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benedictscanvas · 4 months

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pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

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staenless · 1 month

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Steddie lunchbox fic I joked about but then people liked it so now I'm. I'm write it now.

"Hey, Munson!"

Eddie ducked his head down before the blow could hit. Tommy Hagan was one of those men who never outgrew his highschool jock phase, and seemed intent on dragging the rest of the world into his football role playing; not so gentle head smacking included.

He blow never came, instead the heavy metal thunk of a lunchbox landed on his desk. He chanced an eye open, and took in the neat black tin box, no two boxed which stacked perfectly and were secured in place with a patterned cloth. He opened the other eye and instead looked to Tommy, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"the missus packed it up for me," the younger man explained, his eyes off to the side where some co-workers were gathering to make lunch plans, "real pain if I'm honest, how about you take it off my hands for me?" Then he grinned down at Eddie and clapped his should, too hard, like they were regular old office pals.

It wasn't like they were office enemies, per se, but Eddie had a distaste of Tommy and while the feeling certainly seemed mutual they were srupid enough to let petty distaste interfere with their pay checks. Eddie would certainly never do Tommy any sort of favour if it wasn't by obligation to his working contract, and Tommy had certainly phrased this as if it was a favor so... So Eddie instinct screamed to rebuff him.

Except it was lunch time, and Eddie was hungry, and he hadn't packed his own lunch because his fridge had probably three things in it max and he couldn't afford to go out to eat since most of his paycheck had already been dolled out to rent, his uncle, his savings, and he only had money for absolute necessities. Even as he sat in indecision he could feel his stomach writhing and slithering in on itself. Shit, had he forgotten breakfast to?

"Sure," he responded, and then quickly tacked on,"man." There was a moment of silence that made Eddie feel like he ought to crack a joke, but Tommy seemed to decide for them both that was a bit chummy, even for his sports team larping. Instead he landed a solid whack, right where the last one had landed, then spun around and jogged to catch up with the other Alphas on their way out to lunch.

The office had emptied out in the span of their conversation and now cubicles sat still with their roller chains sprawled haphazardly as if evacuated in some emergency instead of a quick shuffle in hopes of skipping the worst of the lunchtime queues. Eddie decided to forgo the company cafeteria and instead snatched a pack of cigs out his backpack and scooped up the packed lunch. He could eat on the roof, since the fire doors alarm hadn't worked since he was hired and nobody bothered going up there in the heat of the day.

It wasn't that Eddie was exceptionally antisocial at work, or loathed ALL his coworkers. He actually had a few friends, Jeff and Gareth in the IT department would tolerate him during lunch breaks, and they'd even met up a few times outside of work. They were cool, he liked spending time with them, might even call them friends in a month or two. But spending all morning on the top floors, in marketing and branding and surrounded by other Alphas, Eddie probably wasn't much fun to be around at the moment.

The corporate world and Alphas went together like honey and ants. The opportunities to compete and peacock were nigh endless, not to mention doing well wouldn't net you a hefty income for some extra peacocking on the side. Eddie wasn't like that, his Alpha didn't operate that way. So much so even he had been surprised when his second puberty hit and he dropped fang and knot. The kids at school had snickered and called him a half-bit Alpha, while others said he only presented that way because his sole guardian was a lone omega. It had hurt at the time, but looking back Eddie couldn't help but laugh. Maybe he was a half-bit, maybe he presented wrong because of some base instinct to protect his uncle. He certainly didn't prance around like the other alphas did, bickering and shoving like little kids fighting over a toy.

But maybe that was the joke Tommy was playing on him, Eddie thought as he popped the lunchbox and saw the note sat neatly to the side. Maybe Eddie was too much of a bitch-Alpha to get a mate, while Tommy with all his flouncing and team player make belive had someone waiting at home, making him lunches and writing sweet love notes signed with a kiss. Maybe the joke was to give Eddie a taste of something he could never have.

Goodluck with work today, please bring home some avacados for guac. Love you - Steve.

Eddie stared at the note in his trembling hand. He could smell the omega- Steve - from where his lips had pressed to the paper. Unmated. Surprising, but not unusual. Plenty of couples got married first, then sealed the bite later on. Some Yuppie thing that Eddie was far too romantic to entertain. If you loved someone, wouldn't you want that commitment forever? But the again, Tommy and his sneer around the word "missus" gave Eddie the impression he wasnt the "forever" sort. Further more, a male Omega? Most people were somewhat hesitant to be associated with one, if not outright hostile to their very existence. Far too rare to be ordinary, and far too Omega to be respected male Omegas were almost never on an up and coming Alphas radar of potential mates.

Eddie slipped the note into his pants pocket, and lit his cigarette before turning back to the lunch box. Black oval tins, two stacked and tied with a floral cloth. A bento, he realised, he'd seen it on the cover of house and home in the checkout line. The hot new craze in lunchboxes. Tha made him snicker a little. The floral cloth seemed odd, and stuck out against the black metal. The material was smooth and soft, like brand new. Huh. The tins themselves had some scuff marks, and one had a dent on its edge that spoke of a life of use. He set them down, side by side, on the laid out cloth. It looked fancy, but also surprisingly homey and inviting. It looked delicious.

The Omega- Steve had outdone himself. The top tin contained two halves of a prego roll stuffed to bursting with marinated shredded chicken. The meat was cradled between lettuce leaves to keep the bread from going soggy, and Eddie could catch sight of some glistening tomatoe slices in there. The second tone had an orange, peeled with each slice individual cleaned of any white hairy bits and laid on a bed of some gummy fruit candy. Apple sliced were laid in a separate tin, still shinning with lemon juice and not a spot of brown to be seen. Slid neatly into the side, half hidden, has the familiar pink white of coconut ice for desert.

Eddie could feel his mouth watering. Holy shit, did Tommy eat like this everyday? And if he did what was wrong with him that he'd give it up for some second rate slop at a restaurant? Breathing deeply he could smell the food, but beneath that something else, something tempting. Steve, his hands delicately pulling the chicken from the bone, slicing the tomatoe, cradling the bread as he buttered it, his nails catching and pulling off every white part from the orange slices. His hard work, his effort, laid before Eddie like some sort of worshipful offing. He felt high when he bit down on the orange slice, the caress of it's soft inner skin along his gums, like a kiss. The burst of flavour on his tongue, sweetness invading his sense so all he could see was orange orange orange leaving the bitter taste of citrus. He could taste, most importantly, beneath it all. God he could taste Steve. He could taste his love.

"Oh, thanks man," Tommy didn't look up from his computer as he said it, just kept tying away. "No problem man," Eddie mumbled back, eyes fixed on the lunchbox and he's straightened it on the other alphas desk. Every crumb had been kicked up, every smear of sauce sucked away. But placed gently, reverently, back in the top box was the love note. Eddie wanted to give Steve something in return, to thank him for sharing something so magical, so special with him. In the end he'd decided against it, could work up the courage to indirectly challenge Tommy like that. Instead, he'd pressed his lips tightly to where Steve's had once been, before returning it to its rightful owner.

The words Love You sat nestled in the tin as Eddie walked away.

Part 2 exists now

#steddie #Idk is this something?#I should speak to my therapist about this but people wanted the fic instead and I am but a slave to commands #It's omegaverse cause I like giving Steve a pussy #Not proofread #I wrote it you read or no extra steps babbiiieeee

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 17 days

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I’m Sorry I Wasn’t Enough

Neteyam x reader

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader Mate

Warnings: Mentions of Arranged Marriage, violence, blood.

Summary: A year after your marriage you are looking back on things, more specifically your non existent relationship with your mate. When something happens and you’re in danger how will Neteyam react? Oh and you’re injured?

****************************************************

Today marked the one year anniversary of your bonding ceremony to the future oleykten of the omatikaya. One year and one month since your life had changed forever

Neteyam te Sully, son of Toruk Makto… your husband. You remember it like it was yesterday..

The war with the sky people had gotten increasingly difficult, Toruk makto had been meeting with your Grandfather to discuss a potential alliance between the clans to aid in the fight against the sky people.

It was a shock to all when your Grandfather said they would only help if there was a blood alliance. Meaning you, the sole heir were to be married to Neteyam, there clans heir.

It was a smart move for all parties involved on paper. A decision that would strengthen everyone, combining resources, combining armies, combining… well everything. But happiness for everyone else unfortunately meant the sacrifice for you and Neteyam.

Toruk Makto had asked you many times if you were alright with it, to which you politely said you were ready to do anything to aid the cause against the sky people.

It’s not like you could have said anything else.

Your parents were not alive to defend you, your grandfather was a good leader but couldn’t care less about your happiness. “Good leaders need to make sacrifices for the people.”

Neteyam understood the same thing. He also wanted nothing more than to prove himself.

So you both agreed without so much as having more than one conversation together.

Within a few days you had packed all your belongings and were mounting an Ikran. Your new life awaited you.

A month later you were mated before Eywa to Neteyam. Bonded in every way except the heart.

Neteyam wasn’t cruel no but he was… serious. The heavy burden of war on his responsible shoulders. He was civil with you. Spoke when nessesary to you but other than that… you barely ever saw him.

His days were either filled with preparing for raids or the raids himself and he would enter your home pod late when you were asleep and leave at first light.

The only time you ever felt any sort of emotion from him was during your first and only mating bond. Connecting your queues forced emotion to flow through the both of you, and he had been gentle and caring. But you realized soon after that that was a one time occurrence and that warmth was not a thing your mate was capable of.

