#yet she's brilliant and amazing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anika-ann · 1 month

Text

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 8k

Summary:

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and landing a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body and the water and snow and icy wind would for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons. With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest pair of blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to then one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head. “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down?

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

#CT 2024 raffle entry #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #soulmate au #soulmate steve rogers #the unexpected #anika ann

749 notes · View notes

miguelhugger2099 · 2 months

Text

What if…. Miguel was Gomez Addams?

(Discord brainrot go brrrr)

Miguel was the type of man that knew what he wanted. A man with odd tastes yet with an undeniable charm that had people reeling in. He took pride in being the life of the party, welcoming guests, entertaining with men and wooing the women.

Some would say he’s at the top and would forever be at the top.

However, the moment you walked in, there was a clear shift in the mood. Doors opened and creaked as you came into view, a gentle smile on your red lips and hands delicately placed one on top of the other on your stomach.

Your eyes are on Miguel—him staring back—and the entire room turns to face Miguel. His smile grows at the sight of you, heart beating to life once more.

Miguel drops the champagne glass he held, the cup shattering into shards on impact, and his feet shuffle hurriedly to stand by your side. Few gasps are heard at the pitched sound of glass breaking, alcohol seeping into the wooden floorboards but all of that falls on deaf ears for Miguel.

Your smile tilts higher up when Miguel approaches, both his hands immediately taking one of yours and kissing your knuckles with gusto.

You can feel his breath when he sighs against your skin, his hands clutching desperately onto you while he proceeds to kiss your hand and up your arm. His lips pepper you with affection onto your neck, and to your lips where he leaves a long kiss— your lipstick smeared on his mouth when he pulls away.

But Miguel doesn’t care for that. A bright grin etched on his face while his eyes glow with adoration. He can’t help but press another kiss to your knuckles with a soft moan. You take your other hand and cup his cheek and he leans into your palm.

“Hello, my darling.” You hum. Miguel stands back up, pressing another kiss to your cheek and temple.

“Cara mía…” He whispers back lovingly. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer as if he simply can not get enough of your beauty. He turns to the party goers—his fingers lacing through yours—and introduces you.

“My wife, everyone, has joined us for the night!” He glances back at you. “Gracias, mi reina.” His chest puffs up with pride, ushering you in front of him to walk first.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, darling.” You tell him sweetly that makes his heart jump at your tone. He knew you were a much secluded person so he didn’t hold it against you if you didn’t want to be at this party. That didn’t mean he wasn’t stuck to you like glue hours prior, wanting to spend time with you as much as he could before separation.

The guests greet you with weary smiles, now knowing that the oddness of the couple would tenfold now that they had each other. They return to their conversations, giving glances and side eyes to you two as you both walked further inside. A sea of people parting while your eyes remained on each other.

“Quieres un poco de vino, mi amor?” He asks, leading you to the table with various bottles.

“Maybe just a few sips tonight, my dear.” You fan yourself with your hand, feeling a little stuffy and warm. Miguel notice’s immediately, quickly letting you go to open a few of the large windows to let some air in. He comes back and hands you a wine glass, pouring the wine for you.

After that, his arm loops behind you, his palm resting on your lower back and leading you around the room while he makes deals and does his job. Well…he does mention you every chance he gets.

“Have you met my wife? She’s brilliant—my most trusted confidant!”

“You know my wife, beautiful woman, said the same thing to me the other day.”

“Oh no, the home decor was not my idea but my wife’s. She’s amazing. Please give your compliments to her instead of me.”

Shamelessly, Miguel would keep your hand in his, kissing up your arm and to your neck. You’d giggle when he whispered sweet nothings against your skin, him smirking and gripping you flush against him—even in front of others, much to their dismay.

It was strange to them just how loving Miguel was to you and you to him. Unusual for a man to be turned into putty that disregarded social norms of keeping public displays of affection to a minimum. They awkwardly looked at one another when Miguel brought you close for a kiss, unable to stop himself from moaning when he tasted the wine from your lips.

One man cleared his throat, blush evident on his cheeks. “W-well, it’s getting late. It must be time for us to go.” His blush darkens when you and Miguel ignore the man for an even deeper kiss with you, your hands combing through his hair. “We’ll talk more business later.”

