#he was more schmidt than nick but FUCK
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me reading a jake seresin x reader new girl au:
#hes so#he’s so hot#he was more schmidt than nick but FUCK#it was so attractive#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun x reader#top gun maverick x reader#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#glen powell#glen powell x reader
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Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x f!reader
Synopsis: You're just trying to enjoy a quiet night at home when a less than sober pilot is dropped off at your doorstep. And he's spilling all his sober thoughts in drunk words.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, fluff, drunk jake. Nothing else I can think of.
A/N: This is not my first fic, but it is my first fic on here. If this one doesn't flop there will definitely be more! Otherwise I will just retreat into the reader shadows xD
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“And those…god those eyes…” Hangman slurred slightly, a combination of his Texas upbringing and the whiskey in his system.
“Okay! We fucking get it Seresin!” Rooster groaned out in frustration. Frustration that Jake Seresin didn’t seem to notice in his drunken state even with Bradley’s use of his last name. It was supposed to have been guys' night out and to Jake’s defense it had started that way. Only the more liquor he consumed the more his thoughts were consumed by you. And thus had led to Rooster’s frustration when all Jake could talk about was you.
You were the only woman he’d ever gone after that had turned him down for reasons other than having a man. The only one that hadn’t fallen for his southern drawl and charming smile. Jake wasn’t used to that, but he also wasn’t used to the way it made him want you. Relationships had never been his forte. Sure, he’d had one or two, but mostly in high school and college. Nothing serious since he’d joined the navy. But you? The sweet middle school teacher with your perfect smile, curves in all the right places and sweet voice that could make the devil give up his sinful ways? All Jake Seresin could think about was making you his and only his.
Bradley knew from Phoenix that you were more into Jake than you were willing to let the man know. He knew you’d had your heart broken by one too many military men and that you were damned if you were going to let a silver tongued devil with pretty green eyes break it all over again. Normally Brad would have agreed, he would have supported you in your decision to keep Hangman at an arm's length. At first he had, then it became apparent that Hangman didn’t look at you the way he looked at all the other women. In all the years he’d known the Texan playboy he’d never seen him like this over someone.
So by the first hour of Jake drunkenly babbling about how perfect you were he formulated a plan.
It was a typical Thursday night for you. Work had been long and you’d already decided that morning that tonight would be a self care night. Which for you included binge watching New Girl with a stuffed crust pizza and a bottle of wine.
You were giggling uncontrollably as you watched Nick and Schmidt argue over a towel when the first thunk came. It was loud and scared both you and your cat that was curled up in your lap. The time on your phone read 10:41, way too late for anyone to be coming over unannounced. You felt your heart rate increase and as another thunk sounded out you stood up, grabbing the baseball bat you kept stashed by your door for emergencies. Holding the bat in your right hand, up high and ready to swing, with your left you reached out and unlocked the door. Only when you opened it did you realize it wasn’t an intruder at all.
“Jake?” The sandy haired pilot stood at your door and you could smell the whiskey on his breath from here.
He grinned lazily at you and damn if it didn’t make you swoon just the littlest bit. Why was his drunk ass here, though? You knew it had been guys' night, but never before had any of the guys been dumped at your doorstep while drunk.
“Hi sweets,” he lurched forward, losing his stability against your door frame and you reached out, catching him.
“Jesus! How did you get here?” Your eyes searched outside and you didn’t see his truck, but surely he hadn’t walked here. That would have been one hell of a walk from the Hard Deck to your little bungalow.
“Cock-a- cock-a-doodle whooo,” you let out a soft giggle at his attempt to crow. You took that as he meant Rooster had been the one to declare you babysitter. You made a mental note to rip Rooster a new one come morning.
Jake stumbled a bit more and you grunted as you tried to keep the man up. He was much larger than you, taller by at least six inches and definitely carried more mass. “Okay, okay,” you huffed as you slung his arm around your shoulder. “Let’s get you into bed.” It was a struggle but eventually you got him to your guest bedroom. You helped him collapse on the bed and then left in search of water and ibuprofen. Lucky for Jake you still had some packets of pedialyte powder in your pantry from the last time Nix needed a GNO.
When you got back to the room Jake had somehow managed to strip down to his boxers. You were thankful that his eyes were closed because had they not been he definitely would have caught you admiring him. It was like he’d been carved out of marble by Gods. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him shirtless, but it was the first time you’d seen him in nothing but boxers in your house.
“Sweets,” the Texan drawled out, calling for you. He’d always called you that, from the day he met you, it had never really had much of an affect on you before. Hearing it with that drunken tone of desperation made it hit differently. Your feet carried you over to him and before you had time to react he’d reached out, pulling you to him by the oversized t-shirt you had on.
You let out a surprised squeak as he wrapped his arms around you. The bottle of pedialyte mixture and ibuprofen is still in your hands as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. A familiar heat pools in your cheek and tints them pink. “Jake, come on you’re drunk. You need to drink this and take some medicine.” This was probably the nicest you’d ever talked to Jake. Though every other conversation you’d had revolved around you rejecting him to protect your own heart from his philandering ways.
Jake harrumphed when he felt you trying to pry yourself out of his arms and just tightened his grip on you. It would be a lie to tell yourself it didn’t feel nice, that you couldn’t get used to being held by him, but Jake wasn’t that kind of guy and you knew that. “Mm want you,” he murmured into your neck.
“Jake, I am not going to hook up with you,” you rolled your eyes so hard he could probably hear it. “Especially not when you’re drunk.” You tried to push yourself out of his arms again, but again his arms tightened around you.
“No sweets, wanna make you mine.” You froze, the pills and water bottle slipping out of your hand. “Wanna be with you, my girl.” He slurred softly into your neck. “So pretty…perfect…be a good mama to our babies.” If you were a cartoon you were sure your heart would burst out of your chest with as hard as it was beating right now. There was no way Jake Seresin was drunkenly telling you he wanted to make a family with you. This had to be just the liquor talking. You wanted to get away, to go have this mini panic attack by yourself, but every time you tried his hold on you just tightened. So you waited it out and once he was in a deep enough sleep you slipped out of his arms.
With two fingers on each hand you rubbed your temples and paced in your living room. Your mind was spinning so fast that you just had to convince yourself that it was all the liquor. Jake Seresin didn’t date and he definitely didn’t marry women, least of all you. So far you've been able to keep yourself from falling for his charm by telling yourself that all you are to him is another conquest. Another notch on his long belt. What he’d just said had meant nothing and come the morning he’d be back to his despicable self.
After chugging the rest of the wine in your glass you locked back up. Your self care night had effectively been ruined and it seemed like the best thing to do now was go to bed. Before you settled down in your bed you made sure to send Rooster a not so nice text. To which he just responded with a sequence of mocking emojis.
Jake was still asleep when you woke up the next morning. You just hoped he didn’t sleep the whole day away. It would be much harder to get what he said last night out of your head if he was in your house all day long. Maybe it would be best if you just left to avoid any and all awkward contact. You had some errands to run that day anyway.
“Sweets?” You winced as you heard his voice, thick with sleep in a way that had your stomach flipping. “Not that I’m upset I woke up at your place, but how did I get here?” Finally you turned from where you stood in front of the stove, bacon frying up in a pan. How the hell did he look this good hungover?
“Rooster dropped you off,” you hummed in a slightly irritated tone as you pushed water and pills over to him. “Not sure why I was the one chosen to take care of your drunk ass and listen to you admit fake feelings for me.” You mused, turning back towards the food cooking on the stove.
You expected Jake to chuckle and make some comment about how his lines hadn’t worked on you yet again, but that one day they would. He was sober now and sober Jake was far different than drunk Jake.
“Sweets,” there was a tone in his voice. A tone that you couldn’t quite place but it wasn’t his normal arrogant one. “What did I say to you last night?” You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. This was the last kind of conversation you wanted to have. It was one thing for you to decide in your own head that Jake wanted you for nothing more than your body, but it would be an entirely different thing for you to hear it out of his own mouth. It would solidify that you were just a conquest for him, that you were like every other woman he chased.
You shrugged, trying to continue acting like it was really no big deal. “Nothing I took to heart, just told me you wanted to make me your girl and that I’d make a good mama to our babies.” Saying the words out loud made your stomach fill with butterflies. “You were drunk though, I’m sure it was just the whiskey talking.”
A thick silence hung in the air as you plated the food for him. You’d made enough in case he woke up. With as nice as his physique was you weren’t even sure he ate greasy breakfast like this, but you know they always made you feel better after a night out. With as quiet as everything was right now you didn’t have much of an appetite. Again you had expected him to laugh it off but he didn’t. Instead he looked at you with these sweet eyes. Looking both like your brush off of his admittal had hurt him and made him realize he wasn’t trying hard enough.
Jake swallowed hard and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “It wasn’t the whiskey talking sweets.” Your hand froze mid air, a piece of perfectly cooked bacon between your fingers.
“Jake you don’t date. You wham, bam, thank you ma’am.” You swallowed just as hard as he had a second ago.
“Those women weren’t you, Y/N.” He used your actual name and you felt your heart skip a beat. Jake never called you by your real name. Hell, he called you sweets so much you sometimes wondered if he had forgotten your actual name. In a few strides he’d moved around to the side of the kitchen island you were on. His hand came up and with his index finger he tilted your head up to look at him. “I don’t remember saying it to you last night, but just know I meant every word.” His tone was so sincere, how could you not believe him? But how could you at the same time?
You turned away from him, trying to settle your mind and your heart at the same time. There was no way this was happening. Thank god you had the day off work, because you would need it to recover from whatever the fuck was happening right now.
“Hey, look at me sweets,” his hands landed on your hips, turning you to fully face him. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” Resistance felt futile at this point, but you were still trying hard to resist.
“Jake, you can’t be serious?” The aviator cocked an eyebrow at you, coaxing you to continue. “You could have your pick of available women out here and you want me?”
He started to laugh and you felt sick to your stomach. You knew it was too good to be true, Jake didn’t want you in that way. The notion wasn’t as comforting as you thought it would have been and you wished he would stop laughing at the whole thing.
Jake finally took notice of the pained look on your face and his laughter was cut short. One of his arms snaked around your waist and the other hand came up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Sweets, you don’t see yourself properly and I promise if you give me a chance I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how fuckin’ special you are.” You searched his eyes, looking for any hint that this was all fake. Though, you hadn’t found one yet so you weren’t sure why you thought you’d find one now.
On its own accord your head started to nod up and down. It took your brain a moment to catch up and by the time it did you knew you couldn’t take it back. Jake looked like it was Christmas morning and he got the bike he’d been begging for all year long. He looked so happy, there was no way you could take this away from him.
“I’ll give you a chance, but Jake Seresin I swear the second you hurt me even a little it’s over.” You wouldn’t let another pretty boy military man break your heart again. Not after how bad the last one had been.
Jake’s grin only grew and he lifted you up, spinning you around in the kitchen. The action made you giggle and the pilot had to fight to keep himself from getting down on one knee.
“Don’t worry sweets, I got lots of plans for us.” He hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and you felt like you could melt right then and there.
#top gun one shot#hangman x you#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin fluff#top gun fluff#hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader
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Dating Nick Miller Would Include
You’d definitely meet at the bar.
