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ms-demeanor · 9 months

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So You Need To Buy A Computer But You Don't Know What Specs Are Good These Days

Hi.

This is literally my job.

Lots of people are buying computers for school right now or are replacing computers as their five-year-old college laptop craps out so here's the standard specs you should be looking for in a (windows) computer purchase in August 2023.

PROCESSOR

Intel i5 (no older than 10th Gen)

Ryzen 7

You can get away with a Ryzen 5 but an intel i3 should be an absolute last resort. You want at least an intel i5 or a Ryzen 7 processor. The current generation of intel processors is 13, but anything 10 or newer is perfectly fine. DO NOT get a higher performance line with an older generation; a 13th gen i5 is better than an 8th gen i7. (Unfortunately I don't know enough about ryzens to tell you which generation is the earliest you should get, but staying within 3 generations is a good rule of thumb)

RAM

8GB absolute minimum

If you don't have at least 8GB RAM on a modern computer it's going to be very, very slow. Ideally you want a computer with at least 16GB, and it's a good idea to get a computer that will let you add or swap RAM down the line (nearly all desktops will let you do this, for laptops you need to check the specs for Memory and see how many slots there are and how many slots are available; laptops with soldered RAM cannot have the memory upgraded - this is common in very slim laptops)

STORAGE

256GB SSD

Computers mostly come with SSDs these days; SSDs are faster than HDDs but typically have lower storage for the same price. That being said: SSDs are coming down in price and if you're installing your own drive you can easily upgrade the size for a low cost. Unfortunately that doesn't do anything for you for the initial purchase.

A lot of cheaper laptops will have a 128GB SSD and, because a lot of stuff is stored in the cloud these days, that can be functional. I still recommend getting a bit more storage than that because it's nice if you can store your music and documents and photos on your device instead of on the cloud. You want to be able to access your files even if you don't have internet access.

But don't get a computer with a big HDD instead of getting a computer with a small SSD. The difference in speed is noticeable.

SCREEN (laptop specific)

Personally I find that touchscreens have a negative impact on battery life and are easier to fuck up than standard screens. They are also harder to replace if they get broken. I do not recommend getting a touch screen unless you absolutely have to.

A lot of college students especially tend to look for the biggest laptop screen possible; don't do that. It's a pain in the ass to carry a 17" laptop around campus and with the way that everything is so thin these days it's easier to damage a 17" screen than a 14" screen.

On the other end of that: laptops with 13" screens tend to be very slim devices that are glued shut and impossible to work on or upgrade.

Your best bet (for both functionality and price) is either a 14" or a 15.6" screen. If you absolutely positively need to have a 10-key keyboard on your laptop, get the 15.6". If you need something portable more than you need 10-key, get a 14"

FORM FACTOR (desktop specific)

If you purchase an all-in-one desktop computer I will begin manifesting in your house physically. All-in-ones take away every advantage desktops have in terms of upgradeability and maintenance; they are expensive and difficult to repair and usually not worth the cost of disassembling to upgrade.

There are about four standard sizes of desktop PC: All-in-One (the size of a monitor with no other footprint), Tower (Big! probably at least two feet long in two directions), Small Form Factor Tower (Very moderate - about the size of a large shoebox), and Mini/Micro/Tiny (Small! about the size of a small hardcover book).

If you are concerned about space you are much better off getting a MicroPC and a bracket to put it on your monitor than you are getting an all-in-one. This will be about a million percent easier to work on than an all-in-one and this way if your monitor dies your computer is still functional.

Small form factor towers and towers are the easiest to work on and upgrade; if you need a burly graphics card you need to get a full size tower, but for everything else a small form factor tower will be fine. Most of our business sales are SFF towers and MicroPCs, the only time we get something larger is if we have to put a $700 graphics card in it. SFF towers will accept small graphics cards and can handle upgrades to the power supply; MicroPCs can only have the RAM and SSD upgraded and don't have room for any other components or their own internal power supply.

WARRANTY

Most desktops come with either a 1 or 3 year warranty; either of these is fine and if you want to upgrade a 1 year to a 3 year that is also fine. I've generally found that if something is going to do a warranty failure on desktop it's going to do it the first year, so you don't get a hell of a lot of added mileage out of an extended warranty but it doesn't hurt and sometimes pays off to do a 3-year.

Laptops are a different story. Laptops mostly come with a 1-year warranty and what I recommend everyone does for every laptop that will allow it is to upgrade that to the longest warranty you can get with added drop/damage protection. The most common question our customers have about laptops is if we can replace a screen and the answer is usually "yes, but it's going to be expensive." If you're purchasing a low-end laptop, the parts and labor for replacing a screen can easily cost more than half the price of a new laptop. HOWEVER, the way that most screens get broken is by getting dropped. So if you have a warranty with drop protection, you just send that sucker back to the factory and they fix it for you.

So, if it is at all possible, check if the manufacturer of a laptop you're looking at has a warranty option with drop protection. Then, within 30 days (though ideally on the first day you get it) of owning your laptop, go to the manufacturer site, register your serial number, and upgrade the warranty. If you can't afford a 3-year upgrade at once set a reminder for yourself to annually renew. But get that drop protection, especially if you are a college student or if you've got kids.

And never, ever put pens or pencils on your laptop keyboard. I've seen people ruin thousand dollar, brand-new laptops that they can't afford to fix because they closed the screen on a ten cent pencil. Keep liquids away from them too.

LIFESPAN

There's a reasonable chance that any computer you buy today will still be able to turn on and run a program or two in ten years. That does not mean that it is "functional."

At my office we estimate that the functional lifespan of desktops is 5-7 years and the functional lifespan of laptops is 3-5 years. Laptops get more wear and tear than desktops and desktops are easier to upgrade to keep them running. At 5 years for desktops and 3 years for laptops you should look at upgrading the RAM in the device and possibly consider replacing the SSD with a new (possibly larger) model, because SSDs and HDDs don't last forever.

COST

This means that you should think of your computers as an annual investment rather than as a one-time purchase. It is more worthwhile to pay $700 for a laptop that will work well for five years than it is to pay $300 for a laptop that will be outdated and slow in one year (which is what will happen if you get an 8th gen i3 with 8GB RAM). If you are going to get a $300 laptop try to get specs as close as possible to the minimums I've laid out here.

If you have to compromise on these specs, the one that is least fixable is the processor. If you get a laptop with an i3 processor you aren't going to be able to upgrade it even if you can add more RAM or a bigger SSD. If you have to get lower specs in order to afford the device put your money into the processor and make sure that the computer has available slots for upgrade and that neither the RAM nor the SSD is soldered to the motherboard. (one easy way to check this is to search "[computer model] RAM upgrade" on youtube and see if anyone has made a video showing what the inside of the laptop looks like and how much effort it takes to replace parts)

Computers are expensive right now. This is frustrating, because historically consumer computer prices have been on a downward trend but since 2020 that trend has been all over the place. Desktop computers are quite expensive at the moment (August 2023) and decent laptops are extremely variably priced.

If you are looking for a decent, upgradeable laptop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

14" Lenovo - $670 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 512GB SSD

15.6" HP - $540 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

14" Dell - $710 - 12th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

If you are looking for a decent, affordable desktop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

SFF HP - $620 - 10th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, 1TB SSD

SFF Lenovo - $560 - Ryzen 7 5000 series, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

Dell Tower - $800 - 10th-gen i7, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

If I were going to buy any of these I'd probably get the HP laptop or the Dell Tower. The HP Laptop is actually a really good price for what it is.

Anyway happy computering.

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kitchenvelly · 5 months

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Acer Aspire 5 Slim Laptop, 15.6 inches Full HD IPS Display, AMD Ryzen 3 3200U, Vega 3 Graphics, 4GB DDR4, 128GB SSD, Backlit Keyboard, Windows 10 in S Mode, A515-43-R19L, Silver.

About this item

Aspect Ratio:16:9

AMD Ryzen 3 3200U Dual Core Processor (Up to 3.5GHz); 4GB DDR4 Memory; 128GB PCIe NVMe SSD

15.6 inches full HD (1920 x 1080) widescreen LED backlit IPS display; AMD Radeon Vega 3 Mobile Graphics

1 USB 3.1 Gen 1 port, 2 USB 2.0 ports & 1 HDMI port with HDCP support

802.11ac Wi-Fi; Backlit Keyboard; Up to 7.5 hours battery life

Windows 10 in S mode. Maximum power supply wattage: 65 Watts

#acer laptop #Laptop #acer aspire slim laptop #best laptop #unique laptop #cheapest laptop #low price laptop #long lusting laptop

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knifegremliin · 6 months

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goddd i've been looking at fucking laptops for like half the day since my other laptop is. Really Not Working. and i really miss playing video games but jesus fucking christ everything is so god damn expensive aghhhhh

#🔪.text #the best one i could find for a low price was still like 900 :')#and i!!! do not have 900!#because i got a CAR.#AGH #i keep trying to not regret getting my car but godddd #this shit sucks lol #like i've already tried so many different things trying to get that laptop to work again #Nothing Has Helped #i haven't tried fully resetting yet but i really want that to be the last resort #but at this point i kinda doubt anything is gonna help #i'm pretty sure the solution is to replace shit #but idk what is the problem #or how expensive that would be #i'm sure it'd be cheaper than getting a whole new laptop but. still.#getting a car really drained my money lol #and i don't have a job outside of petsitting #and can't do commissions because i 1. don't have the energy and still can't draw too much with my wrists #and 2. don't have enough of a following for that to even really work #like i mean i've tried making adopts and they pretty much never sell lol #even for a low price #so like i couldn't even put a worthwhile price on them #agh.#sorry for the rant/vent i am just. tired.#and miss playing my games

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hamicart · 8 months

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Best Deal.

#best gaming laptop #best laptop under 50000 #buy desktops online at best prices in uae #laptop online uae #latest gaming monitors #latest laptops online #latest model laptops online #latest monitor #new monitor price #Buy Desktops Online at Best Prices in uae #dell new monitor 2023 #Buy Printers Online at Low Prices in India #laser printer

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xo-cod · 6 months

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Can you imagine that for some reason reason or another, that hyperfeminine! Reader has to be the tech analyst for not only their 141 boys but for KorTac as well? Or maybe something happened and she was temporarily transferred to KorTac?

Either the way, the 141 boys are not happy and KorTac is getting the sunshine treatment from hyperfeminine! Reader.

aww i know 141 and kortac are technically enemies but this was so cute LMAO 🤎 it's v rushed and ooc !!

when kortac goes low, simon goes lower ‼️

"when does she come back?" soap's annoyed voice cut through the air of the barracks as he slumped down on the couch in the living room. this would've been the normal time after a mission he would've headed to your room. partly to annoy you but also to spend time together after a long day. he hadn't noticed just how much he craved your company, just how much he needed it

"she just went, soap. she's gone for the next few weeks" gaz sighed as he leaned back against his seat, the thought of kortac having access to you was grinding on his nerves but this was your job. you were the best at what you did, they had to trust you to do your thing. though it didn't stop the anger from rearing its ugly head at whatever kortac were making you do

"i don't trust 'em, god knows what they're doin. they should hire their own technical analyst" ghost spoke coldly, already pulling out his phone wanting to dial your number. the slightest change in your tone and he was already jumping in his car to drive recklessly to you no matter what. even if he had threatened könig beforehand and had to be physically restrained, he would bury the german 6 feet under if a single strand on your pretty head was damaged

"easy lad. könig gave us his word-" price began but ghost cut him off with a scoff. "and we're supposed to trust him?? the good for nothing faceless bastard?" ghost retorted, making the captain raise his brow at his unusual behaviour

gaz had pulled up pictures of the team, looking at könig with a raised brow which had caught the attention of ghost who immediately stiffened up in anger. he pointed a long finger at the picture, cursing under his breath at könig

"christ i hate him. look at his hood. only wearing it because he's ugly and he knows it"

"lt... you wear a mask"

"yeah and i wear it better. so what's your bloody point johnny??"

meanwhile at kortac

"so what's this?" könig had taken interest in your little figures, in your weird little knick knacks that you carried around as you worked on your laptop to help them solve their issues.