The guests scurried off one by one, staring at the vulgarity of your blatant love for one another. When the door shut, it echoed along with the soft kisses you and Miguel shared before he lifted you up and sat you on one of the tables. His hands placed on both your thighs while your arms were around his neck.

#me when the discord makes me extra feral #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader

664 notes · View notes

smhalltheurlsaretaken · 4 months

Text

~all creatures great and small~ (amazing illustration by the awesome @david-talks-sw)

“And just what exactly is it that you’ve been doing?”

Obi-Wan had to stop himself from giving his fellow Councillor—and friend—a rather pronounced eyeroll.

“You tell me,” he said without taking his eyes off his clamoring little herd, feeling rather proud of himself. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Mace came up to his side and crossed his arms, looking decidedly unimpressed. He looked at Obi-Wan, then at his rambunctious little friends and their merrymaking, then back at Obi-Wan again.

“It looks like you have been avoiding meetings all morning.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at his mouth. He carefully put his hands in his large sleeves.

“Have I?” He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop laughing if he saw Mace’s no doubt exasperated face, so he kept carefully looking onward. “You should have called me.”

“You know I did,” Mace griped, valiantly ignoring the racket and still boring holes in the side of Obi-Wan’s face.

If it came to a contest of wills, Obi-Wan knew he’d be hard pressed to match Mace’s stubbornness. He turned to face him, and inevitably let out a huffed chuckle. Mace looked annoyed alright, but he could do nothing about the twinkle in his deep eyes.

“You,” Mace insisted, no doubt trying to maintain what he probably hoped to be a convincingly stern demeanor, “have spent all day corrupting our next generation instead of going over mission reports.”

“Really, Mace—”

A yellow blur careening between the two of them nearly knocked them off their feet. A beige, more bipedal one rushed right after it, bumping into them both with equal speed if not equal force.

“Sorry Masters!” the youngling yelled over her shoulder without stopping.

Obi-Wan had to cough into his fist to keep from cackling.

“Obi-Wan.” Mace said.

“She apologized,” Obi-Wan pointed out with a brilliant smile.

“You still haven’t.”

“What for?”

Mace’s control finally cracked, and he thrust an accusing finger at Obi-Wan’s innocent face, ready to give into a rare display of unrestrained aggravation. Obi-Wan quickly batted it away and beat him to the punch.

“It’s a perfectly good way of teaching the younglings patience and control!”

Mace blinked at him, his mouth left hanging open, his finger still up and now pointing somewhere over to the right. He turned slowly, and surveyed the bustling courtyard in bemusement. The half-dozen or so pufferpigs that Obi-Wan had let loose there were being corralled by three times as many eager younglings, clone cadets and Padawans, and the animals all felt entitled to express the full range of their feelings on the matter in a loud and enthusiastic fashion. Little Mari Amithest was still running after the particularly rowdy creature that had mistaken Obi-Wan and Mace for Rodian bowling pins.

Mace’s eyebrows climbed to previously undiscovered heights.

“What part of this,” he gestured incredulously, “is controlled?”

“None of the pigs have puffed yet,” Obi-Wan explained seriously.

Mace’s eyebrows were now on their way into orbit. A moment passed. Then, his expression of astonishment seamlessly melted into curiosity.

“They haven’t?” he asked, considering the whole bunch with renewed interest.

“I told you, it’s a proven method,” Obi-Wan insisted, vindicated. He pointed to the far corner of the courtyard, where Katooni was showing some of the younger children how to feed a happy looking unpuffed puffer. “My Padawan has taught that one to do tricks.”

The squealing puffer was hopping from one foot to the other before avidly sweeping treats from the children’s outstretched hands.

Mace was now looking suitably impressed. More careful study of Mari’s chase was making it apparent that the animal she was after was not distressed in any way, but was—rather mischievously—trying to run off with her sash clutched in its stout trunk.

“You shouldn’t let emotions cloud your perception,” Obi-Wan reminded him in a serious voice.

“Hm,” Mace conceded magnanimously, impervious to the teasing.

The twinkle of carefully contained amusement that had been present in his eyes from the start had won over all other sentiments. A wet snort had the two Masters look down at the adventurous pufferpig that had made its way over to them. The amicable beast was fixing them with soulful blue eyes, candidly inoffensive. Its stubby tail was wagging quite politely. Mace distractedly bent down to pet the expectant critter on its broad, squishy face.