And you wouldn’t be in the mood for chatting.
Which was good because Nick hated chatting.
But seeing you so upset he couldn't help himself.
‘So how come you’ve come to this dive?’ ‘My life can’t get any worse might as well spend it in here.’ ‘That’s the entire motto of my life.’
And soon you’d spend the whole night talking.
And then you’d become a regular.
You’d be really close friends.
But for Nick, it was more than that. You too but neither of you told the other.
But he’d try and keep you hidden from the gang because he was sure they’d let on he liked you.
‘Why won’t you let me meet your friends Nick? Are you embarrassed we’re friends?’ ‘No of course not if anything it’s the other way around.’ ‘If I’m just one of your customers you can just say that. You don’t have to pretend that you like me-’ *kisses you* ‘I more than like you.’
He’s a pretty good boyfriend.
Kind, sweet, and supportive.
But as an adult man….not so good.
But he’d try and impress you.
Schmidt would be furious that he’s been trying for years to get Nick to grow up and you’ve done it in five minutes.
Of course, he would deny that he’s changing.
But you couldn’t help but notice he drinks a lot less now.
And you’ve even noticed that his running shoes have moved more than once. Though you’re sure he’s jogging in the middle of the night not to get caught.
The only thing he struggles with is not getting angry.
But it's not about the big stuff.
You rarely argue but you bicker like crazy.
‘How can you not know how to change a fuse?’ ‘I get a man to do it.’ ‘You’d pay someone!?’ ‘No, you’re the man obviously.’
But you both knew how to get out of it.
Angry sex.
And once you’d fucked it out the issue wasn’t mentioned again.
Nick wasn’t one for PDA.
But he’d show it in other ways. Like making you a morning coffee or turning up the thermostat [even though he’d had furious loft arguments about it in the past].
You’d love spending time in the loft.
He’d teach you the rules of true American.
And you’d soon become allowed to participate in of all the loft disputes.
But a lot of people in such a small space was sort of like a pressure cooker.
‘I just need space, Nick.’ ‘Space from me?’ ‘No space from everyone.’ ‘You wanna move out?’ ‘I think I do.’
It’d take a while.
Nick’s finances were not exactly in tip-top shape so you’d need to do some fine-tuning.
But that would give the boys enough time to get used to the idea they weren’t going to be together forever.
Of course, once you moved into your new place the boys were in the same street within months.
You didn’t mind.
It meant you were essentially living in the loft but had your own space.
You’d have barbecues and every holiday together.
Eventually, you’d stop going home for the holidays.
Your family was in L.A.
Once it was obvious the pair of you were in it for the long haul Nick couldn't help but think about marriage.
And he’d save up as much money as he could to buy you a ring.
Your wedding would be a simple affair.
‘You are the love of my life.’ ‘I know.’ ‘Schmidt we just asked for the rings.’ ‘Not now you homewrecker.’
Your reception would be at the bar.
It was apt since it was where you first met.
And Schmidt would definitely try and talk you out of it.
But to you it was perfect.
THIS IS PART OF MY CHRISTMAS CHALLENGE. I’LL BE POSTING AN IMAGINE EVERDAY FROM 1ST - 25TH DECEMBER. THIS AND ALL IMAGINES WILL BE UPLOADED IN THE LINK POSTED DAY BY DAY.
ADVENT CALENDAR OF IMAGINES
#my writing#my headcanons#nick miller#nick miller imagine#new girl#new girl imagine#nick miller headcanon#dating would include
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Anyways i got a hello puppets oc idea
I came up with her when I was researching OSHA violations in hello puppets.
I don't have a name for her but my classmate said I could temporarily just call her Dr. Schmidt or something.
Schmidt is such a german ass name I don't have the words for it
The general idea for her backstory was basically that Owen wanted to make fun of Rachel without getting in trouble. So he made a puppet that resembled her somewhat but not nearly enough to realize that it is a caricature of her. For example Rachel seems like she would threaten Owen with the involvement of the(partly my headcanon) HR (human resources) "Dr. Schmidt" is part of the HSR (health and safety representative)
Mortimer(or some other puppet idc) brought her to life to have someone make sure the entire place doesn't collapse due to the other puppets BS. Little problem she doesn't listen to Mortimer but rather only to the rules of the OSHA codes and Geneva conventions. She is somewhat of an mercenary so you can bribe her to forget the rules for a bit but she doesn't have a problem to throw other puppets, no matter if sock, Handeemen etc, under the bus.
If she was in the game she probably would occasionally appear as a "support" puppet in the later levels, she doesn't kill you or anything but rather forces you to bring the item you currently have in your hand immediately back to the original position, if you refuse she just brings you to the actual Handeeman so you can still have a chance to escape. That ofc pisses the others of that she doesn't just kill you but her only excuse is "the mutilating of bodies and spreading of bloodborne pathogens seems to fall more under your job description, I would advise you to agree [last name]
Also she refers to everyone by their last name, not because she respects them or anything but because she isn't awar eof the existence of first names due to the fact she herself doesn't have one.
Also! She forces Riley to abide by the lab safety protocol and always throws a pair of safety goggles at her face, and hates it that SHE NEVER FUCKING CLOSES HER LABCOAT COMPLETELY
regarding nick she is just generally mean to him, not much more than the others just regular mean, she also always confiscates his stuff since he always forgets to close toxic paints after using them and sometimes she confiscates his makeup with the excuse "because I said so. Quiet now"
Schmidt always makes daisy check her smoke detectors 4x a day and is this 🤏 close to set her off into danger mode.
It takes every fiber of her being and shut up to not talk and say something about Mortimer (when he is near) cause surprisingly her life is more important to her than bitching about something.
She has a few catchphrases I guess?? But they are just stuff like:
"proper safety measures avoid injuries and lawsuits!"
"Geneva gave us a checklist boys and it's our job to make sure we are thorough"
"the reason I have a PhD (in toxicology) and not you ruckus is because I'm not completly incompetent."
"you are the kind of person No-one could ever forget"
"luckily you really are a failure""you are not pretty enough to be this stupid"
"sometimes im not sure if I should send you to a therapist, a psychiatrist, a psychologist or straight into the mental institution"
#Lazy oc but idc.#She also has a collection of all the posters. She is kinda pissed that she isn't featured in any but acts like she doesn't care. And fails.#hello puppets#hello puppets midnightshow#fanart#hello puppets midnight show#traditional art#let nick be a theater kid in all it's glory#Also! Her host is completely covered in work safety gear#Like helmet glasses work gloves steal plates in showers and warn vest and everything
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how would you do 2012-era Winter Soldier Steve for Yonder AU Bucky-Cap
See, with this one it's less about WS!Steve, because the Winter Soldier doesn't play any role in the 2012 film there I'd not really thought about what he'd do. It's really the kind of thing that would get spurred into motion because now the Yonder Trio is there and Yonder!Steve is not going to rest until he gets this thing sorted out without the CATWS murder planes etc. Remember, Yonder!Steve is also Horizon!Steve, who came within a hair's breadth of getting Winter Soldiered and is still pretty significantly messed up by it. It was his personal private nightmare before Horizon, so finding out that there exists a universe where it actually happened back in 1945 is uh. not a fun time for him. (Well, if Endgame can do a Cap vs Cap fight...that's one thing I was really sad about not being able to fit into Yonder, either Cap vs Cap or Widow vs Widow -- I don't think Yonder!Loki punching out 2012!Loki counts.)
This is not precisely a BuckyCap even though he's in a Captain America uniform -- this is the thing I had to change yesterday once I started thinking about the base worldbuilding of the AU.
The divergence point of the AU is that Steve is the one who falls off the train in CATFA, not Bucky, and the events of CATFA in the broad strokes go naturally from there -- the assault on the Hydra base, the fight with Schmidt, Bucky going down in the Valkyrie and getting frozen. (Probably the actual details of the fight go differently, but broad strokes.) I generally put about a week between the train fight and the assault, to give the Howlies time to get back to London (with the "under twenty-four hours" being between London and Austria, I know some writers who ignore that entirely and put months between). Those events went differently -- while there's probably a sweet moment between Peggy and Bucky, both grieving, Howard very publicly and very dramatically blamed Bucky for Steve's apparent death, which is why Bucky is so prickly about Tony's mention of Howard.
(Steve going missing a week earlier than he did in canon did not make Howard any less obsessed with Steve. In fact, it probably made it worse, because the differences between falling from the train and going down in the Valkyrie mean that (a) Howard can blame people and (b) is even more convinced that ever that Steve survived, just no one is looking, don't they care? So that very slightly changes Howard's dynamics with everyone going forward. but also makes, you know, the murder in 1991 way worse. It does not improve Tony's relationship with his father or his Captain America issues.)
Bucky brought the shield back to the SSR after the train, but didn't take it on the assault, so for sixty-seven years it was just sitting in SHIELD's storage because no one knew what to do with it. Howard threw his weight around every time someone suggested making a new Captain America, backed up by Peggy, who had slightly more mixed feelings about it than he did but wasn't any happier about the idea either.
Fast forward to 2012, when SHIELD pulls Bucky Barnes out of the ice. They are more than a little startled, because they didn't know about the whole super soldier thing, but Nick Fury has Seen Some Shit so it's taken pretty much in stride. He doesn't get the stage show treatment that Steve gets at the end of CATFA, but otherwise SHIELD treats him pretty much the same until Loki shows up at Project Pegasus. Fury and Coulson haul him over to the helicarrier (less hero worship on Coulson's part, because he's a Cap fanboy, not a Howling Commandos fanboy) and present him with the shield and a nice speech about Steve Rogers' legacy.
Bucky tells them to fuck off, there's no power on this earth that will make him pick up that shield, and don't they dare say one word about what Steve Rogers would have wanted, they don't know anything about him. They are still arguing about it when Loki shows up at Stuttgart and Bucky has to go do the thing. He puts on the uniform (under protest), but won't take the shield. It is not the 2012 Cap uniform, but a different Captain America-inspired one that blends the Cap-and-Howlie aesthetics a little. (Presumably the three-way forest fight with Tony and Thor also goes a little differently, but it has the same ultimate result of everyone back on the helicarrier.)
The gang is having their regularly scheduled "you want to use the Tesseract to make weapons????" argument in the lab when the Yonder trio shows up. (Bucky does not go searching and find the WWII Hydra gear, because unlike Steve Rogers, he does not have border collie brain.)
I assume that even with Steve getting Winter Soldiered in this 'verse rather than Bucky, most of the Winter Soldier's history goes pretty much the same -- I don't think we know enough to say what might have actually gone differently if one switches them out for each other. (Except that Natasha might recognize Steve straight-off from their encounter in 2009, if he wasn't masked then.)
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A B and G! For the ask meme :D
A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.
omg so fucking many. Here's as many as my brain can think of rapid fire from my ao3 list
Hankconvin & hankvin1700 and any iterations of the DBH boys,
Steddiegrove and any mix of the Stranger Things dumbo boys (Steve Eddie Billy, sometimes jonathan)
Drarry always-JK is a CUNT.