Well at least not with you. He was caring with his family, you’d watched him interact with them from afar. He was careful not to show this side of him to many but you did manage to see it several times before he noticed you were there, then he’d swiftly mask his face.

You really didn’t understand his coldness. You were mated for life shouldn’t you both make an effort to at least be friends?

You tried to be someone he would proud to call his mate. You helped around the village, especially with the wounded, you made sure not to fight with anyone and keep a cool head. You did everything you could but he never saw you.. never saw your efforts.. even though you saw his.

Over the year you watched your mate. You grew to admire his strength and character. Perhaps that is why it hurt so much. You had feelings for a man who barely acknowledged your existence.

You let out a deep sigh. The trees of the forest were the only ever witnesses to your sorrow. You adjusted your net covering around you. It was getting colder, your old home never reached cool temperatures so you were not prepared for it.

You really didn’t have friends save for Neteyams siblings. And even there you didn’t spend that much time with them seeing how much trouble they liked to get into. You didn’t want to risk upsetting your mate.

You would admit that you were lonely however. When you weren’t needed in the village you spent your time exploring the never ending forest that was your home. You weren’t raised in one so you were always venturing out and exploring.

Today however due to your more than usual sadness, what with it being your anniversary and all you had walked further than you intended.

You paused your steps hearing several voices up ahead, what were Navi doing all the way out here?

You slowly crept closer to the sounds but made sure to stay hidden behind the trees.

Your eyes widened when you caught sight of the Navi- no Avatars that were clad in military gear and holding AR’s.

You carefully moved backwards until you were out of earshot.

You knew you had to tell your mate. They were clearly dangerous.

You felt for the weird contraption around your neck, you never had to use it before. You pressed down on it,

“N-neteyam?” You spoke shakily.

A few seconds passed before you heard a click. “Y/n…? Is that you?”

You could hear the slight confusion in his voice. At least he recognized you.

“Y-yes um, I’m out in the forest and there’s these Avatars… but they don’t look normal, they are dressed in camo and are holding AR’s…”

“What’s you pos?”

“W-what?” You furrowed your brows.

“Your position, where are you right now?” He spoke a bit more sternly.

“I’m-“

Wait where were you?

“Y/n?”

“I’m not sure but they were standing in front of an old worn down building..like a shack… something from the sky people I think..”

You could hear an intake of breath, “Y/n listen to me carefully, you’re going to get out of there without making a sound ok? Get back here immediately.”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you, “ok I’m coming” you released the button and started to run as quietly as you could back the way you came.

Adrenaline coursed through you, you looked back several times to ensure you weren’t being followed.

You stopped to catch your breath, hopefully this was far enough-

“Ah!” You cried out falling backwards seeing a fresh bullet lodged in the now smoking tree beside you.

You quickly regained your footing and started barreling forward.

A round of explosive pops rang from behind you, debris grazing your back.

Oh Great Mother help me!

You cried out as another bullet whizzed right by your ear causing you to lose balance.

You heard shouts but they spoke in a language unknown to you.

You moved to get up when suddenly your queue was yanked back forcefully.

You hissed at your abuser, but he only smiled. Again he spoke in a language you didn’t understand.

“L-Let me go!” You tried clawing at his hand but he only yanked harder causing your vision to go white in seering pain.

Was he going to kill you? You wish you could at least understand what he was shouting at you.

He used your queue to turn you harshly around. You hissed again now able to fully see your attacker.

He only rolled his eyes said something that again failed your understanding and swiftly backhanded you into the dirt.

While you lay on the ground in pain he held a hand to his ear saying something into his comm.

You had to do something, he was going to kill you or take you back to the others…

Your eyes perked up seeing something glinting strapped to his boot.

You figured it was best to attack while he was distracted…

I guess it’s now or never,

You swiftly grabbed the knife and plunged it into his stomach.

“Gah! You bitch!”

You didn’t stick around to see his reaction, you were already darting away. You heard the cocking of his gun and immediately started weaving through trees.

*POP* *POP* *POP*

It was a miracle you avoided all the bullets.

You made the mistake of looking back for a split second and found yourself tumbling over a root.

You gasped and tried to right yourself but he was already there pointing his gun.

Your eyes met his murderous ones and you knew this was it.

You let out one more frightened hiss and watched his finger start to pull.

*POP POP*

You couldn’t help the cry that left your mouth but- why weren’t you in pain?

“Y/N move!” Suddenly an arm was yanking you up onto your feet.

“N-neteyam!?” You couldn’t believe your eyes. He was about to speak when moments later more gunshots rang out. You gasped seeing more avatars emerging from the trees.

“Neteyam get her out of here! Move!” Jake jumped in front of you both and motioned for you to run. A few Navi warriors aiding him shooting their own weapons.

Neteyam pulled you through the trees at record speed, he quickly pulled you onto his Ikran before mounting it himself behind you and flying away. His eyes scanning the trees to make sure no one was aiming anything at them.

“Are you injured?” He asked in that raw tone he used in the middle of battle. Serious and to the point.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice not to crack. That was the last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of him.

He sighed before adjusting his reins. His silence was like poison. Slowly seeping into you making you feel ten times worse then when you were just under that guys gun.

You were breathing heavily when he landed the ikran on the mountain ledge.

He dismounted first then held out his hand, you let him help you down thanking Eywa that your legs didn’t give out on you in front of the entire village who were currently staring.

“Neteyam!” Tuk ran up and hugged your mate tightly.

The silly siblings all ran up to you guys asking what happened.

“Are you hurt sister?” Kiri eyed you up and down wearily.

“I’m alright, don’t worry…”

“Y/n!” Tuk was quick to switch to you and you embraced her warmly wanting to ease the fear on her face.

“Everyone is alright Tuk, please don’t cry…” you stroked her back calming her down, or maybe you were using her as a buffer.

You hesitantly glanced up to where Neteyam was speaking to his mother. He looked pissed. Neytiris eyes met your worried ones for a split second, softening slightly before turning back to her son. Her eyes widened in some sort of threat before sighing and coming to you.

“Are you alright daughter?” She placed a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m alright…I’m sorry for all of this I-“ she shushed you quickly.

“Don’t, it’s alright, everyone is alright…” you sighed and nodded to her thankful that she wasn’t upset with you for putting her family in danger.

“Y/n” you sucked in a breath and met your mates eyes. You wanted to let out a whimper at the anger they held.

He motioned for you to follow him. Every step felt like someone had placed a stone in your heart.

He pulled aside the flap of your tent and looked forward waiting for you to enter.

With shakey breaths you ducked under and stepped into your home.

Your fingers pulling at your netted covering as a nervous distraction.

You had seen Neteyam angry countless times before, at warriors who disobeyed orders. At his brother for causing trouble, at anyone who seriously stepped out of line.

You shivered in place now that for the first time that anger was directed at you.

He yanked the flap back down and rounded on you.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” His eyes shooting daggers through you.

“I-I I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

“Do you know how much danger you’ve put everyone in?! They could’ve followed you back to our village and done who knows what!”

“I never would have-“

“What were you thinking wandering around there!? That areas off limits for a reason!”

“I didn’t know- Neteyam I-!”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear your excuses.” You felt the tears running down your cheeks and it seemed to trigger Neteyam to at least bring his anger down a notch.

He turned around letting out a sigh,

He hated you, that was evident now. He may have hidden his distaste before but now that you had finally angered him his true colors showed.

It only made your tears come faster. The adrenaline finally wearing off, you realized just how scared you had been. Your body ached, craving nothing more than to curl up and rest.

Not to mention an annoying pinching feeling on your abdomen that was getting increasingly more painful. Like a sting from a beertus beetle.

You ignored it focusing on the man before you.

He held a hand up to his neck, you could hear his father speaking on the other side.

They talked for a minute, you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you heard that everyone was alright.

Neteyam ended the line and his head turned towards you. He seemed a bit calmer now that he knew everyone was ok.

Your eyes couldn’t handle his glare at the moment so instead they landed on the mat beneath you.

It was quiet for several moments, the air thick with tension.

“You are never to go there or anywhere near that area again understood?” He spoke to you like you were one of his soldiers.

“Understood…” your voice was hoarse but at least it didn’t break.

He nodded before turning to leave and meet with his father to discuss this new threat.

Your heard his footsteps start to fade which meant he was going to leave. Of course he would. Why would he want to stay with someone like you?

Your eyes were still glued to the mat. A beautifully woven mat that was a gift from your Mother in law. It was dyed in beautiful colors.

Huh? Did something spill on it? Your eyebrows furrowed seeing red droplets. Hopefully that wouldn’t stain.. was it juice? You hoped it-

Another drop, forming right before your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling, frowning when you didn’t see anything. Then something clicked and you moved your netted cover to the side, you expected to see a cut or deep scrape from your falls. But you felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on you when you saw it.

Why Great mother? Why were you testing me like this?

You let out a distressed whimper. Your eyes shot to the entrance where your mate had just stepped out of seconds before. You could still hear his footsteps.

You could call to him. He would hear you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.. your mate already hated you. You would not tell him this and make him even angrier.

You would not tell him you had been shot…

****************************************************

You cursed realizing quickly that that was probably the dumbest mistake you had made. Because moments later you were too dizzy to stand and were sprawled out onto the floor clutching your side.

How could you get help now? Was this how you were going to die? It certainly looked like it..

You thought of your mate. He hated you, maybe it was…. You whimpered at your next thought.