"oh it's just a fidget toy i made of ghost. it's cute, isn't it?"

"it's very ugly. but you should make one of me :D"

#asks #141 x reader #criminal minds au

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 6 months

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How to Plant Snapdragons (pt. 5)

Task Force141 + König + Keegan x Female Criminal!Reader (except Captain Price, because he'll be like a father to the bunch, and König and Keegan won't appear until later on in the story)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You and Task Force 141 arrived in Rio along with Phillip Graves and his company.

You are currently reading Chapter 5. Here is Chapter 4 and the Masterlist!

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Language and Violence, Bullying Soap (don't take it seriously) WORD COUNT: 2.8k

“So, you fucked with him?” Soap questioned in a low voice, mouth next to your ear as you both took a seat in the plane. Gaz who was over his side leaned in the conversation as well, while Price sighed and Ghost simply stayed quiet beside you.

You pulled down the headset to your neck and raised a brow. “Who?”

Soap pulled a face and mouthed, "Graves."

You guffawed, throwing your head back that you slammed into the metal wall, but that didn't stop you. You repeatedly slapped your thigh, wheezing to the point you coughed and felt like vomiting.

The shadows on the opposite side of the plane stared at you with frowns underneath their goggles. They had worked and lived with you under the same roof, but they had never gotten used to how you laughed.

You hated Graves’ guts, but you could acknowledge a fine man who knew how things work. You had seen him in the gym during your time in the Shadow Company. Topless, and sweaty, his veins bulging every time his muscles flexed, and you couldn’t help but steal a glance and draw what you could remember when you were alone (which you sold to one of his shadows—you didn’t know if the guy was into Graves or his fans or maybe both). But that was it—he had done many things that you hated, and you had equally given him things that he loathed.

You calmed yourself down and smiled at Soap, who also stared at you in confusion. "I'd cut my vagina if ever I had his penis in me."

Soap and Gaz's mouths flew open.

Ghost grunted. "Fuckin’ Hell, have ya got no filter?"

"Watch the language, young lady," Price ordered, shaking his head.

You frowned, waving a hand. "What? It's the scientific term for the reproductive organs of females and males." You crossed your arms and huffed. "Is it because you guys don't actually know the right terms for women and your genitals? The outside of the pussy is called the vulva where you men are supposed to do your best to please—" The next words never left your mouth as Soap clamped his large hand on your face.

"I don't want to have SexEd in an airplane, please," Soap said, glancing at the Shadows across the 141. Was this what they experienced during your stay in the Shadow Company? Did they get it worse or did you mind your own business before? He doubted it would be the latter.

Johnny pulled his hand from you as you all felt the plane running and you quickly strapped your seatbelt on you to secure your position. It didn’t take long till the transport was airborne, the loud engines echoing through your headset, and it felt like something heavy was on you. You all kept silent until everything seemed to steady and Captain Price removed his seatbelt, rising to his feet and walking over to a table. He placed a laptop on top of it and pushed it open.

Graves followed suit, stopping on the other side of the table. “Shadows, gather around.”

The Task Force rose from their positions and crowded around the table, while you stood between Graves and Price, making them both look at you for a second before shifting their attention back to the device. Once again, both the leaders talked over the key points of the mission, starting from going to Graves facility in Salvador to travel by chopper instead, the raid in the favelas to capture the target, subduing the militia, and the exfiltration with Nikolai and the Shadow Company, before going back to the Shadows' facility.

“What if he refuses to speak English?” Gaz questioned, grabbing onto his vest. “We’ve dealt with people who wouldn’t speak even after torture.”

“So have I,” Graves claimed, making you silently scoff before he turned to you. “That’s why we have her.”

Heads snapped towards your way, and Ghost asked, “You know Portuguese?”

You raised a finger and opened your mouth to answer, but the CEO was faster. “Seen her teach one of my men before.”

You knew Portuguese, alright, but you didn’t teach one of his shadows Portuguese. It was Arabic numerals. Yet you also didn’t feel like correcting him and let Graves assume things. It was better for him to think that you only knew Portuguese and English.

You put your hand down. "What he said, but I'm not that fluent."

"Better than nothing," Price declared and he put a hand on the table. "Let's end it here for now. We still have some time later on."

One simple nod from Graves, the Shadow scattered, and he patted the Captain's shoulder before stepping away, going in the direction of the pilot.

As the Task Force 141 walked back to their seats, you patted Ghost's arm. He looked down at you with a questioning gaze and you asked, "Do you have any spare mask and war paint?"

"Why?" He inquired, reaching into one of the pockets of his vest.

You raised a brow. "If I want to get back safely in Rio again, I'll have to hide my face from the locals, no?"

He scoffed and pulled out a mask, handing it down to you. It was a black balaclava with a white skull design. Very Ghost fashion, but it was something similar to what you used to see every day before. "Ya know how to put on camo?"

"Yeah." You nodded, tracing your finger on the soft fabric—thankful that it didn’t actually smell of dirt, sweat, and blood. You weren't a fan of camo face paints as they were hard to remove, and you had someone put it on you instead because you couldn't paint camo on without poking your eye or putting some paint on your eye, said the person. That was a lie. That person just wanted to keep holding your face, running their thumb over your lips, or say there wasn't any mirror when in fact, they keep mirrors all the time as part of the tactic not to expose their head when peeking out a corner.

"Alright." Ghost gave you a can of paint and a mirror.

You both sat down and you began to paint the upper half part of your face since the balaclava would cover the rest. You put the paint down on your lap and pulled the mirror away, angling your head from right to left. Then, you slipped the mask on, adjusted the hole around your sight, and tucked the hem under the collar of your jacket. “How do I look?” you inquired, handing back the camo and mirror to Ghost.

“Ready to kick some arse,” Soap fired immediately.

“A she-ghost,” Gaz said.

“Ghost’s sibling,” the Captain commented.

You, Soap, and Ghost turned the other two. Soap pursed his lips to stop himself from smiling, while Ghost glared at them. You, on the other hand, had a grimace underneath the mask. “Agreeing with your favorite, Captain?”

A gasp escaped Kyle’s lips, facing the Price with bright, expecting eyes. “I’m your favorite?”

Johnny’s brows furrowed. “He’s your favorite?”

Simon couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Since when do we have favorites?”

Price pulled a face, shaking his head. “I don’t have favorites,” he proclaimed, but that wasn’t enough to convince both the Sergeants. You and Ghost merely listened to their debate and some friendly hits between the Sergeants, really starting to act like siblings fighting for some candies.

It was wonderful to witness, that even though these men weren’t connected by blood, they could be as close as a family who went through heaven and hell, stood in front of death’s door, but would always have one another’s back.

It was admirable—beautiful, that a desire to protect them bloomed in you. If they get dirty, so the world would stay clean, you’d get dirty, so they could continue what they needed to do.

You closed your eyes, feeling it become heavy due to the lack of sleep the past couple of days, and leaned back, a small smile painting on your lips.

Now, you felt like laughing.

Did Task Force 141 remind you of your old friends to feel this way? They’d probably laugh at you and say you’d leave the 141 as well, like what you did to them, or would they laugh because you wouldn’t be able to leave this time with a shackle on?

Oh, how you wish you’d know, no matter how hurtful the truth would be.

Ghost slightly stiffened at the sudden heaviness on his arm and he shifted down his head, finding you sound asleep, cheek squished against him. You looked peaceful with your mouth shut, not moving an inch unlike when you were awake and hyper as though you were on crack. Vulnerable, feeling safe enough to let yourself fall asleep on him in front of all these people who could snap your neck like a twig. But most of all, you looked like a normal person despite the disguise you had put on, simply sleeping because of the lack of.

It irked him to hear Shepherd refer to you as a tool—a weapon to be used and disposed of. It reminded him of the times before he met Price—before the said man made him feel like a human. Not as Ghost, but Simon. And maybe, if the Captain had done it to him before, perhaps Price can also do it to you.

“Soap,” he called, making Johnny halt from smacking Gaz, his elbow almost hitting you.

Johnny turned to face him with one brow raised, only for both his brows to arch upon seeing you asleep. “Didn’t know she could look quiet.”

“Anyone would look peaceful in their sleep except you,” Price said, crossed his arms, and leaned back, pulling his hat down to cover his eyes as he closed them.

Soap snapped his head at his way. “Captain!”

Gaz painted a smug smirk on his lips, lifting his chin proud. “And that’s why I am his favorite.”

“Ya goddamn—”

"Keep up, lass," Price's deep voice echoed on your headset as you jogged after him and Gaz in the dark—the Sergeant glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were following them and not planning to run away.

Not that you could.

You had a frown on your face, hidden by the night vision you had on, frustrated that you couldn’t get the chance to see the statue of Christ the Redeemer with all the houses (if you could call this cluster of shacks, houses) covering your sight. But there was no time for being hot-headed as you were already in the lion's den.

"Up the roof!" Gaz shouted, firing at the man on the rooftop above you three.

"Engaging enemies on the lower favelas," Price declared, running towards a corner of a house.

You slid for cover behind a crate, before aiming up the roof, shooting a man who had emerged from their covers. Blood splattered at each hit, painting the roof and the ground as he fell.

You quickly averted your attention from the sight and announced, "They're using assault rifles."

"Copy," replied the Captain and Gaz.

“Enemies on sight,” Ghost claimed in a rough voice.

There was a crackle on your headset. "Shadow 0-1 to Bravo 0-6 and Bravo 0-7, Shadows are ready for some takedown," Graves responded.

You pumped your fist in the air where someone would have been whenever you fought, a smile appearing on your lips. "Showtime."

You ran towards a corner and fired at the man crouching behind a window, shattering the glass, before aiming from left to right. With no man in sight, you proceed down to another alley.

A gunshot echoed in the air and you whipped around to where it came from. You pulled the trigger, and hid behind a wall, grabbing a grenade. You peeked out and threw it through an open window, then aimed at the house as it exploded. You sprinted towards it, slowly entering the shattered door, finding three men burned and unconscious.

You noticed a phone lit up in one of their pockets. You grinned, bending out and snatching it. You slipped it into one of the compartments of your vest and gazed up the stairs. "Found a way up the roofs."

"Good, do what you must," Price ordered, making you chuckle as you climbed up the stairs. It could only mean one thing, considering he had tested you in the range before. Show him what you could do.

"Wishing our lady death, Captain?" Kyle's soft voice resounded, making you smile.

"Why don't you save me like a good knight in vest you are, Sergeant?” you questioned, humming as you climbed up the stairs. You glanced from left to right and found a window.

A soft laughter echoed in your headset. “Alright, call for my name when you need me later.”

“How ‘bout I call ya, Gaz?” Soap questioned in a mocking voice.

“He’d kill ya instead,” Ghost said, there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I’d tell the militia they could take Soap home,” Gaz responded.

You cackled at the top of your lungs and jumped out of the window, blasting the heads of a couple of men you alerted with your laughter. “Perhaps you could learn Portuguese, Soap.”

“I’ll gie ye guys a skelpit lug,” Johnny barked out.

“Speak English,” the three of you remarked simultaneously, making the poor handwash groan and curse at you three.

“American English, perhaps,” Graves piped in, making you and Kyle howl in laughter.

“Not ye too, Graves!” Johnny yelled, making you flinch at the sudden loud volume, which quickly died down.

“You guys are bullying Soap too much,” Price said in a calm voice.

“Tell them, Captain. Tell them!” Soap exclaimed, and you could imagine him stomping and throwing his hands around like a kid.

Then, Price added, “Do it again, kids.”

“Fuck you!”

You ran, dashing behind walls that went higher than some roofs as bullets whistled past you, and slid, shooting multiple rounds.

A series of gunshots and explosions from all directions could be heard. It seemed that the Shadows had risen from the dark, and now the Task Force could focus on the target.

You launched yourself from one roof to another, landing with a thud and rolling. You got up to your feet and put bullets through a door from below. The door broke down and one man fell out. You proceeded forward, climbing up a higher shack due to the slope of the hill.