Roy/Jamie/Keeley, Roy/Jamie, Ted/Trent, Keeley/Rebecca, Roy/Trent 👀 (may the fic finish itself soon) from Ted Lasso
Peter Parker/Eddie Brock/Venom, Peter Parker/Harry Osborn, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Matt Murdock, Petercest, Starker, Peter Parker/Anyone (Andrew!Peter was the one I grew up with <3 I love him with pretty much anyone and he's got so much potential for tragic backstory with all of them. I love love Tom's too :D he's such a cutie and Tom is also a really incredible human being and actor. Hard to choose a fav Peter when every one I've seen has been amazing!)
John Bender/Andrew Clark from the breakfast club. I do love me some enemies to lovers and this fucking movie. Enough I wrote 54k+ of fanfiction for it
Wincest, Sam/Dean Winchester- Sorry not sorry, I clearly labeled to dove in the freezer DO NOT EAT!
Marty/Rust-True Detective. BRING ON THE DYSFUNCTION
Izzy/Blackbeard, Steddyhands, blacksteade, teal oranges from OFMD
Nick/Schmidt from New Girl
El/Q from Magicians
Ryan/Jim from the US The Office
Johnlock, Hilson, any version of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes thats gay
B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.
oh man, I feel like this is a rarepair question. Let me check the ol' archive....
hahahahaha well this is gonna give away more about me than I probs want, but we got some Norman/Peter Parker in here, and Swayze and Sam Elliots characters in Road House👀🌶️
oh man also my ST mutuals got me allll into Robin/Heather, I can't stop thinking about them and Heather and Billy being cunty platonic bffs
Ooooo spanish Jackie/Jim 😍& Izzy/Lucius from OFMD
I also guess I ship Ted and Rebecca now. I didn't until that last fucking episode and I saw all four of them in her house and I went. OH. Okay yeah I get it now.
G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?
oh yeah hahaha I probably started fan shipping in my early teens and it was either Draco/Harry or Max/Jude from Across the universe <3
thanks for the asks, they were really fun!
#sunwarmed ash#max asks#max answers#ash asks#ash answers#find me on ao3#link in bio#detroit become human#stranger things#the breakfast club#true detective#harry potter#our flag means death#tasm peter parker#into the spider verse#supernatural#ted lasso#the magicians#the office
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Harringrove roommate a/u
i've been watching new girl lately and have acquired some ideas.
i like the thought that billy and steve have kind of a nick and schmidt thing. like, constant bickering, shit talking, subtle homoeroticism that neither acknowledge.
robin is a frequent visitor and maybe billy is attempting to make a book from scratch and maybe robin is very down to get into the shenanigans. they find a pint of glue in a random cabinet and get so violently high on it, naturally. steve walks in, in the midst of the chaos that is robin and billy high on glue. and just says, fuck it - if we go down, we do it together. steve too gets high on glue that night.
durring "family game nights" (in which the older gen gather in billy and steve's tiny apartment) they obviously play true american. steve and billy have full reign over the rules of the game, they are subject to change at anytime. it often gets VERY rowdy and ends with all of them blacked out. the cops definitely get called on them a few times and there have definitely been arrests.
after late nights on the town they have more than once passed out on each others bed. there was a two month period where they actively chose to share a room, when people asked they fronted that they turned the other room into a gym (which really meant they threw a few dumbbells in the room) but in reality they just liked the idea of sleepovers every night.
they argue over coffee every. single. morning. billy always catches steve drinking it straight from the pot. billy likes some milk and sugar in his, sue him the man appreciates the sweeter things, whereas steve likes it black. he'll even drink the grounds, as long as it means it will wake him up.
they're constantly stealing each other's things. some fancy hair product steve bought, its billy's now. the soft knit blanket that susan made billy, it lives on steve's bed. it's even gotten to the point where steve will take billy's toothbrush because he prefers the color or billy will take steve's underwear because they make his ass look nice.
when they finally acknowledge the fact that they act like a married couple (and want to blow each other's backs out) and decide to make it official their friends were like ??? you weren't together before? you lived like this as just ROOMATES?
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König shows up long after lights-out, a thermos in one hand and a flimsy cardboard box slowly getting crushed in the other. He has to duck under the top of the doorway, slipping into the infirmary and taking in the smell of copper and antiseptic.
Adler's sitting at her desk, face half-lit in washed-out white, dark circles prominent and ghoulish under her eyes. She looks up, and her exhaustion is briefly chased by something bright and warm. "Hey," she says.
"Busy?"
"I probably shouldn't be," she replies, giving a throwaway gesture toward the chair opposite of her, which he takes. "Give me an excuse to call it quits for the night."
König grins under his hood and holds up his offerings. "Glühwein and pastries?"
Adler gives him a faux-scandalized look. "Herr Operator, are you consuming alcohol on company premises?"
"It's KorTac tradition," he replies, sagely.
"I knew I adored you for a reason," she says, immediately pulling two coffee mugs and a handful of napkins out from a drawer in her desk. "Honestly, I was afraid you were going to say it was hot chocolate."
He pushes the thermos across the desk to her, then busies himself trying to reconstitute the box's original shape. Fortunately, the pastries survived relatively unscathed, aside from smears of jelly and chocolate on the roof of the box. He gives her the biggest piece of Streuselkuchen, knowing there's no way she can say no to it. In turn, he helps himself to a lopsided strudel. Adler—bless her—pours generously into each mug. Once everything's doled out appropriately, she gently taps her mug against him with a quiet, "Prost," which he returns.
He lifts the bottom part of his hood up to the arch of his nose in order to drink. If they weren't on base, he wouldn't bother with it around her. They've known each other for years now, and she's never balked at his scars. But there's far too much risk of another operator (or Doctor Nick) coming into the infirmary for any number of reasons.
Adler practically sinks into her drink, visibly relaxing in her chair and sipping it like she's rationing it out to herself. "Ohhh, you're the best," she murmurs. "You can smuggle alcohol in here whenever you want. I won't say a word to Hutch."
"That's what I thought you'd say," he replies, setting his mug down for a moment to help himself to his strudel. "You seemed, ah, stressed."
"More than usual?"
"Mhmm."
He catches it—that half-second flicker in her eyes that lets him know he's hit the mark with sniper accuracy. She doesn't say anything right away, and he knows better than to press it. Adler's like a cat in more ways than one, including her reaction to coaxing.
Two more sips of her drink and one bite of her cake, then, "What do you think of the new helicopter pilot?"
König blinks, taking another drink while considering who she's talking about. The new pilot has a very plain name—Schneider or Schiller or Schmidt—and a German accent wrapped finely around his English. König's so used to German, Austrian, and Swiss soldiers filtering in and out of PMCs that he didn't pay the new pilot much mind when he first heard him. Clearly, Adler's opinion is different. "I don't know," he finally says, honestly. "I hardly noticed him."
She nods, reaching up to crumble a piece of cake between her thumb and forefinger until it falls as dust onto her napkin. "Herr Schmidt," she says, like it's a punchline to a joke. "Paul Schmidt, to be specific. No callsign or nickname. Two incredibly common names that would never draw suspicion.."
He catches on. "You know him?"
"I do."
"Where's he from?"
"The KSK," she says, then shrugs. "Was from the KSK. Not anymore."
König's brow furrows, even though he knows she can't see it. "He left the KSK?" he asks.
"No." That confirms one suspicion. "He was ejected."
"Fuck," König says under his breath. People don't get kicked out of the Kommando Spezialkräfte unless it's under dire circumstances—truly awful behavior or war crimes even the Bundeswehr can't sweep away. "What did he do?"
He sees Adler's hands tighten on her mug, knuckles briefly going bone-white before she frowns and relaxes her grip. "I don't know," she says. "I heard so many rumors after it happened. That he detonated an explosive in a populated area. That he killed another KSK operative. That..." She swallows hard, and König thinks she's known the truth all along. "That he knowingly killed civilians."
Silence floats between them, like something perched and leering. Then, König asks, "Who is he?"
Adler gives a short, terse, fucking bitter laugh. "Depends on who you ask. He has so many aliases that I don't think there's a real person under all that," she replies. "Josef Doss, Sebastian Krueger, now Paul Schmidt. Who knows who he'll be in a month?"
König nods, and at the same time, he can see threads of a backstory fraying at the edges of her narrative. The bitterness, the black rage threatening to cut through her composed exterior. He then thinks of how close Doctor Nick's been to her lately, how this is the first day he's seen Adler without him at her side. Doctor Nick undoubtedly knows this, knows what's afflicting his wife's psyche, knows what this helicopter pilot's done.
There's no easy way to ask for the answer at the root of all this. Instead, quietly—gently—König asks, "Which one did you know?"
"I knew Sebastian Krueger," she replies. The bitterness slides into a saline melancholy—one that she immediately chases with a fortifying drink. "I don't know him anymore."
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It’s dodgers anon-
Fuck I reread the entirety of the douche bag jar and kept meaning to type down my comments so I could send u a giant ask at the end with a million !!!!!!! But I got sucked into the story AGAIN and forgot to write anything down. I keep doing this with your series istg…
anyway sorry I’ll try to remember to actually take notes next time
don't apologize at all!! I'm very happy that you even read it more than once haha thank you
and ooh good question, I knew that Bradley was going to be my Nick character and Jake was gonna be Schmidt so I was thinking maybe Javy at first - but he seemed like much more of a Coach - honestly, for whatever reason I just felt like Mickey made the most sense (and would be the most likely to be bffs with his cat lol)
Bradley being a pyromaniac is canon as far as I'm concerned and will be making many more appearances
and fun fact! sending pictures of dogs is actually Jake's thing, Peach does is sometimes but Jake loves sending her pictures of dogs because they make her so excited and give him an excuse to text her
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i'm still working on it but here's a snippet from the New Girl Gay Nick AU for @grasslandgirl and my other schnick comrades huddled in the trenches
***
They're sitting next to each other on the couch, Nick distractedly playing his video game while Schmidt lounges beside him and idly flicks through a magazine. Winston is out with a few friends ("I know people outside of you three," he'd insisted as he walked out the door) and Cece showed up about an hour ago to pick up Jess for their date, so it's just the two of them left, seated slightly closer than they really need to be given how empty the loft is.
Schmidt's wearing his stupid kimono, which is way too short to be taken seriously and definitely some form of cultural blasphemy. It rides up even higher when he sits down, revealing a frankly ridiculous amount of his pale thighs. Nick focuses very deliberately on how Schmidt looks like a total douchebag instead of his growing impulse to sink to his knees in front of him, to rest his broad hands around the slim width of Schmidt's ankles, to lean in and scratch his stubble against the sensitive skin of Schmidt's inner thighs. He wonders what would happen if he manned up and just did it, if Schmidt would gasp in surprise before running his hands through his hair, if he would berate Nick for stealing his conditioner while Nick sucked the head of Schmidt's dick into his mouth.
The controller buzzes in his hands, and Nick realizes belatedly that his character has died while he was too busy staring at Schmidt's legs. He scowls and hits the Respawn button with slightly more force than necessary.
***
Schmidt would say yes, if he asked. In the parade of sexual partners Schmidt’s brought through the loft, there’s been a near fifty-fifty split of men and women. And Nick might be nose-deep in denial, but he’s not blind. He sees the way that Schmidt looks at him sometimes, the way he’s looked at him since they were Freshmen in college. Schmdit flirts with anything that has a pulse, and far be it from him to spare Nick such a privilege. Of course, it’s not like he excludes Winston or Coach or Jess or Cece, either. Fuck, he flirted with the checkout lady at the grocery store last week, and she was like sixty.