“It wants to smell your lightsaber,” Obi-Wan warned. “They like crystals.”

Mace straightened and put a hand on his hilt.

“The Mining Guild didn’t pick them up yesterday?” he inquired. “That was on the agenda.”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“They tried, but for some reason all the identity chips turned out to be unreadable. There’s no way to prove who these fellows belong to.”

Mace gave him a flat look.

“Hondo stole them from a Republic transport.”

“There’s all sorts of things on Republic transports,” Obi-Wan reasonably pointed out.

“The transport was chartered by the Mining Guild.”

“Hondo wiped the manifest during his hijacking. There’s just no way to know.”

“Your Padawan was there to escort the Mining Guild representatives.”

“Some mysteries can never hope to be solved.”

The pufferpig had taken to bonking its head against their legs affectionately. Mace, bowing to the undeniable strength of Obi-Wan’s ironclad argumentation, very seriously gave the tenacious quadruped another pat.

“They’re not staying,” he reminded Obi-Wan firmly.

“Obviously not,” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “The Temple would be a terrible environment for them.”

His friend narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“And you’re not making me spend my time finding them a place.”

“Honestly, Mace.” Obi-Wan gave the affable puffer a gentle shove, and it obediently trotted away to a nearby group of younglings and clone cadets who were already entertaining one of its siblings. Obi-Wan wiped his hands on his pants. “Naboo has very responsible educational farms.”

“Does it,” Mace said mildly.

“Including a recently opened one in the Lake District.”

Unashamedly petty enjoyment rang in the Force.

“Don’t come to me when Skywalker tries to send them back.”

“Who says I’ll pick up when he does?”

Obi-Wan loved Anakin, dearly. Still, he hadn’t yet quite forgiven his old Padawan for retiring—running away—before they could make him shoulder his share of the sacred responsibility of wrangling the Temple’s significantly increased youngling population. It was Luke and Leia’s birthday soon anyway.

“You’re stooping to deviousness,” Mace said, carefully neutral.

Obi-Wan gave him a wry look.

“Never. Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he said just as calmly.

“It’s them you’re supposed to be teaching,” Mace said with a short nod towards the unruly bunch. “He’s had his turn.”

Speaking of teaching…

“Oh my,” Obi-Wan said smugly, pointing to a boy who had taken to carefully levitating a surprisingly compliant—if a little alarmed—pufferpig, “that wouldn’t happen to be Caleb, would it?”

His fellow Council member was now pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand planted on his hip.

“I must say, that young man is certainly very skilled at forming connections with animals. Depa must be very proud.”

“Just don’t,” Mace groaned. He whipped out his communicator. “He’s supposed to be meditating with Yoda right now.”

“That explains it,” Obi-Wan said.

Master Yoda was slowly ambling into the courtyard, looking quite pleased with what he was seeing. He poked misbehaving younglings with his cane as he walked, chuckling to himself when they yelped and hastily reached with the Force to make sure the pufferpigs stayed relaxed. The pufferpigs themselves were only curious, and in a sufficiently playful mood that the younglings’ offended squeaking was not enough to agitate them. Caleb had set down his floating puffer with all possible speed—and great care—at the sight of the venerable elder, and made ample and readily accepted apologies to the perplexed animal in the form of scritches.

Mace slowly put away his communicator. He pursed his lips.

“Obi-Wan,” he said slowly, “next time, just have them practice making friends with the stray tookas.”

That’s how his master had done it, and Mace had never had any problems with connecting with animals, large and small.

“Pufferpigs are much more even-tempered.”

It was all Mace could do not to facepalm. Giving up, he shot Obi-Wan one last dry look.

“Just do your damn paperwork.”

Obi-Wan watched him stride away, dignified and imposing. Of course, since he wasn’t exactly paying attention to his surroundings, with how focused he was on pretending he was above this whole situation, he didn’t notice Mari’s wayward puffer on a direct collision course with his legs. The poor creature, who hadn’t noticed Mace either, let out a terrified screech and promptly puffed.

The entire courtyard froze, watching with fascination as the inflated pufferpig bounced twice and slowly rolled to a halt. It made a sorry little squeak.

Resignedly, Mace closed his eyes and set to work on gently calming down the pufferpig with the Force.

The children loudly cheered.