Maybe this was for the better. He would find a new mate and be happy.

Yeah, you could do this for him… why should such a good person be miserable..?

But wait… would this damage his reputation? That he let sky people kill his mate?

Was this actually going to hurt him?

A Navi males reputation was everything. If he couldn’t protect his family who would trust him to protect the people.

No, you couldn’t be selfish. If you died, he would suffer in his position.

For the second time ever you reached up to your neck, fingers slippery from the blood.

“N-neteyam…” was that your voice? It sounded so different…

Would he even answer? He probably thought you were trying to make excuses for what happened. You tried calling out a few more times.

You felt your heart sink at the silence, it looked like he had shut the line off.

As your vision began to blur at the edges you realized that it looked like his reputation was going to suffer after all.

Even though you knew he wasn’t listening you held the button down once more, one final time…

“I’m s-sorry Neteyam.. I really tried to be a w-worthy m-mate.. I’m sorry I couldn’t do b-better mmh, p-pl.. please tell the p-people it was m-my fault not yours…I… I really did love you N-Neteyam, I-i h-hope your next mate will make you happy-“

Your fingers slipped from exhaustion and your vision failed you completely.

Goodbye my Neteyam…

****************************************************

Neteyam had never moved so fast in all his life.…

Ooooh a cliffhanger hehehe, also is anyone actually reading this? Should I do a part 2👀❤️

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boba-beom · 8 months

Text

ೃ⁀➷ airport crush pt 2 | CHOI YEONJUN NSFW

pairing: brother's best friend!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff, kinda angsty

wc: 3.4k

warning: angstier than I thought oops, smut with plot, arguing, yeonjun pining for reader, jealousy, possessive yj at some point, but also lowkey sub!yeonjun ngl, reader confesses about the past but yj does for the present, heavy petting, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, just the tip tease, piv but yj doesn't cum— mile high club ;) , toilet sex again, pet names (baby, good girl, good boy), praises (both), yj calls reader mommy ONCE, light marking, let me know if I've missed anything!

summary: after spending some time with your airport crush, yeonjun's pissed you were spending your time 'efficiently' with someone who isn't him. but you agreed to do anything so he wouldn't snitch to your brother about the marks on your neck.

a/n: the long-awaited next part is here, there is one more main part after this. I hope you enjoy this part just as much as yeonjun did hehe what better way to save this than for @majestyjun's 24 days with yeonjun for our jjunie's birthday! ♥

airport crush part 1 (beomgyu)

boarding the plane was no problem, beomgyu had made you laugh in the queue–maybe even flirted–despite the slight delay, but it didn't go unnoticed by the people around you. you heard yeonjun subtly bickering with your brother, but soobin wasn't having any of it—he was too jet-lagged to even give two shits at this point. you knew this was going to be a long flight ahead of you and yet all you could think about was beomgyu and his fingers, and how bad you want him to—

you heard a ping and looked down at your phone to see beomgyu had airdropped you a note as your way of messaging each other before the plane had set off. he sent you a few memes and your scoffs would turn into chuckles until you both decided to rest and talk when you reach the airport.

it was a given that yeonjun isn't keen on whatever is going on between you and your newfound fuck buddy. yeonjun may be two years older than you, but there's something about him that you weren't aware of.

"yn? are you even listening to me?" yeonjun fakes a heartache with his palm flat on his chest while you give him a deadpan glare. "and what's happened to your 'stranger danger' policy?"

"yeonjun, I can't lie, I've developed this talent to block you out. now you're like white noise to me." you force a smile until it immediately dropped. "also, YJ, I'm not a kid anymore. I'm literally in my early twenties, chill out."

he scoffs, an annoyed smile crawling on his lips. "and I'm literally just looking out for you, how do you not see that?"

"I don't need you to look after me, m'kay? I have soobin for that. even still, just let me make my own choices." turning your body slightly, facing the window.

you couldn't care less with what he had to say. you were just pissed that it was him, and not beomgyu, sitting next to you. beomgyu was sitting a few rows down from you on the opposite site of the plane, you could just about spot the plum tinge of his hair. soobin, on the other hand, was sitting between random people in the middle section of the plane, a couple of rows in front of you and yeonjun. you weren't in their line of sight, and vice versa.

that's going to be a problem.

"you know what annoys me actually? the fact that you're so smug about this whole thing. you meet a stranger and now you feel like you've met the love of your life." you roll your eyes and take a deep breath before exhaling your frustration.

"oh boo you, is it because I managed to find someone to hook up and have fun with before this holiday even started?" you retort, refusing to look at him, bearing in mind that there are a few people sleeping around you.

"oh for fucks sake, yn, grow up." you hear him exhale.

you scoff. "me? no, yeonjun. you, grow the fuck up. I'm sick and tired of whatever problem it is you have with me."

raking his hands through his hair, he looks up before placing a hand on your knee, “listen here, little miss princess, stop being a fucking brat, you’re so annoying like that.” but what you don’t know is that it's slightly turning him on, knowing how hot-headed you can be, he secretly loves how argumentative you two are and he sort of thrives off of that. he had no intention for it to take a turn like this though.

you stare at him, eyes steady, narrowing and not wavering even a little bit. “and you’re starting to piss me off, choi.” you unbuckle the seatbelt over your hips, your hand pushing off his from your thigh before passing his legs to scoot yourself to the aisle, catching soobin's sleeping form and making your way to the toilet at the end of the plane.

from beomgyu’s peripheral vision, he turns his body to look back, watching you make your way to the toilet and noting the dull look on your face. his eyes trailed behind you to find yeonjun who looked like he was chasing after you. he sits back comfortably, sighing and rolling his eyes from the thought of what yeonjun must have done to piss you off this time.

yeonjun knocks on the door and calls your name softly a couple of times, “let me in. come on, talk to me.”

you sigh, not wanting people to continue watching him knocking on the door, and for all they know you two look like you’re in some sort of lovers quarrel. he quickly enters as soon as you open the door, and you scoot aside as an attempt to make space for his six foot figure.

“and you couldn’t just leave me alone? how embarrassing.” you huff, crossing your arms against your chest, but due to the close proximity, you can feel his breath fanning by your neck.

“you want to talk about embarrassing? how about hooking up with a stranger at the airport? hmm?” he retorts, slightly raising his voice at you.

you cover his mouth to remind him to keep his voice down.

“what the fuck is this obsession about me hooking up with beomgyu. just say you’re jealous and go, oh my god, yeonjun." you aggressively whisper.

your chest heaves from the anger gradually coming out, and if you weren't in a plane right this moment then yeonjun would definitely get a taste of your wrath. it was silent for a moment with the both of you holding this intense eye contact with a hint of something unspoken. yeonjun breaks away first, turning around as much as he can with his hand back to running through his teal strands.

"I am." is all he mutters.

"you are what?" you exasperatedly rub at your temples with your eyes shut in the hopes that he'd just be straight with you.

"I am jealous." he starts. "god, all this time I tried to avoid the littlest thoughts about you, and now that you've grown up to be such a confident, intelligent and beautiful woman it's kind of hard not to be around you."

your head shoots up, almost breaking your neck at his confession. a million things were going on in your head but not a single thought was stable enough to comprehend that your crush throughout your childhood and teenage years had liked you all this time.

it took you so long to get over him, and after being completely over him for two long years, he's thrown away all your efforts.

"I... hate you." your voice breaks, tears threatening to run down your cheek, tired of his stupid games.

the warmth of his body starts radiating even more, feeling him lean closer than you already were. your eye contact lasts for less than a second until he crashes his lips on yours with his hands desperately fumbling with your arms and throwing it over his shoulders before finding purchase on your waist.

the kiss was messy. nothing but teeth clashing and heavy breaths until yeonjun swiftly swaps places with you and hits your back against the door, hard enough for it to just rattle gently.

"you don't hate me." yeonjun whispers before diving in to capture your lips again.

the pace of the kiss was starting to pick up; his hands gradually lifting your shirt until his hands were massaging and roaming over the mounds of your breasts through your bra, whining from the contact, and your fingers tangling themselves in his dishevelled hair.

you let out soft whimpers as soon as his plush lips peppers along the column of your neck, a heated trail over the hickeys that beomgyu had left before.

"I hate you so much," you whine.

"you look so hot marked up, too bad this area's been marked by someone else." he growls in your ear, while his hands busy themselves by tugging down your sweatpants.

the material of your sweatpants fell just above your knees and that was enough for yeonjun to slide his fingers into your panties, roughly circling your clit with his middle finger, making your core twitch with every circle he drew.

"oh fuck, jjun—" a moan got stuck in your throat while yeonjun went back to attacking your lips with soft nibbles on your bottom lip.

his lips descended down your body, from your neck, littering kisses over your breasts, down your navel and straight to your plush thighs. his finger stopped working on you and instead, grabbing ahold of one of your thighs to prop over his shoulder so he could kiss and suck on your inner thighs.

"you should be marked more often, only where I can see them." after leaving a mark on your skin, he sensually flicks his tongue on the surface, giving you a preview on what his tongue could be used for.

"shut up and eat me out already." you lace your fingers in his hair, tugging on them to inflict minor pain.

yeonjun's dick throbbed from the way you explicitly said that aloud, never thinking he'd hear you say that.

his hands steadied your hips, holding on tightly and kitten licking at your clit. the wet muscle twirling around your bundle of nerves had you holding in your moans, letting out airy grunts as an attempt.

