#shit I don't know what else to tag this with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

etherealily · 2 days

Text

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.

Cliffhanger or series? Haven't decided. Repost because of reasons.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breach every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffel bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

31 notes · View notes

sunwarmed-ash · 1 day

Text

Heyoooo Happy Monday!

Did yall read last nights Sinful Sunday update? its here if you didn't get a chance yet!

I also got tagged by @lizzy0305 for WIP Wednesday Monday!

WIP MONDAY

Detroit Become Human, Hurt/Comfort, Sad Gavin Reed, HankCon established, previous Hankvin, eventual Hankconvin

My love language is misery: (Ch 3 preview)

It's silent in the car since Connor and Hank left the station to go check on Gavin. According to Detective Chen, the younger Detective had left work shortly after their ‘interaction’ outside the breakroom. Mentioning something about needing a change of clothes before walking out. Hank and Connor were quick to follow him out the doors and Connor’s earlier worry only compounded the longer they traveled. “To answer your question from earlier, about me and Gavin having a relationship. sorta.” “Sorta how?” Connor asks, needing to know everything to sort out a best course of action to help Gavin. Hank exhales through his nose and keeps his eyes forward out the windshield. “Before everything went to shit, and before me and Annie got together again. When we were both young and single, and fuckin’ everythin’ that moved… We hooked up, few times. But I thought- He never mentioned…” Hank huffs a little, struggling to find the right words, “I didn't think it was more than that… Always thought we were just playin’ but, what he said yesterday… haven't been able to get it out of my head since.” Connor analyzes Hank's increase in blood pressure and stress and places his hand on Hank’s knee in comfort. “What did he say?” Hank takes one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze it before returning his hand to its previous position on the wheel. “That I only want him when I can’t have him. Specifically, when I’m already with someone else. I don't know, I guess, now that I look back and think about it, I can see why he said it. I’ve never been very good at maintaining personal ‘relationships.’” “I don't know, I'd say this relationship is going quite well,” Connor smiles. It eases enough of the tension hanging in the car and Hank chuckles. “Yeah, I think that’s sorta the problem.” “He perceives me as a threat,” Connor interprets. “Big time.” “I see.” “We’ve always had a, complicated, relationship, Gav and I. But he's got some of his own additional demons on board. I think that might be what’s fucking him up now. Especially since uh, we aren't doing to much to hide our relationship at work.” “Yes, perhaps we have been playing a little ‘fast and loose’ with that line,” Connor agrees. “Mmm,” Hank agrees. A few moments of silence pass in the car and then Connor has to ask, “What happened to him?” Hank’s next exhale is obviously conflicted. “Can’t tell ya that, I’m afraid. Sorry Con. It's his business, nothing personal. I just wouldn't feel right.” “I understand,” Connor says, because he does. No unintended subtext. PTSD is something Connor is intimately familiar with now, and he wants to come across as non threatening as possible tonight. “Are there any general things I should be aware of? I don't want to unintentionally set off an attack.” “Just, follow my lead. And let him come to you. When he’s dissociating, he can’t always see what's going on in front of him.” More pieces slid into place for Connor with that confession. “Like this morning, in the breakroom.” “Yeah, exactly.” It’s quiet another moment and then Connor says, “He’s lucky to have someone like you Hank,” because he means it. Gavin doesn’t have a lot of friends at the DPD thanks to his almost 24/7 sour mood. And after today, he could probably use one. Hank scoffs a little disbelievingly at Connor’s praise but meets him in the middle with, “Yeah well, hopefully we can at least convince him to accept our help.”

@sweeteatercat @treeffles @disdaidal @tradedsymmetry @covenscribe @advictoriams @negative-citadel @writerwhowritesao3 and anyone else who wants to!! Have a great day everyone, I'm gonna try and get some sun today!

#wip monday #hankconvin #cop sandwich #hankvin800 #detroit become human #connor rk800 #gavin reed #hank anderson #find me on ao3 #sunwarmed ash #buy me a coffee?#links in pinned #reblogs are free ways to support me!#i post new stuff every sunday #sinful sunday #my love language is misery

16 notes · View notes

use-your-telescope · 1 year

Text

Writing Snippet/Preview

OKAY OKAY OKAY, so I’ve been toying with the idea of sharing some snippets from the very long (very, VERY LONG) LokixOFC fic that I’ve been working on for the over a year (The fic’s working title has been the Trickster, but it very well may change UPDATE - IT HAS AN OFFICIAL TITLE! It's called "When Everything's Made to be Broken") ... And uh, well, I’ve officially caved. Snippet sharing time below the cut! Context: This takes place in an AU where Loki survives the Thanos attack, joins the Avengers, and they defeat Thanos at the battle of Wakanda. No snap happens. The Avengers are both superheroes and public figures, almost like celebrities? Avengers tower still is a thing because, well, it’s convenient.