#ficlet #mace windu #obi-wan kenobi #star wars #no order 66 #jedi order #jedi temple #my writing #yoda #caleb dume #katooni #loose sequel to my fic “villains and knaves”#Hondo stole the pufferpigs to sell them obi-wan confiscated them and now he’s not giving them back to the mining guild meanies

608 notes · View notes

fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

Text

Chapter 26 - Texas Hold 'Em

The long awaited chapter is here! Thank you all so much for being patient with me!

Next on the schedule is Mexico and then I'm planning to do "Across Every Universe" pt. 2 because I have so many AU ideas that need to be written. The Brazil race is canceled due to a hurricane in my version of the 2024 - for plot purposes.

So get your cowboy hats on and yee-haw here we go!!

Everyone wasn’t surprised when you showed up in a particular outfit in Austin. The fans had been waiting for another themed outfit since you debuted in Vegas last year. So, they weren’t really in awe of what you were wearing.

What they were surprised to see was the whole grid in matching outfits.

Thee. Entire. Grid.

And yes, you had somehow wrangled everyone into matching beaver onesies from Bucees. How you convinced Max, Lewis, Kevin, Nico, Zhou, Valtteri, Pierre, and somehow Esteban as well? No one will ever know (there might have been bribes and threats, but they didn’t need to know that).

Along with the group was a familiar Monegasque, also in the same onesie. You laughed as you saw everyone stair at the massive group.

“This is amazing,” you giggled behind your hands.

To be honest, only a few were actually happy to be in the pajamas. (Lando, Daniel, Oscar, Logan, Alex, and Arthur.) The rest could have said no. But who wants to say no to you.

Photographers flashed their cameras every few seconds. Apparently, fall had actually come that October in Austin, so it wasn’t as hot as everyone thought. For a second, they were thankful to be wearing the long sleeves of the outfits.

Except when everyone made it back to their respected garages, they all tore them off. However, a couple of them kept them on. And that group was up for a larger media conference.

On the couch, the order was right to left: Lando, Oscar, Logan, you, Max, Daniel, and then Charles. All of you had yet to take the fuzzy clothes off.

The interviewer was a little shocked to see the reigning world champion in kids clothing. Yet, they took one look at your smiling face as you animatedly talked to Max, they knew exactly who he was doing this for.

The conference started, and the drivers put on their media faces, but it was hard to take them seriously when they were all dressed in the brown and bright red.

“So starting off, what’s the story behind the outfit choices today?”

All six drivers immediately looked to you, who sheepishly grinned.

“Yes, Y/n, why don’t you tell the story,” Max said in a teasing tone. You hit his shoulder before raising the mic.

“Well, it all started when most of the grid had said they hadn’t been to Bucees. And that is like the worst crime known to man. I mean, Daniel and Logan have been, but the others hadn’t.”

Charles raises his mic next. “So she gets the brilliant plan to text everyone at midnight about going to Bucees.”

You pulled an accused look. “Hey, everyone didn’t have to respond, but they did.”

Oscar pulled a face. “I was pretty much dragged.”

A gasp came from his right and left. Logan shook his head while Lando had his hand on his heart.

“Osc, I am devastated. You went by your own will. It was also for her birthday, you know this.”

The journalist piped up. “Happy birthday Y/n.”

You smiled sweetly at the man, “Thank you so much.”

Your head whipped to Lando, “Can I get back to the story?”

The males quieted.

“As I was saying, I texted everyone cause I was bored. Bucees is open all night so I knew it would be open. And we had the multi-passenger vans, so we could take everyone. I really thought that no one would show up.”

“Darl, you have little faith in me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I knew you were coming, you texted me on the side. But when the meeting time came and everyone was down in the lobby, I wasn’t expecting it.”

The interviewer smirked. “Who drove? We saw that you had a little trouble after Singapore.”

You, Logan, Osar, and Lando all winced.

Logan brought his mic up. “Yeah. That one was one me. I didn’t know that roofless cars weren’t allowed in Singapore.”

Your finger shot up. “At least we weren’t really arrested. The officer was super nice.”

Lando smirked. “Yep. We got a warning and he let us off.”

Your hands clapped. “Anyway, Max drove one van and I think Lewis drove the other one?”

Max jerked his head to look at you, a smile on his face. “Yeah, don’t want you or George taking off again.”