"so sweet." yeonjun draws back before diving his face straight into your core, sticking his tongue out and lapping up at your entrance. you could feel the vibrations from his moans as soon as he sticks his tongue into your slick cunny. it was difficult to not get so wet when yeonjun's lips felt like heaven on yours, and you felt like your soul was ascending when they were all over your body.

"YJ— fuck, did you know I— mmh, liked you back then?" you struggle getting your sentence out when yeonjun's basically tongue fucking your pussy.

he ignores your question and groans against your core, his tongue reaching as far as it can inside you, but every time his nose bumped your clit you'd curl in a little. annoyed, you tug his hair back so he's looking up at you, the dim light in the toilet reflecting the sheen layer of spit and your arousal on his lips and dripping down his chin.

"I asked you a question."

he grabs your wrist, shaking off your hold on his roots and brought the back of your fingers to his lips. "I knew." and then he inserted your index and middle fingers past his lips, feeling his tongue dancing between and around your digits.

you could moan at the sight, knowing that he probably knows those are the two fingers you used to fuck yourself to the thought of him.

"then why didn't you say anything? do you know how hard I wanted you to notice me?" you almost whine.

"oh trust me, I always noticed you." he guides your fingers at your dripping entrance. "I didn't want to make a move because you're my best friend's little sister. Soobin would fucking kill me if I thought about you like that, hell, he'd kill me if he finds out I'm eating you out several rows away from him."

you wince at his choice of words, but more so when he flat tongues your clit while controlling your fingers pumping in and out of you. but it wasn't enough.

"jjun, I need more." you quietly cry behind the palm of your hand, trying to keep your cries at bay.

he sucks at your bead until a quick yelp slipped past your lips, grabbing him by the collar of his quarter-zip and pulling him up to kiss you. the taste of your arousal lingered on your tongue as he plays around with yours.

this was something you had wet dreams about. something that you desperately wanted every time you saw him come over. the things you would think about when he'd bring his then-girlfriends around when he was hanging out with soobin.

"please, I want to feel a little more." you hate to beg, but you were thinking, you're already in this situation, why not go the extra mile?

"of course, baby. anything for you." he switches up so easily now that he's confessed to you, wondering that all this time he could have been bearable if he had just told you, even if you were to keep it between yourselves, he would have been so much easier to deal with.

yeonjun spreads his wet kisses along your jaw and behind your ear, imitating your quiet moans as you continue to unzip his loose jeans, pulling them down just below his balls.

as he strokes his length, you lean your head against his shoulder, looking down and observing how pretty his dick is; the pink tip that's a similar tone to his lips with a clear bead of pre-cum dribbling out slowly. not to mention his girth was perfect to the point you could feel yourself aching to have him inside you.

"should I just put the tip in?" yeonjun mumbles by your temples.

he aligns the head of his cock at your entrance, feeling the faint stretch as it dips inside. you sigh, wanting more but he purposely slides it against your folds an swiping over your clit. the motion had you exhaling your breath that you had been subconsciously holding in ever since he was stroking himself.

"yeonjun, please. I want you inside of me." you beg so prettily that yeonjun could feel his dick twitch in his hand, his eyes tightly shut briefly.

"want you to feel good." his sentences have now reduced to wanting to please you, he didn't care about himself, though you're about to wet his dick, he was still doing whatever you wanted.

you hold onto his shoulders, one leg wrapped around his hip as he pushes in, feeling the delicious stretch against your walls. "gonna. fuck. you. so. good." he grunts in between shallow thrusts.

his hands are glued to your hips and under your thigh, holding you in place for him to fuck in this small compartment. but that doesn't stop him from eagerly reaching as deep as he can inside you. his thrusts get deeper after every other kiss you leave on his neck and collar bone, loving the way your lips makes his skin tingle.

the speed of yeonjun's thrusts get faster, and the hold your pussy has on his cock gets tighter. he has his eyes trained on your face, watching your brows knit and your mouth parting.

"mmhh yeah, that's it baby, right there." you moan by his ear and his pace picks up gradually. he loves the way you want more of his dick, not beomgyu's, but his.

the corners of his lips quirked up at the thought of you forgetting about beomgyu and wanting him at that moment. yeonjun wanted to take this chance to show you he could fuck you better than whatever beomgyu did.

"like that?" he whispers, pulling up your shirt and bra so your boobs were on full display.

he gawked at the sight of your bare chest in front of him, his hips not faltering a single bit; still aiming to make you cum on his dick. it took him no second thoughts to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples, sucking and releasing with 'pop' sounds and repeating as he hears more of your mixture of moans and whimpers.

you loved the sensation of yeonjun's tongue and pillowy lips on your boobs, but his dick was starting to drill into you, feeling your mind going hazy with every stroke against your gummy walls.

"I'm close." you whimper above him, his lips still suckling at your aroused nipple and the other massaging it in the palm of his hand.

"wan' you to cum around me mommy." his words were muffled from his occupied mouth, but the slight rasp in the way he said it was ticking your orgasm closer by the millisecond.

yeonjun lets go of your boob and starts playing with your clit again, his thrusts doesn't falter even when you clench around him like a vice, your walls convulsing around him. your moans were becoming dangerously loud, and if it wasn't for yeonjun swallowing your moans by helplessly kissing you, then you were sure you would have a flight attendant knocking at the door.

your thighs start shaking under his hold as you leak down your legs but yeonjun pulls out, his cock still standing strong as reaches for the tissues to clean up your mess.

"feel better?" he wipes down the remaining droplets by your knees, before throwing the tissue away and tucking his hard dick into his baggy jeans.

you cock your head to the side, "you didn't cum?"

"it's okay, just wanted to make you feel good, remember? you were about to transform into a dragon out there with all your huffing and puffing. and even though I got my dick wet, at least it was by you." you slap his shoulder light-heartedly, scoffing at his comment before you both bursted into a shared laugh.

"you were irritating me that's why." you reply. "and you really are just that obsessed with me huh? that why your temper went down too?"

you watch him check up on himself through the mirror, relaying a slow nod to you. noting the faint couple of hickeys you left just under his collar, it's as if he knew what you were thinking and he zipped up his quarter-zip a little higher than before. he seemed more peaceful now, and you found it cute that the tip of his ears were blushing pink.

"I am obsessed with you. literally can't stop thinking about you." his hand reaches for your waist and brings you closer until your chests collide.

"okay, lover boy. take it easy on the simp talk." he scoffs, but the smile he has on his face seems like he's satisfied even when you haven't said how you currently feel towards him.

"can I have another kiss? literally miss your lips already." he kisses your shoulder slowly, maybe leaving two or three. something about that gesture made your heart drop.

you were selfish. you just met beomgyu who you have a good feeling about. but that isn't enough for you apparently. you have yeonjun wrapped around your finger and the fact that he's obsessed with you just as much as you were for him just feeds that emptiness you'd been feeling for so long.

"yn? you know you can say no." you snapped out of your thoughts and didn't realise there was a gap, as much as there can be, between you and yeonjun.

"kiss me." your hands are splayed flat on his chest, caressing the area with your thumb as he cups your cheek with one hand and pulls you in by the hip with the other.

your lips have only kissed three people in your lifetime. your first kiss in freshman year college, beomgyu and now yeonjun. but you seem just as in need of his lips as he is with yours. they were perfect and pouty. soft but also dangerously addictive. and the way he lets you lightly trap his bottom lip between your teeth just makes you want him even more.

you both pull away, a short string of saliva fallen from your lips which has yeonjun's eyes filled with lust for you.

"I- I think we should head out. we're lucky it isn't a full plane." you stutter from the gaze he had on you just a second before.

"it's fine. we'll never see these people again." yeonjun chuckles at you for your attempt at discretion. "and I don't think they cared enough to stop us."

you shrugg at his response, adjusting your shirt even though it still wasn't going to miraculously cover the hickeys beomgyu left.

as soon as you open the door, you step out first and yeonjun stepping out after with him faking a cover up conversation for the people you would walk past to hear, "are you feeling better now?"

you find your row and take your seat, nudging him, "oh shut up." and he laughs at your response.

you genuinely did feel better after the released tension, but now you just don't know how you're going about this sticky situation you were in. you see beomgyu slowly turn his head and you keep an eye on his purple hair until he looks at you, shooting you a smile.

and you still felt your heart skip a beat for him.

taglist: @ahnneyong @prodsh00ky @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @ttyunz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @vatterie @hyuntaena @ja4hyvn @yunkiwii @aprilisque @bb-eilish @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @soobinsman @hallaween23 @run2min @clayballss @kijasite @nikimeows @tara324253 @robin-obsessed (because I thought you'd like to read ^^) send an ask, reference here

#k-labels #kflixnet #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x fem reader #yeonjun oneshot #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun scenarios #txt smut #txt x fem reader #txt oneshot #txt imagines #txt scenarios #smiles hard hours #yeonjun hard hours #mdni #minors dni #i fear this does not live up to the first part #i will now dip #24 days with jjunie !!

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wip · 1 day

Note

A very very minor thing I have been curious about for a while, and I'm finally asking: why do you calculate queue posting times the way you do? For example, if I set my queue to post 3x a day, naively I would expect it to post every 8 hours. But in reality it posts every 6 hours with a 12 hour gap between days. Why complicate the math like that?

Answer: Hello @circumference-pie!

Buckle up y’all, it’s story time again!