This is from Chapter 3, which is based on the song “Some Nights” by Fun. This is when the Avengers first meet Theo (OFC), told from Loki’s perspective. This is only part of the chapter. Warnings... uh, snark. Lots of snark. Maybe some swearing?

The lead up to the scene: Mysterious shadow beasts have been attacking Earth, and because Theo has experience with the creatures and magical powers, she is pestered by Nick Fury and Maria Hill to help the Avengers get rid of the creatures. In turn, they promise her that they will help her reunite with her family, who Theo had presumed were dead for years. Up until this point, she refused to join the Avengers and kept her magical abilities under wraps, instead working as an Emergency Medicine doctor.

Disclaimers: No, I don’t own Marvel. Do not translate this fic or repost it on any websites/blogs/anywhere other than here; I have not posted this on AO3 since it’s not actually finished yet.

be nice please I haven’t posted fan fiction in eleven years but I wanted to test the waters

I’m Still Not Sure What I Stand For

“Dr. Theolene Amaris,” Nick Fury’s voice rang out in the meeting room as a picture of a lithe woman appeared on screen. “ - also known as the Silver Shadow, the Celestial Phantom, and the Cursed Moon.”

It was only a few hours earlier that everyone was notified of the mandatory briefing, which was described as “urgent.” Moments before, Loki found himself pondering the nature of the briefing while everyone packed into a bright conference room. In front of each Avenger, a manila file folder sat prepared for them with information related to the subject in question.The faces of his team members shifted as they developed their first impressions on the subject of their briefing, her likeness blown up on the screen at the front of the room.

Despite exceeding the capacity of the space, Loki managed to secure his usual seat in the back, conveniently located near the door for an easy escape. It was a habit that lingered from his earlier days in the tower, but having an easy escape from what were normally tedious meetings was still a benefit that Loki took advantage of more often than not. Even better, there was an empty seat next to him, lessening the otherwise inevitable sense of claustrophobia that would have eventually reared its ugly head.

She really didn’t look like much. The only noteworthy feature in her appearance was the thick mane of silver hair that tumbled down her back, stopping just above her waist. Otherwise, she appeared to be like any other Midgardian: clad in all-black, a beanie atop her head with black sunglasses obscuring her features as she walked down the street. If Loki passed her in real life, there was no way he’d offer her a second glance, or even a first.

With that in mind, it was safe to assume that in this first image, she was practicing urban camouflage – blending in with her surroundings by altering her appearance and attire to mimic those around her. The less attention she drew to herself, the easier it would be to slip in and out unnoticed; it also created an additional challenge if anyone sought to locate her. As someone who’d had plenty of experience with stealth, Loki already had an idea of what her skill sets may include.

Stark studied the first image of her, brow furrowed as he spoke up. “Hell of a name, but she doesn’t look like much. What’s her doctorate in? Bad poetry? Sad music? Scaring parents?”

“Emergency Medicine.” Fury glared at Stark while Agent Hill changed the display to a second photograph. “Assuming she isn’t a serious threat is both the first and last mistake you’ll make about her.”

The second image must have been captured in combat. She crouched down as though she just landed from a maneuver, the hood of a cloak masking the top half of her face as she held a black longsword composed entirely of what appeared to be magic in one hand. Her other hand glowed black as it touched the ground, ready to launch some kind of spell. Some blood was smeared across her jawline, a scowl across her lips as a pair of corpses lay in the background. Unlike the first photo, now he could see a scar that ran down past the bottom of her lip, almost giving her the appearance of a permanently split lip. A second scar cut through the outside edge of her eyebrow, angling out towards her temple.

One detail piqued his interest: of all the realms that Loki had visited, he did not recognize where she was. He had to give it to Fury – this picture certainly made her appear far more intimidating.

“She specializes in shadow magic—“

The room erupted as all the Avengers fired off questions at the director.

“Shadow magic? Wait, is she the one behind those shadow beast-things we’ve been fighting lately?”

“What does she want?”

“Is she working for Dr. Doom?”

“Did HYDRA give her those powers?”

“What kind of villain studies emergency medicine?”

“Maybe this will help explain things.” Agent Hill tapped a screen as the image before them went to a video.

Loki had seen this video before - it was nearly impossible to miss, having been plastered all across the news for weeks. A Midgardian woman single-handedly eliminated an entire swarm of the shadowy monsters that had plagued New York City recently, all while in a subway car. Somehow, no one knew who she was or the methods used to exterminate the pests. It was obvious from the video that it was magic of some kind, though it was different from any magic Loki had ever encountered in his life and it did not resemble anything he had ever studied. Though he hadn’t admitted it to anyone, he was curious to meet this Midgardian and learn her abilities for himself.