The microphone picked up the sound of your hand hitting his shoulders.

“What did everyone think of Bucees?” a man from deeper in the crowd asked.

Charles brought his mic back up. “Best place on Earth.”

You watched as everyone climbed out of the vans and stopped to stare at the yellow and red sign. The big beaver was almost smiling down at you. You, Logan, and Daniel watched as the grid stared at the automatic doors and gingerly step inside.

“Welcome to Bucees!” an overly energized worker shouted. You looked around and were thankful that not many people were there.

You waved to get everyone’s attention.

“Ok boys, er, men, welcome to the best gas station on earth. You can find everything your little hearts’ desire so have at it.”

The group immediately shot out into different directions. You saw Lando and Oscar immediately head to the rows and rows of drinks they offered. You knew that the Brit would definitely get a slushy when he noticed.

A lot of the older drivers went to the home decoration sections. Lewis and Valtteri were definitely looking at all the cooking supplies.

Daniel looked down at you. “So ‘darl, where you wanting to go?”

You had noticed that Logan had broken away to probably visit the vast fishing supply section. There was a high possibility that he had dragged Alex as well.

Max, Charles, and Arthur were standing next to the coffee. You shuddered as you remembered as all of them drank it straight black. The opposite of what the creamers and flavors were supposed to do.

“You wanna get a drink and then walk around?”

You nodded eagerly before grabbing one of the giant cups. A few drivers watched as you and Daniel filled the styrofoam with Dr. Pepper, before going to the coffee station to add cream.

“What the hell did you just do?”

Your eyes widened as you looked at Pierre, Max, and Charles (who all had disgusted looks on their faces).

You held the big cup up as you swirled the liquid. “Dirty soda. It’s really good.”

Arthur already had his cup, the same way that you did, except his had Root Beer. You had taught him the ways during early 2023 when you two were teammates. The younger Monegasque rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look disgusted until you try it.”

Charles still looked at him strangely. “That will completely mess up our diets.”

Daniel’s hand clapped Charles’ shoulder.

“That’s the point Charles. Now get a cup and start concocting.”

You, Danny, and Arthur left them to their devices and confusion and headed for the beef jerky wall. Zhou was staring at all of the flavors with eyebrows pinched. You knew the look of a beef jerky lover with no clue which one to get. You quickly picked on up and handed it to him.

“The Korean one is my favorite. But the ghost pepper and garlic are a close second.”

The Romeo driver showed you a quick smile before he walked away. You grabbed the flavors that Daniel and Arthur had asked for, as well as two bags for you. Your head swerved as you tried to find the two men.

Your eyes widened as you heard Danny’s laugh, loud and clear above everything. Your feet quickly took you to the toy and clothing section. By the time you reached them, Daniel already had a onesie on.

“Great idea Danny,” you said as you gave everything over to your boyfriend, who had smartly grabbed a basket.

You were quick to put the pajamas on and pose with the Australian. The two of you fell into laughs as you tried to find Arthur’s size. By now, most of the grid came over to see what was going on. Lando’s eyes flashed with mischief as he tried to find ones in his and Oscar’s sizes.

You grabbed a few off of the hangers and handed them to the drivers you thought would want one. You watched as George and Alex put them on and laughed as you saw that the pant legs were too small and came up before their ankles.

Before you knew it, the entire grid was in once section. You and Arthur gave each other looks before dashing to Max and Charles, who immediately shook their heads.

Max gave you a stern look.

“No, I am not putting one on. End of st-”

Moments later, Max was brooding in a brown and red onesie. The twenty of you goofed around for almost three hours before Lewis suggested that it was time to leave. (He only said something when he noticed that you were dead asleep on Max’s back. And everyone knew that Max had the widest back so ergo, more comfortable for nappage.)

“So that’s it. And I thought it would be a good idea to come dressed in these.”

Charles began talking. “So again she sends a text at 5:30 am asking for everyone to wear the onesie.”

You gave him a playful glare. “Once again, you did not have to wear it.”

The Monegasque winked back at you (or tried to anyway).

“But I look good in it non?”

A scoff arose from Max.

“You look good in anything mate.”

You gasped as you looked at the cameras.

“Everyone heard it right? Lestappen is real!”

The rest of the group started to laugh loudly as Max and Charles blushed. You wiggled your eyebrows at the Dutchman, making him swat at you.