Point being, if Nick wanted to, all it would take is one word for Schmidt to... well, you know. With him. He wouldn’t even have to get him drunk to do it, though there’s no way in hell Nick would ever be stupid enough to suggest it sober, and it feels unfair to be on an unequal playing field.
He thinks about it, sometimes, though it’s hardly his choice. Nick’s lying on his freshly-washed sheets, courtesy of him working a double that coincided with laundry day and resulted in Schmidt stealing them off his bed and throwing them in the wash with the rest of his linens. They smell like the needlessly fancy laundry soap that Schmidt uses, and Nick rolls onto his stomach to breathe it in, pressing his hips firmly against the mattress and begging all three of the saints he knows the names of that he won’t do anything fucking stupid, like jerk off while thinking of his roommate of nearly ten years.
...
The thing is, if Nick just asked him, Schmidt wouldn’t think he was serious. Or even if he did, it wouldn’t be any different than any of his other conquests. As his roommate of nearly ten years, Nick is all too familiar with the way Schmidt treats the people he sleeps with. To him it would be nothing, just another opportunity to get off. But to Nick it would be the end of the fucking world. There’s no scenario in which they sleep together and it doesn’t flip his entire reality on its axis. He doesn’t think there’s any way that he could go through that with Schmidt, one of the most important people in his life, if not the most important, and not treat it like something special.
If Nick knows anything about himself, it’s that he can’t be trusted to hold on to good things. He’s the inverse of King Midas, everything he touches falls apart near-instantly. He’s a bull in a china shop, except this time it’s his fucking heart and soul on the line.
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Journeys end in lovers meeting - Sam/Deena - Fear Street x Bly Manor AU - Chapter 2
Chapters: 2/10
Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Sarah Fier/Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Christine "Ziggy" Berman/Nick Goode, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson
Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson, Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Constance (Fear Street Part 3: 1666), Christine "Ziggy" Berman, Nick Goode (Fear Street), Alice (Fear Street Part 2: 1978), Sarah Fier (Fear Street), Hannah Miller (Fear Street), Solomon Goode (Fear Street)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, The Haunting of Bly Manor AU, Not Canon Compliant, Haunted Houses, Ghosts, Character Death, Minor Character Death, Canon Lesbian Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Au Pair Sam, Gardener Deena, Housekeeper Kate, Cook Simon, Josh and Constance as troubled kids, Ziggy and Nick in an unhealthy relationship, minor Cindy/Alice, Martin cameos, special appearances of all the Shadyside killers as ghosts, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Rest Is Confetti
Summary:
The year is 1994. Samantha Fraser recently moved to Shadyside, and she desperately needs a job that will help her leave her troubled past behind. She starts working as au pair at Shadyside Manor, where she is not the only one tortured by ghosts. Grief, regrets, guilt, innocent victims, and an ancient curse. At the center of all of it... love.
Chapter 2:
Sam hadn’t been kidding when she said she would deal with the kids by herself. About nine years as a teacher were worth it. She knew exactly how to balance patience and authority, and exactly when to crack a smile. It wasn’t time for smiles though. It was time to let the kids of Shadyside manor know that their days of self-government were over. Sam was brought there to bring them an education, and that included rules, discipline, and consequences to their actions.
So, if they locked her in a closet, there would have to be a sort of punishment. If they were responsible for the muddy footprints that appeared on the staircase of the house, there would also be a punishment. Nothing too severe, of course. Sam knew even the word punishment seemed too hard for kids. But she knew this would be her only chance at asserting her position in that place.
That was how, after breakfast, Sam found herself with nothing to do while Josh and Constance worked on cleaning up the stairs. Luckily, she was quickly approached by two of her coworkers.
“So, since you have put the kids to do my work,” Kate said. “Why don’t you come hang us for a bit?”
Simon pulled out one of the chairs from the table and with a flourish offered it to Sam, “Miss Fraser, would you care to join us for a mid-morning shit-talking session?”
“Oh, sure,” Sam chuckled nervously and accepted the seat. “And you can just call me Sam.” She couldn’t help repeating herself. She didn’t exactly have good memories attached to her name. She only ever wished to be just Sam.
“Don’t creep her out, please,” Kate told her friend and two of them took a seat as well. “So, Sam, what do you think of the house so far? And the kids?”
The new au pair took her time to answer. “The house is… big. It’s uh, I mean, sure, it looks scary. But once inside, it doesn’t feel as bad as the rumors make it out to be, you know?”
Kate nodded firmly, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Simon grinned playfully and leaned forward on the table as if about to discuss a secret, “You don’t have haunted houses in Sunnyvale?”
Sam chuckled bitterly at that. Apparently, it wasn’t a secret for anyone the place she came from. If only they knew the full story. “No we don’t,” she looked down and shook her head. “Sunnyvale has its different types of hauntings though.”
“What about the kids?” Kate blurted out.
“The Sunnyvale kids?”
“What? No! Constance and Josh,” Kate scoffed, and sent an unimpressed look in Sam's way.
“Oh, right,” Sam laughed nervously. She desperately hoped she wasn’t blushing in embarrassment. Kate was staring at her very intently, studying her. But it was, somehow, not getting exactly the effect she was hoping for in Sam. Because yes, maybe Sam was deeply intimidated. But she could also tell that Kate’s harshness came from a place of being protective of the kids and caring about them. “They seem great, really,” Sam eventually replied. “Constance is bold and Josh is an introvert, but I’ve dealt with kids like that my entire life. I’m going to try my best with them though, that’s for sure. I just… have to get to know them.”
At that moment, Kate and Simon exchanged a look. Sam had no doubt it was true that those two had been best friends for a long time. It seemed like a really important conversation was silently happening between them. Finally, Simon spoke up.
“No, you haven’t worked with kids like them,” he replied, suddenly very careful with his words. “No offense, you know? But, bold and introverted mean different things in Sunnyvale and Shadyside. Here they mean something more along the lines of survivor and traumatized.”
A not completely discreet cough from Kate got him to stop talking. “No, I know, I’m sorry,” Sam was quick to apologize. They weren’t completely wrong. “I know, it’s just, well… I don’t know anything… I mean, what, uh, why…” She ended with a sigh and slumping in her chair, knowing there was no right way to ask the questions she had in mind.
“Constance’s parents died two years ago,” Kate said. She was speaking almost in whispers, but it nearly startled Sam, who didn’t think she’d get any sort of explanation. Afterward, she would hope she hadn’t. “Cindy Berman and husband. Plane crashed. Then, last year… her aunt. Christine killed herself here on the property. Really gives you some perspective into all the fucking rumors, doesn’t it?”
Afterward, Sam was beyond speechless. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a thing to say. That’s when Simon joined in.
“And Josh, he… uh, well, he is not one of the Bermans,” Simon was struggling to explain. “Look, he has his own fucked up past, okay? But I can’t tell you more because Deena would totally kick my ass. It’s their story to tell, you know? The past is the past anyway.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully. At least, she hoped she appeared thoughtful. Not too thoughtful though. Just thoughtful enough for someone that has perfectly normal reactions to hearing the name of a very particular co-worker. That momentary panic at least gave her an idea of how to reply to the tough conversation. A change of subject.
“What about you guys?” Sam asked. “How did you end up working at the manor?”
Instantly, Kate seemed to relax. “I just like bossing people around,” she grinned, earning laughter from the other two. “My aunt used to work here. Alice pays well enough. And if you don’t get scared easily, it’s not a bad place to live in.”
Sam smiled at her and then looked at Simon, noticing how he didn’t look half as relaxed as Kate this time. “What can I say?” he smiled in a way that kept a lot hidden. “It pays the bills. It’s close to home. And I fucking love food.”
The au pair decided it wasn’t time to push for more information. Instead, in that brief moment of silence, she turned her head to look through the door at Josh and Constance working on the stairs. They were doing well, but their day was far from over. From her point of view, she had no way of seeing the man standing on the other side of the stairs. Tommy Slater had been standing there for longer than he could remember. He was still wearing his red flannel shirt, still holding on to his axe, still looking impossibly sad, cold, and lonely.
--
As she made her way to the greenhouse, Sam tried to convince herself she wasn’t nervous at all. She had no reason to be anxious at all. Deena Johnson was another one of her coworkers. Sure, maybe she pulled Sam out of a pretty embarrassing breakdown the previous night. Yes, maybe she had an incredible smile that almost painfully reminded Sam of feelings she had spent a lifetime running from. But… she reached the greenhouse before coming up with a reason not to be on edge.
“Hi?” she called out, tentatively stepping inside the place.
“Over here,” a voice replied from the back of the greenhouse. A voice that was like no other Sam had ever heard.
“Um, hi, Deena,” Sam approached her slowly. “It’s me, uh, Sam.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” Deena replied, a small smile on her lips. She stood up from the ground, where she had been kneeling down to work on one of the multiple plants that filled this space. “What do you have there?” Deena asked, nodding toward the plate Sam was holding in her hand.
Sam looked down, as if she had forgotten what it was she was carrying. “Simon,” she blurted out.
“Oh. He looks a little bit different than I remember.”
That made Sam laugh nervously. “I mean, it’s your breakfast,” Sam said. “You didn’t come down for breakfast and Simon asked me to bring it to you.”
Deena nodded slowly, and accepted the plate from Sam’s hands. Then she moved to one of the two chairs at the back of the greenhouse and sat down, inspecting her breakfast.
Afterward, Sam might chastise herself for it, but at the moment she couldn’t help but blurt out, “You’re welcome.”
That earned her an annoyed sigh from the gardener. “Listen, you don’t have to do this,” Deena said.
“Do what?” Sam wondered, taking a seat on the spare chair.
“Play nice with us, with me,” Deena explained, nearly whispering the last part.
“I…” Sam stuttered, she was definitely taken off guard. “Well, we are coworkers now, we live under the same roof, I think-”
“I think you have no idea what you got yourself into. This place, and everyone here, is doomed,” Deena interrupted her. “You’re Sunnyvale, we are Shadyside trash. I know your type. I only hope you’ll run away before the kids get attached to you.”
For a moment, all Sam could do was stare, frown silently at Deena, as the other woman nonchalantly got started on her breakfast, as if she hadn’t just put Sam’s entire mood upside down. It was interesting though, the way Deena chose not to mention the fact that she skipped breakfast just to avoid a set of blue eyes that were too dangerously pretty to wander into Shadyside.
Sam jumped out of her seat, and took a deep breath to reign in her feelings. “You don’t know me at all,” was all she said before walking out of the greenhouse.
--
The rest of the morning passed by in a blur of hard work, mostly for the kids. Surprisingly though, at one point they stopped looking so bothered about it. Josh wasn’t the kind to complain out loud, but Sam noticed from the way his shoulders relaxed and his lips almost started to smile. Constance, on the other hand, was pretty content complaining as much as possible, but she seemed happier doing something new, entertaining, and different from studying. They especially seemed to enjoy working outside.
Sam had wanted to avoid the unkind gardener as much as possible, but she had already planned this, so there was no turning back. This was part of the kids’ education, hard work, and Sam was proud of her methods. The one thing she wasn’t proud of was the way the gardener was making her feel. Her plan to avoid Deena had backfired. Deena, Kate, and Simon were lounging in the garden, while Sam guided Josh and Constance on their work.