Of course, that was assuming she was Midgardian. There were many species who appeared to be Midgardian, though biologically they were different. Usually, it was easy for Loki to sense if someone was Aesir, Midgardian, or otherwise; however, no indication that she was anything extraterrestrial revealed itself to him.

No, this woman must have been Midgardian.

“That’s her?” Romanoff inquired, arching a perfectly groomed brow at Hill.

“Wait wait wait, I thought she was the bad guy, but she’s killing the shadowy monsters here…” Wilson said, gawking at the screen. “Unless she’s really crazy and likes killing her own, this doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m telling you, if she’s the big bad and studied Emergency Medicine, she’s definitely got a screw loose,” Barnes said, “and that’s coming from the guy with a vibranium arm.”

“This incident was weeks ago - how is it that we are just now learning of her identity?” Rhodes interjected.

“She is not our enemy,” Agent Hill finally explained, raising her voice over the incessant chatter. “She has agreed to help the Avengers find the root cause of the shadow creature problem and exterminate the beasts.”

Stunned silence permeated the room. The ticking of the clock above Fury’s perpetual scowl only emphasized the blaring lack of sound.

Loki could count on one hand the number of times he had ever witnessed total silence from the group; to see the group go from so animated to so silent nearly gave him whiplash.

“She’s joining the Avengers?” Stark’s disbelief was painted all over his face. “Emo queen Rapunzel is joining the Avengers?”

“Not exactly,” Agent Carter said, “She is coming on board specifically to help with the shadow creatures.”

“If she’s so powerful, why isn’t she already a part of the Avengers?” Banner asked, leaning in as he met Fury’s glare.

“This is a temporary arrangement.” Fury crossed his arms. “We struck a deal with her.”

“So she comes in and helps with the shadow creatures, and then what - she just disappears?” Rogers pressed, “Don’t you think someone with expertise in shadow magic should be kept under close watch?”

“You’d be a fool to think she hasn’t been on SHIELD’s radar for a long time.” Fury crossed his arms and glowered at the group. “She turned down past offers to join the Avengers. Your mission is to convince her to stay.”

“Convince her to stay?” Romanoff shot Fury a wary glance, while others regarded the director as though he grew another head.

“Assuming all goes well, we want her to remain on the team after the shadow creatures are eliminated,” Agent Hill explained. “She is highly adept in both physical and magical combat, and she has expertise in stealth operations. She fills in some key areas of the team that have been lacking, while her versatility allows her to fit into a variety of smaller teams with ease. However, we need you to convince her to stay.”

“Dr. Amaris cut her teeth in a different realm,” Fury added. “She has trained with threats far more powerful than what we have encountered here on earth, and fought to survive in far worse scenarios. Her experiences and insight would be invaluable in our operations.”

“Okay, but if you had to strike a deal with her, that still raises some questions…” Banner hesitated, raising an eyebrow at Fury. “It makes it sound like she wasn’t exactly keen to help protect the world.”

“Her skills are far too valuable to be left unutilized.” Fury glared at Banner. “What I was going to say before someone interrupted my briefing is that she is also an incredibly powerful healer.“

“How do we know we can trust her?” Wilson asked. “I’m no wizard, but shadow magic sounds like trouble at best.”

Barton agreed. “Besides, Nat has us covered in stealth.”

“You know how to make a woman feel appreciated.” Romanoff coyly winked at Barton.

While Loki wasn’t one to regularly agree with Wilson, for once he made a good point: this was something Loki was unfamiliar with, and at the very least it sounded dubious.

“Because if I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead.”

Every head in the room snapped towards the entrance, eyes wider than dinner plates as they gawked at the source of the voice.

Leaning against the closed conference room door was the subject of their briefing.

In real life, Theolene Amaris was smaller than Loki expected - not short by any means, as she appeared to be slightly taller than Maximoff and Romanoff; she was probably the average height for a Midgardian woman. However, she was lanky, with elongated limbs and a slight figure. She carried her head high with relaxed posture, one leg crossed in front of the other as she leaned on the doorframe with hands loosely tucked in her pockets. She didn’t seem to be intimidated by the strong personalities in front of her, even as she crashed their briefing.

Dr. Amaris sauntered into the room, eyes scanning over each of the Avengers with a smirk on her face. When she reached Loki she paused, quirking her head to the side as the curl of her lips increased. “Looks like one of us might need to change.”

At first, Loki was perplexed by her remark. Upon a second glance, it became obvious. They both wore almost identical outfits: black button-up shirts with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, tucked into tailored black trousers that showed a bit of ankle, and black Oxford shoes.

He couldn’t help the snort that escaped him, a smile creeping across his own features as he allowed his shoulders to relax. It was unusual for someone to make him laugh, especially on a first encounter. And to shock the Avengers in such a way? Well, he certainly was intrigued.