You grumbled as you were led away from the conference.

On Thursday, Arthur was glued to your side as you watched one of the F2 drivers use your car for free practice 1. You watched as he had his eyes sharp on the car, a sigh leaving his lips every so often.

You bumped his side.

“We can go to my room if you want to?”

Arthur didn’t even respond as he made a beeline for it. You quickly took your headphones off before following him. It didn’t take long for you to catch up and slide into the room as he closed the door.

The moment you turned around, Arthur had you pinned to the door, lips locked tightly. A small gasp left your lips as he pressed into your face. Your hands gripped the polo material and bunched it at his sides. You made quick work to stick your hands against his skin. He let out a small hiss at your cold fingers.

“Your hands are never warm are they?” he mumbled against your lips.

“Poor circulation,” you were able to mutter back before kissing him again.

His left hand had made its way into your hair, lightly gripping the roots. He gently guided your head to the side and decided to attack your neck.

You shook your head. “Marks. Please no marks.”

Arthur respected your request as he placed a gentle kiss before going back to your lips. His right hand had made its way under your shirt. It was slightly going up before a knock at the door made him jerk it away.

You sucked in a deep breath.

“Yes?”

“Kid, we’re needed in the garage,” Max’s voice sounded through the door. “Oh, and Charles is looking for Arthur, have you seen him?”

You wanted to snort at the irony. You patted you hair a bit before responding.

“I’ll let him know. Be out in a second.”

You and Arthur held your breath as you heard his footsteps start to grow quiet as he walked away.

Arthur smirked down at your flushed appearance, happy that he could make you as flustered as possible.

“I will see you later then?” you asked, placing one last kiss on his lips. “After Sunday the guys are wanting to try to go line dancing if possible to celebrate for my birthday.”

Arthur nodded excitedly as he stepped back, trying to straighten his shirt.

“You go first, and I’ll follow a bit after.”

The plan was a go as you snuck out of your room, looking around as you made your way to the open garage.

Once Arthur thought he was in the clear, he poked his head out. Not seeing anyone directly, he also snuck around the door. His head was turned around, not seeing the body in front of him. He collided into a firm chest before whipping his head forward.

He came face to face with Max. Arthur gulped as his hazel eyes met icy blue ones. Max just looked down at the scared 23-year-old. The Dutchman smirked before planning a hand on Arthur’s shoulders.

“Use protection please,” was all Max said before turning around and walking in the direction that you were headed.

Arthur glowed red at the statement before heading out. His face definitely matched the shade of his red Ferrari polo.

Back in the garage, your mouth was wide open as you looked at the leaderboard.

“How did a Williams get there?”

The blue “W” shone brightly in the P1 spot. “SAR” was right next to it.

Christian shook his head as he looked at his notebook.

“They got an upgrade from Mercedes and decided to use it for this race.”

Max also was boggled at the sight. You looked back at Christian, wanting to gulp with concern.

“How are we looking?”

The Brit sucked in a harsh breath. “Not the best. But we’ll get there.”

“Hey kid!”

Your head whipped around at the sound of Mitch yelling your name. As you were gawking over the Williams positions, you were completely oblivious to the entirety of the garage getting closer and closer. In her hands was a small-ish white cake. A small Lightning McQueen figure was on top. You let out a small gasp as Max quickly lit the candles that were shaped in a 2 and a 1.

Everyone soon began to sing a rendition of Happy Birthday. Toward the end of the verse, your eyes started to water. When the song ended, you lightly blew out the candles, earning several rounds of applause at something so miniscule to you.

Yet, this act of kindness really showed how much your team loved you. Christian tried to shove your face into the cake but he really underestimated how strong your neck really was. If anything, your head didn’t move much. You just gave him a stink eye as you glared at him.

Mitch gently set the cake in your hands as you just stared at it. The little candles illuminated the tears that were falling down.

You looked up at everyone. Some were holding their phones, taking photos. Many where mechanics that you really had no relation to.

You were able to croak out, “Thank you.”

The cake was split up and soon many were munching down on small slices. You were tucked between Max and Mitch as you ate your slice.

The Dutchman nudged you just a bit. “You seem quiet.”

You swallowed as you looked down at the cake. “I’ve never really had this. I’ve only ever celebrated my birthday a couple of times before. A few with Enzo and then with Arthur last year. My teams have never done this before.”

