#year of creation 2023
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Like A Damn Disney Prince
Elijah Mikaelson x Reader
Masterlist - Join My Taglist!
Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals
Prompt: Aphrodite; Love, Passion, Beauty, Desire, Rose
Summary: Elijah asks the girl of his dreams to accompany him to the Mikaelson ball.
Word Count: 1,396
Category: Fluff
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
"Just a second!" I called at the sound of the doorbell. I set down the whisk and the bowl of brownie batter I'd been working on, then quickly wiped my hands before heading to the door. I peeked outside to see who it was and found none other than Elijah Mikaelson standing there, dressed impeccably in a suit as always and with his hands behind his back. I smiled, trying to ignore my racing heart as I opened the door.
"Hi Elijah," I said. He smiled as soon as he saw me, and my heart thumped a little harder than before.
"Hello, Y/N. It's lovely to see you," he said. With that, he brought his hands out from behind his back and held out a rose to me, along with a nice manila envelope. "For you."
"Oh my goodness, thank you," I said, reaching out to take both items from him. He'd brought me an actual rose, while wearing a suit. Like a Disney prince.
"The letter is an invitation to a ball my mother has decided to throw. She asked us each to find a date, and I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather go with."
"Oh my gosh, Elijah! I... I don't know what to say."
"How about... yes?"
I beamed, holding the rose and the letter a little tighter to my chest.
"Yes. Absolutely yes, I'd love to go with you. I'm so happy you asked."
He smiled. "Excellent. I'd offer to pick you up, but my dear sister beat me to that request. She wanted me to ask you if you'd like to go dress shopping and get ready with her in, say, an hour?"
"Absolutely," I replied with a grin. "Rebekah and I are due some girl time."
"Wonderful. Then I'll see you tonight."
Elijah reached out and took my hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before stepping away from me with a smile. My heart melted.
"Until we meet again."
With that, he turned and walked away. I watched him go, waving when he got into his car and gave me one last smile before driving off. I stood on my porch for a few more minutes after he'd gone, a dopey but happy smile on my face. I could already tell this night was going to be magical.
Rebekah showed up on my doorstep an hour later on the dot. She'd just finished asking Matt Donovan to be her date, and although she insisted she didn't have feelings for him I felt confident she was lying. Still, I didn't press her on it as we cruised the shops of Mystic Falls trying on every dress that caught our eye. Once we'd each found the one, we went back to my house to get ready.
"Oh. My. God. My brother is going to have his first heart attack in a thousand years."
Rebekah grinned at me as I twirled around the room in my literal ball gown, feeling just like a princess. We'd done each others' makeup and had gotten completely dressed, and now we were basically ready to go. After, of course, we properly hyped each other up.
"You really think so?" I asked, the heat rising to my cheeks. Rebekah nodded.
"I know so."
"Thanks, Beks. And Matt's absolutely gonna fall over at the sight of you, too."
"You're damn right he is," she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder and holding out her arm for me. "Now let's go, shall we?"
I smiled as I took her arm and the two of us headed out to the car. The last rays of sunlight still stretched over the town as we came to a stop outside Mikaelson Manor. Cars lined the street and every other available parking spot, the party already in swing as Rebekah and I arrived.
"I can hear your heart racing," said Rebekah with a smile as we walked up the steps side by side. I huffed.
"Great. Good to know my nerves will be loudly on display for any vampire in attendance."
"You don't need to be nervous."
She said the words as we came to a stop in the entryway, people pausing to look at us before carrying on with their evening. A little ways up the grand staircase in the middle of the room, I could see Elijah standing and talking to Klaus. When he glanced in my direction and first caught sight of me, however, he froze, mouth slightly open before a smile tugged its way onto his face. He said something to his brother, then started walking down the stairs and towards me.
"See? He's head over heels," said Rebekah, leaning in to whisper the words in my ear. I could hear the smirk in her voice. "I'll give you two some space."
With that, she disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, Elijah stood before me, looking even more handsome than usual (which I hadn't thought possible) in an immaculate tuxedo.
"I'm so glad you made it," he said, his words a bit breathless. He looked me up and down, his expression awed, and I smiled back at him. "You look... absolutely stunning."
"Thank you," I said, doing a little curtesy. Elijah grinned. "You look fantastic, too."
"You're very kind."
He paused, staring at me for another few moments, and despite the noise in the rest of the room I had a feeling he could hear my heart pounding. Finally, he held his arm out to me, grinning with a gleam in his eye.
"Come with me," he said. "I have a few people I'd like you to meet."
We made our way around the room, me holding tight to Elijah's arm as he at last introduced me to the rest of his family. I'd met Klaus and obviously Rebekah, but now I got to meet Kol, Finn, and his mother, too. I got the distinct impression his mother was up to something bad, and Elijah shared similar suspicions with me as we moved back into the crowd. But, for tonight, we decided to put every supernatural problem on hold and enjoy the magical evening together.
Finally, after a toast from the Original family themselves, it was time to take to the dance floor. Elijah immediately found me, offering a hand.
"May I have this dance?"
I smiled and took his hand. "Of course."
Elijah led me out onto the dance floor, twirling me into the dance's starting position amidst all the other couples. All kinds of different friends, foes, and otherwise interesting guests dotted the floor, but I ignored every single one of them. The rest of the room fell away as Elijah and I twirled into the first steps of the dance, eyes only for each other.
"I feel like I'm in a fairytale," I admitted, smiling as Elijah twirled me out and away from him before pulling me back into his chest. The look on his face sent warmth blooming through my chest.
"You certainly look the part of a fairytale princess."
I grinned, laughing a little and leaning my head on Elijah's chest. When I looked up again, I found him smiling at me, and in that moment I couldn't possibly have been happier.
"Says the literal Disney prince."
Elijah chuckled. "A Disney prince, hm?"
"Impeccable manners and honor, a true gentleman, handsome, dresses nice, and brought me a rose to ask me on a date? Yes. A Disney prince."
"I didn't realize I checked so many of the boxes."
"Easily."
"Well then, I'm very lucky to have found my princess."
I beamed at Elijah as the dance wound to an end, his arms wrapped tight around my waist as he held me to his chest. Slowly, just barely, he leaned down and glanced at my lips. I knew he wanted to take it slow for me, which I appreciated, but this was one thing I didn't want to take it slow on anymore.
"May I kiss you?" he muttered, voice low with only a few inches between us. I grinned.
"Hell yes."
"You know, I don't think Disney princesses swear-"
"Oh, shut up."
With that, I closed the distance between us and kissed Elijah, hard. He immediately returned the kiss, deepening it a little bit, although not too much since we were still in the middle of the dance floor. And just like in basically every Disney princess movie, in that moment, with Elijah, I knew I'd found my happily ever after.
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Everything Taglist: @rosecentury
TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21
#year of creation 2023#the originals#the vampire diaries#elijah mikaelson#elijah mikaelson x reader#the vampire diaries fanfiction#the vampire diaries imagine#the vampire diaries oneshot#the originals fanfiction#the originals imagine#the originals oneshot#elijah mikaelson fanfiction#elijah mikaelson imagine#elijah mikaelson oneshot#rebekah mikaelson#the mikaelson ball#tvd#mystic falls#tvdu#the mikaelsons
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Saying I love you through an accidental kiss (Joel Miller x reader Pre outbreak)
Month: July
Word count: ~1100
Warnings: None
Notes: I think the title is pretty self-explanatory. Unbeta'd.
The rest of the Year of Creation stories
@yearofcreation2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's a little after six when you hear the screech of tire trucks pulling onto your driveway. He's late. You're not surprised in the slightest. If there's one thing you can count on regarding the Miller family, it's that they're never on time. The second thing you've learned - which has probably come about as a result of the first - is that they're always in a rush. And in the eight years you've spent living across the road from them, you have learned to adjust accordingly.
”Sarah!” you call up the stairs as you hear the car door slam shut outside, and you move to open the door before Joel can assault it with his impatient knocking. It swings open, revealing his perpetually frowny face. He looks tired, the way he usually does when he comes to pick Sarah up after a long day of work. Still, you have to admit there's something ruggedly handsome about the slight sheen of sweat mixed with construction dust on his skin and the patchy beard he never seems to have time to properly shave.
”Evening, Miller,” you greet him, cocking your hip and leaning against the wall. ”Driving like that, you better not have run over my lavender bushes.”
Joel looks over his shoulder and pretends to check. ”It's the purple ones right?... Nah, they're good.”
”In that case, please come inside.”
He steps past you into your home. You follow him into the kitchen, grateful for the dry weather since he's made no move to remove his work boots.
”Where's my kid hidin'?” he asks, looking around as if Sarah is gonna jump out of a kitchen cabinet.