First: nobody who works at Tumblr right now was a part of the work of planning the default queue implementation, which was more than ten years ago. So the full story behind “Why does it work that way?” has unfortunately been lost to the sands of time. All we can do is tell you how it works today and surmise some reasons why. The queue is actually a very clever system and part of how it works explains some of why it works the way it does. Also, there have been attempts to do what you ask—we still have “Queue 2.0” available in your Tumblr Labs settings, which tries to get closer to how you expect things to work.

Anyway! How the queue works today is not actually a queue in the traditional sense. There is no single list of posts that are in “your queue”. Instead, when you “Add to queue” after creating a post, we’re actually scheduling it to post at a future time, as if you had used the “Schedule post” option instead. We’re just calculating that time on your behalf when you use “Add to queue”, based on your settings, and how many other scheduled posts you have already. We use a secondary “index” model, called “ScheduledPost”, to keep track of posts you have scheduled on your blog. We do mark the ones that are a part of “your queue”, but the data model doesn’t keep one list of your “queue” per se.

You can see this in action on your blog, hiding in plain sight. If you add a bunch of posts to your queue, and then schedule a post for a specific future date, you’ll see both in your blog’s “queue” list, side by side. Because technically to us, they’re the same thing: queued posts are really just another kind of scheduled post, relying on the same always-running service to publish scheduled posts across all of Tumblr. Here’s a fun fact: we typically have about ~14.5 million future posts to publish from this list at any given time and are publishing hundreds of these scheduled posts every second.

So when you’re adding a new post to your queue, what we’re doing behind the scenes is starting at the beginning of your “day”, and creating time slots based on your queue settings. If a time slot is already filled, we move on to the next one. That’s why the default queue scheduler works how you describe—we’re trying to fill those “slots” based on the start of the day, rather than trying to divide the calendar day evenly. This just makes it much simpler for us to understand, scale, and predict when our “peaks” will be. At peak times, the publish-scheduled-posts service is publishing tens of thousands of posts in a manner of seconds. We did rewrite that post-publishing part of this architecture a few years ago to improve its efficiency and solve a lot of “lost post” bugs, but we didn’t change how “Add to queue” works.

However, the Queue 2.0 project available in Labs was an attempt to change the queue system to work as you expect—instead of starting at [beginning of day] and creating enough slots to fit [number of slots] every [number of hours], it tries to divide the calendar day into [number of slots] and fit the result back to the original algorithm’s mapping of the day. We never productionized this alternative approach, because it has a few bugs that some blogs hit in extreme cases, and we’ve never had time to fully fix them. It also can cause a bit of weirdness when time zones diverge, like with daylight savings time. Also, a lot of people prefer the default algorithm, and we haven’t thought of a nice way to transition everyone from one to the other. So for now, both options exist, and you can choose which algorithm for queue-slot-generating you want to use. We hope that makes sense!

While complicated, it is a great example of a system built by engineers to make sense and be scalable and predictable. But sometimes these kinds of systems, while clever, aren’t very intuitive to understand without digging into how they work.

Thanks for your question, and keep ’em coming.

#feature #posting #queue #backend

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 6 months

Note

hi!! can i request a miguel x jealous reader? this has been stuck in my head for quite some time now..

it is no question that spiderman 2099 was hot, even if the people of nueva york haven't seen his face.. his huge frame and voice will of course gain him some fans. one day, reader overhears a group of young highschoolers, fangirling about spiderman 2099 and how hot he was. even showing off some pictures and videos to each other.

of course, reader feels proud since spiderman 2099 is their husband. but also can't help but feel jealous knowing that others also want miguel. they push it down though since getting jealous over a bunch of highschoolers was silly.

however, reader is more bothered about it than they thought and miguel eventually notices their sour mood. after some denying and coaxing, miguel finally gets them to spill the beans. he is extremely amused, and even finds it a little funny. however, he's still going to reassure reader that he is only theirs like the great husband he is.. 🥰 ending can be smutty or fluffy, up to you!!! ❤️

hii!! sorry for the hold up for this. this is cute I love it!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

SUBTLE ENVY

miguel o’hara x f!reader

word count. 644

There was no doubt that Spider-Man 2099 was the talk of the town - his towering, masculine physique often the main focal point. When you'd overhear strangers on the street conversing about the masked menace, your husband, you'd be overgrown with pride - listening in on their encounters of being saved by him.

Many things made you feel proud to know Spider-Man so personally - to know the real man under the suit and mask. Though, some things about the title of the wife aren't as easy to stomach.

Daily, you'd see hundreds of comments online about how handsome your husband is - see fan-made videos and edits with questionable captions. For the most part, you enjoyed them. You loved to watch clips and compilations of the man you love, loved to see how liked and appreciated he is by the people of Nueva York.

However, sometimes the comments would get the best of you. You'd see teenage girls swooning over him online - talking about how they wish to replace his wife. At first, they were small, inconsequential remarks, but over time, they changed how you saw yourself. They made you question if you were good enough for Miguel. You kept your issue to yourself - deciding your husband had enough on his plate and didn't need you complaining about something you could easily ignore.

You kept your problem hidden until one afternoon at your local coffee shop; you overheard a group of high school girls talk about what they would do if they had a minute alone with Spider-Man 2099. What they said should've easily rolled off your back, should've been something that you laugh off, something you silently agreed with, but no. They caught you in a vulnerable mood where you were sensitive to their infatuation, already feeling insecure, and all you could do was leave the queue and head home.

You return to your apartment and change into something comfy, slumping onto the sofa with a blanket wrapped around you. You put on your show and cosy up.

"Cariño?" Miguel calls out from his office doorway. "I thought I heard you," his tone warm and comforting as he kisses your cheek from behind. "How was your day?"

"Good," you absentmindedly reply, keeping your gaze on the tv ahead.

"Is that all? Querida? Are you okay?"

"Mh-hm."

"Pms?" he asks, joining you on the couch.

"No," you chuckle, cutely shaking your head. "Don't think so anyway."

"You seem sad."

You smile sincerely. "It's nothing— it's silly, really."

Miguel's head cocks to the side, sweetly looking at you with softened eyes. His large hand reaching for yours. "Nothing's too silly," he shakes his head, trying to emphasise his statement. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"Miguel, it's stupid," you warn, suddenly embarrassed. "Like, really stupid."

"I don't care."

You exhale, turning to face him. "I was getting coffee and heard a bunch of girls swooning over you," you confess, your words quietening.

"Baby..." he hesitates, an amused smile lining his lips.

"I know it's childish, but it just bugs me sometimes—it's not funny."

"Of course not," he reassures, his posture stiffening from your soft scolding. "But you have to see the humour in it, no?"

"How so?"

"Cariño," he sweetly coos. "I'm here... with you. No one else gets to see me like this. Only you see me without the mask," his smile widens, looking at you in endearment. "You're the only one I want. I don't care about the girls on the internet or in coffee shops, just you."

Your smile mirrors his as you lean into him, nestling into his comfort. "Thank you," you say, your words muffle into the buff of his side. "I appreciate it. A lot."

"Of course," he chuckles, draping a blanket over himself - getting comfortable. He kisses the crown of your head. "Always."

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

#request #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel atsv

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ooctlt · 1 month

Note

Hey Harrow.

You seem super cool, and I'd like to get to know you better. But I don't want to be an invasive dick about it... So!

What boundaries do you have regarding questions from us?

Your family, childhood, and religion are off limits... Anything else we should avoid?

OOC PSA:

all of you are concerned about harrow but please understand that this has actually become counterproductive. ive received a minimum of five asks asking to hug harrow, kiss harrow, give her a nice day; theres people asking about the details of the ninth and its particulars; ive gotten asks describing harrow as "concerning" or "scary" which goes back around to being a little bit weird and infantilizing about someone who is just mentally ill and unmedicated. before you ask no im not giving her meds, and although i love worldbuilding i think its more fun for people to deduce what the ninth is like though slipped details instead of overt explanation.

this ask was sent by a friend as an inside joke: i dont want to make fun of people who genuinely mean well, but i am not kidding when i say that some asks genuinely just sound like this. i still enjoy drawing asks for you all, but going forward im going to heavily limit things answered from harrows POV and im going to find alternatives for answering "one panel questions" aka stuff like "what accessories do you like?"

in case you didnt notice this runs on a daily queue, so everything is more fun when i get to draw multiple panels to a narrative instead of singular trait answers. im likely going to save the latter for simpler doodles for a power hour or something like that

"but SAM how do we ask questions then" have you ever read homestuck? its the ==> arrow prompts. kidding. not kidding.

#im not trying to police asks i just feel bad deleting so many #harrowhark nonagesimus #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #artlog #actual ooc

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witchthewriter · 10 months

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: thank you to the beautiful creator of the grown-up Neteyam photo! P.s. I’m sorry for the crappy screenshot photos of the only Na’vi mating bond we see. I tried my best :’)

Warnings: spoilers for Avatar 2

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

ISFJ

Gryffindor

Lawful Good

8 of Pentacles

Leo Sun, Virgo Moon, Libra Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You were the eldest of Tonowari and Ronal’s children. A Metkayina leader of the future.

・You have many skills, learning from both your parents and the other members of the clan. A great hunter, creator and a deep love for the ocean.

・Eywa was a big presence in your life, something that your brother, Aounung was jealous of

・Tsireya idolises you, and when she was younger, all she wanted to do was be around you

・However, you weren’t very outgoing, and preferred the company to one or two friends - or mainly yourself whenever you got the chance

・You have your own Tulkun, whom you love dearly. They’re incredibly protective of you, as you are for them.