Just as you got inside, a curse in Portuguese shot to your covered ears. You slipped forward as the man aimed his handgun and you unsheated your knife, slashing his thigh. He fell with a stifled scream and you drive the blade to his neck. You pulled it off in a swoop and blood gushed out, splatting on your clothes.

You were thankful you couldn’t feel the warmth of it, but you could feel your skin slick with sweat. You looked down at the man next to your feet, blood pooling underneath, and sighed, averting your gaze away.

You marched toward a terrace on the side and noticed a light on top of a mountain from far away. You gasped. “Guys, I see him!”

“Fabricio?!” Price yelled over the comms.

“No, sir! Christ the Redeemer!” You leaped out of the terrace, grinning wide, although you couldn’t see it. You stowed behind a wall as you noticed several men jogging above a makeshift metal bridge to cross roofs. “Can we go later there? I want to see it up close!”

A silence answered you before Price responded in a low voice. “I can’t guarantee that, kid.”

You peeked from the corner and struck them down swiftly. “I know that, sir. I’m just messing with you.”

You heard another sigh from him that got blocked over by Ghost’s loud voice. “I spotted Fabricio! He’s headed down your way, Soap!”

“I see him!” Soap shouted back. “Ah, shite—Captain, he’s going your way!”

“Copy!” The Captain replied in a serious voice. “What the—he’s down yours, Gaz!”

Upon hearing his words, you ran and jumped to another roof, where the militia was headed earlier. Considering the direction where they supposedly proceed and where Gaz should be chasing down the man now, you would be able to see him from a bird’s eye view.

“Bloody man, can’t he settle in one way?!” Kyle commented, clearly frustrated by how annoying the changes in the route of the target were, which was expected as he was on his home ground. “Shit, he’s gonna get away!”

You turned to the right, jumped to another roof, and there the scurrying rat was. You leaped and everything seemed to be in slow motion as you went down and landed on Fabricio, bringing him down on the ground. He grunted in pain and you quickly aimed a gun on his head as you moved more comfortably on the man’s back, completely sitting down on him.

You looked in all directions and smiled under your mask at the Task Force emerging from the shadows one by one. “I better get a good dinner tonight for this.”

Next chapter is here!

You can also read the series in AO3!

Taglist: @yyiikes, @the-faceless-bride, @sae1kie, @sarahedwards16, @kenma-izhu, @kkaaaagt

Note: Ngl, Graves is cute and that makes me want to bully him so bad. As you guys can see, this is based on the Favela mission of MW2 2009. Also, feel free to ask to be tagged, guys! It makes me happy people are reading this shit LMAO

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mingtinys · 10 months

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Spiced Caramel and Rosemary

pairing : jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

fluff , humor , mutual pining , coffee shop !au , college!au , meet cute

warnings : language

word count : 2.7 k

requested ? no

a/n : i can't ever write oneshots in moderation. it's always 3k full standing fics. n e ways, dk best hype and wing man !!

Wonwoo has a routine. And while he doesn't consider himself to be a particularly rigid person, he doesn't often like to stray from it.

He isn't opposed to trying new things– the occasional night out with Seungcheol, karaoke at a bar downtown with Seungkwan, a new game with Chan; but he does find comfort in having a set schedule. Especially during weekdays. Wake up around nine. Go to classes until one. Grab lunch. Work out. And the most important part, be settled down with his laptop, textbooks, and notes by three, locked away in his favorite coffee shop with a subpar dark caramel cold brew in hand. Sure, it's not an award-winning cup-of-Joe by any means, but Wonwoo's always been a tad sentimental and considers the small shop his own little haven.

So, understandably, he's a bit irked when Seokmin flat-out refuses to negotiate on a study spot. Suggesting his own favorite shop a bit further from campus to work on their project. No matter how much Wonwoo vouches for his regular shop, Seokmin won't be deterred, insisting it's the only place he can actually focus at.

Ultimately, Wonwoo decides a little disruption to his routine is worth it if it'll provoke his normally restless partner into being studious for an hour or two.

"I promise, you're gonna love it!" He boasts. Wonwoo just hums in response.

It's no wonder he's never tried Seokmin's favorite spot, much less heard of it. The shop, known as "Local Brew," is tucked away in one of the many alleys in the maze that is the outskirts of campus. Unnoticeable unless you're already looking for it.

The outside is... definitely charming. Chipped brick overrun by moss and the occasional piece of chewed gum frame the glass entrance. The windows of which are scribbled over in neat, pretty writing. Vibrant pinks and yellows showcasing low prices, catchy promotions, and flowery doodles. Seokmin plows right through, sounding the ring of a bell.

A honeyed voice greets him immediately. "Seokmin! It's nice to see you again. Should I get the usual started?"

Wonwoo knows that voice. And subsequently, Wonwoo knows this is the point in which he is, for lack of a better word, absolutely and irrevocably fucked.

Seokmin however, marches on, blissfully unaware of how his friend's heart is in desperate need of some jumper cables. "Yes please, oh, and extra sweet!"

"You're gonna rot your teeth out one of these days, but you got it."

"You're the best," he sings.

"I see you brought a friend this time. What can I– Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo knows it's his turn to speak. But his lips can only form shapes of empty words, like a fish out of water gasping for air. He tries shaking his head, hoping the action will knock a brain cell or two together so he can form a sentence that isn't wholly embarrassing. Though the effects are like that of an Etch A Sketch and he turns up empty-headed again.

He clears his throat and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, more of a nervous habit than an adjustment, and wings it. "Hi, Y/N, it's um, been a while."

It has in fact been two hours. Probably less.

Wonwoo's internally punching the walls right now. It's been a while? Is he serious? He literally saw you in class earlier. Honesty, could he sound more idiotic?

Your brow furrows and Wonwoo's just about to make a mad dash for the exit until your features soften and a grin tugs at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I guess you could say so. Dr. Kang's class sure makes it feel that way, huh?"

Wonwoo forgets he's supposed to respond again, and the awkward stretch of silence that results is insufferable at best. He rushes out his next sentence. "I didn't know you worked here."

You happily nod. "Every Tuesday and Thursday. Sometimes weekends."

"I only come when Y/N's working," Seokmin reminds everyone of his presence. "They make the best coffee."

You visibly blush at that, "Ah, stop that. Seokmins easy to please, as long as it's sweet he's not too picky. I'd take his word with a grain of salt." Another pause. It's truly a wonder how Wonwoo manages to stay at the top of his class yet struggles to uphold a perfectly mundane conversation. He's stuck just marveling at you, cute and clad in your brown barista apron.

"So," you drawl out. "Were you looking to order anything?"

Right. He's at a coffee shop. He should order coffee. Wonwoo's eyes dart to the menu above your head, relieved he has an excuse to do something other than stand there like a deer in headlights.

"Sorry, it's his first time here." Seokmin whispers. Wonwoo is pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear it, but his friend has never been great with subtlety.

"No worries, if you have any questions feel free to ask."

Why do you have to be so... radiant? Sweet. Patient. Kind. You. Geez, Wonwoo is down. Bad. Has been since the first day of class when you asked to borrow a pen. Even more so the second day when you took the empty seat next to him to return the utensil and never bothered getting up.

He nearly died when you asked for his number the following week. Claiming you'd need at least one friend in class to get through an entire semester of high-level calculus. Wonwoo isn't used to receiving the amount of attention you've invested in him. Usually, he finds a seat on the aisle and keeps to himself for the few classes he doesn't share with a friend. But you seemed to have no problem claiming him as your "calculus buddy" as you liked to call it, despite the multitude of empty seats you had to choose from.

And as much as Wonwoo doesn't want to be the fool that falls in love with the first person to show the slightest interest in him, he can't help but get a little giddy on the days he has calculus. The odds are stacked against him when it comes to his feelings for you. It's been two months since you asked for that pen, yet he still finds your presence warmer than the sun itself.

Though, at least he knows when he'll see you for class and can mentally prepare himself to not say something completely and utterly embarrassing for the hour you're next to him. But he's never considered the possibility of running into you beyond the walls of the mathematics building. So you can imagine the inner turmoil in his brain as he tries to formulate a way to get through this interaction with his ego unscathed.

"Uh, Wonwoo, you're holding up the line, buddy." Seokmin nudges him.

The line in question is just an elderly couple who seem like they couldn't care less about the wait. Rather caught up in surveying the pastry selection.

"Just get whatever you do at that other place," Seokmin suggests. Which is a genius idea, except another quick scan of the menu reveals you don't offer it.

Wonwoo looks to his friend pleadingly, "What did you get?"

Luckily, Seokmin is as perceptive today as he is sociable and extends Wonwoo a lifeline. "Why don't you just surprise him?" He says, which seems to pique your interest. "You can trust Y/N, that's how I found my favorite drink here!"

"I can do that!" Wonwoo isn't one for surprises. Though the excitement that’s radiating from your person at the proposition has Wonwoo agreeing instantly. "Any allergies or preferences?"

"No, just nothing too sweet, iced if you can."

You nod and scribble something down on a clear cup.

Seokmin pays, and Wonwoo couldn't be happier to hide away in a booth in the furthest corner of the room. He lets his head fall into his hands, propped up on the table by his elbows. That couldn't have gone any worse. Wonwoo groans as someone shuffles into the seat across from him. He peeks through his fingers at who it is.

Seokmin's chin is rested in his palms, elbows propping him up all the way across the table to lean in way too close to Wonwoo. Judging by the wide, knowing grin on Seokmin's face, there's no escaping his friend's inevitable prying curiosity.

"Sooo... how do you know, Y/N?"

"We have calculus together," Wonwoo says shortly, hoping to curve Seokmin off the topic. It doesn't work, of course.

"I see, I see," his friend nods, pauses, then says, "And how long have you had a crush on them?"

The blunt question sends Wonwoo sputtering, drawing the attention of nearby patrons as he slaps his chest, trying to regain his composure and lung capacity. He mutters out apologies with pink-tinged cheeks to the surrounding tables. Clearing his throat once more, Wonwoo glares back at his instigator, who's wiggling his eyebrows, a little too happy with himself.

"That long, huh?"

"I'm never coming back here with you."

"Oh come on," Seokmin whines. "It wasn't that bad."

"I'm writing my Will tonight. You'll never see or hear from me again. I'm going to live in the woods far, far, away from any life on earth. Become a hermit and– what?" Wonwoo deadpans, giving his friend an incredulous look upon noticing his expression of wild bewilderment.

"Nothing," Seokmin put up his hands in surrender. "It's just weird seeing you like this. I mean, I've never seen your brain actually malfunction like that before. Like, you really—"

"I'm leaving."

"—Okay, okay, sorry." He grins sheepishly. "You're really worked up over them, huh? It's endearing. I feel like I've seen a new side to you Wonny!"

Wonwoo just sighs, giving up completely on trying to stop his friend's teasing. It's better if he just endures it until he eventually moves on to another topic.

"So, how do you plan on asking them out?"

"I'm not."

"What!?" Seokmin loudly exclaims, and Wonwoo shushes him as all attention falls on their table once more. He speaks again, though this time in a whisper. "Why not?"

Wonwoo shrugs, "I dunno, they're just so lively and outgoing and confident. I doubt I'm even their type." It's not that Wonwoo lacks any or all confidence in his character. Contrary to what others may think, he's quite content with himself. Hasn't ever felt a need to alter his personality or conform to those around him for the sake of making friends.

But people like you should really be with... well... people like you. Like Seokmin or Mingyu or hell, even Joshua.

It's Seokmin's turn to glare at Wonwoo now. "Wonwoo, my friend, my buddy, my pal. I say this to you with unwavering, trustworthy, unbiased—" Wonwoo doubts that "—factual, one hundred percent, certainty. You are like, the perfect boyfriend."

Wonwoo scrunches his face up at that.

"I'm serious!" Seokmin slaps his hands down on the wooden table, making it rattle, and starts listing off traits with his fingers. "Wonwoo, listen, your boyfriend-ability potential is through the roof. You're smart, built, super attentive, have great bone structure, and you've got that shy, quiet, mysterious, gamer-guy charm to you. People really dig that nowadays."