“It seems we have similar tastes in apparel,” Loki commented coolly, wondering about the nature of her remark.

Just then, Theo pulled a hand out of her pocket and snapped her fingers, instantly changing her outfit into a pair of ripped black jeans, a faded gray vintage Queen shirt, and a pair of black sneakers.

Loki could feel the magic pouring off of her - while she was no god, it was apparent to him that Fury wasn’t kidding when he said she was much more powerful than she let on.

“There, that’s better.” She dropped into the seat beside Loki, leaning back and kicking her feet up onto the table before sticking out one hand. “You must be Loki?”

“Indeed, and you must be Dr. Amaris.” Loki offered a wry grin, shaking her hand with a firm grip. “A fellow sorcerer, I see.”

“You could say that,” She winked, returning the gesture with a firm grip. “Call me Theo. Dr. Amaris is what my residents call me.”

From the opposite side of Theo, Thor beamed at the sight of his brother being surprisingly friendly to the Avengers’ newest addition. It took every ounce of self-restraint for Loki to prevent himself from rolling his eyes at his older brother.

“Pleasure to meet you, Theo.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas with Rapunzel here, Reindeer Games.” Stark warned, clearly having already settled on a nickname for the newest team member.

Loki’s attention diverted to Stark, sending invisible daggers at the man. Even though they had come a long way from the distrust present when Loki first joined the team, there were certainly still moments where Stark got on his nerves.

This time it was Theo’s turn to snort.

“Rapunzel? That’s the best nickname you’ve got, Tin Man?” Theo cocked one eyebrow at the billionaire as she laughed, brushing a piece of hair over her shoulder. “I may have long hair, but good luck with trying to lock me up in this tower.”

“Watch out, or I might invent something so I can–”

“-- Then again, you named your AI system FRIDAY, so I shouldn’t be surprised,” She continued, unfazed by Stark’s threat. “Seriously, what the hell kind of name is that?”

“Says the person named Theolene...”

“First of all, I just told you - I go by Theo, not Theolene. Second, I can’t help it that my mother has terrible taste in names. Third, Loki’s helmet has horns, not reindeer antlers. For a genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist, you should know the difference.” Theo turned to the other Avengers. “And while I’m correcting people, I don’t specialize in shadow magic. I specialize in celestial magic, of which shadow magic is a subset. Dr. Doom is a joke, HYDRA wishes they gave me these powers, and my refusal to become an Avenger has nothing to do with a lack of desire to protect people, it’s because I don’t want to spend my time playing superhero when I can be more useful as a doctor. Although whichever one of you suggested I had a screw loose - Bucky, I believe - was probably right. At least, my cousin would agree with you. He’s pissed that I agreed to this.”

If there were two words that best described the collective response, “utter bewilderment” would be Loki’s choice.

“Wait a minute—“ Wilson blurted out, “How long have you been listening to our briefing? Have you been here this whole time?”

“Long enough to know you are just as skeptical of me as I am of you. It’s nothing personal, I know - I would be skeptical of me too! still, this has been enlightening.” Theo rose to her feet, gliding back to the entrance. She spun around, bowing with a dramatic flourish while flashing a cheshire grin at the crowd. “See you next Monday for your press conference!”

With a flick of her wrist, a series of black runes appeared all over her arms, flowing down her limbs like a stream of water. When they reached her fingertips, they rose into the air and evolved, surrounding her until she was obscured from view; in a flash of white, she disappeared, leaving nothing but a faint shimmer. The entire process took at most a few seconds, but the effect lingered far longer.

It was a finale to the encounter that was almost as dramatic as her introduction.

If Loki’s instincts were correct, she was just getting started.

#my writing #Fic preview #loki x ofc #lokixofc #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #e writes stuff #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki mcu #marvel fanfiction #loki x ofc fanfiction #lokixofc fanfiction #shit I don't know what else to tag this with #When Everything's Made to be Broken #WEMtbB

61 notes · View notes

koiihpon · 1 month

Text

Don’t wait up…

colored this panel from @thegunnsara's Back to the Past comic (part 6) :]

the bottom panel was so striking when I first saw it that I just needed to color it heheh sorry it took a while to finish ><

orig under cut vvvv

#the title is literally nothing I just pulled it out of my ass bcus I wanted a title #first thing I thought of and I didn't want to overthink it wwww #I hope you like it sara #your art is very inspiring to me <3 #I'm still learning tho so don't look at it too hard -3- I don't really know what I'm doing #rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt au #fuckinnnn idk what else to tag #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #koii.png #me posting #I love coloring shit like this it just takes me so long to finish them T-T

837 notes · View notes

nc-vb · 8 months

Text

𝐦𝐥𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬

This is a continuation of the links I original had in this post here! It reached tumblr's 100 link-per-post limit, so since I had more mlm links than the other ones (... 👀), I'm giving them their own post (which is killing me bc I wanted them all together & it's ruining the aesthetic vibe I had going grrr)