Max gave you a sad smile, silently noting to continue the tradition of getting a cake.

On Sunday, “Not the best” became an understatement.

You and Max had definitely done terribly in qualifying. You two made it out of Q2 by the skin of your teeth, all while Logan and Alex were happily in the top four. Q3 resulted in you and Max getting a respectable P4 and P7. The latter position making it difficult for the Dutchman to be happy with the weekend.

During the parade on Sunday, you were standing next to the two Williams drivers. You leaned over.

“So how did you switch out your cars for ours?”

Logan laughed loudly, currently on cloud-9 as he was on his maiden pole position. Alex was a little jealous but was happy for the blond, since the 2023 season was not very kind.

Alex decided to join in.

“While you two were sleeping, we snuck out here and just swapped. Logan is pretty good with spray paint.”

That had you laughing with your next stretched out and your head leaned back. Suddenly a hand was on your neck as you looked at the arm it was attached too. Oscar was looking at you with big round eyes while it was Lando who’s arm was at the junction of your shoulder and neck.

You gave the two papaya boys a weird look before Oscar leaned over.

“You have a little something on your neck.”

Your hand quickly clapped onto your neck over Lando’s hand. You flushed bright red.

“I told him no marks.”

Max, who had seen the entire thing, came over and handed you his pullover. You muttered a quick thank you before pulling the oversized thing on. You just hoped that no one else saw.

When you changed into your race suit, you stared at the red marks dotting your neck.

“Arthur Leclerc, I’m going to kill you,” you mentioned to no one in particular. For the Austin Grand Prix you had a Captain America styled helmet. The red, white, and blue shone around the garage as you got into your car.

You took a deep breath as you looked at the cars in front of you. Logan, Alex, and Oscar were all ahead. Lando, Charles, and Max were behind you. You felt a bit alienated from your teammate, who you normally were able to catch a bit of tunnel from on the way out to bold.

It kind of reminded you of Monza.

When it was lights out, you were quick on the throttle. You got the immediate jump on Oscar, putting you in P3 before the first turn.

However, Alex was really using his degree and the masters in defense. You were frustrated at the Williams driver, yet you were really impressed with how he held you off.

But, a slow pit stop for them and a fast one for you saw your Red Bull overtaking his easily. Yet, it seemed like the Brit had taken on a student.

One that goes by the name of Logan Hunter Sargeant.

You were so focused on your own race that before you knew it, you were over the line with the checkered flag waving freely.

You pressed your radio button as you taxied.

“Great race everyone. Congrats to Logan on his first win. Ah, I thought I had him in some places.”

Mitch on the radio knew you sounded a bit dejected. Since the Azerbaijan race had been canced before the Singapore grand prix, she knew you wanted another race win soon. She knew you were expecting to take the win from Monza and ride on that high for as long as possible. But with a hard podium in Singapore and a car that didn’t work well in Austin, she could see you getting annoyed.

“What was Max’s position?”

“P4. The team had a bit of trouble with his tyres. So that’s Sargeant P1, you P2, and Piastri P3.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Good job for Oscar.”

You undid you steering wheel as you watched the American celebrate his win. The crowds seemed to roar for him as they did for you in Monza. You watched as he ran to his team, who welcomed him home with open arms.

Funny, he got his first points in Austin last year, and his first win this year.

Strange how the world worked.

On the podium, you watched as the crowds placed their hands over their hearts during the Star Spangled Banner. As expected, Logan was shedding a few tears. Oscar looked so happy for the blond. COTA finally brought back the cowboy hats with the numbers on them instead of the flat caps.

Your mind went back to the Lacy edits on Tik Tok.

Finally, Logan was no longer being compared to Oscar.

He could finally be himself.

You and the Aussie were quick to douse the American in sticky champagne. Logan just laughed as he got sprayed, giving in knowing that he wasn’t going to win against the two of you.

“Are we still going line dancing later tonight?” you asked him as the three of you stood for a picture.

“Aw hell yeah! Bring it on Texas! Yee-haw!”

You took the special cowboy hat off your head and tipped it to the crowd. The two boys doing the same.