”Last time I checked, she was rifling through my closet, looking for something to wear.”
”What?” Joel looks you up and down as if noticing your clothes for the first time in eight years.
”You're gonna stare like that, at least buy me dinner first,” you tell him, and he has the courtesy to look a little embarrassed. ”Speaking of, have you eaten yet?” You ask, even if you already know the answer. Between you and Sarah, you're lucky if you can bully Joel into eating anything for breakfast and lunch, other than hardboiled eggs and coffee.
”I'll make something when we get back from the meeting.” he says.
”I wasn't born yesterday, Miller,” you tell him, rounding the kitchen island to pick up a Tupperware container from the counter. ”For later,” you say pointedly. ”It's even in accordance with that stupid diet of yours.” You clap him on the shoulder as you hand the container over. Then you lean out of the kitchen to shout up the stairs.
”Sarah! Your dad's here!”
”Can you come and help me?” you hear her shout back. Turning to Joel, you shrug before heading upstairs.
”Tell her to hurry! We're late!” he calls after you and you give him a thumbs up over your shoulder.
You find Sarah in your bedroom, standing in front of the full-length mirror. She's wearing one of your dresses, light purple and a bit too big on her small frame.
”Well look at you!”
”It doesn't look good on me,” Sarah says with a sigh.
”It looks great on you. Just a little big. Here...” You pull a jean jacket from the closet and hold it out to her. ”Put this on.”
Sarah shrugs the jacket on and does a slow spin in front of the mirror. She seems pleased with what she's seeing.
”Stunning!” you tell her ”Now come downstairs before your dad has an aneurysm.”
As if on cue, Joel calls from downstairs to hurry up.
”Not my fault he's late,” Sarah mumbles but she follows you out of the bedroom.
”Come on, chop chop!” Joel snaps his fingers as you descend the stairs. Then his phone rings.
”Tommy! ...Yeah no, we've got the meeting at the school tonight... Have you heard back from your concrete guys yet?” He waves goodbye at you as he talks, motioning Sarah out the door towards the truck. ”No? Would you give it another try, we need... yeah, I know!”
Sarah turns to wave at you as well.
”See you at Dad's party this weekend!” she calls.
”Absolutely!” you promise.
You notice Sarah's bag not even two minutes later when you enter the kitchen. At the same time, you hear the car pull into your driveway again, which means Joel and Sarah must have noticed too.
Joel is hopping out of the car as you open the door to hold the bag out.
He jogs up to you.
”She'd forget her damn head if it weren't screwed on,” he complains.
”A trait that runs in the family,” you counter, holding out the food container that he also forgot, with a teasing grin.
”Yeah yeah, laugh it up.” He looks down at his wrist, as always, forgetting that the watch isn't there. When he remembers, he reaches for your wrist instead, tilting your hand to look at the display.
”Fuck, her teachers will murder me!” He tries to sling the bag over his shoulder but it keeps snagging on the seam of his jacket. ”Thanks again for looking after her today. You're a lifesaver, as always!” He gives the bag another frustrated tug.
Recognizing a stressed-out Miller temper tantrum rapidly approaching, you step forward to help him. You're reaching for his shoulder, and before you've even fully registered it happening, Joel suddenly pauses his bag struggles to lean in and oh my god, he's kissing you!
It's a soft press of lips against yours, casual but intimate, like this is something you've done a thousand times before. Like kissing your neighbor on the mouth is the most normal thing in the world.
The kiss only lasts a second or two before Joel's brain seems to catch up with what he's doing and his entire body freezes before he pulls back.
He stares at you. You stare back.
”Did I just..?” he asks, sounding just as shocked as you feel over what his body decided to do with autopilot engaged.
”I think you did,” you reply.
He looks around, eyes a little wild and panicky. You wonder if he's going to bolt.
”You reached for me first!” he suddenly accuses.
”To help you with the bag!” you say, incredulously. ”Not to smooch you!”
”I got confused. I- I...” The rest of the sentence is lost in unintelligible mumbling before Joel turns and stomps back towards the car where Sarah is watching you two with eyes wide as plates.
As he peels out of your driveway, he definitely runs over some of your lavender bushes but you can't bring yourself to care right now.
Because Joel Miller just fucking kissed you!
#year of creation 2023#year of saying I love you#joel miller x reader#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller#tlous fanfiction
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JULY: Buck Moon
Frankie Morales x gn!Reader (nicknamed Rocket)
W/C: 1200ish
RATED: M
WARNINGS: Smut, missionary, unprotected sex because it's fantasy. If I've inadvertently indicated gender please DM me and let me know, and as always if there is something I missed please let me know in my DMs and I will add it.
A/N: Here is the July installment of The Wheel of the Year, my theme for @yearofcreation2023. Organized by the effervescent @oonajaeadira and @writeforfandoms
This is a companion to my one shot Your Spot Okay, I should admit from the jump. This is not all that pagany. It’s smut. Sorry. But not really. Oops. I just, okay, this is what happened on Frankie Friday, I was thinking about him and Rocket. I also kind of got interested in the challenge of writing a smut for a gender neutral reader, if I could manage it. Fingers crossed.
“Why is it the Buck Moon?” Frankie wondered aloud, sitting by the fire in his camp chair, watching the full moon rise.
“It’s called that by some North American tribes, its also called the berry moon and salmon moon by others. Cuz it’s berry pickin time and like spawning season- you know how salmon are,” you laughed. "Anyway, it's the Buck moon because, you know how they drop their antlers each year… then new antlers grow and are bigger? July’s when the male deer’s antlers are at their peak size,” you explained as you held up two bottles of beer, "want one?”
Frankie nodded.
You sat, handing him the beer, he murmurs his thanks as you clinked the bottles together.
“Peak size you say?” Frankie said after taking a long pull from the bottle, his cocked eyebrow and smirk didnt go unnoticed.
You snorted a laugh.
You and he had decided to take it slow, but there were definitely times when putting on the breaks was getting more challenging, especially since you did so much camping together. There was a lot of necking and humping like teenagers. Since there was no benchmark either of you were waiting for, frankly, the question no one was asking but mostly definitely wondering at this point was why?
“Like it represents, virility … abundance… passion”
“So, mmmm what do people do?”
You swallowed, “well, you know we’re doin it. We caught fish and grilled it along with the veggies we picked from your garden- which is amazing. Did you know you had such a green thumb?”
Frankie tucked his beer in the little holder on the arm of the canvas chair. Then he took yours, and did the same, his warm hand came to your jaw, turning your face to his-
“What else might someone do?”
“Well, you know people … just try … to tap into that energy and you know start something new?”
Frankies lips pressed against yours to punctuate every word-
“Tap virility?”
“Yeah” you whispered after he pulled away infintesably.
“Tap passion?”
Your ‘mhm’ was swallowed by Frankie sealing his mouth to yours. When he pulled away he pulled you out of your chair, and ran his hands down your sides.
“Are we done waiting?”
“Yyyyeahh” you groaned.
As it was a perfect July night, you had planned to sleep under that moon and the stars, with no tent. So you both just tumbled onto your bedrolls. The clearing, your spot, was so protected, so out of the way that neither of you held any self-consciousness at pulling at each other's clothes until you were both completely undressed. The large moon shown on his body, his broad shoulders, and the slight curve of his belly. Sitting on his knees in front of you, your eyes traveled lower to the part of him you have only ever seen and felt through his clothes, above his strong thighs his length jutted proudly, to your mind perfect in size, with an enticing curve. You knelt before him, and when your eyes came back to his face, he wasn’t smug, though with your mouth hanging open, he probably had every right. He was busy looking at your body, fully naked for the first time in front of him. It was worshipful. When his eyes met yours, there was a question.
Am I enough?
You shuffled over to him, taking the forgotten ball cap off his head, and ran your fingers through his hair. Then, you climbed onto his lap. Caging his hips with your thighs, his hard shaft pressed against you made you both moan into each other's mouth. He gave an involuntary buck, and you gasped at the feeling.
“Which way do you want me,” you asked.
Frankie groaned at the question, and in a swift move, he had you on your back, your legs high for full access.
“I want to look at your face, Rocket,” he murmured, rutting up against your opening. “See you come undone, and you can see what you do to me.” His hands ran down your chest, then his teeth grazed one of your nipples, raising it. He licked his hand and brought it between your legs, preparing your entrance for him. A finger entered slowly, and then he pressed another into you as you whined at the stretch of his thick fingers.
“Shhhhit, Frankie.”
“Rocket, you- fuck, you feel good.”