Wonwoo chews at his lip. As over-the-top and exaggerated as his friend's dazzling reviews of his supposed "boyfriend-ability" may be, it really does wonders to boost the morale. It has Wonwoo's confidence soaring, a newfound determination burning in his chest. Maybe he will ask you out.

Until the air around their table shifts and a fluttering presence eclipses any short-lived ambition.

"Sorry for the wait," You're smiling down at Wonwoo, two plastic cups in hand. "It took a while to figure out what you might like. But then I remembered you usually have something with caramel every time you come to class. Though if you hate it I'm more than happy to remake something for you!"

You're blushing madly, but all Wonwoo can focus on is the fact you pay him enough attention from day to day to know the contents of his coffee order.

You set the cup down in front of him, then hand Seokmin his. "I hope you enjoy!"

Wonwoo's useless brain fails him once more. "You too."

You're off and back behind the counter before Wonwoo registers his mistake. That's like strike twelve for him at this point.

"Ah, young love." Seokmin interrupts Wonwoo's sulking, biting down on his straw with the corner of his mouth.

"Shut up."

Wonwoo picks up his cup and examines its contents. It's noticeably darker and thinner than Seokmin's, but he still can't really tell what exactly it is. However, you'd think the coffee was brewed with holy water and magic fairytale beans by the way Seokmins already sucked down half of his.

Wonwoo rotates the cup, squinting at the scribbles of black sharpie on the side. Dark roast, spiced caramel, rosemary, oat milk.

"Rosemary?" He reads, shooting a look at his friend who stops slurping on his own to shrug. "That's an odd flavor."

"I've learned not to question Y/N's expertise long ago, they know what you like even if you don't. It's sort of creepy." He visibly shudders.

"What's yours?"

"Dark chocolate, cherry, vanilla, and whole milk, extra sweet."

"Fruit? In coffee? That doesn't sound like it'd be good." Wonwoo frowns, suddenly doubting the efficacy of his own beverage.

"Shall I go tell Y/N you think they're a terrible barista then?"

"No!" Wonwoo answers a little too quickly and a little too loud. He clears his throat. "—I mean, no, no it's fine. I'm merely saying it's unique, is all."

Seokmin places his hand over Wonwoo's wrist and physically shoves the cup toward his lips, causing the straw to jab into his skin. "Ow!" He complains, swatting at his arm.

"Oh my God, just drink it. I promise it'll be better than whatever boring, run-of-the-mill, bean-water, you get from that other place."

Wonwoo frowns and grumbles, "It's not boring." But he knows that's far true.

Hesitantly, he takes a sip. The spiced caramel hits his tongue first. It's a warm flavor, a pleasant contrast to the drink itself being cold. Then the rosemary edges in with a strong, yet not too overpowering taste. The oat milk blends everything together smoothly and leaves a nice aftertaste.

"Wow," the word slips out. Wonwoo pulls the drink back to examine it again, eyes wide. It's easily the best thing he's ever tasted, far better than, as Seokmin put it, his usual run-of-the-mill order. Wonwoo can't even fathom how your mind came up with a drink so addicting. If God is real, then Wonwoo's positive they have a dazzling smile and work at Seokmin's favorite coffee shop.

"Good, right?" Seokmin grins.

"Amazing."

"You know, if you asked Y/N out they'd probably make your coffee any time you asked~"

That's a pretty convincing argument.

Wonwoo likes his routine. And he's quite fond of his regular coffee shop, so he still frequents there to study.

Except for Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And sometimes weekends.

"Hi, Wonwoo," you greet with your usual bright smile. "Same as usual?"

"Yes, please." He matches your smile, having finally recovered from the catastrophe that was his first visit. Ever since Seokmin let it slip how you'd been gushing about Wonwoo to him ever since you discovered they were friends, he's been feeling a little more confident.

"You know, if you ever want to try something new, I won't be offended." You narrow your eyes at him. But Wonwoo just shakes his head at you, chuckling.

"Eh, I try not to stray from what I already know too much."

"Oh, so that's why you haven't gotten rid of me as your calculus buddy yet." You quip.

"Among other reasons." He shrugs, lips pulling back into a toothy grin. Wonwoo fishes into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet to thumb through his cards.

"It's okay, it's on the house today."

Wonwoo looks up, brows furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I always give my favorite customers free coffee on Sundays." By the way your eyes quickly dart back at your other coworkers, Wonwoo doubts the validity of that.

"Well, I'll have to pay you back somehow."

"Next week's homework would be great!" You grin cheekily.

"Hmm," Wonwoo thinks for a moment, readjusting his glasses. "I would, but I haven't started it yet. Could I offer to take you out instead?"

"I would like that very much."

292 notes · View notes

eds6ngel · 9 months

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✎ when i kissed the teacher | part two

summary: with the christmas fayre coming up, alena offers for steve to help run your stall with you. but, how will alone time between the two of you affect your ever-growing feelings for one another?

if you aren’t caught up on the story, read part one here!

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. swearing. mutual pining. slow burn. fluff. angst. robin being a matchmaker. slight age gap [r is 24, steve is 29]. r has a breakdown towards the end. more warnings in future chapters! [4.2k].

Can a teacher date a student’s parent?

Can a teacher and a parent be romantically involved?

Is it okay to have a crush on a student’s parent?

Hours upon hours spent searching the highs and lows of Yahoo! just to be met with the same answers.

Wouldn’t encourage.

Not advised.

No.

“What are you still doing up? You have kids to teach from 8am tomorrow,” your roommate Amy says, you peering at the clock on the wall, it reading 11:47PM.

You groan and bury your face in your hands, letting the inevitable frustration take over your soul, “I thought this new search engine was meant to be reliable? It keeps giving me the same damn answers.”

The sound of running water floods your senses, Amy taking on the task to tackle the growing pile of dishes you’d left rotting in the sink from your evening meal. “I mean, does that mean it’s unreliable? Or is it just not giving you the answer you desire?”

You slam your laptop lid shut, resting your head on top of the heavy, black outer, buzzing your lips, “Maybe, I’m not right about everything.”

“No one’s right about everything honey, that’s just life. You’re letting the self-doubt flood your mind again,” she reminds you, your mind racing about the situation at hand.

You lean back in your chair, Amy coming over and massaging your shoulders, “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep. Take your mind off of things.”

You let out a deep breath, one you weren’t even aware you were holding in, “Yeah, probably for the best.”

You leave your laptop on the kitchen table, raising from your seat and dragging yourself to your bedroom. Throwing on your pyjamas, you head to the bathroom to complete your nightly skincare routine. However, the silence of the small apartment made your thoughts worse. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way, had these same exact questions. Although, there was nothing for him to worry about. He didn’t have the price of his whole entire job at stake.

By your own research, you also stumbled across articles of “breaching confidentiality,” which made sense to you. If you became a mother figure for one of your students, it would destroy the power dynamic. And with not many teaching roles available around the area, you couldn’t lose your one opportunity. An opportunity that you actually enjoyed.

You flop onto your bed, snuggle yourself underneath the silken sheets and try to let your mind wander into a weird dream that could never be explained. You needed a break before seeing his face again tomorrow.

The next two months felt like torture. Seeing his beautiful face, those gorgeous brown curls every morning and afternoon just made your crush on him intensify. And not only that, but Alena was improving in Math. He listened to you. Not only was he an extremely attractive guy, but he was also an amazing dad. The most deadliest combination of them all.

And you would also be lying if you said if you didn’t spend at least a few times a week scouring the internet for the answer you wanted to your question. However, with every new response, it just directed you further away from your desired answer.

“Thank you for being such wonderful, respectful and kind students today! I’m proud of each and every one of you,” you say, a smile plastered on your face. “Now, as you all know, the Christmas Fayre is coming up next week! You have all been working so hard on forming your chocolate boxes. But, I will need a volunteer to help me run our stall, and that volunteer I was hoping for would be in the form of one of your guys’ parents! So, if you could be so kind as to ask them—”

However, your request is cut short by Alena’s hand shooting up in the air, her practically bouncing in her crossed-legged position, “Yes, Alena?”

“My daddy will help!” she beams.

If there was anyone you hoped wouldn’t offer, it would be her. But, how could you deny? She was a six-year-old kid, you couldn’t just tell her no because you couldn’t cope around her father who you also so happened to have a crush on.

“That’s very nice of you to offer Alena, but wouldn’t it be wise to ask your daddy first just to see whether he can make it?”

“Oh, I know he’s free!” she says straightforwardly, “He finishes work at 1 on a Friday, all he does for the afternoon is sit at home!”

“Okay,” you breathe out, clapping your hands together, “Stev— Alena’s daddy it is! Don’t worry the rest of you, it’s all sorted now! Now, who wants to go home?”

A chorus of “Me!” can be heard from the voices of the children sitting on the rug, you walking over to the window to check what parents had arrived, and sure enough, Steve was standing there patiently waiting. You can’t help but give him a small smile as he looks at you, waving his hand.

God, stop acting like a teenage girl.

You look down and compose yourself, calling over to Alena and Harry, his mom also there ready to collect him. Alena bumbles over to you, giggling away at nothing as she cheesily grins. “Okay honey, off you go. Have a great weekend!”

Steve is smiling as his daughter runs up to him, causing him to slightly stumble back as she races into his legs and hugs them tightly, “Good afternoon to you too Missus! How was your day?” he asks, grabbing her hand and leading her out to the school parking lot.

“Sooo good!” she jumps, “I got all my math problems right!”

“That’s great pumpkin! That extra homework really helped out, didn’t it? Miss. L/N is a genius!” he beams to his daughter, trying to hide the fact that he was just complimenting your intellect as a human being, rather than just in your profession.

“Uh huh! And then me and Timmy played Hopscotch and I won, of course,” she says sassily, putting her hand to her chest, making Steve laugh. He was proud she inherited his confidence in a positive way, he couldn’t bear to see his own family turn out the way he did in his schooling career.

“Oh, did you? Was Timmy just not up to your level? Doesn’t have that Harrington magic?”

“Nope!” she shouts, popping the ‘P,’ “And then I got ten out of ten in my spelling bee! And we got to do lots of drawing as it’s Friday and Miss. L/N lets us have lots of fun on a Friday!”

“Sounds like you had a very busy day then!” Steve says, lifting her into the front seat and putting her seatbelt on for her. Alena waits to answer, kicking her feet in her seat as Steve situates himself in the driver’s side.

“Yeah! And then at the end of the day, Miss. L/N talked about the Christmas Fayre and I said you could help her out!”

Steve almost chokes on his own spit, spluttering out, “You said that I could help?”

“Yeah! You always talk about how lonely you are on a Friday without me, so I thought you could help her out!”

“That’s very nice of you to offer sweet-cheeks, but I thought I was taking you around the Christmas Fayre next Friday? That way I wouldn’t be lonely without you!” Steve says, trying to find any way out of the inevitable trap his daughter had put him in. It’s not like she understood, how could he blame her?

“But Miss. L/N really needs help daddy. Pleaseeeee! Auntie Robin could take me instead and I would still see you.”

He knew she was right. But, he may have found his one-way ticket out of the task, “But, sweetie, Robin works until two on a Friday, remember? She may be too busy.” She better be fucking busy.

“Can you just ask her daddy? Pleaseeeee!” she drags out, Steve caving into his daughter’s cuteness.

“Okay, okay,” he sighs out, “But, just keep in mind she may say no, okay?”

“Oh, I’d be happy to take her,” Robin smiles, Steve hearing the smirk in her tone through the receiver.

“Robin, that was a rhetorical question, I want you to say no. For the love of God say no,” Steve begs, knowing his best friend was fully aware of his crush on you. The countless hours of him both down the phone and in person rambling away about how beautiful you were, Robin soon picking up on the cues, and then her teasing him relentlessly about it was still going strong.

“Oh, poor Stevie can’t handle spending some time alone with his daughter’s teacher,” she whines dramatically, Steve rolling his eyes.