All links coloured in blue are new to the original list! Links with ✨ are personal favourites/recommendations. 98% of the links lead to twt/x, but some go to the hub.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 ✨ | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 ✨ | 19 ✨ | 20 ✨

21 ✨ | 22 | 23 | 24 ✨ | 25 ✨ | 26 | 27 ✨ | 28 | 29 | 30 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 ✨| 40

41 | 42 ✨| 43 ✨| 44 ✨| 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 ✨| 49 ✨| 50 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 ✨| 55 | 56 ✨| 57 ✨| 58 | 59 | 60 ✨

61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 ✨| 68 | 69 | 70 ✨ 71 | 72 ✨| 73 | 74 | 75 | 76 ✨| 77 ✨| 78 | 79 ✨| 80 ✨

81 ✨| 82 | 83 | 84

Mignon ep. 12 -> 1 2

Additionally recommending y'all to watch

Mignon (episode 11 & 12)

Hyperventilation

Hiro

#enjoy :)#twt links #asmr #n/sft asmr #n/sfw asmr #male moan #voice kink #i still don't know what else to tag this shit???#✦ nc vb.

581 notes · View notes

fallinglikemagic · 2 months

Text

Okay, now that everybody's had some time to process and gotten some of the doomposting out, here's my thoughts on the whole situation.

First of all, I'm not really worried about whether or not RWBY will continue in some capacity. It's uncertain, sure, but no more than it was already. In February we got the update that they were talking to potential partners about getting volume 10 made, so clearly they weren't just relying on Rooster Teeth and Warner Brothers for it - maybe one of those companies will pick it up, maybe a different company will, either way I'm sure it *will* be picked up by somebody and unless they get real unlucky, the show won't be much worse off than it was before - if anything it might be better off, considering that WB have been shitty about animation for quite a while now (if you're not already familiar and you're up for some extra research, I recommend looking into the Coyote vs ACME situation that's been going on recently for a great example of WB's bullshit). And while it's unclear exactly how much involvement the original crew will have in the show's future, I'm pretty optimistic about it. I doubt the writers are going to let go of creative control without a fight, if for nothing else then for Monty - I don't like focusing too much on the whole Monty's Legacy stuff in general, but I do think that the crew are going to want to keep their friend's work alive and authentic and as accurate to what he wanted it to be as possible. None of this is a certainty of course, but I think RWBY is gonna be fine, things will just be kinda rocky for a bit.

With all that being said, while this may end up ultimately being a blessing in disguise for RWBY as a franchise, it sure ain't one for everybody who worked at Rooster Teeth. This entire situation is still horrible - so many people being fired on the spot, effective immediately, with no warning and with several of them only finding out by seeing articles about it being posted on Twitter, it's fucked. I know Rooster Teeth wasn't exactly lacking in controversy and problematic behaviour, to put it lightly, but there were still plenty of amazing people there who are now in a really shitty situation. On top of that, while again this isn't exactly anything new, especially for WB, it is the latest instance of a huge problem in the animation and entertainment industries. So no matter how things pan out for RWBY, we should still be really fucking mad about this.

And we definitely shouldn't be celebrating. I've seen some posts saying "good riddance" and celebrating RT's downfall, not just from people who hate RWBY (I mean don't get me wrong I'm sure the hatedom is out in full force but that's not the kind of thing I'm referring to right now), but people who like/used to like the show and just hated the company. And don't get me wrong, I didn't like a lot of things about the company either, I've actually been wanting RWBY to separate itself from RT for a pretty long time (be careful what you wish for I guess 💀), but there's a time and a place and this certainly ain't it. Plenty of people who have worked there have said that they loved their jobs, plenty of others said it was horrible and toxic and nightmarish, but either way a job is a job and in this industry work isn't always easy to find, especially in recent years. Celebrate in private if you want, but now is not the damn time to be bringing out the cake and confetti.

TLDR; I'm cautiously optimistic about RWBY's future, I'm pretty sure it'll be fine and they'll be able to keep the core crew to at least some extent, but this is still a really bad situation for everybody who just lost their jobs, don't be a dick.