His fingers slid in and out, languid and purposeful, and your breath quickened. Frankie watched you as he lined himself up and slowly pressed into you. The stretch was exquisite but not painful. Frankie had made sure of that. But it’s his eyes that had your chest heaving, those dark chestnut eyes, the crinkle that is almost permanently etched between his brows, searching for your face, for discomfort, for whatever else he can offer you. Full seated, he rested his forehead on yours, grinding his hips slow and deliberate. The way he does everything. Thoughtfully, with purpose. When you pushed back and it was like you flipped a switch, he began to piston into you, deep, hard. His hands on the back of your knees hold you legs high, opening you completely, you held on for dear life. His open mouth on your shoulders and neck.
“Gods Frankie don’t stop-” you gasped as delicious friction pushed you closer and closer to your peak, at that moment he tipped your hips just a bit more and hit your walls at a different angle and the next thrust sent fireworks behind your eyelids, toppling you over the edge. Frankie felt you tighten around him, and the warmth of your release. He let go of your legs and caged your torso holding you in place, grounding you.
You knew he was getting closer, his rhythm became erratic, until the rubberband within snapped. Frankie fell forward, covering you, murmuring your name, your real one, peppering you with kisses.
Finally, your breathing slowed, your heart beating at a restful pace -
"So, um, whadoya wanna do for the sturgeon moon?"
Frankie's shoulders quaked with silent laughter, and he rolled off you and onto his side, though his strong arm kept you close, tucked into his chest.
"Whatever you want, Rocket."
*
You both lay sleeping, in the early hours. In the night Frankie had rolled over and you took over as "big spoon", your arm wrapped around his ribcage, legs tucked behind his.
"Rocket," he murmured, patting your arm, his voice rough from sleep, " Rocket, ten o'clock."
Your eyes opened, and you muttered the words back to him in confusion.
"At ten o'clock, Rocket. Look," he whispered with urgency.
His words clicked, and you looked up, away from "twelve o'clock" and saw a twelve point buck in the clearing, morning mist surrounding him.
Your arm tightened around him, and his warm hand that covered yours squeezed in return.
💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚
If you care to read more of my Frankie stories or any of my writing you can find my masterlist here and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.
#wheel of the year series#pedro pascal character fanfiction#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x gn!reader#frankie morales x you#year of creation 2023
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First Dance
Part of the Year of Themed Creation challenge by @yearofcreation2023
Oberyn Martell x gn!reader
Word count 779
Warnings It's Oberyn, that's pretty much all the warning I can give. In the end, it's very tame so...
Summary: You find yourself with the Red Viper of Dorne. What would you ask from him?
He sits languidly on his throne, head tipped back in pleasure as you slip a ripe grape between his lush lips. The strong, callous hand grips your bare thigh under your clothes and the warmth seeps right into your bones. It feels like a brand, how hot his body runs but you welcome the heat.
“Mmm, delicious,” Oberyn mumbles, keeping his eyes closed while he savors the fruit. The corner of your mouth tips up in a smile, a little secretive and a little appreciative as you watch his throat swallow. A pink tongue peeks out from between his lips and he chases the taste of the fruit, or maybe the taste of your fingers where they brushed over him earlier. With Oberyn, it could be either one.
“More?” You ask softly, twisting your hips and bottom on his lap, rubbing his rising erection deliberately. His hand tightens on your thigh when it slips higher, a warning and permission rolled into one. “You know me, I hardly ever say no to anything.”
His voice like silk, Oberyn’s eyes fall open and he peers into yours, the deep brown in his irises sparkling like the most decadent wine imported from Essos.
But there is danger in those eyes also as he holds your gaze captive and you are suddenly reminded of the fact that this is the Viper’s lap you are perched on. An apex predator who has seen its prey and now waits for the perfect moment to strike. It should scare you, but it doesn’t. For some inexplicable reason, the knowledge of how lethal he is makes you feel safe in this nest of poisonous snakes.
With that, you slip another fruit past his lips, watching in awed silence as the hint of danger slips back into indulgence when the flesh and taste burst in his mouth. “Decadent,” Oberyn hums and his hand slips up an inch or two. It’s getting closer to where the tops of your thighs meet and you shiver in anticipation. He must feel it and his low chuckle makes your stomach swoop. The tell-take twitch of the hardened flesh underneath you confirms he’s doing this on purpose.
“My Prince, could we dance?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. It’s an abrupt change of events but one you can’t deny you haven’t desired for a while. The man is a work of art and the way he moves betray his talents as a skilled dancer. And you are parched for it.
“Why?” His eyebrow raises in curiosity. His muscles remain relaxed and loose while he sits but you know you have him now. Oberyn is interested and you lean into that. “It’s rare to find oneself so close to the Red Viper and…” You let your gaze caress his open chest and the gold that adorns his neck. Placing a hand on the smooth flesh, you peer up at him from between your eyelashes, letting your fingers dance their own tune on his skin.
“… and while stories of your tantalizing exploits have reached us far and wide…” you continue with a husky tone while pressing down on his lap, earning a soft grunt as your prize. Leaning in a fraction, you let your breath ghost over his stubbles jaw when you move closer to his ear. “I would love to claim a dance of a different sort first.” You let your hips roll again, showing him just how much you will enjoy his moves here and later.
He laughs then, a deep rumbling sound that vibrates your core and you feel your body responding in arousal. The sounds travels in the vast space around you while wrapping you up in a cocoon together. It slowly dies out into a delighted huff and Oberyn turns to kiss your neck. “Well now, sweet thing, how I can refuse you?”
Rising up on his throne, he moves you until bodies press against one another. You can feel his perfect hardness and matching softness simultaneously with every cell of your body and it makes you feel dizzy.
Almost like he knows the effect he has on you, one of Oberyn’s hands rests on the small of your back while the other settles at the nape of your neck. You are caged in but never want to escape and knowing that sends yet another stream of heat through your veins. He glances into your eyes, the dark wine once more flickering in his irises with passion and delight.
“A first dance, of many I hope,” Oberyn whispers in your ear before moving your bodies in a tune heard by no one but the two of you.
#year of firsts#year of themed creation#year of creation 2023#oberyn martell#oberyn martell x reader#game of thrones fanfiction#oberyn martell fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#my writing#hopeamarsu
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Preview: The thing about second chances
Marcus Pike x Gabrielle (ofc)
Words: 5,789
💫Summary: 💫
About: When love wasn’t enough, Gabrielle made the decision to end her relationship with Marcus Pike. Two years later, now settled into her new city and life, she crosses paths with Marcus again.
Warnings: relationship issues, pressure, difficult conversations about the future, a breakup.
✨Part of Arte’s Year of Whump (plus fluff and comfort) ✨ @yearofcreation2023 ✨ November entry ✨
Below is a preview * read on A03
Gabrielle held it together until she reached one of his things. Pulling the grey t-shirt out of the pile, she ran the pads of her fingers over the soft cotton, before lifting it to her nose.
All at once, his comforting scent washed over her senses. Marcus's smell was grounding, warm with a touch of leather, yet fresh and clean.
Suddenly, standing took too much effort, leading Gabrielle to sit on the chair in the corner. With wet eyes, and clutching the shirt, she felt herself drifting off to memories. This living room was once inviting and comfortable, now it was full of boxes and stacks of things to be packed. All of them on a designated side of the room, labeled 'Gabi' or 'Marcus', just like the rest of the place.
Her eyes drifted to the space where the L-shaped couch used to be. Where they'd spend so many nights and weekends cuddled up binging their favorite shows. Where she'd fall asleep in his lap if they stayed up too late, and sometimes made love when passion was too high to take the short walk to the bedroom.
The buzzing of her phone pulled Gabrielle out of her of bittersweet memories. Blinking a few times, she reached over to the side table and checked her phone. It was a text from her brother, she replied with a quick response.
She made her way to the bedroom and lingered in the doorway, everything was mostly packed up now, minus the bed since she was still sleeping here until tomorrow. Memories of cuddling in bed, the mornings he’d walk in with breakfast on the tray and all the laughs and kisses they shared flooded her, making her smile while tearing at her heart even more.
Then one of their last memories in here, just a month before the breakup came barreling at her like a ton of bricks.
- Flashback-
After brushing her teeth, Gabrielle shut off the bathroom light and stepped into the bedroom. Marcus was sitting on the bed, shoulders tense, his brows together as worry filled his face.
“Sweetheart - “
“Marcus. I already feel like shit and don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
He waited for her to get in bed, then got in too, “I sprung it on you, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to think about it. Take your time.”
“You’re only making me feel more pressured, Marcus. I don't even know if I want to be married, I don't even know if I see that for myself.”
Read on A03
No tags
@artemiseamoon-updates | A03: Artemiseamoon
#Marcus pike#Marcus pike x ofc#Marcus pike fic#artes year of whump (plus fluff and comfort)#year of creation 2023
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Kicking around ideas for my June fic. Dieter Bravo at Greendale Community College? Pero Tovar or Oberyn Martel in Middle Earth? Javier Peña or Marcus Pike teaming up with Mulder and Scully? I’d also like to do something with Star Trek or His Dark Materials or Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy but not sure which character would fit.