・That’s where you spend the majority of your free time - talking with your Tulkun. You have an incredibly close bond, almost like telepathical

・When the Sully’s sought refuge, you were one of the first to speak up in their defence

・Not only did you like the look of the Omaticaya people, but you were curious about their ways.

・You wanted to learn more - grow as a Na’vi. You wanted to be someone with an open-mind.

・It was why you got along so well with your sister Tsireya, Aounung on the other hand was a bit of a challenge. He always had been. And being the middle child, he definitely liked to act out

・You formed a close friendship with both Tuk and Kiri. You always found the young ones funny. It was your instinct as the eldest child to look after the younglings around you.

・And with Kiri, you loved her connection to the land. You could watch her for hours as she interacted with the environment around her.

・You could see that she was special; Eywa had something incredible in store for Kiri. You just wished the rest of the clan would accept them

・But your eye was always searching for Neteyam, the eldest of the Sully kids

・Almost like a guardian angel, you were there when he needed you most. And your brother would tease you relentlessly, but Tsireya understood. She encouraged you to pursue Neteyam

・As you encouraged her to pursue Lo’ak

・And your romance was slow. Even though you both had deep feelings for each other, it was like neither of you could confess it. For one reason or another.

・You spent time together, teaching him the ways of your people. He was especially interested in the coming of age rituals. Neteyam wanted to participate.

・You told him he didn’t have to, that accomplishing the Omaticaya rituals was enough. But not for Neteyam, he wanted to prove himself.

・Then, when the event happened with Quaritch, everything changed.

・ Luck, no, not luck. It was destiny that you were there to save Neteyam.

・What would have been a bullet would was only a flesh wound, however, it did cut him deep

・The Sully’s were eternally grateful, Neytiri especially. She nearly lost her firstborn, and for that she felt indebted to you.

・However, Neteyam was wounded, and it took him a month to fully recover. You visited him everyday, bringing fresh food and changing his bandages. This was how you two grew close. A deep bond was formed.

・You both felt Eywa’s presence when you looked into each other’s eyes and finally realised who you were to one another. Mates.��

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it.

・The mating ritual is the same for every Na’vi, it’s the connecting of the queues, from nightfall until sunrise.

・The mating ritual and sex are two different things, but ultimately the Na’vi only have sex with one other for their entire lives.

・And although Neteyam would have loved to perform tsaheylu underneath the Tree of Souls, the Metkayina don’t stay underwater for that entire time.

・Some may choose to visit the Spirit Tree and connect for a brief moment while holding hands, or to choose a secluded spot and invite Eywa’s presence

・You chose to do both

・Both of you swam down to the Spirit Tree and connected to it, seeing each other through the other’s eyes

・You could feel the other’s love and devotion

・After opening your eyes, you kissed and swam to the surface, where you found a vacant part of the beach to stay until the next day

・Connecting with Neteyam was like nothing you had ever experienced before. You were able to feel his pain, his happiness, the weight of responsibility and the dedication Neteyam has to his family

・In turn, Neteyam felt the same. For you both had the duty of being the first born

・When the mating was completed, it was announced through all the clan that you were together

・Tonowari held a great feast in your honour. He was more than proud, as was your mother, sister and brother

・You had completed a big part of Na’vi life, and the Sully’s welcomed you into the family with open arms. Especially Neytiri, once she got to know you and how good of a hunter you were

・Sex is different then mating, but you still connect your queues nonetheless. It intensifies the bond, and completely takes hold of your body, mind and soul

・Neteyam is a soft lover, he likes to make you feel loved, safe and worthy

・His favourite thing is to bite your neck though, especially when he’s in midthrust. It’s like another way of combining your bodies. He wants to be as close to you as possible

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https-genesis · 1 year

Text

deserving child | dad!jake x daughter!reader

Sypnosis; Whatever had your father done before you were born had nothing to do with you today, but Quaritch didn't care. Children or not, you were Jake's.

Contents; angst little comfort, typical avatar violence, drabble? extreme depictions of gore?? Jake's pov, no use of y/n,

Dictionary; sempul - dad/daddy, sa'nok - mother, tsurak - skimwing, kuru - queue, uturu - sanctuary

A/N; I hate this but anyway

Jake Sully. Failed life on Earth, dead brother. Paralyzed from the waist down, out of service. Sent to replace his brother on a military mission, Pandora. Falling for the forrest, the culture, the people... Neytiri. Even though he had taken everything from her, her sister, her father, her ikran, her people... Neytiri had faith. She fought with him. His beautiful mate... His children. His firstborn son, Neteyam, and his twin, you. Oh, how life had betrayed him. Or had he betrayed life? After all, he betrayed an entire race. Was it unfair? Had he done the good thing, or was he selfish?

Jake still remembers a quote from the Bible he had read years before his 20th birthday. Before his brother was killed on the field.

"For am I seeking the approval of man or of God? And if I am seeking the approval of man, will I still be a servant of grace?"

As Jake sat still onto the back of his tamed tsurak within the seas of the reefs, hundreds of vengeful Na'vi in the same position behind him, he thought back to fifteen years ago. He could've left with Quaritch. Be could've surrendered. Saved thousands of innocent lives and give his own. But he didn't. He chose to stay and fight, but for what?

He could clearly see your distressed faces kneeling and facing him on the Demon Ship. Quaritch and his men held you and your siblings tighly in place and the gun pressed to your temple that digged into your skin harshly.

Jake chose to stay and fight. It brought him here. His children about to get executed right in front of his helpless eyes, unable to do anything but to weep to himself like a coward.

The sound of Neytiri's distressed pleas in his ears made them ring, but he couldn't hear a single word.

Jake could see in his head the faded image of your brains splattered onto the pavement of the ship and for a brief moment he pondered if this was all a dream. It wasn't, however, you were still alive. The choice was his, he knew it well. Would Neytiri even forgive him? Would you? Would Tuk be able to pass her own Iknimaya without her father?

☆

The freezing cold metal pressed firmly against the side of your head burned like dry ice. You had seen your father use similar machinery on the field, but you had never seen it be pointed at someone else. Even less had you thought you'd be the one in this kind of situation. Quaritch had your kuru thigh in his unoccupied hand, pulling whenever your kneeling stance faltered. You could see the outline of Jake, Ronal and Tonowari from your place on the ship and the way your father's eyes drifted from you and your siblings to his weapon. Was he really considering letting himself get captured for you?

Whatever Jake was thinking was passing fast. He had no plan and you knew it. The simple look of despair on Tonowari's face told you everything. You knew not to scream out because the Avatar had warned you when your brother tried.

"One noise and I'll shoot ya', kid."

Kid. You were just a kid. Your brother and sister were just kids. And Jake stared at you like it would be the last time he'd ever do. It was ironic, really. You came to Awa'atlu seeking uturu and had to end up murdering the entirety of its residents.

Jake felt the cold breeze against his damp skin, the breathlessness of Ronal on his right. His children are about to die. You, their big sister, dying to protect them. His babygirl. The one that lit up his life when he felt he was no Olo'eyktan, no Toruk Makto.

Right. Toruk Makto. Jake is Toruk Makto. The sixth rider of Last Shadow, the one who brought the clans victory against the Sky People. He killed Quaritch once. Can he really do it twice?

It's strange to think about it now, but in this situation he wishes he was more of a father and less of a marine. Lo'ak would never forgive him. The way he treated his children like soldiers... The pain he brought upon Neytiri and the people.

Quaritch's voice brings him back.

"Clock's ticking, colonel. What's it gonna be?"

The hand that rested on his gun lowered and Jake instructed his tsurak to swim forward slowly. He doesn't want to die, but he was ready to give his life up for you.

Quaritch did too.

Payakan thought otherwise. The large beast had felt Lo'ak's anger throughout their bond. Payakan had forgotten all about friendship, but Lo'ak had brought him a sense of serenity he had just about never felt before. Seeing red as he threw itself onto the ship, Jake saw the opportunity.

should I do a part two? seems opportunistic tbh

#x reader #avatar #avatar twow #avatar twow x reader #avatar x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #platonic sullys x reader

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farfromstrange · 5 months

Text

Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him.

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense.

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again.

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true.

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks.

Foggy dislocated his shoulder.

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act.

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital.

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him.

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips.

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on.

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought.

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence.

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say.

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why?

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask.

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet.

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says.

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind.

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real.

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says.

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further.

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go.

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort.

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about.

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot.

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself.

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise.

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated.

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart.

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?”

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.”

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing.

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier.

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor.

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin.

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry.

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help.

“It’s fine,” he assures you.

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.”

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier.

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes.

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do.

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie.

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for.

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers.

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.”

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye.

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says.

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running.

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #doctor!reader #medical drama #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagines #charlie cox #do no harm

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raynetheinsane · 1 month

Text

Batfam (and friends) as Henry Danger quotes

(Because im a nerd and love this show)

Damian: Tt, my parties arent that bad

Jon: Christmas. 3 years ago. 15 kids ended up in the hospital!

Damian: FATHER!!!

Tim: Damian! Were trying to study here *indicates to Duke and Steph, both clearly not studying*

Damian: I’m talking to my Father.

Robin!Jason: Dangit! All these jobs say i gotta have skills..

Dick: You have skills!

Jason: Name one.

Dick: You’re a great dancer!

Jason: No I’m not?

Dick: You could take lessons.

(More under the cut i just dont want this to be super duper long)

Bruce: How old are you?

