun or weapon was listed as Optional, everything else such as a medical bag, military grade footwear and breathing equipment was necessary.

After checking the list off and deciding you’d need to stop by a few offices and departments, you took out your telegraph and sent a new message.

“MISSION-OUTING-AT-(COORDINATES)-TMRW-MORNING-SUPPLIES-ON-FOOT.”

You put the machine away and lock it, letting out a sigh as you think about the endless possibilities of your death. Animal attack, Na’vi attack, rock slide, and even maybe treachery.

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