#pedro pascal#fanfic#year of creation 2023#year of fandom crossovers#brain dump#brainstorming#community#lotr#middle earth#x files#Star Trek#his dark materials#hitchhikers guide to the galaxy#pero tovar#oberyn martell#marcus pike#javier pena narcos#dieter bravo
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@lgbtqcreators event 19 — pride in '23 + creator challenge: colour
LGBTQ+ media in 2023
#saltburn#bottoms 2023#heartstopper#red white and royal blue#yellowjackets#tvedit#filmedit#movieedit#userrobin#tuserdee#userbeckett#usernorah#userisaiah#arthurpendragonns#**l.myeditss#*gfx#dude i have NO idea i just had to submit something#final creation of the year tho !!!!
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feeling bad about my art lately. will probably not post for a while. but i wanted to at least dump some stuff here before i retreat into my hidey hole
#hivemind tv#riley savage#graydon weaver#hmfcu#quadeca#jane remover#eden burke#my art#2023#fanart#doodles#its like. augh. longtime fleouriarts followers are familiar with my eternal tango with posting art online#doing this since i was 11 has like rotted my brain and made me rely wayyyy too much on external validation to motivate myself#and every year or so it gets bad enough that i take a break. but the break usually only lasts a month before i miss the feeling#and come back and then the cycle repeats#its probably worse now bc this is a fandom where getting seen by the creators is not really that hard#so there have been times where im like 'well idk if i wanna draw this. but if i do maybe hivemind will rt it :-)'#NO!!! THATS NOT WHAT ART IS ABOUT!!!!! i cant keep letting myself get addicted to the numbers going up man i gotta get out of here#and i was reading a quad interview from around when idmthy got released. cus hes also brain poisoned like this. but he managed to get out#and now just kinda comes online to release music and then leave#i need to be like that. i need to take a break from art posting thats so long that i come back as a changed man odysseus style#idk. its been so long since i drew stuff that no one gets to see but me. all the art i keep to myself is just out of embarrassment#i need to relearn how to draw stuff just for the love of creation and not “maybe people online will like this one”#or “this new thing came out i need to prove my love of it by drawing it”#sometimes it leads to good art but more often than not it just makes me feel worse#whatever. if any of yall are in the hivemind jane or quadeca discord i MIGHT still post stuff there. but otherwise ill keep to myself and m#friends for a while i think#woooooo this is queued to post while im in orgo lab everyone wish me luck with my thin layer chromatography
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the best gift
pairing: fíli / fem!reader
word count: 2975
summary: your husband is sent on a diplomatic mission to reestablish trade. this trip unfortunately falls during your first birthday in erebor as fee’s betrothed
a/n: my march piece for the year of themed creation ( @yearofcreation2023 ) that i didn't finish in time bc life sucks ass. nâthuê kurdu means “daughter of my heart”, & namadith means "little sister" in khuzdul. the stone gifted to the reader is amazonite. also, see if you can find my “blind burglar” reference lol (that series has taken over my brain holy shit)
“do you truly have to go, fee?”
fíli’s forehead gently thumps against yours, his hands holding you close. “i’m sorry, ghivashel. i wish i didn’t have to go until after, but there’s only so much that can be done from such a dístance.”
you knew he was right, that reestablishing trade to erebor was crucial in gaining a sturdy foothold in the mountain. and since he’s the heir apparent, he has to uphold the duties of his status.
that doesn’t make fíli missing your birthday any less dísappointing.
“i promise you, my love, i will make every effort to be home before your special day.” his lips press gently against yours and you let yourself go in his embrace.
with a playful tug on his braided beard, you bid him safe travels before he mounts his pony and rides off.
-
~ two weeks before your birthday ~
from the day he set out, fíli wrote you all sorts of letters. their contents ranged from how deeply he loved you, to what he had to eat a few days prior, to the weird mannerisms of animals he encountered (there was a ferret that followed him for two whole days that he named thistle, silly little thing). at the end of every letter, for his own reassurance, he wished you a happy birthday in all sorts of flowery language courtesy of balin’s lessons. if the ravens knew he did this because he was frightened of the letters not reaching you in time, they probably would have pecked him a new orifice or two for doubting their efficiency.
the latest letter (and all the others before) had arrived courtesy of a raven named jessamy, a sweet hen that made her favor for your husband over the other royals very much known. she chittered softly at you from the windowsill to get your attention before squawking just loud enough to rouse you from your concentration.
“princess consort! another letter from your husband!”
rising from your desk, you approach the window and give the faithful bird a good chin scratch. “i told you, jess, you don’t have to use titles with me. we’re far beyond all the formalities.” your hands deftly untied the missive from her leg before inviting the raven inside.
it was tradition by now: every time you received a letter from fíli, the loyal raven was offered food and rest on a special cushion you had made specifically for her while waiting for you to pen your reply. jessamy was quite the conversationalist and far more favored company compared to many of the nuisance nobles that now occupied the mountain. the two of you would gossip about your respective circles and duties with afternoon tea before she carried your reply to fee.
she fluffed her wings with indignance. “being an adult or not, i think adad would have my tail feathers if he heard me being so casual with you and prince fíli.”
it took no small amount of willpower to keep from guffawing in your friend’s face. “you think roac is constantly professional with thorin? i’ve heard him on no less than three occasions call uncle an absolute fool!”
“‘do as i say, not as i do’ is a phrase i’ve heard since before i could fly, if that provides any context.”
you chuckled at the turn of phrase that sounds eerily like something thorin would say. “well, the offer still stands, my friend. you know my name and have freedom to use it however you please.”
“duly noted, princess,” her tone told you that she wasn’t planning on doing so anytime soon. dropping the topic, you choose instead to sit and read fíli’s latest letter.
my dearest love,
the weather has been suspiciously kind to us this past week, but i cannot find it in me to look this gift boar in the mouth. we braved but a brief sprinkling from the heavens, and my company was graced with the sight of a rainbow. if i had any sort of artistic ability in my bones, i’d have spent hours simply drawing the colored light as it dísappeared behind the hills we previously crossed.
i saw the strangest mushroom a few hours after i sent jessamy back to you the time before this, far too late to include it in my letters. it was bright red and oozed something alarmingly bloody when fractured. it looked as if someone slapped a piece of venison onto a tree and called it a fungus. i sliced a piece off to give to oin, i believe he would appreciate it.
as your birthday draws ever nearer, i continue to fear that i won’t arrive home in time to celebrate by your side. as i have in every letter previously, i will remind you that i love you with every muscle and bone in my body. everything i do, i do in hopes i will continue to be the dwarf you deserve, to be someone worthy of your hand. happy birthday, my love. i’ll be home soon.
your prince,
fíli
the smile on your face hurt your cheeks. your dear husband was such a sap that he could rival that of every tree in the woodland realm.
the ornate wooden box you recently commissioned special from bifur sat on your desk, lying in wait for the latest letter to fill it. nothing could bring you to throw away any of the letters fíli has written to you, so you saved every single one all the way back to when you first met him, long before erebor was reclaimed. their new home was far more fitting than the tattered cloth and twine that kept them safe prior to coming to erebor.
would you eventually need to either size up or get more boxes made? most definitely. but for now, this latest letter would fit perfectly inside the box in front of you. adding the date it was received to the bottom, the parchment found its new home among fellow letters.
~ the morning of your birthday ~
fíli wondered, not for the first time in his life, why he allowed himself to be roped into the ridiculous plans his brother concocted. he had just arrived back in erebor mere hours ago, but instead of immediately running to you, here he was in a box. the one good thing was that it was surprisingly spacious, considering that it was, in fact, still a box.
it was all because kíli was unable to finish your true gift from him in time, which is to be a set of leather armor made from hide he collected and tanned himself. he asked dori for your measurements and to help with the ornate stitching he had planned, but other than that, everything was done by his hand alone. but his foolish brother had mistaken the month of your birthday for the one directly after, and now there was no time to see it truly complete.
that’s why he was in a box in the common room of the royal wing.
your party (or at least, the private one) wouldn’t commence until the early afternoon, but kíli was insistent on him staying in his paper-wrapped tomb until it was time. you were to receive gifts from your friends and family, and seeing as many of them would lend themselves to be something you would wear to the royal celebration, the private one would happen first.
at least his brother (and bilbo) were sneaking him food and drink from a sneakily hidden hole so he wouldn’t starve before the festivities began.