Tim, trying to become robin: Im 13, I’ll be 14. On my next birthday

Dick: Ah so youre aging sequentially

Tim, extremely tired: Do you ever dream about sleeping?

Steph, extremely confused:…no??

Tim: good. If you did youd be dead.

Bruce: Lets ride.

Robin!Jason who is very new to this: Wha- Ride where?

Bruce: We’ve got people in the Jandy River that need saving.

Bruce: Come on.

Jason: You mean we’re going there? Together? Like right now?

Tim, extremely dirty and has a cut on his face walking into Drake Manor:

Jack, not paying attention: Hey Tim, did you get the job?

Tim: Yeah, just finished my first day.

Jack: So hows work?

Tim: Uh it was pretty… interesting.

Bernard: Hey, you never told us what you do at your new job

Tim: *just stares wide eyed silently*

Bruce: While we were patrolling, Poison Ivy stole packs of baby bottles, can you guess why?

Robin!Dick: Uhhh

Bruce: To flood the bottles with radioactive plant matter.

Dick: I would not have guessed that.

Jason: I see youre in your pajama pants.

Tim: Yeah its almost midnight, I was studying for this test i have tomorrow

Jason: What subject?

Tim: Puerto Rican history

Jason: Ah Puerto Rico… land of…

Tim: Puerto Ricans?

Jason: yeah..

Red Hood: Strike three.

Spoiler: That was only 2

Hood: Okay, don’t correct me in front of the criminals

Duke: Whats in the mug?

Tim, who just poured himself and entire pot of coffee despite hating it: Coffee.

Tim: To keep me alive.

Duke: no, no, no, no, you cannot drink this much coffee after work. This mug is comedically large!

Steph: I have the same dream all the time. It satrts with me getting a horse for my birthday. Then my dad shows up. Then the horse kicks my dad in the face!

Jason, helping Tim study: You want a good grade on your puerto rican math test?

Tim: history

Jason, who died before he finished highschool: Same thing

Non-Bat who needs the antidote for Joker gas or something: Will this hurt?

Black Bat: Yes, very much.

Bernard, talking about a criminal the Bats cant catch: Its not Batmans fault, he just needs a better sidekick

Tim: One more time.

Bernard, who knows: Just saying, I’d be way better at catching criminals than the current Robin

Dick: I’m gonna die..

Jason: Not in the house. If you’re gonna die, do it outside

Tim: I’m Robin.

Bernard: I know. I figured that out.

Damian: Todd, I wish to speak to you about something.

Jason: BABIES COME FROM THE BABY STORE

Oracle: Steph, come to Gotham Park right now!

Steph: noo, I’m not in the mood for trees

Oracle: did i ask you what youre in the mood for?

Vikki Vale: So, Spoiler, how did you catch Two Face?

Spoiler: I’d love to take all the credit, but it was really all thanks to my partner, Black Bat.

Vikki: Interesting. Black Bat, can you tell us more?

Black Bat: No.

It really bothers me the lack of Babs, Cass, and Duke worthy quotes there are 😔😔 also my personal favs show a lot and im sorry for that, but there will be more as i think of them, these are just eps 1-4, the rest will be posted like in a queue or something and as single quotes cus im eepy

#batfam #batman #robin #dc robin #dick grayson #nightwing #damian wayne #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #batfamily headcanons #incorrect quotes #henry danger #stephanie brown #cassandra wayne #barbara gordon #source: henry danger

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jam-showtoonz · 15 days

Text

Revived Solar! (My au)

This post also contains lore.

Revived Solar is having a great time!

He just woke up in some weird plain of existence , he’s missing one of his arms and about 20 minutes after waking up he’s attacked by some demented hell beast. Thankfully he is saved by someone who looks like a Sun and Moon combined that isn’t an Eclipse. They act kinda like Lunar just different.

They give him a quick run down on the creature- Voidger it’s called apparently- basically:

This one can’t see. Voidgers can’t smell in general so they don’t need to worry about that.

This one can only hear. Which means they have to get out of there as quietly as possible. Which they lucky manage.

On their way to the ‘ central tower ’ the animatronic introduces themselves as Solstice and explains a bit more about where they are.

The void- it one of the places you can end up if you go through a dis functional portal or your dimension collapses, guess he knows how he got here, the thing that attacked him was a Voidger, a small amount are native to the void- majority though are people, animatronics and/or animals who got lost and were never found- the one that attacked them was a turn one, the way you can tell is apparently the native ones have eyes… many eyes… he hopes he never meets one.

There are apparently ‘ islands ’ around the void with buildings that have a random assortment of objects, no food though as there is no need to eat. The buildings are the only safe spots within the void- unless you can get out or you come across Galaxy.

Eventually they make it to one of these buildings, a tall skyscraper type building. Upon entering they make their way to the 4th floor where they enter a lab kind of place and are greeted by two beings- one is a robot similar to something the creator had- the other, very tall one, looks to be made of stars.

The smaller one, despite the scare they clearly got from the sudden entry, doesn’t question what’s going on, they don’t even seem surprised by him being here, and simply asks if he’d like repaired. He hesitantly accepts the offer as the tall one- Galaxy going by Solstices greeting to them- observes him with their singular eye.

C- he learns the small one goes by -somehow fixes him completely within 30 minutes. They were awfully considerate about asking him what he wanted, colour, shape, any features- despite the fact that they were clearly limited on what they could do.

Galaxy and Solstice had left at some point or another. C offered to answer any questions he had to the best of his ability.

What he learned?

There is a total of 8 beings that live in the void that aren’t Voidgers, that was counting C, Galaxy and Solstice. Though he wasn’t given names.

You turn into a Voidger when you’re alone and lost, as it gives the void access to your mind and you slowly go insane until all rational thought is gone. Despite this if you look or sound similar to someone they knew they will pause before continuing to attack you. Yes, apparently some turned Voidgers have eyes, only two though.

Portal doors aren’t actually hard to find so long as you don’t let the void get to you, the only risk is what’s on the other side. They are also far apart from each other so they take a while to get to. The closest one to them goes to a human dimension.

They can’t stay in a dimension forever because they could weaken it and cause it to collapse. This is because they are completely connected to the void. He should be fine apparently though, as it takes a year for a person to become fully connected to the void and time is very slow in here.

The Voidgers are terrified of Galaxy, apparently their ora has something to do with it.

They are more than willing to help him get home as the void is not a place for everyone.

C hates to talk about themself and is more focused on making sure the others here don’t get themselves killed.

Queue someone with 2 hoops around their head and waist with stars on them, as well as a skirt coming in and yelling about how someone called Blue and- Lunar?- just blew up a toaster on one of the paths to scare a Voidger. C let out a long annoyed sigh before telling him to stay in the lab and say they need to go deal with their kid and the youngest in this found family.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he’s lucky or not.

[Yes I’m posting Ruin separately as lore- Solar is gonna have a great time.]

#tsams #sams #the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #tsams au #sams au #tsams solar #sams solar #tsams nice eclipse #tsams oc #sams oc #tsams art #parts of his body have been taken by the void but he’s oky!#The Not So Empty Void au #I guess that’s what I’m calling it?#feel free to send asks

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

Note

please, could you write something were the reader is part of kipps crew and lockwood is like obsessed with her. anytime they encounter he goes out of his way to be nice to her and kipps finds it so weird because she is like is best friend or sister even. that would be so cool! also love the new things you’ve posted earlier!!!

a/n: of course! I love this idea, and thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed them :) this is a mix between the books and the show (not overly obvious though)

warnings: language female reader (few pronouns used)

part two

"Seems like we've saved you again, Tony," Kipps says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe if you did your research properly, we wouldn't need to come and clean up your mess."

George Karim scowls. "Not all of us can press a button and have everything we need right under our fingers."

"Besides, you didn't save us," Anthony Lockwood, the face of Lockwood and Co, says. "We had it all under control."

You break off from Kat's side, inspecting the damage around the park, and make your way over to Kipps. "If by under control, you mean you were surrounded by fourteen Wraiths with very few salt bombs or magnesium flares left to defend yourself with, then yeah, you had it under control."

"(name) -" Lockwood blinks, then plasters on that smile of his. "How nice to see you."

Against your better judgement, you smile. "You seem to be making a habit of us saving your asses. I hope it's not some excuse to see Kipps' pretty face."

Kipps, your team's supervisor, frowns at the pair in front of you. Off to the side, Bobby Vernon is instructing a few other Fittes agents, disposing of the source of the horde of Wraiths. Kat, as blank-faced as always, stands on the other side of Kipps, and Ned Shaw... Well, he's somewhere. Probably glowering at some poor child.

"No, I can assure you, Kipps' face is the last thing I want to see on a case," Lockwood says, sending a charming grin your way. "It's perhaps even scarier than the Wraiths."

You laugh softly, earning a glare from your supervisor. It's hard suppressing your smile.

"I expect we'll see you more this week, Tony," he says. "It seems that without your little Listener, you're getting even worse than before."

George bristles, fists clenching by his sides. "We were doing perfectly fine on our own. Now, if you don't mind, we'd better be on our way."

Lockwood straightens. "You're right, George. But, first, we need our pay."

"Oh, no," Kipps says. "No, see, we secured the Source, so, by DEPRAC rules, the commission is ours."

"You can't be serious," Lockwood says. "This was our case."

Kat, face void of any emotion, says, "Well, it's ours now."

George moves a step closer, knuckles white with tension, but Lockwood pulls him back, murmuring something in his ear. Angrily, Karim storms past you and out of the park.