#rwby #rooster teeth #what the fuck else are people tagging these kind of posts with uh #warner bros #I guess #anyway sorry if I sound kinda miffed in this post I'm just really tired. of a lot of shit #oh and just to be super 100% clear - even if RWBY had been just straight up cancelled the most important thing is still the workers #focus on giving them whatever support you can and don't pressure them to talk about the show and it's future #which I imagine most of you already know but just to be crystal clear on all this

222 notes · View notes

blinkpen · 7 months

Text

when your sleep paralysis demon is an artist, prone to Moods, (what are you afraid of? tell me what you're scared of)

#mog art #artists on tumblr #zoetrope #demon #monster boy #triclops #sleep paralysis #scopophobia cw #unsanitary cw #(don't know else what to tag giant imaginary germs as? let me know if there's something better for that)#bugs #when the character who is so tumblr husband coded has unironically cool/creative powers and shit #god zoetrope WOULD kin the fuck out of gonzo wouldn't he #gonzo you know the muppet #the one from space #maannn i saw that movie in theaters and there was pizza there? and it was SO BAD it was SOOO BAD my dad-guy at the time who was normally al #'i paid for this you eat it' was like about to yell but then he took a bite and was like '...okay you dont have to eat that'#'in fact DON'T eat that i'm throwing this away' like that was insane for him to do #what was i on about? oh yeah. muppets.#wait why w

102 notes · View notes

spider-lilliss · 5 days

Text

(In the middle of watching Dead Boy Detectives finally)

Hey Death honey I love you girl but I need you to leave my emotional support gays alone.

#you let madame xanadu cheat you just do it for edwin and charles #please i need it for my mental health #I'm so normal about this show. so so normal.#/s #dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin paine #i just love charles so much holly shit #i don't know what else to tag #but i feel that i need more tags #if you made it so far I'm surprised #okay bye #i desperately need sleep #stayed awake all night to watch this

30 notes · View notes

raayllum · 3 months

Text

don't get me wrong callum is undeniably a prince and it plays into his family dynamics and his initial sense of unworthiness when the story starts a lot, but i'll never fully understand the hang up that it's a Big part of his ongoing story when his own brother, the king, says "remember who you are" and just refers and reiterates his mage identity (4x06), and that's the only one that callum seems to significantly care about either (5x07)

#tdp callum #like he's The Prince in arc 2 but only when it's Funny/Convenient for him to be at any given time #& y'know what good for him #tag ramble #like none of his arcs have ever been Informed by him being a prince since like. s1 #and i would not be surprised if by the end of the series he's not living in katolis #like Who Knows obviously. he totally could be #but like. he is very clearly a prince bc harrow & ezran Needed to be royal for Their Storylines #and callum being a 'step prince' was an easy allegory for 'you feel external pressures & like u don't fully belong in your family'#in a court dynamic #like i'd love a 'callum is acting king while ezran is off doing something else' i would eat that shit up #5x01 was a perfect opportunity. they Did Not do that and i think it's so funny #meanwhile ezran is The King and that's like. that's his arc y'know?

38 notes · View notes

ninicaise · 8 months

Text

damen and laurent ARE codependant but like. they never find out

#captive prince #damen x laurent #everyone else knows bc it's obvious and they ruin the lives of everyone around them constantly bc of this #but they rlly are blissfully unaware <3 either that or they just don't give a shit #thos mfs would commit suicide if thw other died and leave their countries in ruins with civil wars bc of how obsessed they r w each other.#like canonially.#me personally i love an insane couple. completely bonkers toxic bitches. etc #i just think it would be funny if they were acting Like That #and they were both like we are normal. what do you mean. this is how normal couples who aren't all the other has left in this world behave.#We Are Normal #sorry about the three thousand typos in the tags btw

81 notes · View notes

ohmygenz-ie · 1 month

Text

I got my haircut the other day and I got bangs now🏳️‍⚧️

25 notes · View notes

veritable-trash · 1 year

Text

You Know The Rules

look at that stupid slutty mustache... god please answer my prayers just this once

Pairing: Finnegan(Everybody Wants Some!!) x Fem!Reader

Summary: God you hate him.

Word Count: 2K

Rating: M - mainly for drugs babayyyyy, weed, that good, otherwise it's pretty clean in these sheets(this time around)

A/N: haha. no one asked for this. but listen! all my glen powell sloots we need to remember the original. sweet daddy finnegan. mustached, shaggy haired, 80s baseball player i mean i couldn't have written a sluttier man if i tried. this movie isn't the greatest, but the music is dope, the outfits are cute, and it serves as a public service announcement that men need to start wearing crop tops IMMEDIATELY. this is a petition for men to start dressing like sluts again so i can finally be at peace. anyways this is completely and utterly self serving but the glen powell top gun resurgence just kept reminding me that this is peak glen to me. give me mustaches or give me death!