As hard as she tried, Sam couldn’t stop herself from second-guessing what her new coworkers were talking about. Were they talking about her? Good things? Did Kate and Simon feel the same way as Deena? Were they criticizing her? Those smiles on their faces, was that a good or bad sign? Deena’s posture on that chair, the way she held a cigarette, played with the delicate chain hanging from her neck, teased her young brother, locked eyes with Sam precisely once… did it mean anything at all?
--
The rest of the morning went by easily. Sam dragged Josh and Constance back to the house to continue cleaning, and they had to comply. Tragic as it seemed, they couldn’t complain to anybody. Kate, Simon, Deena, even Alice in the safety of her own home, they all would have supported Sam’s teaching methods at best, would’ve laughed in their faces at worst.
Things couldn’t be perfect though. Sam would scold herself for letting her guard down at all. She had been in one of the bedrooms, assisting Constance with cleaning the windows, when it happened. One second it was just a window, showing the green grounds around the property, nothing more. Then the next second, all Sam could see was his face. Dark. Just a shadow. Furious. Disgusted. Head tilted. Observing her. Unforgiving. Horribly familiar.
Sam let out a yelp of surprise and stumbled backward. She caught herself before falling down to the floor, but not before Constance saw her. At first, the girl chuckled, but she sounded somewhat genuine when she asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m- uh, I’m okay,” Sam replied, voice trembling. “Give me a minute.”
She was out of that room before hearing the girl’s reply. She couldn’t move fast enough, but her legs were trembling. She couldn’t shake that image of her mind. Her own particular ghost. The monster that she hadn’t been able to leave in Sunnyvale. Following her reflection everywhere she went.
Sam stumbled down the stairs and out of the house. She finally found refuge behind one of the big bushes on the sides of the entrance. A place where she could break down in peace. She couldn’t stop the tears, and she could hardly breathe, and she was so scared.
“Are you okay?”
The question makes Sam choke one of her sobs. Of all people that could have caught her at this moment…
“I get it,” Deena cautiously added, from a safe distance away. “I swear I had the same reaction after I met Constance.” She could barely see Sam, hiding behind the bush, but she guessed that privacy was exactly what the blonde wanted. “If Josh’s the problem though, just let me know. You aren’t allowed to, but I can totally kick his ass.” That earned her a tearful chuckle from Sam, which was a very good sign. “Just so you know though,” Deena added, “That’s usually my spot for having an emotional breakdown. Now I have to go to this other corner and there are spiders and shit in there, no privacy at all.”
This time, there was a genuine laugh coming from Sam. The tears had stopped, and she managed to find the strength to look over her shoulder, show her face to Deena and say, “Thank you.”
Deena softly shook her head, dismissing Sam’s need to thank her. “You’re doing better than most people could,” she said. Seeing Sam smile sadly, acknowledging her tear-streaked face, Deena insisted, “I mean it.”
There was a pause then. Sam opened her mouth, desperately wishing she could say something else. All she wanted was to ask Deena how she could be so kind and so cruel as if a switch was flipped inside her. But Sam feared that saying more than two words would make her cry again. Deena took that as her cue to go on with her day.
“Back to work then,” Deena said, starting to march back into the house. “Stay strong, Sunnyvale.”
Definitely done with her tears, Sam was having trouble holding back her smile. She tried to sneak another glance at the gardener, but Deena was gone, leaving behind only a pleasant warmth in Sam’s heart and a firm smile on her face.
--
Nine years of teaching had taught Sam a lot. She knew how to handle kids, that was for sure. The unruly ones, the proud ones, the ones that struggled, and the ones that shined brightly. Simon had been right when he said she had never worked with kids like Josh and Constance. Still, she was prepared to deal with Josh picking up spiders from the garden, and trying to scare her. She didn’t lose her ground even when Constance’s attitude sometimes made Sam feel like she was the teenager out of the two of them.
What she did that day wasn’t the worst Sam had to do for one of her students. Still, it was pretty awkward explaining to Deena how her younger brother had massacred the rose bushes to give the flowers to Sam.
When the two women arrived at the scene of the crime, it was a huge mess. Josh had picked a few roses for Sam and destroyed the rest. He must have been pretty aggressive to earn that small limp he had when he walked toward Sam a few minutes earlier.
The teenager fell to second place in the forefront of Sam’s mind though. She was slightly more preoccupied about the furious gardener gripping the broken stem of a rose as if it were a knife.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Deena yelled, not for the first time in the past minute, and tried to walk away.
“Hey,” Sam stopped her with a firm tone and a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll deal with him, it’s my job.”
Deena took a deep breath. She was pretty much shaking with anger still. She pursed her lips, suddenly aware of the way she had been yelling at the innocent au pair for god knows how long now. She wasn’t good at apologizing though. She slumped her shoulders and exhaled.
“It’s just… he should know better than this,” Deena said bitterly. “We are lucky to be living here. He knows he has to stay out of trouble.” She looked up into Sam’s blue eyes and the careful attention she found there nearly turned her breathless. “That was the deal,” Deena added softly, taking a moment to gulp nervously. “I made a deal with Cindy Berman years ago, when we had nothing. Josh and I could live here, and I’d pay her by working on the grounds of the manor.”
Sam nodded slowly, with a barely-there smile that let Deena know she had listened, and understood. “It’s okay,” Sam said. “I don’t think it’ll be a big deal. I won’t say anything if you don’t.” The two women exchanged a smile. “It’s just a few flowers-”
“It’s not just a few flowers,” Deena protested immediately.
“I know, I know,” Sam quickly said. She was tiptoeing the line between fearing Deena’s temper and being endeared by how protective she was of her plants. “They’re also a weapon, apparently.”
Deena tilted her head in confusion. “Ah,” she said when she looked down at the rose’s stem she was still holding in her hand. She couldn’t say anything else though. Sam had taken the initiative to reach out and gently pry open Deena’s fist to take the stem away. That’s when they both noticed there had been thorns involved. “Shit,” Deena cursed.
“Um,” Sam mumbled pensively as she stared at the couple of red spots on Deena’s hand. “You know, to be a teacher, you have to learn a thing or two about first aid. Do you want help?”
Deena was already shaking her head. Her wild curls shook with her movement. “No, it’s okay- fuck!” She exclaimed in pain the moment she tried to close her hand again. Now there were a few drops of blood on her palm. “Fine,” she grumbled.
--
Deena was so upset about having someone bandaging her hand, that Sam found the whole process much easier than she had expected. It was a little bit like dealing with a kid, not that she would ever admit such a thing to the gardener.
“So, you really like those roses, huh?” Sam asked while cleaning up the little wounds in Deena’s palm.
“They’re some of my favorites from the entire property,” Deena shrugged. “I like all these plants more than most people, that’s for sure.”
Sam nodded, picking up the bandages. “Why would he do this?” she asked. “Josh, I mean. He doesn’t seem to be the type to vandalize the gardens.”
“He isn’t. There was one bad fucking influence and…” Deena replied. Her words were hiding a lot, but her resentful tone warned the au pair against making any further questions. Instead, Deena looked up and added, “or maybe… he just really likes you, Sunnyvale.”
Sam laughed at that, and ducked her head to avoid those gorgeous brown eyes. Surprisingly, she decided to admit something right then and there in the otherwise empty kitchen of the manor while holding on to Deena’s hand. “You do know I’m not even from Sunnyvale, right?”
“What?” Deena asked. She looked caught off guard for the first time since Sam met her.
“You guys don’t fact-check your gossip, huh?” Sam chuckled. “I was born here, in Shadyside. I moved away when I was little, after my father died, but… I guess, now I’m trying to find my home, you know?”
“Right,” Deena replied.
She blinked slowly, and her eyebrows furrowed into a small frown as she took in the information, the significance of Sam sharing it with her, and the unknown reason why the word home sounded so perfect coming from Sam’s smiling lips.
After a brief silence that felt like it stretched for hours, Deena cleared her throat. “Well, uh, thank you, for giving me a hand,” she said. The mention of her hand made both women realize that this entire time they hadn’t let go of each other’s hands. They pulled away from each other quickly, but nothing could have wiped the smiles off their faces. “It’s not the worst I’ve dealt with so I better get back to work. I guess I’ll see you around… Sunnyvale.”
Sam didn’t even attempt to hold back her grin. Distantly, she wished she wasn’t blushing too much, but that was it. She turned around to watch Deena walk away from the kitchen. Then she was rewarded with the sight of Deena looking back at her once before crossing the doorway.
When she was alone again, Sam leaned her back against the counter and sighed. It was a mixture of contentment and exhaustion. She had tried her best to maintain a good impression in front of Deena, and now she could finally relax. She was starting to understand her better too, how Deena’s boldness came from a good place of being protective over her brother, and maybe even over the whole property. Sam’s exhaustion though, didn’t come from anywhere near Deena, the teens, or the house. She was only realizing how absurdly debilitating it had been to keep up a false version of herself at all times during those years in Sunnyvale. Slowly but surely, she was leaving all that behind.
Sam took a deep breath and straightened up. Then she started to walk out of the kitchen following the path Deena had walked a minute ago. She didn’t have to look back before crossing the doorway, she just kept walking. This way, she missed Ryan Torres’s presence in one corner of the kitchen. Lonesome, unknown, fumbling with the knife he still carried at all times.
--
“Josh! Constance! You guys are way too old for this kind of game!” Sam was yelling as she walked around the house. She didn’t understand how Kate hadn’t heard her yet.
She wasn’t scared. Just because they had turned off all the lights and she was only barely familiar with the house didn’t mean she should be scared. The kids wanted to improvise a game of hide and seek to avoid going to bed? Fine. Sam wasn’t scared of the dark. In the darkness she couldn’t see her reflection and whatever cursed company she would find there. If she had to drag a couple of teenagers to their beds from their ears then so be it.
When Sam caught sight of the curtains of one room moving strangely, she hurried towards it and pulled at it, but there was nobody there. She sighed, disappointed, stressed, but not scared, not yet. She heard footsteps behind her, and when she turned around, she distinctly heard the front door of the house open. Chills ran through Sam’s spine. It was unsettling, but not too bad, right? She would be deeply upset if she had to chase a pair of teenagers out in the middle of a storm, but it could be worse.
It could be worse… Maybe it was much worse than she imagined. That was the thought going through Sam’s mind when, very slowly, she turned back around to face the window again. At first, it looked like a blur. Then, she feared it was that same ghostly silhouette that followed her everywhere. Somehow, it was worse. Somehow, the figure moved closer and it became clear. There was a man standing on the other side of the window. Tall. Dark hair. Hazel eyes. Smile that never, under any circumstances, would have been mistaken for friendly.
Sam took a step backward, so did he. Then she took off running. Not in the direction some might have expected. She wasn’t running away to hide. She ran out of that room, taking the fireplace poker from its stand and gripping it with force as she rushed out of the house.
“I’m going to call the police!” Sam yelled while the rain poured down on her. “I’m going to call the fucking police!”
She ran toward the window where she’d seen that man. He was nowhere to be seen but, as if it was all part of a pattern, she stumbled across the worst possible scenario.