“I know you think you’re being funny Robin, but that is the exact mess I am in. How am I meant to stand there and run a fucking Christmas stall with her when she is the most gorgeous woman in the world?”

“You just gotta be yourself,” she laughs, telling him her signature advice, knowing that it has never helped him in the past.

“Stop with that bullshit Robin, you and I both know that neither of us have ever followed it,” he admits with a shake of his head, “Look, can’t you just say that you and Vickie have a date or something?”

“We’ve been together for eight years, Steve. You think we still plan weekly date nights? We’re almost thirty, you know,” Robin reminds him, the idea of the couple scheduling time out for romanticism seeming utterly ridiculous.

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he complains, ignoring the fact that he was one year away from hitting thirty, “Right, I’m gonna call in Lena, just make up some excuse please, okay? She’s six, she’ll believe literally anything.”

“Fine,” Robin agrees, ��Your loss dude.”

After Steve shouts Alena’s name, she comes running in, feet pattering against the wooden floor, “Auntie Robin is on the phone, she has something to tell you,” Steve says, passing the phone down to her smaller height.

“Hello?”

“Hi Auntie Robin!”

“Yeah?”

“Really?”

“Thank you!”

“Okay, byeee!”

Steve notices Alena’s pitch get higher as each word was spoken, her attitude getting happier and happier. Robin had definitely told her the truth.

As Alena passes the phone back, Steve quietly thanks her as she patters back to her bedroom, him raising the phone back to his ear, “You told her you could take her, didn’t you?”

“Uh huh!” Robin cheerfully replies.

Steve shakes his head in annoyance, “I hate you.”

“I know.”

After you had gotten all the kids with their parents, it was time for you to tackle setting up the stall. As previously told, Robin had collected Alena and Steve should be arriving any minute. The school had already set up the tables for every class, so all you had to do was transport the chocolate boxes over to your designated table.

A faint knock can be heard on your classroom door as you spin around, Steve standing there sheepishly, waving to you.

You giggle to yourself, “You can come in, you know? We’re technically out of hours, you don’t need to stand around like a lost puppy.”

He puts his hands up in defense, making his way over to you, “Nothing wrong with some good old fashioned manners.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” you smile, “Thank you for coming by the way, Alena was persistent on you being the parent to help out.”

“If you think she was persistent here, you should’ve heard her in my car that afternoon: ‘Daddy please help out Miss. L/N, she really needs it,’” he says in a baby voice, upping his pitch to match the tone of his mini-me.

You laugh at his impression, “She’s a character, that’s for sure,” you reply, before explaining the situation, “Okay, so the kids made a bunch of chocolate boxes. I’m gonna sell them for $1.50 a box purely for the array of brands. My bank account is currently punishing me, but that’s okay.”

“Wait, you bought all the chocolate yourself?” Steve queries.

You sigh, “Yeah, but it’s no problem, really. It was a great way of combining learning with fun. As you can see, all the outside boxes are decorated differently, so it was good to factor in their knowledge of shapes along with some artsy work.”

“You know, if you asked the parents, I would’ve happily chipped in with a few bars of Hershey’s,” he honestly admits, copying you as you begin to pick up some of the chocolate boxes.

You shake your head, heading out of your classroom and down towards the main hall, “Honestly, it’s nothing. That’s the kind of thing you sacrifice for being a teacher. We’re underpaid as it is, our wages not factoring in this entire classroom decoration business, so $10 worth of chocolate bars wasn’t breaking the bank too much. Actual Christmas shopping is the real breaker,” you softly laugh.

There it was again: that kindness. You would do anything for those kids, anything to make them happy, to allow them to enjoy school. Even if it meant dipping into your own savings. That was admirable.

You arrive at your designated table, “Okay, so just line them up in a way that makes them easy to see. No need for any fancy order or anything,” you explain, “There’s thirty boxes altogether, so don’t spread them too far apart. The table is pretty small after all.”

“You got it,” he replies, laying out the items on the red cloth-covered table, as do you, before you both walk back to the classroom and repeat your actions.

Once you have completed your task, you take a seat on the chairs that the staff had so kindly laid out for you beforehand. You breathe out, “Now time to relax.”

Steve checks the watch perched on his left wrist, “What time does this thing start again?”

“2:30,” you tell him, further adding, “I got lucky in the sense that I only had to lay out these boxes. I know other grades made snowmen and other decorations, or fourth grade did the classic antiques stall where they get the kids to bring in old or unused items from home. And then, of course, we have our lovely outside visitors who are doing the raffle, hook a duck, stuff like that. We also have to give the cafeteria staff enough time to prepare food since this is going on until 5pm. Oh, that reminds me, I bet Alena didn’t tell you how long this was on for!”

He smiles, thinking to himself how you cute you were when you rambled, “I think you forget it was on the flyer you gave out to the kids.”

You laugh in an embarrassed manner, hiding your face behind your hands, “Sorry. I genuinely forget that sometimes you are just a parent of one of my students. Like, as I’m talking to you right now, it just feels like I’m talking to a regular guy, you know?”

He softly chuckles, “I understand. I mean, I always feel like I’m just talking to a pretty girl instead of my daughter’s teacher.”

You become rendered speechless. Did he just say what you thought he said?

“You… You think I’m pretty?” you tenderly question, making sure you weren’t living inside of your own fantasy world.

Steve fumbles over his words, “I, um…” before he shakes his head, “What the hell am I lying for? Uh, yes. Yes I do think you look… pretty.” He looks down at his lap, twiddling his own thumbs as he awaits the ultimate rejection. You can’t just say that stuff to her, no matter how much it’s true.

You blush at his compliment, internally thanking yourself that you weren’t imagining his feelings back, “Thank you… You look handsome too.”

She’s just saying it to be nice. She’s just saying it to be nice. She’s just saying it to be nice.

“Um… Thanks.”

But, now that it was reciprocated, you began burying yourself into a deeper hole: the questions. The questions answered no. You can’t date him. You could lose everything. You couldn’t lose your job over a stupid boy. A handsome boy. A nice boy. A kind, sweet… caring boy. Could you?

An hour into the event and half the chocolate boxes were already sold. You had been doing the same stall for the past two years, the idea coming to you your first year of teaching after talking to another teacher about Christmas gifts. But, it had never sold this fast. Although, you noticed by the body language of some parents that Steve’s charm and looks were playing a major part in the quick selling. But, he had charmed you, so who were you to judge?

You were out of earshot and attending to another customer as Robin and Alena approached the stall, Alena shouting, “Daddy!” Steve’s facing lighting up with delight.

“Hey pumpkin! How’s it been so far?”

She giggles and bounces in her spot, “Soooo good! Robin got me some candyfloss and I had a hot chocolate. But, I got too excited and burnt my mouth. But, it didn’t hurt too much and I drank the whole thing!”

“The sugars definitely had an effect on someone, hasn’t it?” he says, lifting his eyebrows at Robin, giving her an accusatory look.

She scoffs at him, “Give her a break, it’s Christmas. Plus, I think we have better things to be talking about,” she smirks, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He sighs, “She already called me handsome because my big ass mouth couldn’t shut up and told her that she looks pretty right to her face,” he mentally facepalms himself.

Robin grins at him, “Well, that’s perfect!”

“What do you mean?”

“Dude, are you kidding?” she asks, “She complimented you back after you complimented her. She literally reciprocated back. Girls don’t do that for no reason.”

“Robin, you don’t even like men.”

She looks at him dumbfounded, “Straights and lesbians aren’t that different, you dingus. We still react the same way when it comes to someone who likes us.”

“Whatever you say,” he replies, trying to ignore his best friend’s advice.

“I’m just saying, give it a shot,” she says, “At least if you get rejected, you can move on. I’ve had enough of you love-dumping about her down the phone.”

“Hey,” he points a finger at her, “This is payback for when you wouldn’t shut up about Vickie in your senior year.”

“And we’re still happily in love eight years later, so who’s the real loser here, Harrington?”

He rolls his eyes at her, Robin copying his action as you become free from the previous customer, tending to Alena.

Steve licks his lips as he thinks to himself: God, maybe Robin is right. What else has he got left to lose? A million girls rejected him during and after high school, that’s only another one to add to the never-ending list, right?

The event ended a little later than expected, a remaining two chocolate boxes left for you and Steve to carry back to your classroom, leaving the pot of money on the table for the staff to collect and count up.

“Thank you for helping out, you don’t understand how grateful I am. It’s much easier to sell products when there’s two people doing the convincing,” you say with a soft laugh to your tone.

He buzzes his lips and waves his hand, “It’s nothing, trust me. I would’ve been doing nothing all afternoon if I wasn’t here.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “Alena told me that last Friday.”

“She did?” he asks with a smile, you nodding along, “The cheeky little shit.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that when she said it. Like, damn girl, really outing your father’s loneliness like that,” you laugh, “Kids are so brutally honest, I love it.”

“Yeah, Alena’s definitely a straightforward kid, that’s for sure.”

A delicate smile crosses your face as you lift up a chocolate box to him, “For you.”

He takes it out of your hands, questioning, “Are you sure? You don’t need them for anything else?”

You shake your head sadly, “No. All the school does with unsold items is keep them in storage until next year or throw them in the trash. So, for food like this, it’ll get put in the trash unfortunately.”

He sighs solemnly, “That’s kind of sad, if I’m being honest. Like, there’s kids crafts here. Why throw it away?”

“That’s what I’ve always said!” you quietly shout, your voice small enough to not disturb the silent atmosphere, yet loudly projecting to show your agreement, “Like, you only get so many memories of the children that pass through this school, why discard them as simply as that? It’s like they don’t appreciate the kids personalities and only see them as future employees.” You sigh whilst shaking your head, shoving the remaining chocolate box into your own bag, slinging it over your shoulder, “Anyway, I should get going home. I’m sure you wanna go and see Alena too.”

“Wait!” Steve yells, the word spilling out of his mouth before he has time to compose himself. Just you standing there, you looked so beautiful. Your eyes so soft as they look up at him, lips slightly parted as if you wanted to question him, yet you let him continue. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah…” you breathe out, “Anything.”

Steve shakes his hands, trying to jitter the nerves out of his body. It was now or never.

“God… This is gonna sound so forward, and I’m sorry, but… Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

It was like a knife to the chest, you letting out a shaky breath as you clutched the binder and notebook in your arms, looking down at the floor as you swallowed. You really wanted to say yes. God, it was like a fire burning within you to say yes. But, you had to make a choice. This job was forever, who knew the long-term circumstances of the potential relationship? Was it really worth it to put your hard-earned degree in the background to focus on a love that might not even last?

And it’s not that you didn’t trust it to last, you had a feeling deep inside you that told you that he was the right person. But, there’s always the saying: Right person, wrong time.

“Steve, I… I can’t, I’m sorry,” you reply, trying not to let the tears fall as you explain your reasoning, “It’s not you, I promise it’s not, it’s just… confidentiality, you know? Because of Alena, if we became a couple, I could get accused of a lot of shit, potentially even lose my job. And I’ve worked a long time to get here, and I can’t be throwing it away for a relationship. I’m really sorry, but… Yeah, that’s why.”

You look up at him, his face telling that he was heartbroken, him wanting so desperately for the answer to be yes. He knew it, you were just being polite.

“Yeah, I get it,” he mumbles out, convinced that your reasoning was a cover up for your lack of attraction, “I get it…”

“Again, I’m sorr—”

He cuts you off, “It’s fine…”

You sigh out, “Well… I have to head home, it’s getting late,” you say, him nodding along, still not making any eye contact with you, “Have a good Christmas, Steve.”

“Yeah… You too,” he replies, you turning your back and heading out of your classroom, not returning for another two weeks.

You stormed out to the parking lot, the night sky covering over, the stars twinkling away as you throw your bag into the passenger seat. You slam your door shut, breathing out, the tears now falling down your cheeks as you hit your steering wheel forcefully, screaming out, “Stupid fucking bullshit rules!”

You pull your car out of park, reversing and steering out of the lot. You try to drive as carefully as you can, the rush of anger coursing through your blood making it extremely difficult to stick to the road safety rules you were taught at sixteen.