-
you woke up to the sound of your mother-in-law rifling through your wardrobe. rubbing your eyes to rid them of the crust from a good sleep, you broke through her whispered mutterings. “amad, what…”
she ignored you in favor of continuing to tear your room apart. “there’s no time, you should have been bathed and braided an hour ago!” at first you’re very confused, but then you remember the day.
groaning, you untangle yourself from your blankets, thankful that your husband warned you that amad would be in your rooms when you woke the morning of your birthday. you were in a more presentable pair of nightclothes than you would have been otherwise.
she heard you ruffling about and immediately approached you, her usual no-nonsense eyes also housing the fondness that only came from a mother. “oh good you’re up. there’s already a bath waiting with your favorite soaps, and when you get out your clothes will be waiting on your bed for you. i’ll help you dress, then we can braid your hair properly.” it was like she never stopped to breathe.
before you could even reply, she was shooing you towards the bathroom while tugging at your nightclothes. “now off you go! no daughter of mine will arrive at her own birthday celebration looking like a hooligan.”
if you were a bit more awake you would have laughed.
some minutes later (no matter how much you wanted to enjoy your morning bath, it would be most unwise to keep dís waiting), you emerged from the bathroom and marveled at the gown that lay waiting for you on the bed.
dís noticed your entrance and smiled at the way your eyes lit up while taking in the fine work. it was dyed in the same durin blue you wore on the day of your wedding, with such intricate work along the hem that you couldn’t help but open your mouth in awe. “dori’s talent never dísappoints, does it?” you nodded your agreement in stunned silence.
there were the signature embroidered sharp edges that defined dwarven fashion, many segments adorned with crystal chips sewn directly into the dress. it wasn’t a crystal you were immediately familiar with, but you enjoyed the way the lighter blue contrasted the deep blue with a bright pop.
“as much as we’d both like to stare at the dress for the next several hours, it would look much better on you.” you bit back the scandalous comment that came to mind that involved your husband liking it better on the floor of your rooms. you’ve been spending far too much time with your brother-in-law.
for being so beautiful, you thought it would be an absolute pain to actually get on. much to your surprise, it slid on your body like a glove. dís fastened it closed and once you were snug inside the gown, she all but pushed you into the chair in front of your vanity to begin braiding your hair.
with the barest amounts of makeup and braids weaved into your hair tighter than gloin’s coin purse, she finally set you free for the moment. she dug in the pockets hidden in the folds of her own dress - something she always insisted on you requesting as well - until she pulled out a small box with the seven stars of durin on the lid.
she placed the box in your hands, her strong, callused ones firmly holding yours into place. “this is my gift for you, nâthuê kurdu. a piece that symbolizes the bond you share with fíli, made by my own hand to celebrate the daughter i never thought i would get.”
it was a beautifully made necklace that had you captivated at first sight. the chain itself was a delicate weave of copper and silver, but the pendant was what gave you pause. it was the sun and moon; the sun was made of tiger’s eye, the stone that dís christened her firstborn with at his own majority, and the moon was made of the same stone that adorned parts of your dress. they faced each other and around them, wrapped in more wire, were diamonds representing the seven stars.
“dís, you didn’t…”
“oh, my daughter, you’ll find that i did.”
“will you tell me about it?”
she gave you your own stone, an honor you knew she only gave to a very select few.
her eyes were glistening just enough to tell you that she was feeling the love as strongly as you were. “it’s a stone given to help find one’s voice, a conduit to aid in speaking from the heart. it influences calm in the owner and will serve you well for the rest of your days, not just as a future queen of erebor, but as a wife and friend.”
you would have been in tears at her speech if not for the playful glare she gave you warning of the consequences of ruining the makeup. “i don’t know what- thank you amad, i will treasure this piece until the end of my days.” that’s all you knew to say, all you could say without blubbering.
after helping you put it on, she wrapped you in a strong embrace that put you back together seamlessly. “if this is how you act with only a necklace, i don’t think you’ll have a chance of retaining composure once we’re back with everyone.”
-
she was definitely right about that. thorin’s gift of an intricate silver circlet embedded with both yours and your husband’s stones had your bottom lip dangerously quivering. he would have been bowled over at your tackle-hug had he not been already sitting down. he merely smiled and pet your head softly, bilbo passing you a handkerchief to wipe the water from your eyes.
thankfully, you were already familiar with the hobbit tradition of giving gifts on one’s birthday instead of receiving, and had presented him with a set of ceramic teacups and matching saucers you made. they weren’t the same high quality fine china he was passed down by his relatives back in the shire, but they could hold tea just fine. it was given with love and usefulness in mind and to bilbo, that’s what mattered.
with every gift you were given, you felt like you could fly with the ravens from the joy. kíli looked oddly suspicious through the entire ordeal, which would have been slightly worrying had it not been your birthday. he wasn’t daft enough to prank you on such an important day lest he risk the wrath of his mother.
it was even worse when he avoided giving you your gift each time the others badgered him to present it already. their gifts had already been presented and your heart filled with love from each.
“kíli, where is your gift?”
“well, uh, you see, what happened was-” dís leveled a glare at him that could have frozen mount doom. “i didn’t finish it in time. but! the moment i complete it, i shall present it with all the pageantry it deserves.”
“well if you don’t have yours to give, then who’s that massive brick from?” dwalin pointed to the massive box. he raised a very valid point that led many a bearded chin to be stroked in confusion. kíli was the last one who hadn’t given his gift, yet while he says his gift wasn’t finished, there was still an unopened present waiting around the fireplace.
you approached it warily, wondering what in the world it could hold to warrant the size of its container. kíli revealed nothing. “just open it and you’ll see, namadith.” the smirk he wore belied trouble of the worst kind.
maybe he wasn’t as intelligent as you gave him credit for.
“i swear, inudoy, if that box has anything that risks ruining the joy of this day, i will tan your hide and give what little meat there is on your bones to bombur to serve with tonight’s dinner!” dís’s warning did nothing but widen the grin on his face, which would have been rather frightening if you couldn’t hear muffled laughter from the box in front of you.
it was a laugh you fell in love with many moons ago, the one that followed your silly jokes and the sight of his brother getting flattened by dwalin on the training grounds. it was the laugh of your beloved husband, barely being concealed by the box itself and the bickering erupting from the others.
you opened the lid with a knowing smile and as soon as it was removed, fíli popped up with his arms outstretched. “happy birthday, ghivashel!” he attempted to step out of the box to properly embrace you, but it seems his time in the box had put a damper on his ability to properly walk. instead, he tumbled out of it and nearly brought you to the ground as he tried to brace himself.
your laughter mingled with his, neither of you paying attention to the sniggers from the onlookers. “fíli! when did you get back?! please tell me you haven’t been in that box for the past three days!” it appeared in the common room a few days prior and the curiosity about what it could be plagued you for hours upon first glimpse. but no one else seemed to have any clue about it, so you let your curiosity rest.
he chuckled as he stretched his legs out, braving the tingling feeling you knew he was experiencing from being cooped up for durin knows how long. “i only arrived very early this morning. i barely had time to bathe before my fool of a brother was shoving me into this thing and sneaking me food.” he shook his head and laughed, pressing a solid kiss to your temple. “and thank you for the tea earlier, uncle bilbo!”
the hobbit waved him off with a smile, nudging thorin lovingly to get him to pay attention to the fact the contents of the box wouldn’t, in fact, result in him being short a nephew.
“i hate to say it fee, but i think your brother has gotten me the best gift so far.”
“you’ll just have to wait until tonight, kurdu.”
“i look forward to it.”
#year of themed creation 2023#year of idiots#fili x female reader#fili x reader#the hobbit imagine#the hobbit reader insert#fíli imagine#fíli durin x reader#fíli durin#fíli and kíli#lotr imagine#the hobbit fanfiction#fili durin x reader#fili imagine
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Last July, I expressed interest in wanting to create arcade flyer-inspired character cards for the colorful cast of Rascal... and only ended up making one for the titular bunny boy. To make up for it, however, I think it's finally time to reveal Rascal's full cast...
... by way of a group shot and sprite showcase! 🍬🧡💙🧡🍬
#⭐ Star's Art ⭐#Star's OCs#Rascal#Rascal 1983#Rascal Arcade#Cupcake Rascal#Goofball Rascal#Jellybean Joe#Mr. Stackman#Sour Sally#Choco Chuck#Arcade#Arcade Games#OCs#Coolness#Behold... a post roughly ten months in the making!!!#I'd designed this lot of OCs back in mid-2023... and they have all been my blorbos since.#My intent was to draw individual key art for each one to have something for each character's character card#Though admittedly I'm still trying to hammer out a definitive artstyle for Rascal#Though seeing as I hadn't drawn the group altogether since late June of last year...#... I decided to jump right back in and draw this group shot for the purpose of revealing everyone to tumblr!#I would be more than happy to answer any questions anyone has about this candied cast...#You can imagine I have lots to say on both their creation as well as their personalities! 🍬🧡💙🧡🍬
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Bird Strike
Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader
Masterlist - Join My Taglist!
Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023 which I’m finally catching back up on! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!
Fandom: Top Gun
Prompt: Apollo; light, the sun, truth, inspiration, medicine, healing
Summary: A bird strikes brings Hangman down and leads to confessions from him and Rooster's sister.
Word Count: 1,825
Category: Angst, Fluff
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
"Alright, you're all good Bob. Just take it easy on your wrist for a little while, and you should heal up just fine."
"Thanks," said Bob, giving me a smile as he hopped off my exam table. Life was never boring as Top Gun's chief medical officer, but thankfully today I hadn't had to deal with any serious injuries. Just a slightly sprained wrist from a little too much dog fight football.
"Sure thing." I headed for the door with Bob, since I didn't have anyone else waiting for medical attention. Jake Seresin, the most arrogant pilot at Top Gun (except maybe Mav), was currently up flying, and since I didn't have any pressing work to attend to I wanted to listen in on how he was doing.
"Hey!" Bradley, my older brother, waved as soon as he saw me and Bob enter the room. A few aviators were gathered around, listening to the comms between pilots still in the air. "You missed my run."
"Oh no, I'm so sad. How will I ever recover?"
Bradley just rolled his eyes at me as I sidled up next to him beside the radio. I could hear Jake's voice, strategizing with his wingman and tracking the instructor's positions. I tuned in, imagining I could see his plane as it flew across the sky.
"So you're in here listening carefully to the radio for Seresin but not your brother?"
"Shut up," I said, shoving him back much harder than necessary. I wasn't sure if he knew that he'd found some truth in terms of my feelings for Jake, but I never wanted him to know. "I heal injuries for a living, and I'm just as skilled at causing injuries."
"Don't you have some kind of oath to do no harm?"
"You're my exception."
I gave him a fake sweet smile as he narrowed his eyes at me. He opened his mouth, probably to make a bad attempt at a comeback, but he stopped short at the sounds of distress coming from the radio.
"Hangman, watch out!"
"Bird strike, bird strike!"
My heart stopped in my chest. The room went dead silent, everyone freezing and all conversation coming to a stop as we listened to the radio.
"Hangman to Tower, Hangman to Tower. I need to come in for an immediate emergency landing."
"Copy. Just stay calm, we've got the runway open for you."
"Alright. I'm coming around."
The silence stretched on, hanging over the room like a heavy blanket. I twisted my fingers, fidgeting, trying to dispel the nervous energy. He was going to be fine. He had to be.
I saw Bradley glancing at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored him. I kept my eyes and attention glued on the radio. I wasn't sure if I wanted the silence to end or not, but I didn't get a choice as the radio crackled to life again.
"Tower, it's no good, I'm losing speed and altitude too fast. I'm gonna have to eject."
I felt like I'd been hit by a train. Wordlessly, I reached out one hand, and Bradley quickly took it. He stood tall and strong beside me, his face clouded while my world spiraled out of control. This could not be happening.
"He's gonna be fine," Bradley muttered. I barely heard him. It sounded like we were underwater, and the room had started to spin.
Bradley and I had lost our dad this way, when the canopy to his fighter jet didn't detach the way it was supposed to. We'd both been pretty young, but I swear I remembered every awful moment of our mother coming to break the news, of Mav explaining just what had happened and how sorry he was with tears in his eyes. When Bradley had decided to follow our dad's path into becoming a pilot, my number one nightmare had been losing him the same way. Now I might be forced to live that reality with Jake instead.
The silence stretched on as Bradley and I stood, shoulder to shoulder, waiting with everyone else in the room. A moment later, I heard Mav's voice over the radio.
"Canopy looked good and I saw a chute."
Mav continued to call out his position for Jake's recovery team, but I barely heard it as relief crashed like a wave through my ears. I wouldn't be completely relieved until he walked through the door, but at least it sounded like he was going to be just fine.
"It's okay," Bradley muttered, pulling me into a quick hug and mumbling into my hair. "It's okay."
I nodded, still feeling a little shaky as I gave him a quick hug before pulling back.
"I need to get to my exam room. Even if he's perfectly healthy, he's gonna need a checkup to make sure nothing's wrong."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to force myself to calm down a little. I shook my head.
"That's alright. I'm okay."
Bradley didn't look totally convinced, but I managed to shake him anyway with a promise to call him if I needed him. I focused on taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself down for the walk back to my exam room. It sort of worked, although I literally paced the room waiting for Jake to be brought in. When I finally heard shuffling outside the door, I quickly crossed the room and flung it open.
"I told you, I'm fine!"
Jake stood in the hallway on his own two feet, wrestling with one of the men who'd brought him in. The guy didn't budge despite Jake's protest, but I decided to step in before things could escalate.
"Jake, get in the exam room."
His head snapped up to face me, but despite his momentary surprise, he didn't back down.
"I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told them, I'm fine. I don't need an exam-"
"You ejected from your plane. You might be walking, but that's no grantee you don't have an injury just waiting to show itself once the adrenaline fades. So come on. The less you fight it, the sooner you can leave and go do whatever it is you want to do so badly."
He fixed me with a look, but I just crossed my arms and stared right back. Finally, once he realized I wasn't going to back down, he sighed.
"Fine. But if I miss somebody shooting Maverick down, I'm gonna be pissed."
I resisted the urge to reply as Jake walked past me, and I followed him into the exam room. My brain still didn't completely believe he was sitting here, in front of me, apparently completely healthy. The adrenaline dump made my hands shake a little as I checked Jake's heartrate and went through a few more basic checks.
"Are you sure you don't feel any pain?" I asked while I worked. I'd already asked him twice before, but I wanted to keep checking in case his answer changed, especially as any potential shock wore off.
"For the third time, yes. Quit hovering already."
I stepped back, hands on my hips as I fixed Jake with a look. He seemed to be perfectly happy and relaxed in the wake of his dangerous adventure, but I was still wrestling with the thought that my worst nightmare almost came true, so I wasn't in the mood to be gentle.
"Jake, it is my job to check you out and make sure you're not injured with something that's going to come back to bite you the second you're out the door. So sit still, stop complaining, and let me do my job!"
"...Since when do you care so much?"
"Excuse me?"
"Not about your job, but... about me. You seem like you care a lot. I thought you hated me for all the shit I give your brother."
I sighed. "No. I mean, sure, sometimes it's annoying and sometimes it's a little over the line, but... no. I don't hate you, Jake."
He didn't really respond, which left me to finish my exam without resistance. Thankfully, he was perfectly healthy, not a scratch on him. Still, that didn't stop my hands from shaking as I lowered my stethoscope. I started to pull away, but Jake caught my hand and stopped me.
"Hey, you're shaking." I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. I'd done so well hiding it until now. "What's wrong?"
I opened my eyes to find Jake staring at me, his bright blue eyes full of unusual concern. I sighed.
"You know mine and Bradley's history, Jake. I lost my dad to the same thing that landed you here today. I've spent every single day since Bradley joined the navy terrified that I would lose him the same way, and then when I heard you on the radio, dropping out of the sky and being forced to eject..." I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and then looking back at Jake. "I've had feelings for you for a little while now, Seresin, but when I heard that call? I just about had a heart attack at the thought of losing you."
Jake huffed a little, disbelieving laugh, then tugged me closer to him. My heart stuttered in my chest as Jake grinned.
"I've had feelings for you for a while now, too," he said. A smile pulled its way onto my face, but a moment later, Jake's expression sobered. "Although I have to warn you, sweetheart, if we do something about those feelings... you're not gonna be any less relaxed going about your day since I'm going to be up in the air all the time."
I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning in to rest my head against Jake's forehead. He still held my hand tight, giving it a little reassuring squeeze.
"I know," I finally said. "But... I'm willing to take that risk. It's worth it to me. And it's not like I wouldn't be worried about you anyway."
Jake pulled away, the grin firmly back in place as he looked at me. "I'm glad I'm worth it to you."
Without another word, he leaned back in, this time for a kiss that I'd thought about more than once (and apparently so had he). We stayed that way for a long time, savoring the moment and each other as my hands wandered over Jake's shoulders, reassuring myself that this was real. He was okay, and now we were both better than okay.
When we finally pulled apart, Jake still had that ridiculous cocky grin on his face as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tighter to his chest.
"Your brother is gonna hate this," he said gleefully. I just laughed and lightly smacked his chest. He was right, my brother was going to hate this, but Bradley would just have to deal with it. Now that I had Jake, I didn't plan to let him go any time soon.