“Sam?” Josh mumbled. He was just standing there, shaking with cold, drenched from the rain… then he just crumbled down, falling to the ground, unconscious.
#update!!! please read and share and leave comments and i'll love u forever!!#fear street#sameena#sam x deena#deena x sam#sam fraser#deena johnson#fear street fanfiction#my fic
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ϟ. → robert sheehan : genderfluid : he/they/she : dealer of illicit objects and substances : the raven by the alan parsons project ϟ did you see mundungus fletcher ? you know , 31 year old halfblood who was formally in ravenclaw. some say dung can be quite furtive but are known to be unreliable. they are aligned with the order . maybe that’s why they remind me of naming stray cats, flicking a lighter over and over again, falling asleep on the subway. ϟ
some links for food
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ciannán o’donnell is a flighty man, one of many relationships and flings and little loyalty, and so his affair with maeve fletcher does not last long. when she tells him she is pregnant, he moves on to a different woman, and maeve has her son alone, with her sister on her side. and thus, mundungus is born (and giving an arguably atrocious name).
he grows up with his mum – a halfblooded witch and by far his favourite person in the world – in limerick, attending muggle school there. he knew who his dad was, but wasn’t quite sure how to feel about — his father is a criminal, a prominent member of the irish mob.
he meets his dad for the first time at age seven, and was nothing but impressed. his dad showered him with gifts, his mum watching with a furious look on her face but biting her tongue. that moment was a switch for mundungus; he felt the need to impress his dad. he stole some sweets from a store on his way home from school a week later, fished some pennies out of the pockets of his classmates a few months later. when he phoned his dad to tell him, his laugh was warm and filled with life. his relationship with his dad got better as his behaviour got worse. the thrill of stealing, of doing stuff he wasn’t supposed to, lit him not only on fire because it was exciting, but also because he knew his dad would adore it.
but ciannan, a flighty man, pushes and pulls. and so mundungus was fed disappointment by his father, liking love off a shiny knife rather than a spoon ( silver or plastic, what the fuck does it matter ). details omitted, long story made short: his dad sucks and his mother tries, but mundungus is pulled towards that what smells of danger.
DRUGS MENT. at hogwarts, dung is sorted into ravenclaw. not at all the booksmart type, he falls more into the chaotic-creativity, random-bursts-of-wanting-to-learn-everything-about-something type of ravenclaw. there’s two worlds, then: the muggle world, where he slowly dips his water further in criminal waters, and the wizarding one, where he’s chaotic and messy but a student. when he grows older, these overlap: dung starts selling some of his dad’s weed at hogwarts, and soon gains a reputation of being able to get people less-than-legal shit.
not getting high off your own supply is not a sentiment he agrees with. not then, not later, not now. dung is fun, always in for a party and willing to supply the goods to throw it. if some rich purebloods lose a few galleons at said party, well, it sure isn’t him! END OF TW
he graduates with two newts, in herbology and potions, failing his dada and charms exams. he’s not an academic.
falling into the family business after graduation is easy. mundungus is attracted by the criminal underworld, both that of muggle ireland and that of the wizarding world. knockturn alley was a place frequented in teenage years, but now becomes more his place. he makes connections, exchanges strange potion recipes for other things. makes an odd wager on a bunch of stolen brass scales and turns a profit.
a career is not something that interests him; he is more interested in bending rules and making quick money. thievery, selling illegal shit, heists, fraud, fuck-all. mundungus is not limited by one descriptor, one kind of criminality. he just does what he wants and hopes to make a good penny.
but then he almost gets sent to azkaban over some, in his frank opinion, bullshit. it’s dumbledore who talks the wizengamot out of it, saddling dung up with some community service and persuading him towards the order. he’s twenty three. the war is still fresh. he has no interest in it, but he owes the old man. fine.
mundungus does vehemently oppose blood purity and any kind of discriminatory ideals, an anarchist in his very bones, but he is also cowardly. to side with self-proclaimed rebels is not in his blood and yet it’s where he ends up, bringing shady ties to the underworld to the table and a sheer ability to sneak around and fuck the law. and maybe, amidst the ranks of the order, dung finds something he’s not very familiar with: a large family. and dung? well, he’s the stoner, gay, super-fucking-chaotic cousin.
personality
if jesper fahey and kaz brekker had a child, it would be dung.
other character parallels: fezco ( euphoria ), boris ( the goldfinch ), doug judy ( b99 ), jason mendoza ( the good place ), chris miles ( skins ), nick miller ( new girl ), creed bratton ( the office ), scott lang ( marvel ), lillian ( unbreakable kimmy schmidt )
technically he’s homeless. he’s got a bedroom at his ma’s place, has a ton of squatter connects in the muggle scene and couch surfes aplenty, but dung doesn’t rent a place. why? landlords are evil. he could afford a place, just doesn’t see the point. life’s better with some adventure.
appears very neutral in public as it’s beneficial to his role in the order???
.... tortured artist. writes poetry and loves to draw and paint.
tattooed the fuck up. some are his own designs.
can usually be spotted wearing The Coat, a rly expensive, vintage long coat that he once stole of a pureblood. he’s enlarged the pockets with some handy spellwork and pretty much carries everything he owes in there, like his produce and his money and his second pair of shoes and his art supplies and probably some random trash.
loves animals. he loves stray cats especially <3 they are his kin.
an anarchist. a bit of a punk. a deep idealist with a cowardly heart so constantly betraying himself (and sometimes others?)
queer! enby! genderfluid! i used he/him pronouns throughout this intro but dung truly doesn’t give a damn what u use. loves to dress up in feminine clothes.
has a ton of aliases, lol, the most important one being marigold fincher.
cusses too fuckin much to be healthy :/
oh no he is a big sad insecure kid deep inside :/ dont tell anyone how embarrassing!!!! shhhh!! it’s a secret.
quick connection ideas
victim. wow please. if your character is rich. let me steal from u. pick ur pockets. break into ur house. get some of ur stuff and drop it on the black market.
customer. dung sells. whatever u need. drugs. weird magical things. ask and ye shall receive. his prices are whack but he does deliver <3
pal. party friends! order friends! random encounter friends! dung has a trashmouth and loves to talk pls let him chat u up and u will never be rid of him <3
couch. he couch surfs. a lot. if ur character trusts dung enough to let him into their home (which they shouldnt) then pls let him sleep over for a night. he will leave a strangely expensive necklace on ur kitchen table as a thank u. or wilted flowers. no in between.
skeptic. ur char is in the order and thinks dung is a liability and maybe they have a point. a point mundungus would rather not face :)
dmle bitches. dung hates anyone authoritative but esp the coppers at the ministry (hit wix & aurors) (yea he calls them coppers sorry he doesnt respect them enough to call them aurors <3). give me that doug judy/jake peralta dynamic. or just someone in the dmle who is like ... sigh this guy again???
fwb/one night stand/fling/etc. he’s a bit slutty <333 give him some ppl he’s hooked up with / will hook up with.
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Honestly the way New Girl wrote breakups for the major couples was so messy. Schmidt cheating on Cece was so out of character. Just have them breakup because those people need to grow, which is what the characters needed to do to be better individuals and better in a couple. I'm really glad they never tried any nonsense with Winston and Aly
Ngl, I did like Elizabeth but I preferred him with Cece. I agree that the cheating was very OOC but after he did that, it made me like them less :( It's hard for me to overlook something like cheating so even though I was happy they ended up together, I was always like: I won't forget that you cheated on her, d*ck!
I actually think Nick/Jess were written nicely as a couple? There's only, like, two episodes about them as a couple I didn't like. The Thanksgiving episode and the one with his box of bills. I think the problems they had in their relationship made sense, but what didn't make sense is them just... randomly breaking up without even trying to resolve them. Like: I love you so much, more than I've ever loved anyone else, ever. Me, too! *two seconds later* let's breakup.. hjsdgsgd
I love Winston and Aly! Thank god the writers didn't fuck w them.
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[ CODY CHRISTIAN, HE/HIM, CISMALE ] — [ EZRA STOKES ] is a child of [ HEPHAESTUS ] with the power of [ TECHNOKINESIS ] . they were born in [ 1995 ] and have been in nemean lion since [ 2010 ] . with the change, they [ HAVE GRADUATED FROM ] the [ TECHNOLOGY ] role which makes sense since they’re usually [ FIRING POTTERY IN THE KILN AND BREWING A THIRD CUP OF COFFEE ] . if you’d like to meet them try the [ MOON ] building . — kati / she & her / est / 18+
links: stats / pinterest .
background
most of ezra’s early years were spent not fitting in and for most of that time, he didn’t know why. he didn’t understand why his father seemed to hate him so much, why his younger brother, caleb, seemed to get all of the attention. ezra chalked it up to just not being quite good enough, maybe because he wasn’t into sports the way caleb was, coming home with paint on his shirt instead of grass stains.
for a while, ezra tried to fit in, went out for baseball to try and garner his father’s approval, but it was never really him. over time, he began to isolate himself instead, because it was easier to be on his own than face rejection and disapproval.
his mom was loving, but only behind closed doors. it always seemed like she was scared to show her affection for ezra in front of his father, like she felt GUILTY about loving him, about caring about him. she’d sneak into his room at night and read him stories or they’d spend all day together when his father was out of town. “ why does dad hate me so much ? ” he’d ask, and his mother would smile sadly and say, “ i’ll explain more when you’re older. ”
ezra started developing his powers when he was about twelve years old. his mother had hoped it would never happen. it started small, realizing he could do things like make the toaster pop up without touching it or turn on the television with what seemed to be sheer willpower. his parents started noticing this too. he overheard them talking about it one night, fighting. ezra didn’t know what it meant, but over time, he’d listen at the top of the stairwell as the arguments got more and more heated, resulting in broken glass. caleb would sit with him sometimes. “ what are they always fighting about lately ? ” ezra would ask. “ you, ” the dreaded answer, but he’d already known. he just needed to hear someone say it. “ it’s because you’re a freak. ”
anxious during a test at school, ezra set the printer going so hard that it started smoking and set the fire alarm off. to most people, it was nice to get out of the test, but ezra went home demanding answers. “ just tell me what i am, please ! ” rising frustration, appliances in the house whirring to life. ezra was getting more powerful, it was not just a PHASE that he could outgrow. his parents had to tell him the truth.
his mother sit down and told him about an AFFAIR she had once, with the god hephaestus. he had been able to forgive her for it, but his father had never been able to get over the living manifestation of her disloyalty, the obvious misfit in the family that stuck out and didn’t belong. every day, ezra seemed less and less like he could be his father’s son. everything seemed to click into place for ezra, but it didn’t make him feel any better to be the product of circumstances he couldn’t control ; things would have been easier if he’d been born normal like caleb.
his mother expressed concern for the way his powers were growing and that modern society might not be the place for him. she’d been told if such powers ever developed, that there was a place that he could go. so, at age fifteen he packed this things and began training at nemean lion.
ezra naturally assimilated into the technology track with his powers, it seemed to make the most sense for him. in terms of helping heroes, he is most comfortable beneath the hood of a car, developing advanced transportation technology and essentially providing heroes with the best possible support. he also built his own motorcycle and car from scratch, they’re named thelma and louise respectively, his pride and joys. ezra is a quiet person but get him talking about his hobbies / geeking out and you’ve hit the sweet spot.
recently graduated and working, though he feels like he’s in no position to mentor the newbies…he’ll try. he would’ve been happy to be a student forever, but due to nl’s new status, he felt the need to rush his graduation and work a little harder so that they’d have the tech help they need for the heroes on the field fighting monsters and such.
personality
PERSISTENT. essentially, when ezra sets his mind on something, he will accomplish it. in some ways, he can be pretty one-track minded when it comes to things, like he’ll start a task in the garage or at the kiln and he won’t speak to anyone for days until it’s done. balance ? he doesn’t know her. but achieving his goals ? yes, king. sometimes i think ezra believes that people are to be measured on accomplishments and his value only exists in terms of what he can do for others. however, you can definitely count on him to get a job done.