After arriving home five minutes earlier than normal, your bad energy keeping you slightly above the required speed limit, you unlock the front door to your apartment, Amy not expected to return home for another two hours.

You throw your keys and bag on the kitchen counter, grabbing your laptop and speeding to your room. You open up the lid and once again type in, ‘Can a teacher date a student’s parent?’

“Come on… Come on… Please, please!” you yell, your body shaking as you frantically search the web for the answer you so desperately require. There had to be some way around this. You couldn’t let this slip through your fingers.

Wouldn’t advise.

Strong discourage.

Do not do this.

Definitely no.

You scream as you throw your laptop away from you, crying out, “Just give me the fucking answer!”

But, that was the issue. That was the answer. No amount of wishful thinking would change that. You couldn’t date Steve Harrington.

everything got a little bit angsty towards the end, but that's what makes a good fic, right?

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 comment if you want to be added!!

→ next chapter.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble #dad!steve harrington #singledad!steve harrington #eds6ngel #stranger things

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blingblong55 · 1 year

Text

Things said-141(and some more characters)

If you watched Ja'mie the private school girl I love you!

Pt2 to this post

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

R/n and ghost have a friendship where they basically share 1 brain cell every time they're together, this time its no different. They call for a meeting where they share their recent topic, basically 141 is forced to agree with their 'beliefs'

R/n: we'll be there for each other, like if one of us *nudges at ghost* got depression and wanted to k!ll themselves..

Ghost: then we as part of the 141 slayers promise, (name reader gave the team) we'll kill ourselves

R/n: yeah

Gaz: I didn't know it was that extreme

R/n: yeah it is

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap: where the fuck is my Coke Zero?

R/n and Ghost stare in silence

Soap to König: did you drink it?

*soap closes fridge and walks away*

Soap: fuck my life

König *clueless*: I ate a bread this mornin' it was amazing (please imagine him in his funny excited accent)

R/n: you're unique König

Soap: don't touch my Coke Zero! *in his harsh Scott accent*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Price, soap and r/n are having a meeting in private. Soap logged in to readers laptop and saw a folder with pictures of gaz. (Folders title was: "My pookie bear")

R/n: how did you even get in?

Soap: isn't your password, gazmylover69?

R/n: little bitch

Price: r/n *in a stern tone*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Price found out that r/n was trying to sell König on eBay for 14£, and Ghost was the buyer.

Price: the two of you are just as bad as each other, I'm disgusted

Ghost: good

R/n: *under their breath* next time I'll sell you

König is sitting outside waiting for the mailman

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Roach is now in charge of teaching r/n how to drive, this is after they 'accidentally' ran soap over. (he called r/n a little brit that looked like King Charles left butt cheek)

Gaz, Ghost, and alejandro are in the backseat. Roach, passenger and r/n driver seat.

R/n: why isn't the car moving?

Roach: because the hand brake is still on

R/n: well take the hand brake off!!....

Roach: r/n-

R/n: I told you to take it off before I get in!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap was named "best soldier of the week" this includes a medal price custom made. R/n is pissed that he got it.

R/n: what I'm accusing you of is awarding the medal to a dumb fat Scott,

price: here we go again*under his breath*

r/n: when the most incredible soldier to ever grace this base, is being completely ignored

price: roll the tears *under his breath*

r/n: and treated like their the scum of the earth!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rudy and r/n grew up together. But after he told them they weren't allowed to date anyone from 141 they got mad at him.

Rudy: no, its a final decision

r/n: just because Valeria ditched you for ale back in the day doesn't mean I can't get some

Rudy: you're just saying none sense

r/n: nonsense my ass

Rudy: no dating, no nothing

R/n: I wished I fucking drowned you as a child

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's no secret that König is crushing on r/n. However the feelings aren't mutual, because reader adores Price. This happened today after sparring.

R/n and König are sat in some stairs, resting from todays training.

König and reader are sitting side by side, he leaned in to kiss their cheek, this was the reaction he got:

R/n: okay..okay..so that was weird...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Soap is helping r/n, they've been feeling a little low today. He was sitting in bed with them. Reader has been under their blanket all day

R/n: pass me my book please

Soap tries to give them their book but teases reader in the process. Reader is trying to reach for it but soap is really enjoying himself.

R/n: give me it! I've got clinical depression you fucking idiot!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I hope you all liked this one! and yes it was all inspired by that show. If you want a part to lmk! ?<3

Tags: @piece-of-shit-outlaw

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aew-kun-age-regression · 5 months

Note

hiii i was wondering if you had any thoughts on how price or soap from COD would be as cg's with a sick little like they have a small cold? (i've been thinkin bout it cause it's tha season i have one lol) it's ok if not! -🐻

(PS, i hope you're doin good :D)

Hiii 🐻!!! M hoping these okay as I'm feeling small an these are kinda just general sick ones not just focusing on a cold as I've been feeling really unwell 😅 I done Price, Soap, Ghost and Gaz for these.

John Price

Price is such a papa an I definitely thinks he knows all the best remedies to feel better.

He would gives you all the cuddles!!!

If you get sad or slip younger when sick (like I do) he will come up with brilliant ideas to distract you, this might be watching a movie or show or doing some low effort arts and crafts.

Makes you your comfort food.

He makes sure there are always tissues, a bucket, water. Anything you might need near by to where the two of you are camping out, be that bed or the sofa, he is prepared for whatever the situation.

Big time encourager of naps to help you get better.

Johnny 'Soap' McTavish

I feel like Soap would definitely makes lots of jokes to start with about not wanting to get sick from you but he would also then quickly go against anything and everything he said by cuddling up with you.

Plays/fusses your hair.

Soap has definitely messaged or phoned Price for advice before. "What medicine should I give them" vibes.

Trys to keep you excited, he doesn't want to to feel down whilst sick :(

When he realises your sick pretty much the first thing he does is go and get supplies. (He was not at all prepared and definitely panicked when you mentioned not feeling well.)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Ghost is very subtle with his affection. Now that's definitely not to say that he doesn't care but he is less out going about it over the others.

Sits with you, when you fall asleep he'll stay up for a while to make sure your definitely okay. Leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead once you've fallen asleep >

I feel like Ghost would make brilliant soup if you wanted it.

The definition of "you shouldn't be moving about so much if you're not feeling well kiddo. Why don't we watch something?"

He really just wants to make sure you're resting so you get better as soon as possible.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

As for Gaz I definitely see him panicking a bit. Logically he knows you'll be absolutely fine but he hates seeing you sick and unhappy.

He basically just sticks by your side the whole time your sick.

He will bring small toys to where you're resting. (This has ended with you falling asleep with a few toys practically still in your hand as the two of you were playing before hand.)

Watching shows/movies on his tablet/laptop/phone. Again this usually happens until you fall asleep 😂

#agere blog #sfw agere #sfw littlespace #sfw little post #little space #agere little #aewlittlerambles #sfw little community #aewlittleheadcannons #cod agere #call of duty agere #caregiver!john price #caregiver!captain price #caregiver!soap mctavish #caregiver!john mactavish #caregiver!simon riley #caregiver!ghost #caregiver!gaz #caregiver!kyle Garrick

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estellaluna · 4 months

Text

when words fail, music speaks

Gwynriel college au

Warnings: None just pure fluff

Summary: Gwyn asks Azriel for a big favor.

words: 1.7k

"A hundred bucks. Take it or leave it."

Azriel smirked as he shook his head, making Gwyn roll her eyes in frustration. It has been 45 minutes since Gwyn started persuading Azriel to sing with her at an open mic event at the cafe near their campus on Saturday.

“Gwyn, love, look. If you’re going to have me sing in front of many people, probably even in front of some people we might know from campus. I might need a lot more than a hundred bucks,” Azriel said, propping his chin on his hand as he looked directly at Gwyn’s teal eyes.

“Fine! Name your price,” she replied.

Azriel stared a little bit longer, a few seconds to minutes until he finally opened his mouth again.

“I’ll think about it,” he said with a low chuckle, earning him a frustrated groan from Gwyn and a loud come oooon. He just smiled before turning his attention back to his computer.

Azriel and Gwyn have been friends since freshman year in college. They used to be only acquaintances from high school but when Cassian and Nesta started dating in their first year in college, the two became closer and soon became best friends. Gwyneth Berdara’s name is sort of a big deal around the university. She’s always known for her looks and her angelic voice. She is always viewed as the sweet girl, which is true most of the time, but not entirely from Azriel’s point of view.

Being friends with Gwyn made Azriel learn a lot about Gwyn’s personality. First, she is unbelievably competitive in any way. She also talks a lot about her favorite bands, her favorite books, her secrets, and hobbies that people are not aware of. She is really supportive of her friends. She sleep-talks quite often—Azriel has an album in his phone full of videos of her sleep-talking. All of these little things Azriel knew about Gwyn made him a little proud in some way.

“But are you really going to do it?” Gwyn asked once again, her head popping up beside his laptop screen.

“Yes, Gwyn.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

“Don’t let me down,” she said.

“I won’t let you down. You know I’m always true to my words,” he replied, looking at her. There is a huge smile etched on her face as he utters his words. He loves that smile—probably more than anyone else.

“You’re the best. I love you. See you later!” she said before leaving the study room they were in. He was left dumbfounded inside the study room recalling what she just said. Saying I love you to each other was normal to them, except recently when Azriel found himself yearning for her and her I love yous.

~~~

It was Saturday, and just like what Gwyn and Azriel talked about, they met inside the cafe for the open mic event. There were quite a lot of people, some were familiar faces, some were probably just there for the coffee, and some were probably there just to watch. The staff of the coffeehouse were preparing the little podium with two microphones and two guitars.

“I already signed up our names,” Gwyn said.

“You good?” Azriel asked as he pulled her cold hands towards him. Gwyn nodded.

Last night, they decided to change the songs they were going to perform. They both decided to sing the song Gwyn made not long ago. It was a silly song about friends falling in love with each other.

“You remember the chords?” Gwyn asked.

“G, D/F, E minor 7, C add 9.”

“Let’s do this?”

“Let’s fucking do this,” Azriel answered and Gwyn smiled.

They both made their way up to the little podium with neon lights all over. There was a sign behind the podium that said open mic night. Some of the people, mostly students from the campus recognized Azriel, and some were shocked that he was at an open mic event. He was also quite popular because of his friends. Although he was infamous for being cold and his unwelcoming aura. Unlike his other friends, Rhys and Cassian, Azriel is the only one who has a sort of unpleasant reputation.

“Hello everyone!” Gwyn said with her usual bubbly tone that earned her some greetings from the people as well. Azriel passed her the other guitar and placed the capo on the 3rd fret.

“My name is Gwyn…” Gwyn said, looking at Azriel beside her.

“And I am Azriel, her best friend.” The crowd cheered, some were whistling.

“Uhm…I actually just dragged him here tonight to sing the song I wrote recently,” Gwyn said with a chuckle.

“What’s the title of your song?” someone from the crowd asked.

“It’s called I don’t want to fall in love unless it’s you. It’s a song about…” Gwyn took a deep breath as if preparing herself to say something she had been meaning to say for a long time. “It’s about a girl confessing her love for someone special to her,” she added.

The crowd cheered once again. She heard someone ask if the song was about him but she just smiled and started strumming. She closed her eyes and the memories from the time she was writing the lyrics burst into her. She pictured the beautiful face of the man sitting beside her right now, playing the guitar.

Truth is, she asked him to come with her tonight to formally let him know what she has felt for him for quite some time now. She tried to tell him, but words always intimidated her, and she realized that the only way she could say her feelings out loud was through music. She imagined the time they became friends, the times he comforted her every time she got upset with academics or things about her life, the times he stayed up late to study for her exams, their shenanigans, the many times she told him I love you, hoping he would get the deeper meaning of it.

Her heart beat a little bit louder as they approached the bridge of the song. There is quite a long guitar solo at the bridge of the song, and she thought it was the perfect time for her to tell him, and everyone in the coffeehouse tonight, to say what she wanted to say.

“I hope everybody’s enjoying the song right now. Before I end this song, I just want to tell you something very important.” She switched her gaze to Azriel who was now very much confused but he continued to strum the guitar. She flashed him a smile before taking a breath in.

“Do you know a quote that goes, ‘When words fail, music speaks?’ To the person who asked earlier if this song is about this beautiful man beside me right now, my answer is yes. I am the type of person who always falters with her words, and music is my escape.”

Gwyn kept her attention to the crowd. “So, Azriel I know you are looking at me right now like I am the biggest idiot for confessing this way, but bear with me a moment until I finish this song…” she said and continued strumming and singing her heart out.

There was a pause after she finished the song then it was the people in the coffeehouse cheering and urging Azriel to say something. She looked at him, her face almost red, her heart racing unusually fast, her hands shaking as she put down the guitar.

Please say something, she prayed.

Azriel cleared his throat. “The reason why I agreed to this is because she bribed me with her ‘name your price’ tactic. But because I always liked teasing her, I told her that I’d think about it.”

He shifted his eye to her. “I guess I’m ready to tell you my price,” he said.

“What is it?”

“Gwyneth Berdara, go on a date with me. And what I mean by that is not only one date. Not two, not three. Go on a date with me until we’re both sick of it. Are you down?”

The crowd grew louder. “Fuck yeah! My lovesick brother finally had his balls!” Cassian, who suddenly appeared from the crowd shouted. Gwyn laughed and covered her face.

Azriel gently removed her hands from her face and whispered something. “Please say something, Gwyn.”

Gwyn just nodded, unable to formulate her words. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tight as possible, not wanting to let him go anytime soon, but they were still on the podium. She felt him kiss the top of her head like he always does but this time it felt different. It felt better.