sorry that i haven't written... or literally done anything of value in an eon. my brain has given up and also i moved and am currently unemployed and am about to go travel for three months and want to write but have zero inspiration and tumblr makes me sad because everyone is so good at writing and i am a troll under a bridge. this is me trying to release the need to produce things of "value" because does that even mean anymore? i hope someone finds this a little fun because honestly i kinda did :) hugs and kisses <;33333

tell me what you think! i'm literally begging! on my hands and knees! the desperation is palpable yeesh

masterlist yay yay!!!

~~~~~

College.

What a fucking heinous place. Filled with suffocating expectations, the constant need to pretend you’re someone you’re not because of everyone else’s supposed opinions of you.

It made you want to vomit.

And yet here you were, cowering in the corner of the kitchen at this stupid, lame, awful college party. A baseball party no less. Those absolute heathens. Probably the worst category of men on this campus by about 20 miles and you were definitely counting.

The joint you haphazardly rolled in the absolutely disgusting bathroom crackles between your lips as you try to tune out every single person here and catch the steady baseline of the song playing hoping that that will somehow lull you into a state of calm.

This new weed sucked shit. All stems, all seeds, and got you high for about 30 seconds. You were going to kill Willoughby when you saw him. Honestly the only baseball player in this house you liked and even he was about to get moved right onto the shit list with the rest of the men of this house.

Your friends had badgered you endlessly all week to ask Willoughby for the invite, not that you really need to even ask him. Girls? More than one? The baseball boys were already salivating like it was their last meal on death row.

The standards in this place were in the fucking basement.

Some would call you a pessimist. Angry, bitchy, snippy, negative, the whole gambit and they might be right. But college was a fucking weird ass place that made your skin crawl and your anxiety spike and all you wanted to do was smoke your green, pass your classes, and watch your cartoons in peace, please and thank you.

And then his voice cut through your slow building haze like a serrated knife on a chalkboard. Made of sandpaper.

“Sweetheart! I thought Willoughby mentioned you’d be here, and why am I not surprised you’re toking it up alone in our kitchen, my favorite little stoner weirdo.”

Finnegan.

The absolute ultimate fuck.

Mustached, wide shoulders, shaggy blonde, crisp baby blues, he was everything your vagina yearned for until he opened his stupid mouth. And of course that was just as pretty as the rest of him too.

You’d met him for the first time freshman year. Fresh faced and thinking the world was truly your oyster, he’d popped into your life in intro to philosophy and swept you away with his silky, fancy words and the fact that he looked like that.

He’d invited you to the first baseball party you’d ever gone to and made you a special promise that he would be your knight in shining armor for the night. That he’d be waiting for your arrival, was counting down the minutes till you showed up at his door and he could dance the night away with you.

That was until you saw him sucking face with Tracy. Who was also in your intro to philosophy class.

Obviously, you’d hated him to his core ever since.

But for some reason he’d stuck around. Always kept tabs on you, always had a class with you, always found you at any party, bar, disco, literally fucking anywhere and it made you want to tear your hair out.

He was your pretty boy kryptonite and you needed him to leave you the fuck alone.

“Oh Finny. Finny, Finnegan, fuckhead. You know I thought I’d somehow be able to avoid you tonight but it seems like my stalker persists no matter the obstacles.”

Smoke trickles from between your clenched teeth and he has the audacity to stare at your lips and grin.

Fucking grin!!!

“You wound me princess. Ain’t even gonna share that little pinner of yours, I mean the absolute cruelty of it all.”

The grins still blazing on his lips but in Finn fashion he has to play up his part.

Clutching at his pearls, leaning against the kitchen counter like you’d just stabbed him straight through. Your eyes roll so far back in your head they almost launch themselves out of your skull.

“No Finn, I’m not gonna share with the likes of you. Go find Will and get him to roll you one, he’s the one I got the weed from anyways. Or maybe go find some other poor unsuspecting girl to do the deed for you, but you ain’t getting shit from me. You know the rules sweet Finny: ass, cash, or grass and god only knows I ain’t taking any of those three from you.”

You regret those last few words the second they enter the air between you.

Because Finnegan’s eyes drop straight to your mouth again and now he’s crowding you into the corner of the counter.

“Oh sweetheart if you just let me show you what this ass can do I think you would be singing quite a different tune. You think I’m all bravado and show but you and I both know the two of us could be quite a duo. I just know you’re absolutely unreal beneath that veneer of hatred you slap on.”

He’s still staring at your lips, the joint hanging limply between them as you try and control your breath and not cough up a lung.

Two can play this fucking game.

You take a thick drag, the tip burning bright orange and crackling like cinders and his eyes only deepen in shade. The smoke curls out and up into your nose and he stares at you his jaw dropping a little slack as you play him like the fucking fiddle he is.

“Finn.” Your index finger trails up his arm as you ash the joint in the sink, and you can feel the muscles of his bicep twitch with the contact. “If you think I’m gonna let you touch me you’ve lost your god damn mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go find some peace and quiet. Away from you.”