PRACTICAL. ezra is a pretty realistic person, not the type to get caught up in a daydream or set an unrealistic expectation for himself. granted, he knows he can accomplish a lot, but he would never expect more of himself than what is tangible. he’s definitely not a naive person and is more inclined to believe actions over words every time.
INDEPENDENT. ezra is the sort of person who has always felt like he’s had to fend for himself and is pretty mature. he’s good at taking care of himself and has never felt like he NEEDS other – not that anyone’s really need him. he’s very self-sufficient as a person basically and doesn’t rely on others to get things done. you’ll literally never feel like ezra’s a mooch, but he would let others mooch off him tbh.
PESSMISTIC. as a result of that practicality, he can come off as rather negative in conversation or in ideals. essentially, ezra can be a real downer to be around sometimes because he will always anticipate the worst case scenario ! he’ll tell you he’s just being prepared though.
SENSITIVE. although he comes off as tough or even unapproachable sometimes, this is actually because he’s EASILY hurt. he puts on a front like a badass but seriously he is a sensitive baby and if you say something that rubs him the wrong way he will legit never forget it. can literally hold a grudge for 8092390482 years like if you cross him slightly he will bring it up until you die.
headcanons
if he’s not working with vehicles, he’s making pottery. he has a wheel in his room and is really passionate about art and ceramics. so, when he’s not working, he’s probably firing something.
yes, he has an etsy store <3
has a little black cat named soot that is genuinely his best friend
has a natural affinity toward all things fire and smoke, developing the nasty habit of smoking cigarettes – american spirits, too, because he has no class. however, since he started dating his current girlfriend, he’s pretty much quit smoking to make her happy – and like, to be more kissable.
genuinely, his girlfriend cecilia baum ( y’all know her ? ) has been a super positive influence in his life because he used to drink, smoke, and isolate himself a lot more before getting to know her but honestly the act of developing a crush and trying to impress her all the time got him into better habits and her caring about him has made him care a bit about himself more too.
granted, it’s not JUST cece. making better friends and meeting people that care about him has been a positive influence on him overall
don’t ask me too much about cece, strud and i are mid-plotting but they are dating.
you’d probably think like mechanic, artist, he must be super messy? however, ezra is really meticulous and organized, i would say he’s always been really mature and independent. he has his shit together, but he’s also fueled by a ridiculous amount of coffee in order to do so.
though he does often smell like gasoline from working in the garage so much, though he personally loves that.
really likes thrifting? like browsing thrift stores for hours and finding weird shit or interesting art pieces. he’ll treat thrift stores like museums, could spend hours walking around, but he’ll also spend hours walking around museums.
wanted connections
best friends, bros, etc !! i’m looking for the people he really vibes with in a number of ways, his squad, his fam, the wholesome shit. the scott to his stiles, the schmidt to his nick, all of these things.
but i would especially love to have like his DAY ONE, i will simply go crazy go stupid for a best friend connection and i feel like that person who supported him from the start and made him feel less alone on his first days at NL prob means the fucking world to him.
like, someone he’s protective of? maybe a little sister type connection, essentially someone that’s probably softer and more naive and he feels like he has to look out for them and keep them safe and such.
someone to test out his vehicles and inventions. ezra is always tinkering away in the garage and he comes up with cool stuff for the heroes to use out when they’re saving the world, it would be nice if he had someone who was always down to literally come through in the middle of the night and be the elastigirl to his edna mode and all.
someone that he really clashes with. give me enemies for god’s sake, or anything, i feel like especially when he first arrived at NL he was a bit rough around the edges, hard to get to know. ezra definitely comes off as grumpy and standoffish around people he’s not super comfortable with and he’s pretty introverted, so they might have gotten a bad impression of him.
or honestly if you play a char that’s kind of ? stuck up ? full of themselves ? that would really rub him the wrong way. tho he’s probably just jealous bc he lacks that confidence like damn.
an almost? like a case of bad timing where they were hitting it off or maybe there could have been something between them but he started dating cece instead. maybe your character read into it more than it was and felt really hurt by it. OR he told them he didn’t want a relationship/do relationships and then started dating cece right quick like that’s gotta hurt.
someone who is good w money. help him manage the finances of his etsy store and how to run a business because he doesn’t even know how to properly price his own goods, probably undersells himself. gimme the business mind to his art mind.
drinking buddies! sitting around w a good glass of scotch talking about life after a hard day. ezra doesn’t drink so much but honestly their work is hard and ppl die so like, a lil something to take the edge off.
roommates? is that a thing here? he is in moon building.
naturally also down to vibe and plot anything, exes, family members, enemies, besties, all the things, this is just off the top of my head !!!
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Of Green and Grey [Preview]
Here’s the preview for my new fic! Inspired mostly by Fallout 4 (because I’m most familiar with it over the other Fallout games)
Synopsis: Steve was recovered from the arctic in 2040 due to melting icecaps, but instead of defrosting him, the United States government decided to store him in a cryogenic state until desperate times would call for the activation of Captain America. This time would never come, as the world entered the last World War in 2077, and the world was ravished by nuclear fallout.
Over two hundred years later, Nick Fury and his group of ragtag defenders find Steve in cryogenic sleep, and release him from his icy slumber.
The United States is no more, but with the rise of an insidious scientific group known as Hydra, Captain America may be needed more than ever.
Enter Hydra Courser B1-07, a third generation Synth, created to be their number one agent. He is tasked to infiltrate, and take down these so called Defenders, Avengers, and meets his match in Captain America; both mentally and physically. The peak of technological innovation, meets the peak of human perfection. What can become of them?
He was cold. He was numb. Moving his fingers proved to be difficult. They were stiff, his bones feeling brittle, as he attempted to curl them into a fist. His eyelids were another challenge, darkness clouding his vision as Steve fought to open them. They felt glued together, frosted over with a biting chill. Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell. Every breath he tried to force in burned, like he was shoved down face first into a snowdrift, forced to struggle in oxygen.
Where was he? The last thing Steve remembered was the Valkyrie, the fight with Johann Schmidt, speaking to Peggy and putting the plane into the water. He remembered the feeling of rushing arctic water, filling the plane and sinking her down, down, into the depths of the ocean. He remembered accepting his fate, knowing people were safe because of his sacrifice, and that Steve could die relieved, could die a hero.
He didn’t feel dead, however. He felt like he was struggling to wake up, to fight against the cold that consumed him. Steve felt like he was slowly getting warmer, his body regaining some function as more time passed. He sucked in his first breath that didn’t hurt, but it resulted in a gasping cough, his lungs fighting the chilled air.
“Oh my god, Nick, he’s alive!” He heard, the voice sounding like it was underwater, and Steve lifted his head to the best of his abilities, finding frosted glass obscuring his vision. So he was alive, then? This wasn’t some bizarre afterlife that was defrosting him from the arctic before opening it’s gates.
A buzzer sounded, then a mechanical voice blared from somewhere in the distance, and slowly the frosted glass left his eyeline, lifting and lifting to reveal a man with a shock of blond hair, wide blue eyes peering at Steve as if he was some kind of anomaly.
“Who..?” Steve tried, but with the rush of warm air flooding the chamber he was in, his iced over clothing began cracking away, his only anchor to keep him upright, and he began to tumble over.
“Wow, wow, wow!” Shouted the man, and suddenly too warm hands landed on him, preventing Steve from smacking into the ground. “Shit, dude, you’re like ice. You alright?”
Steve blinked, and blinked again, his vision swimming. He tried to focus on his surroundings, but everything was so grey, so metal.
“Who..? Where am I?” Steve tried again, his voice coming out wrong, scratchy. The man held him up, shifting his grip to straighten Steve on his own two feet, and he stepped back to arm’s length. He looked him over with concerned, and curious eyes.
“Name’s Clint, and we’re in some fucked up military facility.” The man, Clint, offered a smile with his words, and Steve wondered if it was supposed to reassure him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement, and turned his head to see a dark skinned man, with an ominous eyepatch over one eye, and a red-haired woman who seemed to have a permanent frown, evident by the down turned smile lines on her face.
The man with the eyepatch stepped forward, and Steve took note of the confident way he walked, accentuated with the long trench coat he wore. “I’m Nick Fury, and this here is Natasha,” he made a motion to the woman, still standing behind him. She hadn’t bothered moving a muscle.
“Now that our introductions are out of the way, who are you?” Nick asked, his tone commanding. It reminded Steve of Colonel Phillips, a man who asked questions expecting immediate answers.
Steve, feeling sure of holding his own weight now, shrugged off Clint’s hands before taking a step back and rising to his full height, assuming parade rest. Clint backed off, understanding that Steve didn’t need the support. His clothes felt wet, the longer he stood there, body warming to the temperature in the facility, and thanks to the serum that coursed through his veins.
“My name is Captain Steve Rogers, sir. United States Army,” he informed, voice finding that happy medium between his normal timbre and the tone he used with the Commandos.
There was a snort of a laugh, and Steve’s attention flew to the woman, Natasha, who hadn’t made a move or a single sound since he fell out of the chamber. Now, she looked amused, whereas Nick had an eyebrow raised. It was like they found what Steve had said odd, out of place, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why. Sure, he had just been defrosted right in front of them, but that didn’t seem to faze them much aside from Clint’s comment of him being alive, and feeling like ice. Yet his military introduction stifled a laugh out of Natasha.
It was Clint who spoke first. He seemed to be the more hospitable of the three, and the one to show the most emotion.
“You’re pre-war?” He asked, sounding awed, but his words caused Steve to blink, dumbfounded. Pre-war? What did that even mean?
He voiced as much, falling from his parade rest to lean back on his heels. “What does that mean?”
“Y’know, from before the Great War?” Clint elaborated, but it only led to Steve feeling more confused.
“Son, the Great War happened before my time,” he tried to explain, glancing from Clint, to Natasha - who still looked amused - to Nick, who just looked like he sucked on something sour.
“I was just a few months old when the Treaty of Versailles was signed.”
Now, it was everyone but Steve’s turn to look confused. What the hell was going on?
“The Treaty of Versailles?” He spoke again, tone questioning, “the ending of World War One?”
“Oh shit,” Natasha said, the amusement completely gone from her face, replaced by horror. Nick glanced back at her, before his attention went directly to Steve. He looked disbelieving, angry almost.
“Are you trying to tell me you were alive for the first World Wars?” Nick asked, voice booming. If Steve wasn’t used to dealing with military superiors, he would have flinched back. He held firm, however, unsure what Nick was about to get at.