~~~

After their performance, they both decided to get out of the coffeehouse to stroll around the college town. Azriel couldn’t keep his hands off her which she didn’t protest to. Gwyn likes his touches. His fingers intertwined with his fingers as they stopped below a sidewalk lamp.

“You said earlier something like until we are sick of it,” Gwyn said looking up to meet Azriel’s gaze.

“Hmm?” he murmured, tucking some strands of Gwyn’s hair behind her ear.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get sick of going out with you.”

“So do I, Gwyn,” Azriel said, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose.

His other hand went to hold her nape. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, barely a whisper.

She only nodded before he planted his lips onto hers. It was quick and soft. Her heart began palpitating. He never fails to make her heart burst into happiness and she loved every bit of it. His hand went up to her nape only to capture her lips again, this time deeper and with much more fervor.

Gwyn pulled away, giving Azriel a smile.

“You’re a great kisser, Azriel. I wonder how many girls you kissed to be that good.”

“Are you kidding me? Are you really curious about that now?”

“Gotta thank them because damn I get to kiss all of that every time? For me alone?” she laughed.

Azriel chuckled. “Sure you do. All of this is yours alone, love,” he said gesturing his body from head to toe.

Gwyn laughed again before diving in for another kiss.

#gwynriel #gwyn berdara #gwyn x azriel #azriel #gwynriel headcanon #pro gwynriel #gwynriel au #unbeta'd

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 6 months

Text

Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)

Chapter 7: The Lengths That I Will Go

Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.

You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same.

Chapter 6 // Masterlist // Gif Credit // AO3 Version // Chapter 8

Left eye swollen shut, you spat out the blood that had seeped into your crooked mouth and tried not to think about how your dentist was gonna look at you if you needed another tooth replacing. Your captor took time away from your face to exploit your ribs, which you were certain had transitioned from bruised to broken thanks to the knuckleduster he had slipped on just minutes ago. You’d been counting them for the sake of passing the time. All that torture training resurfaced for the first time in a eight months, and you resolved yourself to the pain – your only ally besides the inside of the hood that allowed splinters of light through the minute gaps in the woven fabric.

First rule: never give your captor anything.

Second rule: give into insanity.

It didn’t matter how many of your team survived right now. Because if you imagined hope for a fraction of a second, imagined that they were coming for you, you had something to be broken by and you would not be broken by this. Right now, you didn’t know how many of your team had made it. You could afford to lose yourself. Therapy would bring you back-

No, stop it. No therapy, no hope, this is it.

And you knew why it was harder to compartmentalise this time than last year. You’d let your emotions slip out before you were out of the storm, let yourself get so damn sentimental over Price and your history together. Now, instead of having a good cry about it in your office or sleeping off the stress on a flight home, you were stuck here with a fucking bag on your head and injuries that would only aid your captor’s attempts to chip away at your resolve.

Your eyes had dried about two hours in, no room for instinct amidst the flourishing bruises and ringing ears. Tears had dried up with the blood staining your skin and soaked the hood; every punch no doubt cracked the blood into flakes.

Mercifully you were lifted under the armpits and dragged across the floor. You counted two doors opening and closing and an elevator in between, the concrete cutting off to mosaic tiles that trapped and tripped the toes of your boots that grazed over them. Only when the dragging stopped and you were forced stand up was the hood removed from you. At last you got a look at your captor – incredibly unremarkable compared to the man you both shared a room with.

Čiernik was laughably attempting to position a webcam atop an ancient laptop in the corner. As you were forced to stand in the centre of the room, he moved aside and you stared down at the monitor where someone was depicted staring with their gormless face smeared in blood.

Oh. That was you.

Your zip ties snapped off your wrists, but you didn’t start swinging because another prisoner was being shoved in front of you and you could tell from the uniform who it would be.

A similar state of affairs, Price had his hands in zip-ties, his shirt already removed and the sack on his head taken off shortly after. His absent boonie bared his face beneath the low hanging light bulbs. A stream of blood ran from his temple to his bushy jaw. Somewhere inside of you, there was a discordant pang. You ignored it and slow blinked at the corner of the room above his head where a few strands of spider web swayed in the air-conditioning’s flow.

“You will fight,” Čiernik stated.

Sluggishly, you looked at him. He was pointing, rather comically, at the laptop where he’d switched to another tab. Bronze was depicted upon it, breathing to your relief but it looked to be a massive effort on his part. Head slumped over, he was held under the armpits by two gruff looking bastards. He’d been stripped to his under shirt, more brown than white around the tear where he’d been shot.

“You will fight,” repeated Čiernik as Price’s zip-ties came off.

As you returned your stare to your would-be opponent, Price mouthed something at you and he put up his hands, gesturing for you to come at him. You didn’t catch what he was trying to tell you. Instead your head, with its defences lowered, filled itself with memories of easier times, how Price always beat you in sparring. Closest you ever came was drawing, both of you pinned in a position of pain and neither of you tapping out until your commanding officer at the time demanded you both let go. He was the best. Best of the best.

Your left eye, stinging and sealed off, was throwing off your depth perception as you swayed on the spot, fists up. Čiernik’s crooked glee

Hit first and hit hard.

You landed a solid blow to the side of Price’s head, sending him stumbling. Bloody saliva fell from his lips, splattering onto the ground as you threw another punch and crushed his fingers beneath your boot. If he didn’t have a concussion from before, he definitely did now. Something stirred gleefully in your stomach at that.

Finally, he met your attacks with defence, locking you into a grappled and hunched over stance. You shook it off, trying to keep up the charade of fighting your friend. He wasn’t going easy but neither were you, smashing your skull heard into twice before he swung you around and onto the floor. Your feet skidded on the concrete like you were on ice.

“What the hell is this?” The authoritative American accent from across the room came through glitching as it emitted from shitty laptop speakers. Čiernik spun round to face the laptop.

“You bomb my men and think you can get away with it?” His sneering face moved close to the webcam’s lens, “You want them? You come and get them yourself.”

Then he muted the caller. But you’d already pieced together who it was and why Čiernik was Zoom-ing your forced fisticuff.

Two menforced you and Price to face one another, an inch apart like you were pitbulls in a ring, growling and snapping teeth, their hands tugging back your heads like leashes.

When you heard John on the radio, the day that he died, you knew how Orpheus felt in that split second of distrust and relief at seeing Eurydice there, just a fragment of time as he shouted down the radio then let out a cry and was cut off from you, sealing you apart with Price in the Underworld and you cursed to remain on the mortal coil forever. Now you were stuck in Purgatory together without a obol between you to get you out of here.

“I only need one Captain to make a deal with. Keep going.”

On Čiernik’s command, you were both released to continue the brawl. A high-pitched whine shot through your head as Price slammed his fist to your chin. His turn for “hit first and hit hard”, it would seem. Your trousers started sliding down your hips and you grasped at your arm where a rag replaced your makeshift tourniquet. Hiking the trousers back up, you launched yourself at him and swiped at his legs to knock him off his feet.

You should be biting his ear off or digging his eyes out, reshaping his face like it was made of clay beyond a few punches. Your teeth were gritted in your jaw in an attempt to satiate your sudden bloodlust. A burning desire to strike him over and over was stoked strong inside of you. But somehow you were holding back, and so was Price. Even as he got you in a headlock, breathing hard against your ear, spit splashing on your lobe, he could’ve done so much worse than the knee to the chest you received. Could’ve used his boots for a start or aimed for something more juicy, like where the sledgehammer had gotten you. It still hurt like a son of a bitch yet it could’ve been a direct hit. He was holding out hope, making you do the same, and it was putting you both in more danger.

Heard over a painful cry, the sound of the door flung open snatched your attention. A spewing smoke canister bounced off your bullet wound and onto the floor as you seized Price around the middle – away from a lunging Čiernik.

Unceremoniously, you were both hauled away from the smoke and into a blinding light.Your blurred vision pieced together Gaz and Crash barricading the door behind you. Bullets began denting the metal hull of the doorframe. You swung your head around to find Ghost, his hand just now removing itself from your shoulder – sore from how he’d yanked you in his rescue.

“Good to see you,” He said casually.

Crash pushed a pistol into your hands, “It’s not just the villa. It’s every villa. They’ve taken the whole town.”

Brain barely blunted by the shortest capture you’d ever faced, you recalled those papers with postcodes and house numbers, the ones you’d walked past without a single indication that you were already within the trap.

No wonder your team only just managed to catch onto Čiernik; Shepherd clocked him first, made him more obvious by soaking up his spread of occupation on the border of Russia.

“Can you shoot?”

“Sky’s still blue, right?” You tucked in the earpiece Crash handed you next, “They’ve got Bronze. Ghost, you and Gaz will clear the way for us. We’ll scout ahead for where she could be. She lost a lot of blood back at Shepherd’s villa. Price, you and Crash will cover our backs. Have we got an exit plan in place?”

“Laswell’s sending reinforcements. New exfil is twenty klicks south-south-west of the original.”

You didn’t ask why Soap was absent, or if Chance had made it out. No time.Reinforcements were swarming on your location.

First two rooms were left vacant but recently let if the bloodstains dragged across the stonework were anything to go by. All following rooms required a spray of bullets before checking it, your wound stinging more and more. But the shackles on the walls and the array of weapons on call told you this was a torture floor, and you had to find Bronze-

“I’ve got Bronze!”

You lurched around at where Ghost had called from. He already had Bronze over his shoulder. Time to bounce.

Crash took over on the lead, continuing onwards rather than backtracking. More of Čiernik’s arseholes were thrown at you from the staircase above so you had no choice but to spill out into the streets. All hopes that civilians wouldn’t be caught in any crossfire died back when Crash had revealed the expanse of Čiernik’s real estate reach. Your only hope was the row of parked car outside the back door. You pressed against the front tire, scanning in the rear-view mirror (ripped off from the vehicle for convenience) for a potential way out. You had two seconds to view the street before the mirror sparked out of your hand, shattered by a high calibre bullet just as Price finished the barricade, giving you a minute to get out of dodge.

“Manhole,” You told Gaz with a nod of your head to the right.

Gaz nodded back, “Cover me; I’ll get it open.”

Brave bastard, you were tempted to steal him from Price as he dodged hellfire to crowbar open the manhole cover. Ghost, Price, and Crash covered him well enough whilst Bronze slumped up beside you

He slurred out, “Cap?”