****************
Everything Taglist: @rosecentury
Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21
#year of creation 2023#top gun#top gun maverick#jake hangman seresin#top gun fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun oneshot#top gun maverick fanfiction#hangman#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradshaw!reader#top gun maverick oneshot#top gun maverick imagine#medic!reader#hangman x reader#hangman fanfiction#pete maverick mitchell
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Saying I love you with flowers (Agent Whiskey x reader)
Month: May
Word count: ~2200
Warnings: None
Notes: Agent Whiskey brings you flowers.
This prompt is horribly late!!! The June prompt will be posted tomorrow.
The rest of the Year of Creation stories
@yearofcreation2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It starts with an off-hand remark.
”Ain't that a shame.”
You hear Jack's mumble through your earpiece and your eyes dart up to the computer monitor on your left to watch the feed from the security camera in the flower shop. Or what remains of it, at least.
Jack is standing next to the cash register, overlooking what can only be described as floral carnage. The explosion of multicolored petals from the shootout has only just settled and from the point of view of the camera, the dark brim of his hat makes him look like a particularly depressing daisy, in the midst of it all.
He picks up a tipped-over vase of sunflowers, half of them decapitated.
”Makes you wonder how many things will go unsaid until this shop is up and running again, don't it?” he continues, touching the stem of one of the floral victims. The gentleness of the touch is evident even on screen, and it's in stark contrast to how you'd witnessed him take out three men with guns mere minutes ago.
”What do you mean?” you ask, realizing he might actually be talking to you rather than just musing to himself. He does that a lot. Sometimes it's like he just wants to fill the silence, not really requiring your active participation in the conversations, besides the occasional hum here and there. Which is just as good, because you are usually working, trying to get him safely out of whatever hellhole he'd found himself in.
Speaking of...
There's a bit of static from the program connected to the police radio followed by a command to send units your way. Of course, in a fancy neighborhood like this, the cops would be quick to respond. Your eyes scan the map on the second monitor, watching the little police car dots change direction, inching towards the picturesque flower shop that just happened to have had the misfortune of housing a terrorist in the apartment above, and you try and estimate how long you have before the place is swarmed with blue.
”Flowers...” Jack elaborates - seemingly unaware of the enclosing law enforcement – and it reminds you that you had asked him a question. ”...are an excellent vehicle for expressing emotions, whether that be love, sorrow, regret, excitement. You deliver it with a bouquet of flowers and you get that extra oomph, wouldn't you say?”
The words make you smile softly.
”I'll take your word for it. I've never gotten flowers.” You watch the dots on the map get closer. ”You'll have company in 5 so I recommend heading out. I've-”
”You've never gotten flowers?” Jack interrupts. He sounds equal parts surprised and offended on your behalf.
”Unless you count the time in kindergarten when Ricky H threw a dandelion, complete with roots and dirt and all, in my eye, then no,” you chuckle.
Your fingers fly over the keyboard, deploying a couple of previously set up traffic obstructions since your agent seemed to be in no rush to get away from the crime scene.
”And not to insinuate that you're focusing on the wrong thing...” You pause. ”Actually no, that is exactly what I'm doing. There are three dead bodies in the room with you and the police are on their way. Don't make me work overtime getting you out of jail, Whiskey, please! I need to get home to my 90-day fiancé marathon.”
”Speaking of activities that should be considered a crime,” Jack mumbles and shakes his head, but there's no real heat behind the words. The rest of your sentence must have registered too though because he reaches up to adjust his hat before sprinting up the stairs to fetch the abandoned laptops and flash drives. You have no visual of him up there, but he must have found a mirror because when he strolls back out on the street a couple of minutes later and you watch him from a nearby street camera, he looks the very definition of put-together and no one who spared him a glance would suspect this southern gentleman to be carrying priceless amounts of national secrets in the brown messenger bag slung casually over his shoulder. He tips his hat at a woman with a stroller as he moves out of the way to let her pass on the narrow sidewalk.
”Gorgeous day for a walk, ain't it?” he tells her, and you don't need to see the smile on the woman's face to know it's there. You've been the subject of Jack's charm enough times to know.
”Stop flirting with the pedestrians and get to the car, please,” you tell him as the first patrol car rounds the corner up ahead.
You hear Jack chuckle.
”Jealousy is a good luck on you, honey.”
”You can't even see me, Casanova.”
”Don't need to. All looks are good looks on you.”
”Just get to the car,” you tell him, cheeks warm and smile evident in your voice. Jack laughs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Despite years of working together and being on the receiving end of Jack's flirty banter, you never quite get used to how his words immediately lodge themselves in that little part of your heart that isn't all that used to getting this kind of praise and attention. It's a little embarrassing really, but everyone is allowed to have a harmless workplace crush, right?
At least, whatever feelings you harbor for Jack are nowhere near as messy as the displays of emotions and the relationship drama that's playing out on your TV screen later that evening.
You're on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through the news app on your phone, while also keeping half an eye on the ongoing TV arguments, and you have every intention to stay on that couch until you inevitably fall asleep, probably still with your reading glasses on.
Those plans are foiled, however, by a knock on the door a few minutes later. You eye the offending rectangle as if it's doing anything but it's job of providing a separation between the outside world and your evening ritual of trash TV.
You briefly entertain the thought of ignoring the knock. If it's work-related it can wait until morning. But then there's a second knock, a little louder and more insistent, and you realize that the person on the other side is probably hearing the TV through the door, and therefore knows you're home.
Reluctantly, you put the phone down and get up from the couch, shuffling over to the door while trying to wiggle your feet back into your fuzzy slippers as you walk.
When the door swings open, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you're greeted by a big bouquet of sunflowers, haloed by the brim of a cowboy hat perched atop the head hiding behind the flowers.
”Wh-what's this?” you ask with a surprised half-laugh.
”It's me upstaging that Ricky H by a landslide,” Jack says, flashing you a grin as he lowers and holds out the flowers for you to take, which you do, a little too stunned to find the teasing retort you usually would.
”At least I hope I am...” Jack continues, in response to your silence. That serves to break you out of it.
”Yes! Sorry, yes, of course! These are beautiful, Jack! Thank you!”
Jack smiles back at you full force again, and you're grateful his eyes are locked with yours so he doesn't notice the definite tremble of your knees that the smile inspires.
”Ehum... do you want to come inside?” you ask him when you realize you're just staring like a creep.
”Desperately so! But unfortunately, I'm not yet off the clock so I need to head back to the HQ. But I'll see you tomorrow.” he tells you, to which you nod.
There are sounds of people screaming and arguing coming from the TV inside and Jack gives you a look.
”Don't let 90 times fiancés completely rot your brain until then,” he smirks. You're about to correct him on the name when he suddenly leans in and presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek. It makes you let out an embarrassing ”Oh”.
”Goodnight sweetheart.
You regain your composure enough to mumble a quick ”Night Jack” before he leaves you standing on the doorstep, holding the bouquet cradled in your arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sunflowers are the first flowers you receive, but you quickly realize that they will be far from your last.
It's tulips next, followed by a big bunch of Camellias. Every time Jack comes back from a mission he brings you flowers. Sometimes it's whole bouquets and sometimes it's a single flower. All equally beautiful.
You've never considered yourself a flower girl but you have to admit that they do bring lovely splashes of color both to your apartment and your office and you do enjoy their presence – and the smile it brings to Jack's face every time he watches you accept them.
Caring for the flowers to make them last, however, turns out to be more of a science than you had anticipated. You find yourself googling each new addition, wanting to know not only what they are but also how to best take care of them. For example, different flowers like different water temperatures. Who knew that? Not you, until the internet informed you of it, that's for sure!
So you read up on the flowers and as you do something undefined starts taking form at the back of your mind.
It's chrysanthemums, roses, hydrangeas, and jasmine flowers. And with every single one of them, the same phrase seems to pop up, often mentioned in passing but always there.
Symbolizes love.
Symbolizes love symbolizes love symbolizes love.
Despite telling yourself not to read into it, the words etch themselves into your brain and resurface with every bouquet.
But Jack doesn't act any different than he normally does, so you force yourself to accept that it's just a coincidence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The mess hall of the Statesmen headquarters is, in many aspects, not all that different from a school cafeteria, just more upscale and with a lot more people wearing suits and cowboy hats. Not quite as divided into social cliques either, even if you tend to gravitate towards the table Jack's sitting at. You just enjoy his company, that's all.
The chatter around the tables isn't all that different from when you were kids either. It's still mostly talk about assignments, relationships, or sports.
Agent Mezcal is regaling you all with a tale of the woes of finding the perfect anniversary gift.
”We've been married for 15 years. It's not that I don't know what she likes, I definitely do. It's just...everything I know she wants, I've already gotten her.”