“Yeah. Steven Grant Rogers, born July Fourth, Nineteen-Eighteen. I fought and served in World War Two, on the Western front,” he explained, and at the stares he got, a creeping chill shuddered up his spine, and it wasn’t from the chamber. It wasn’t from the arctic. This was different, this was terror.
“What year is it?” and he was met with silence, the trio looking back and forth to each other. Steve felt that terror spike, his heart in his throat. He took one step towards Nick Fury, fists clenching at his sides, and he didn’t miss the way Natasha’s hand went to a gun at her hip that Steve failed to notice.
“What year is it?” He repeated, voice demanding.
“It’s Twenty-Two Eighty-Seven, Captain Rogers. The United States fell in Twenty Seventy-Seven. Seems you’ve been asleep for over three-hundred years.”
Steve felt off-kilter. He felt like the ground was slipping away from him. This was so much worse than the water of the arctic. This was so much worse than going through with the serum. Not only was the war over, but the United States was gone. Everything he fought, and died for, was gone. His friends weren’t just dead, and buried, they were ash. Were their headstones even still standing? How long was too long without proper maintenance to a cemetery?
And God above, Peggy. He wouldn’t get to see her again. He wouldn’t get to know if she went, and had a family. Three-hundred years was a length of time he couldn’t even wrap his brain around. Everything was gone.
He felt his knees hit the ground first, and Steve thought he heard Clint’s shout of surprise, but darkness began to consume him again, only this time Steve craved the biting chill, but was only greeted by smooth metal.
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New Girl, Old Feelings // th x fem!reader
requested: netflix and chill w/ Tom, friends to lovers
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: embarrassing loss of virginity stories, smut
A/N: small flashback in italics at the beginning!
It became almost a routine for you and Tom. He’d come back from filming and sleep for about a day, then you’d show up with a box of pizza and the pair of you would sit, typically with Tessa between you, and watch New Girl.
You actually became friends when he told you a fake name from New Girl while you were serving him coffee.
He didn’t like using his real one, knew that people might find out who he is and go crazy in Starbucks. So instead he smiled at you and said ‘Schmidt’. You grinned right back, “New Girl fan?”
And he was cute, and you loved a guy with good taste in tv so when he replied with, “big fan, sort of want to marathon it with somebody,” you flirted back.
“I’ve been meaning to watch it again too,” your eyes twinkled, daring him to respond, to invite you over.
He nodded, the same twinkle in his eyes before you wrote the name on his cup along with his drink order, casually writing your number below the fake name.
When he texted you the next day you were over the moon, but when you found out he was famous, you figured it was best for you two to be friends. It’s not like there was nothing there. You would flirt, he would take the bait and flirt back, but it was all playful, neither of you moving past the flirtatious friendship you found yourself in.
You were watching episode 23 of the second season, “Virgins”, each of the characters recounting funny, heartwarming stories of how they lost their virginity. Tessa was at his parents' house since he just got back from his press tour for Spiderman: Far From Home.
“So,” Tom nudges your shoulder.
“So,” you nudge back, feeling his stare on the side of your face.
“How’d you lose your virginity?”
You choked out a laugh, “you really wanna know?”
“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“This is so god damn embarrassing,” you laugh, burying your face in your hands.
“Can’t be as bad as mine.”
“Okay, I was out with a guy, we had just saw Suicide Squad and we were making out in the front seat of his Jeep. And we, you know, did the deed, but honestly he wasn’t my cup of tea so I was just picturing Margot Robbie the entire time-,”
“Wait are you-,” Tom pauses, “cause I don’t care if you are I just thought-,”
“No, I’m not gay, I don’t prefer labels, guys are hot, women are hot, everyone’s hot.”
“Even me?”
“You know you’re hot.”
“True, come on there’s gotta be more to this story for it to be embarrassing.”
“And I apparently leaned my back against the horn for too long and the mall security guard caught us, his dick literally inside me, clothes still completely on, fucking in his car. Worst day of my life, by far,” you weren’t exactly embarrassed by what you were saying, because this was Tom and you told Tom everything, you were comfortable but the memory made your cheeks heat up.
“My dad caught me.”
“Oh I’m so glad you also got caught, that’s the fucking worst isn’t it?”
“He kicked the girl out too, literally in the middle of having sex he told her to put some clothes on and get out of his house.”
“Tom! Oh my god that’s the worst actually.”
“Might’ve had something to do with we were pissed drunk after prom but yeah, one of my many fails.”
“Many! Oh Tom, do tell.”
“No, no way, too embarrassing,” he laughs, hand moving to rest against your leg, it was a casual touch, his finger drawing gentle circles against it, you found out he enjoyed human touch, whether it was a head on a shoulder, hand on the thigh, and it was comfortable. You enjoyed the warmth his fingertips spread through your body.
You both turned to pay attention to the characters on the screen, Jess was pushing the elevator button and you knew what was coming next.
Nick sweeps Jess off her feet, his eyes trained on her lips. Out of instinct you lick your own and Tom’s fingers freeze on your thigh, breath caught in his throat.
“What are you doing?” Jess asks Nick as he guides her back to their apartment.
“Let’s not think about it,” Nick replies.
“Tom?” You turn your head to face him and he’s smiling at you as Nick and Jess kiss on screen.
“Let’s not think about it,” he whispers and his other hand moves to cup the back of your head, eyes staring at your lips before he pulls you towards him. Your eyes slip shut as you meet his lips with an excited shiver.
“Wait,” you pull away, hands smoothing down the front of his shirt, “I don’t, don’t want this to be, just this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to be mine,” You whisper, eyes searching his for an indication that he didn’t feel the same. That your New Girl rewatch was over, that you made things awkward by searching for more.
“Oh thank fuck, I’ve wanted to be yours since you wrote Schmidt on my coffee cup.”
You smirk before moving his lips back to yours with a tug on the front of his shirt.
His tongue meets yours and it’s excited as you run your hands under his shirt and sigh as your hands meet his warm stomach and chest.
His hands were more urgent than yours, like he would let go and you wouldn’t be there anymore.
They moved to grip your hips, your legs easily swinging over his to straddle his hips.
Your mouths never broke apart, slightly sloppy as you attempted to make up for a year of lost time with the press of his lips against yours, fingers driving you crazy as they run along the bare skin under your tank top. You could feel his cock hard underneath his sweatpants against your ass, your hips slowly grinding against his hips.
“You want this?” Tom asks, fingers playing with the edge of your shorts.
“Oh fuck yeah,” you laugh and he’s helping you pull his shirt off, yours is next and he takes a deep breath as your breasts, encased in a pretty purple fabric press against his bare chest.
“God,” he grunts before his hands work on unhooking your bra. You toss it to the side and his hands are back on you, gently cupping your breasts as his lips trail down your neck.
Your hands work on unbuttoning your shorts as he takes a nipple into his mouth, tongue soothing it after a cheeky bite.
“Tom,” you whimper, his arms make quick work holding your back and sides tight before flipping you over. You pull off your shorts, shoving them down your legs while his hands make quick work of tossing them off the rest of the way. The lace covering where he wanted to be was shiny and wet with your arousal and Tom grunted as he settles on the floor between your spread thighs, fingers working your panties down your legs. The sight of your pussy, aching and wanting leaves him breathless as he balls your panties up in one hand, the other is a comforting weight on your hip.
“Can I?” He asks, lips leaving heated kisses up your thighs, pausing right next to your pussy.
“Please,” you whisper and his eyes darken before his tongue darts out and explores your folds just like he explored your mouth before.
The sound of the theme song for the next episode and your quiet whimpers and moans filled the room as his lips wrapped around your clit.
“Tommy,” you cry out as he slips a finger into your heat, then another, you’re clenching around his as he crooks his fingers just right and the sound of that nickname falling from your full lips has him moaning around your clit, sending you hurtling towards a mindblowing orgasm.
Tom works you through it, fingers slowing to a stop as his lips move to lick through your folds, as his fingers pull out of you he sucks them into his mouth and the sight alone makes you whimper before he’s standing up.
“Where’re you going?” You manage to get out, chest rising up and down as you try to catch your breath.
“Condom, stay right there darling,” he grins before bouncing off to his room. He comes back shortly with a silver wrapper in his hands and you pull him back down to you, turning him so you can straddle his hips. It’s a little clumsy as your chin bumps into his head, struggling to turn but you both giggle and his soft eyes are making your heart melt as you help him pull his sweatpants off. There’s no barrier between you now, no unsaid words and flirty eyes. Just you and Tom, bare for each other. His hard cock is throbbing against his stomach as you kiss him, one of your hands move to stroke his cock, thumb swiping the precum off the head and using it to help your hand.
He groans into your mouth as his hands work to pull the condom out. You work in tandem to put the condom on and when you do his hands move to your ass, holding onto you as you lift yourself up, gripping his shoulders before slowly sinking down on his cock.
You pant against his lips when he’s fully seated inside of you.
“Fuck,” he moans your name as you start to move, his hands making sure your body is flush against his body.
No words really need to be exchanged other than whispers of each other’s name, your fingers leaving crescent marks in his shoulders as his press tightly against the skin of your hips, helping you move when the burning in your thighs slows you down.
You’re so close and Tom can feel you clench around him, his cock twitching in response.
His fingers find their way to your clit, you’re too caught up in the feeling of his wet lips against your jaw, sucking and marking you when his thumb rubs your clit, you’re coming with a cry of his name. One more push of your hips against his sends his head spinning and he’s coming with a grunt of your name as you relax against him.
“That was nice,” you mumble as he helps you off of him.
“Just nice?” A laugh and an eyebrow raise meets your sweaty face as you collapse back against the sofa.
“More like so mindblowing you sound like an idiot when you try to describe it.”
“Fair enough,” Tom smirks and you watch him turn and admire his butt while he takes the condom off, tossing it in the trash in the kitchen before disappearing to his bedroom.
He comes back with a washcloth and a T-shirt of his.
He settles back on the floor, using the washcloth to clean your soaked pussy and thighs.
“Here,” He says, helping you slip his shirt on, smiling as his fingers trace the mark he left on your jaw.
“Do I get to keep it?” You ask, tucking your legs underneath you while he starts to get dressed.
“Hmm,” he steps back as he pulls his sweatpants up and stares at you, hair crazy, bare legs, arms wrapped around them over his T-shirt, “I’ve always wanted to see you in my shirt and I love it.”
You smile softly as he leans down and kisses your lips. You never want him to pull back for air.
Before you can wrap your hands around his neck and pull him down for round two the front door to his apartment swings open and you hear Tessa’s excited bark.
“Hey Tom, y/n,” Harry’s voice rings out and you quickly throw the blanket over your bare legs.
You turn your head sheepishly as Tom attempts to grab your clothes, bra and panties still bright purple thrown on the ground.
“Oh shit, well about fucking time,” Harry laughs, leaning against the living room entrance, Tessa jumping up on the couch.
Tom waves off Harry who tells him to keep it in his pants when Tessa’s around before leaving.
As you and Tom settle back on the couch, your head in his lap, Tessa’s head resting on your stomach you start laughing hysterically.
“What?” Tom asks curiously as he runs his fingers through your hair.
“It’s fitting the first time with each other someone also catches us.”
***
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