Your voice is sticky sweet and he barely registers that you’re telling him off for the millionth time tonight until you’re traipsing out of the kitchen at lightning speed before you do something else you’ll regret.

He got too fucking close this time around. You let him get too fucking close.

Your feet stomp quick up the stairs to the only safe place you’d ever been able to find in this house.

The roof. That blissful open space, like the crispest breath of fresh air it tasted almost minty. Your hands dig into your pockets looking for your weed, your lighter, and your rolling papers-

Fuck.

Of course you’d forgotten papers, predicable as always and fucking annoying as hell and you’re about to turn back down the stairs when your eyes land on something sitting on the windowsill.

Finn’s wood pipe.

You loved to hate it but it was his calling card. Stupid and quirky and so perfectly him that the sight of it made you heart twist just a little.

Not that you would ever fucking admit that.

Well beggars can’t be chooser as they say.

It’s deceptively crisp out on the roof as you shuffle around other groups till you get to your super secret corner on the far side of the house. No one ever seems to want to venture this far and you could smoke in peace and tranquility as the rest of the party raged somewhere far, far away.

The bowls packed, green just catching a smolder and you have to admit the stupid Sherlock Holmes pipe is kinda fun. Maybe you’d leave a fresh bowl packed for sweet Finn as a secret thank you gift.

Maybe this weed was stronger than you thought.

“Alrighty first you don’t share your joint, then you verbally assault me in my own house, and now you’re smoking out of my pipe? You really are trying to start a fight with me this evening now aren’t ya?”

Your eyes are red rimmed and your brain has that pleasant haze coating every synapse and you can’t find it in you anymore to really fight Finn right now. The stars look too damn good and the tree has hit too damn deep to let your hackles rise.

“You know maybe I’ve been giving you a bit of a hard time, but you damn well deserve it.” You smile around the pipe as you take another drag, but this time you pass it to Finn as he sits down just a little closer than usual.

His fingers snag against yours as you pass it and you both flinch a bit at the contact, sparkles zipping up your arms.

He stays quiet this time around, pulling puffs as you both watch people flit around the grass below you, the party continuing into this seemingly never ending night.

Friday’s, they really were something.

Your knees knock, fingers catching again as he passes the pipe back to you. Another pull fills your lungs and you lean back, back, back until your back presses down on the cool paneling of the roof and you let the smoke drift up and away among those pretty little stars.

“Finn you can just be so fucking annoying sometimes, I just wanna shut you up for like five seconds so we can all take a fucking breather.”

He laughs at that. Real and deep, curling around the base of your spine as he turns to stare down at you and the feeling spreads all the way to your fingertips. All the way to your toes.

“I’m well aware, but it’s sorta a part of my charm. I’m just waiting for it to final start charming you.”

Your eyes click to his, haze lifting for a split moment, and his eyes twinkle almost brighter than the stars.

“That’s such a fucking line and you know that shit doesn’t work on me. Fool me once and all of that jazz.” But you can’t stop staring at him and now his eyes color puzzled, a little hazy as he tries to decipher your words. “Oh come on, freshman year? You invited me to the party with all your fancy little words that you love to spin for me to only find you eating Tracy’s lips straight off her face? Honestly she still talks about that night to this day so I guess in a weird way kudos to you but man that did sting a bit.”

You chuckle around another pull and you go to pass it back but he’s clearly no longer interested in that. He seems very intent on memorizing every detail of your face under the stars and you can’t help but wiggle a little under his hyper focused gaze.

“I-I didn’t know that you were there that night. McReynolds told me you’d left with some dude and Tracy was more than willing to fill in that blank.”

Oh fuck.

You’re both just staring at each other as moment after moment click like puzzles pieces. Every snippy comment, every lingering glance, every class, every time you just happened to run into each other all no longer strange coincidences and some secret hatred. Every little moment stitching itself together till it left just you and Finn.

And there’s that fucking grin again.

But it’s softer this time, a little less sleazy and a little more lovely and now you’re sure his eyes are brighter than any star.

Your own lips tick up with a soft, nervous smile.

His fingers card between yours and he brings your knuckles up to his lips, stupid mustache tickling your skin in ways that make you shiver.

“I feel like nows the time to return to my earlier question since you finally shared some of that green with me, so what do I owe ya? Ass, cash, or more grass?”

You snort into the air between you and his grin splits into a megawatt smile and you finally let yourself tumble head first into kissing stupid, idiot, fuckhead Finnegan.

“Ass, 100%.”

~~~~~

tell me what you think if anyone is actually reading this because i'm bored and this site is lonely and i just want some weirdo friends who also think mustaches are peak sexiness. alright i need to go to sleep the psychosis is taking over :P

#finnegan x reader #finnegan #glen powell #glen powell fanfiction #everybody wants some #walt finnegan #walt finn finnegan #everybody wants some!!#finnegan x you #walt finnegan x reader #walt finnegan x you #jake seresin x you #and yes i am faking you top gun bitches out because you need to convert #to the church of glen powell with a stache and scruffy hair #this is the way #everybody wants some fanfiction #i don't even know what else to tag nobody is looking for this shit this is literally just for me

240 notes · View notes