”Can't go wrong with flowers and a trip,” his handler suggests, and Jack nods in agreement. ”Not roses though. Jane doesn't strike me as a rose kinda woman.”
”You've thought a lot about what flowers to get my wife, Ice?”
”Only when you're particularly annoying out on assignment. I think about Jane and all she has to put up with... About damn time she got some flowers!”
You chuckle along with the others as Mezcal shakes his head.
”Yeah yeah, laugh it up, you lot. But if I am gonna give my wife flowers to tell her I love her for putting up with me, Imma need some suggestions for what kind, if roses are a no-go.”
There's a beat of silence before you and Jack speak up at the exact same time.
”Gardenias,” you both suggest as one. And as soon as it registers that you weren't the only one naming that particular flower, your head whips around to look at Jack. He's looking back, the tiniest upward curve of a smile on his lips.
You hear the others laugh and continue making suggestions, but you're not actually listening, and you have no idea what flowers Mezcal eventually settles on. It's less important than the fact that both you and Jack said gardenias. That you both said gardenias when there's a big bouquet of them back home in your kitchen.
And you can't even say anything about it. Not here and not now.
Thankfully, when lunch is over, Jack decides to also head in the direction of your office.
It's dead silent between you at first. Then you both speak at the same time yet again.
”It's on purpose then?”
”You figured it out.”
Jack gives you a partially fond but disbelieving look.
”Of course, it's on purpose, sweetheart.”
”I wasn't sure. You flirt with anything that moves.” You feel the need to defend yourself.
”You see flowers on anyone else's desk?”
”...No”
”No,” Jack agrees.
He reaches out and takes your hand. It makes you want to giggle, but you suppress the urge and instead grip his hand a little tighter, just to assure yourself it's actually there. Jack smiles at you, and that is really unfair because your brain is already heading towards a disbelieving meltdown over what is currently happening.
”You want to come over tonight?” you blurt out before you lose your ability to form actual sentences.
Jack's smile widens even further.
”Abso-goddamn-lutely, sweetheart!”
#year of creation 2023#year of saying I love you#agent whiskey x reader#jack daniels x reader#kingsman the golden circle fanfiction
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Honestly this year is the first year there isn’t a contestant I hate with a burning passion. Everyone seems to have mostly good vibes
#gods I despised Dawn last year#wanting to show Paul her ‘lemon merengue pie’#gbbo#gbbo 2023#great british bake off#behold a creation
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First Kill
Part of the Year of Themed Creation challenge by @yearofcreation2023
Dave York (can be seen as prequel to Dave York x ofc, but no official pairing)
Word count 706
Warnings Death, killing, suspense, therapy
Summary: The suits and ties he wears to work, while a good disguise, will never be him. And no therapy will ever fix and make him right, no matter how the government thinks it can.
“Tell me about your first kill.”
It’s definitely not a question one should ask so bluntly, not with a voice so even and unaffected by the horrors that lurk inside his brain. But Dave guesses she’s seen and heard it all, her work in this hellhole a testament to her iron stomach in matters of death and gore. Still…
“No,” he gruffs out, focusing on the mild annoyance of the inseam of his pants pressing into his inner thigh. It’s not terribly uncomfortable but it’s not pleasant either; like an insect you can hear but cannot locate. You can swat and swat, but the buzzing remains the same until either you move or you manage to kill the little cretin by accident. He places a hand on the inseam, pressing his thick fingers into the expensive fabric in a vain attempt to change the feeling. His fingers twitch a little, his only tell that both the inseam and her question irritate him.
On principle, Dave hates feeling like this, uncomfortable and irritated inside this room. It’s not just his skin that feels prickly over the inseam but her questioning and her curious eyes. He’s highly trained as an agent, a lethal machine that works best in the field and not behind a desk. The suits and ties he wears to work, while a good disguise, will never be him. And no therapy will ever fix and make him right, no matter how the government thinks it can.
He is a killer. And killing is what he does best.
He does not talk about his past or his feelings. No matter how pretty his therapist might be or how curious her eyes are.
“Mr. York, need I remind you of the reasons why we are here?” Her voice rings in his ear, but he ignores her. He doesn’t have to talk if he doesn’t want to, Dave reminds himself. She doesn’t need to know about the blood, about the stench of death that he still carries over from that first mission.
She doesn’t need to know about his lack of guilt after his first kill. The elation and the hunger for more he has kept feeding like a rapid beast ever since. She might be versed in dealing with killers, but Dave is not your common nightmare. He’s the worst of the worst, a nightmare worthy of a name on its own.
He’s death personified.
“Mr. York?” She presses down, a damn bloodhound of a woman. Dave hates and admires the therapist at the same time. Her insistence on digging up the memories, finding out his past triumphs and failures is both aggravating and feeding his own ego at the same. The things he could tell her would be unlike anything she’s ever heard before.
His ego snaps into play and Dave lets his upper lip curl slightly. If she really wants this, Dave can play the game better than her.
Slowly, almost languidly, he settles back on his seat, his hand leaving the offending inseam and wrapping thick, calloused fingers around his covered knee. His legs fall open in a dominant way, a master knowing his place on top of this world. He looks at her, finding her waiting patiently.
“You have clearance?” Another deflection, but usually effective. His brown eyes rise to meet her heart-shaped face challengingly. One of her eyebrows raises delicately, a challenge of her own to meet his. “What do you think, Mr. York?” Her eyes say what she doesn’t; Dave should know the answer already. They sparkle with the hint of lightning, of steel that cannot be bent on this. She has him where she wants him but so does he.
He lets his eyes rake up and down her body visibly, appreciating the curves on display before tapping his finger to his clean chin. A predator intent on playing with his prey before he swoops in for the deathly blow. His eyes fall close for a moment before he fixes his penetrating gaze on her and smirks a little, his smile cold and menacing. Dave knows just the words to ensure this line of questioning will not go any further. “My first kill was my commanding officer.”
Game, set, match.
#year of firsts#year of themed creation#year of creation 2023#dave york#dave york fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#my writing#hopeamarsu#cw: death
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Preview: A light at the end of the tunnel
Ezra x ofc , ft Cee
Words: 3,140
December entry for Artes’s Year of Whump ( and fluff) @yearofcreation2023
Summary: As Ezra struggles post recovery, Cee plays cupid and finds his lost love.
Warnings: recovery, depression, loss of a limb
An: This is the official end of Arte’s Year of Whump. It was so fun, thank you yearofcreation! I know I missed some months, but glad I could close out December. I love this story so much, it’s open for later expansion. More notes at the end…
Preview below, read in full on A03 (account holders)
Sunlight peeked through the curtains, sending rays of light across the bedroom. This might be the first time he’s woken up before sunset in weeks.
His eyes settled on his new arm. It was still a strange feeling, having a robotic limb. But it did provide a small comfort as the loss of his arm, on top of everything else, sent him into the darkest place he’d been in years. Ezra told himself, he didn’t need a replacement, he would learn his way with one arm, and be just fine. He’s a man who weathered many storms. But he found his phantom arm haunted him. His mood, his self-esteem, and his sense of purpose all plummeted.
Ezra sat up with a groan and followed the scar on his torso with his eyes. Sometimes he could still feel that jab, sometimes he woke up in a sweat thinking it was happening all over again. He’s endured worse, he’s gone toe to toe with no hesitation with some of the meanest, more dangerous men and beasts one could face. Still, the events on the Green haunted him the most. Sometimes he could still hear that disturbing music in his ears.
Ezra died twice on that noxious moon; when he lost his arm, and when he was stabbed. But he was revived too. Cee, bless her heart, dragged back some version of him to civilization, a shell of him he didn’t recognize. The price of that job was the highest he’s ever paid; one he was still paying for now.
Ezra coughed as he rummaged the surface of the nearby table, then he found it, the recent letter from Cee.
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More Ezra
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About this year long challenge:
Works from this challenge that have more to come:
1. Is this how it ends? Turned into a full fic, we are on chapter 4 or 5 now and it's ongoing.(TF, dark Santi, ofc)
2. Dial up the Jack, Dim the Whiskey will have a part two. (Agent Whiskey, ofc)
3. The thing about second chances will have a part two.
Stay tuned by subscribing to those fics.
#Ezra#Ezra x ofc#ezra prospect#cee prospect#artes year of whump#year of creation 2023#fic: a light at the end of the tunnel
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And June’s challenge is … Dieter Bravo meets The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy! Thanks to @perennialdoll247 for the idea. I can’t promise much of a plot, but I have a few wacky ideas. Time to channel my inner Douglas Adams …
#pedro pascal#dieter bravo#fanfic#the bubble#hitchhikers guide to the galaxy#douglas adams#year of creation 2023#year of fandom crossovers
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