“Keep going, Bronze. We’re nearly out.”

“Huh,” He leant his head on your shoulder, making you wince internally, “Feel like we’ve been nearly out for hours.”

One by one, your colleagues funnelled down the hole while you covered him.Even with your left eye out of action, you managed to nail the bastards hunting you down, even with Ghost’s hulking figure drawing attention as he lowered Bronze down, until it was time to drag over the manhole behind you.

Through the sewer system, surprisingly amazing brickwork curving overhead. It wasn’t worth a damn fragment of your attention, even if half the team weren’t dragging barely conscious through a miles of shite. The static around your arm spread up your neck at the stench surrounding your team.

“Bronze?” You called out ahead without coughing on the stench.

“Still hear, Cap.” It came out faintly but he was still conscious, thank fuck.

“Crash?”

“Still goin’.”

“Gaz?”

“Alright here.”

“Ghost?”

“Not broken.”

“Price?”

“Still standing.”

Within the hour, you were overground once more in the arse-end of Nemšiná, having added an extra two klicks onto the journey if your calculations were right.

So it was a respite you welcomed when a hijacked van skidded over to your team with a grinning Scotsman in the left-hand driver’s side. Still, no Second Lieutenant in the passenger seat.

Your team loaded on quick and got out of the town quicker. Soap swerved around and looped back on himself three times whilst you and Crash administered first aid on Bronze, sewing him up to the best of your abilities against a rocky road. Then you arrived at the new exfil point with a Chinook ready to take your Sergeant to the nearest hospital. A bag of A Positive and a needle welcomed him aboard and you bade farewell for now.

A phone was stuffed into your grasp by a soldier in uniform you took a second to recognise – Odristan Special Forces. Thankfully you recognised the caller ID faster and addressed General Fernandez the second your voice reached the received.

“You broken, Captain?” He asked.

“Fit for duty, sir.”

“Your black box did its job perfectly.”

“Any news on Chance?”

“She’s been getting the rest of Sierra team ready for the final push.”

“Any other updates I should be aware of? Or can I check in with the team?”

“You’re free to go. This is still your op; they’ll follow your command.”

Fresh from capture and still calling the shots, you felt quite pleased with yourself for that. However there was little time for that kind of thing before the so-called final stretch. There was however time for a power nap and an energy bar before you started planning anything.

The rest of Sierra were bundled into a large camo green tent nearby, cleaning their weapons, arm wrestling, talking in hushed voices. The second you entered one of their sightlines, they rippled in a wave of standing to attention, their feet stomping like falling dominoes – including Chance who stood out by the hand she held over her abdominal.

“At ease,” You said firmly, “Carry on. Chance, a word.”

She almost trotted over to you with a drone under her arm, her voice low beneath the chatter of your team behind you. “Captain. You look like shit.”

Ignoring her comment, you asked, “How’s the gut?”

“In pieces, but I’ll live. You still good to finish this?”

“If you’re my eye in the sky,” You gestured to the drone then to her stomach, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“You too. Medical’s set up over there if you want to get yourself checked.”

You followed her suggestion. The last thing you needed was to charge into an assault then slipping on your own vomit, spinning in your nausea. And of course, the universe placed you in the bunk besides Price who was icing his jaw and his left knee.

He waited until you covered your left eye with an ice pack to speak: “You hit hard.”

“You hit like you’re riddled with arthritis.”

“Well, you did stand on my hand,” and Price held up his hand, wiggling his fingers to display the lack of tape and gauze. You hadn’t broken a thing.

That angered you more than anything that transpired in Čiernik’s basement. You channelled those sudden bubbles into a restrained reply:

“I’ll stamp harder next time.”

“And I’ll kick harder,” Price chuckled, leaning back into his ice pack. Against the plastic, you could see a faint purple amidst the red on his cheek.

How easily you were forgiven, it was almost insulting. Why couldn’t you do the same despite saying the contrary? Perhaps you could unpack that to your new therapist, that and your apparent fury that was just below the sealed surface that was still pushing up towards your throat. You swallowed hard as you fumbled in your pack for your spare watch. This was the final stretch. You just had to get through it then you could figure this out. Releasing the ice pack from your eye and laying back to balance it against your ribs, you rubbed at your wrist then slapped it with a sigh. Čiernik had stolen your watch.

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AN: Thank you again for your patience with this! I'm writing during half term so this is nearly finished and I can't wait to share it.

In other news, I saw "Boys from the Blackstuff" on Thursday and it was brilliant! I love live theatre so to see such a stunning production was a real privilege. Bonus points were seeing Barry perform (I was shaking with how good he was). Not only did I paint him as Yosser, but I met him at stage door and got to give that painting to him! He was very kind to my starstruck ass. I'll never shut up about it lmaoo

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Tag-list: @mockerycrow and @entertain-my-lvst

#john price x reader #john price #captain john price x reader #john price fanfic #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #cod #mw2 #cod x reader #my writing #r: gn #wc: >2k

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undressmewithyoureyes · 5 months

Text

Let There Be Light - Chapter Twenty Five

The living room was quiet when you and Ghost reentered. A part of you just wanted to stay in the shower holding onto him in your cold wet clothes. You and him both changed before going downstairs, not wanting to deal with wet clothes chaffing you and the risk of catching a cold.

Soap jumped off the couch and walked swiftly towards you. His arms outstretched until he collides with you and wraps you tightly in his arms. “You okay?” he asks. Feeling a bit awkward, you discreetly pull away from him.

“I’m fine Soap. Thank you,” giving him a small smile. Ghost places his palm on your back and gives a gentle push towards the living room. You take a few steps and feel his hand leave your body, but when you cock your head to the side, you see he is there talking to Soap.

“She going to be alright LT?” Soap asks Ghost. “You think she’s in danger here?”

“I don’t know Johnny. I’ve thought about that myself”. You tried to tune your ears to hear them better, but it sounded like a bunch of murmuring.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” you start out. Your voice a bit shaky – still trying to recover from your disassociating.

Ghost and Soap look at you and proceed to walk towards you. Everyone else patiently waits.

You take in a deep breath, “Personally, I feel like we need to lay low for a while”. Price goes to speak, but you hold your hand up to stop him, “I say this because Michael is a determined man. He doesn’t stop until he has what he wants, and he will burn the world down trying. He knows that I know about him, and that Trinity was a whole fucking lie to me. Trust me, I want nothing more than to rip his fucking eyes out of his head and shove them down his throat.”

Before you could speak, Laswell chimes in, “So what are you proposing Harley?”

“I don’t think its safe to stay here. I don’t know why; I just have this feeling that he knows where I am. Where we are, and I think it would be best to stay someone else off grid or at a military base that is heavily guarded until we can think of something.” You pause for a second, “One thing I do know, Michael will eventually make himself known. He doesn’t know how to stay quiet forever.” You chuckle to yourself, “The man has an ego he has to uphold.”

“Do you think he is still going to be in Vegas?” Gaz asks. You look over at him completely forgetting about that.

“No,” you say flat out. “He’s not going to risk it. He will have someone fill in for him or make some lame ass excuse at to why he cant be there”.

Soap walks past you and into the living room to sit on the couch, “So what do you think he has in mind?”

You rub your fingers through your hair, thinking before answering, “I don’t know. I feel like he is going to try and track me down. That would be his first step.”

Price readjusts himself in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest, “Do you think he knows you went into his computer that night?” Before you could answer, he asked another question, “Do you think he knew it was you the whole time?”

The question played in your mind over and over, “Theres no way he could have known it was me. My hair is a different color and he –“. Gaz cuts you off. “Harley, he sent another message.”

Your face goes pale, and the words slip out before you can stop them, “What does it say?” Gaz hadn’t opened the message yet but turns the laptop around so you can open it. Ghost grabs you by your arm and you look back at him, “Are you sure you want to do that?” Worry all over his face.

“I need to.”

You finger the mouse pad over to the message and tap twice. “It was your eyes. They have always been beautiful”. You swallow hard and your eyes grow wide. Ghost peers over your shoulder and goes to speak. You quickly hold a finger up to your lips signaling him to be quiet.

Everyone else looks at you confused. You reach over to Soap and grab a pen that he had on his vest and then grab the yellow envelope on the coffee table. You write ‘He’s listening to us’. You take the laptop from Gaz and turn it around for them to see and hold the envelope with your message up beside the laptop.

You throw the envelope to the coffee table and hold your finger to your lips signaling them the same thing you did to Ghost. You hand the laptop back to Gaz and squat down to the coffee table – writing something else on the envelope ‘We cant stay here’. You hold it up to everyone. Price nods in agreeance.

Price step towards you and whispers in your ear, “I know a place”.

“We need to take another vehicle just in case there is a tracker or bomb on that one,” you whisper back. Price nods and then goes around telling everyone the same thing. Everyone nods and starts making their way upstairs and downstairs to grab the things we need. Price and Laswell whisper to themselves, you assume about getting another vehicle down here to take you all wherever this new place is.

Ghost meets you upstairs in the bedroom and throws you your duffle bag. You pack your necessities and several changes of clothes. That’s not what you were concerned about – you wanted all the weaponry. You swing the duffle bag over your shoulder and head downstairs – Soap following behind you.

Soap and you both drop your bags by the front door, and he follows you downstairs. When you reach downstairs, he grabs you by your arm and spins you around to face him, “We’re not going to let anything happen to you,” he says dangerously close to your ear. You don’t say anything back but wrap your arms around him tightly and you feel his arms tightly around you as you whisper out, “I know”.

You let go of Soap and make your way to the armory – grabbing as many guns, grenades, flash bangs and smoke bombs as possible. You carefully place the guns in duffle bags and then the explosives in a separate duffle. Soap comes up behind you with a smaller duffle bag and you place the throwing knives in there.

Price makes his way down and sees all the stocked bags on the floor and leans in close to you and Soap, “Where were going, they have plenty of those.” You shrug your shoulders and reply back, “You can never have too many toys Captain.” He looks at you and grins wide.

“This is why I like you Harley,” Price whispers back at you. You nod your head and smile back. Price grabs the duffle bag with the guns, Soap carefully grabs the ones with the explosives, and they leave you with the small one with the throwing knives.

You all make your way back up to the main part of the house and put everything at the front door waiting for your next move from Price. Ghost comes down the stairs and over to you – setting his bag down and then hugging you.

“Are you okay?” he whispers in your ear. You nod your head and look at him with doe-like eyes. His eyes squint and you could tell that he was smiling behind his mask. “Good,” he says as he kisses the top of your forehead. The fabric of his mask brushing your skin.

Laswell comes over to you and Ghost, “The truck should be here in about fifteen minutes. We can load up there and then head to our destination.”

“Where are we going?” you quietly ask her.

“Price has people he knows not too far from here at a base. That’s all I know.” You could tell in her voice that she was nervous. As far as you knew, Laswell didn’t get dirty in the field like you and the rest of the guys did. As far as you knew, she was the person behind the computer calling the shots and collecting intel.

“I’m going to get me something to drink. Do you want anything?” you ask looking back from Ghost and Laswell. They both shake their heads ‘no’. You turn around and head towards the kitchen. You open the cabinet door by the sink and grab a glass. You walk over to the refrigerator and place the glass under the water dispenser and push.

You hear a faint knock at the door. “Trucks here,” Price whispers loudly. You remove the glass from the dispenser and take a drink. You hear talking at the door and right before you walked around the corner, you hear Ghost ask, “And how the fuck do you know her?”

You furrow your brows in confusion and walk around the corner. Ghost and Laswell were blocking your view of the person in the door. It wasn’t until you were parallel with the body in the doorway that your knees became weak and the sound of glass crashing against the floor echoed off the walls in the quiet house.

Ghost jerked his head towards you and watched all color drain from your face. You grab your chest as you stumble back, not being able to breathe. You flutter your eyes from the excess water – making your vision blurring. You go to speak, but no words came out. Soap catches you as you try to walk forward, but your knees buckle from underneath you. You grip Soaps arm and regain as much composure as you possibly can.

You take in a deep breath and one word flies out of your mouth, “Dad?”

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