"Best be off, Tony. Don't want to stay out too much later. I'm not sure we can be bothered saving you from more ghosts."

Lockwood ignores him, casting his gaze on you. "See you around, (name)."

You smile again. "See you, Lockwood."

And, then he's gone, striding off to catch up with George. You watch him go, curiously, until he's past the hedge line of the park and faded into the darkness of the night.

"Stop it."

You turn to Kipps, frowning. "What?"

"Stop looking at him like he's God's gift to the world," he grumbles. "He's an idiot, and he's the competition unless you've forgotten. Stay away from Lockwood - it won't end well."

Nodding, you cast his words aside immediately. It only makes you want to know him more.

"I'm serious, (name). You're like a sister to me, and I can't afford for you to get sidetracked and then hurt because of him."

Too late, you think. You have most definitely gotten sidetracked.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Scrounging around in your bag, your heart is pounding and your face feels hot with embarrassment. You can't find your purse, and there's a big long queue of people behind you, waiting for their turn to order with expressions of irritation. God, you want to melt into the floor and die. Someone groans behind you, their frustration seeping into your bones.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. Just give me a minute -"

"Here you go," a voice says, and an arm reaches out beside you, passing a twenty-pound note to the cashier.

You take your coffee from her hand and shuffle out of the way quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much. If I can find my purse, I'll pay you back."

"No, no, you're fine." That voice... Something about it is familiar.

Looking up, your jaw goes slack. "Lockwood! Oh, hi. How are you?"

His mouth splits in a grin. "Hey. I'm good. I'd ask how you are, but judging from how red you are, I think I can guess."

"I'm so sorry you had to pay, just let me -" You begin searching in your bag again, but Lockwood's hand closes over yours, halting the movement. Sparks run up and down your arm at the touch.

"(name), it's perfectly fine. My treat."

Your worried expression softens. "I can't thank you enough, Lockwood."

"Don't worry about it." He hesitates for a moment, eyes flickering over your face. "Do you want to come back to Portland Row with me? Chat over some doughnuts, maybe?"

Despite Kipps' warning, you want to accept, but you can't, as much as it pains you.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I've got to get back - we've got a case to get to in a few hours. I was just getting some sort of caffeine to energise me beforehand."

He looks a little disappointed, but he's still smiling. "That's alright. Maybe another time?"

You grin. "Sure. And, thank you, again, Lockwood. Really. You saved me from melting into a puddle of embarrassment back there."

"It hurt to watch," he jests. "Should I prepare my gear at home, just in case Lockwood and Co have to come save you Fittes lot for once?"

Laughing, you say, "No, but thanks. No offence, but I think we're a little more qualified for this job than you are, Lockwood."

There's a pause, one in which he only looks at you, smiling. Then, "Call me Anthony."

Before you lose confidence, you knock on the pale blue door before you.

Portland Row is quiet, despite it being mid-afternoon and summertime, but you don't really mind. With the sun beating down on your back, and a warm breeze that smells faintly like cut grass, you couldn't be more relaxed even if you tried.

The door swings open, revealing the face of George Karim, who doesn't seem overly pleased to see you.

"What do you want?"

You're taken back a little by his forwardness. "Oh, I just thought I'd come nip round and pay you guys a visit. I brought a bunch of doughnuts and biscuits and stuff from Arif's." You hold the box in your hands a little higher.

"George," a voice calls - Lucy Carlyle's, judging from the pitch. "Who is it?"

"(name), you know, Fittes agent? Kipps' crew?"

"I've brought treats from Arif's," you say over George's shoulder. "I come in peace."

"Oh, for god's sake, George, let her in!"

This time, it's Lockwood - Anthony - who speaks. He opens the door wider so that he and George are standing shoulder to shoulder in the frame. His wide smile is dazzling, and, as usual, his clothes are crisp and clean, as if he put them on right away after being ironed and hasn't moved in them lest they crease.

"Hey, (name). Thanks for bringing food."

He nudges George out of the way and gestures for you to come inside, which you do albeit cautiously.

The house isn't what you expected at all. With three teenagers living there, you assumed it'd be rather modern, but the wallpaper is old, and all sorts of decor and memorabilia hang on the walls. Masks, photos, and the likes. Straight ahead, Lucy Carlyle stands on the stairs, dressed in a comfy top and shorts, and despite the tension between your agency and theirs, she smiles at you before hurrying down the stairs and disappearing into what you assume is the kitchen. George follows her, frowning.

Deftly, Lockwood takes the large box of sweet treats from your hands.

"What's the occasion?" he asks, leading you down the hall to the kitchen.

"It's just a thank you for paying for my coffee the other day," you say. "Also, I wanted to see you, and I figured George wouldn't let me within ten feet unless I brought goods."

Lockwood laughs. "Well, you're right about that."

The kitchen isn't the largest you've seen, but it's cosy. Lucy is clearing space on the table which, oddly enough, is covered in a white tablecloth full of scribbles and writing. George is boiling the kettle over to the side, four mugs set out in front of him, though one is considerably smaller than the rest.

You can't blame him for not liking you. Although Kipps is like your brother, you know that he goes too far sometimes, and he's never been particularly nice to Lockwood and his friends. You're a part of his team, so their dislike for Kipps - or George's, at least - has extended to you.

"Please, sit," Lockwood says, gesturing to one of the seats.

Smiling a little awkwardly, you sit down as he separates the contents of the box onto different plates. Lucy takes the seat next to you, plucking one of the doughnuts straight out of the box and smiling.

Lucy has never had the warmest personality, or so you've heard, but the doughnuts have seemingly put you in her good books. That eases your discomfort a little.

George sets cups of tea down on the table before sitting down himself, just as Lockwood does, too. They all take their pick of the treats, grinning and chatting away.

"So, (name)," Lockwood says. "How did your case go the other day?"

Lucy raises her eyebrows. "You're keeping tabs on Fittes now?"

"We ran into each other a couple of days ago," you explain. "We stayed and caught up for a little bit."

George frowns. "Is that why you took so long getting back from your shopping trip?"

Lockwood sips his tea. "Yeah, I suppose. Anyways, how was it?"

"Fine," you say. "Some lady was murdered by her son a few decades ago, wanted revenge on the family - you know, the usual."

"Please tell me Kipps got a little injured," George says.

"George!" Lucy hisses, but something in her eyes tells you she doesn't feel much different than he does.

"Unfortunately for you, no, he didn't. Since he's just our supervisor, he stays within an iron circle and shouts orders at us."

"Surely that must get annoying?" Lockwood says. He's watching you carefully, and you can feel your ears growing hot under his gaze. "Having to take orders from someone who can't even see what's going on."

You shrug. "Yeah, it does, but there's not much we can do about it."

"Maybe, you could work with us."

Everyone seems to freeze when Lockwood says that. You slowly look up at him from the pastry you were just reaching for, your face the definition of pure shock. Lucy, bless her, just sits with another doughnut halfway to her mouth, eyes a little wide. But George, oh, George. It takes all your strength not to laugh at the expression of unadulterated surprise, mixed with a little bit of anger, as a biscuit hangs from his mouth.

"What?" you all say simultaneously.

Lockwood only grins wider. "I think it'd be a good decision. If we have one extra agent, it means if we get overbooked, we don't end up with one agent per case and can double up. And I don't think it'd hurt for Lucy to have some female company in the house."

"You can't be serious," George says.

"I am. So, (name)?"

The words are hard to find. "Uh, I mean, shouldn't you guys all talk about this together? I don't want to just be barging in, you know? Besides, I'd need to talk to Kipps, and that'll go down about as well as a magnesium flare in a forest."

"For once," George says, "I agree with (name)."

"Oh, come on." Lockwood waves his hand nonchalantly. "She's an incredible agent, and she'd fit right in. I don't think there's much to discuss."

In all honesty, you feel flattered that Lockwood is offering you a position within his company, only because you admire him so much. Fittes, and just about all of the big agencies, are too bureaucratic, in your opinion, and extremely controlling over cases. Lockwood and Co have free rein, within the rules set out by DEPRAC, and aren't hindered by supervisors or massive amounts of paperwork, all because he had the confidence to split off and set up his own company.

"Let's not rush into any decisions," you say, standing slowly. You don't want to move too quickly and elicit the rage of Karim. "I think I should probably head off. Enjoy the food, and, uh, have a good day."

Smiling awkwardly, you make your way out of the kitchen and hurry to the front door.

Footsteps sound behind you and, as you open the door, Lockwood says, "Wait."

You turn, sighing. "Before you say anything, Lockwood -"

"Anthony."

"Anthony, thank you for the offer, but I really think you should talk to Lucy and George first. I can't just accept without them wanting me to, and that's if I can accept."

Lockwood leans against the doorframe, looking down at you with those dark eyes of his. God, they've got you hooked.

"I will. I just - You're wasted at Fittes, stuck following the orders of someone whose Talent faded years ago."

You give him a look, but it's half-hearted. "Kipps basically raised me, alright? But I get it. Again, I appreciate it, but speak to the two of them first and then I'll consider it."

That seems to be a good enough answer. His smile is blinding. His hand briefly brushes yours, and your breath hitches.

"Give me a call in a few days," you say, "and we'll see where we're at, yeah?"

"Will do."

"I'll see you soon, Anthony."

If possible, his smile only grows brighter. "Likewise, (name)."

As you leave, you can still feel the brushing of his hand on yours, a sensation you hope will never fade.

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