Yee-haw indeed.

williamsracing has posted

williamsracing the man, the myth, the formula 1 race winner! I guess our pronouns are USA

liked by oscarpiastri, y/n.89, logan4president, and 803,193 others

logan4president RAAWWWW WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER

williamsduo Logan Sargeant win before GTA6

y/n.89 your Americanness is showing

logansargeant yes, and? y/n.89 do not quote ariana grande at me sir

y/n.nation the helmets today were peak >>>

logan2sarg I know right - the eagle on Logan's dannyric Daniel's hook'em horns one was immaculate

iamred_iamyellow so glad they brought back the cowboy hats for the podiums

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 it's a real life boogey and a real life hoedown

liked by arthur_leclerc, redbullracing, circuitoftheamericas, and 750,294 others

y/n.nation HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!!!!

leclercbros dang, she finally taught Arthur and Charles how to wear cowboy boots

leclerc4ever she just taught them how to dress period

formula_fan does anyone know what went down tonight lol

box_box_express so they went to a local bar, y/n and Daniel taught everyone how to line dance, surprisingly Logan and Oscar are very good at it formula_gossip I was also there, Carlos and max got on the mechanical bull, most of the grid was there, and Fernando was playing darts in the corner with Lando

maxverstappen1 happy birthday kid

y/n.89 thanks maxie! even if you didn't let me get the drink I wanted maxverstappen1 I don't think a fireball is an appropriate drink for your first one y/n.89 right...my first drink...totally

beyonce now that is how you celebrate

f1 YEE HAW

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @fly-me-away @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @33-81 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

765 notes · View notes

sp0o0kylights · 11 months

Text

Steve and Gareth as Cousins, no longer a warm-up and now called Lifelines, part three! I’ll throw it up on A03 when I finish the fourth part.

Prior parts can be read here: Part One / Part Two

First things first, the most amazing @ sereinpetrichor managed to track down the OG Twitter thread this runaway train is based off of!

It was this thread by @gatorthots, the Tumblr version of which can be read, here. All blame for this idea firmly rests on their brilliant, plot bunny inducing shoulders.

The other, follow up thread I mentioned was this one by Silas, whose tumblr name I do not know.

As always and forever, shout out to the most amazing @chalkysgarbagefire who helps me edit/plot/pats my head while I’m crying in their inbox bc the words aren’t wording right.

Warnings: Steve and Robin are canon (S3) drugged. I took a slightly (kinda sorta) more realistic approach. Vomit mention, canon threat of violence/guns (the Russian guards) Mention of pantsing/past bullying, Steve and Robin’s drugged asses not understanding personal space, Dustin’s canon...Im gonna go with assholishness? but like, I think its more than he’s a young kid and doesn't quite have the emotional growth/awareness yet in this kind of insane situation to know how to react to the whole address/torture bit (really who does)/its a defense mechanism--and Gareth sort of has a panic attack.

Whatever the hell they had been drugged with, Steve and Robin went from 'giggly happy fun time' to 'vomiting into toilet bowls while loudly wishing for death’ awfully fast.

Gareth was not an expert on drugs. He knew Eddie wasn't either (the guy never dealt anything stronger than your average psychedelic--had some agreement with his Uncle about only selling "the 70s basics") and repeated looks towards him proved Eddie was still trying to figure out what Steve and Robin were on.

Answers hadn't exactly been forthcoming--Eddie's gently made attempts at ferreting out information had only caused more confusion.

Like why the two of them were so freaked out about a gate, or what had made Robin gasp, and then laugh so hard she cried when Steve had made a particularly rough noise then muttered; "Even that sounds better than Tammy Thompson."

Either way, Gareth was mostly trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do, because sobering up in a busy, public mall wasn't exactly the best idea.

"I regret," Robin tried to say, in-between gagging. "I regret--hrk--"

"Me too." Steve moaned, head resting against the stall wall. Gareth, still caught up in panic, had been permanently regulated to door guard while Eddie alternated between sweet talking, rubbing backs and offering quietly whispered advice.

"Let's go back in time and ignore the whole silver cat thing." Robin continued, slumping back down onto the floor.

"Wouldn't have mattered." Steve muttered. "Dustin would have figured it out without us. Kid’s too damn smart."

"So?" Robin grumbled, quietly thanking Eddie as he once again brushed her hair out of her face.

"So he would have gone down there anyway, which means I'd be down there anyway." Steve concluded. "We shouldn't have gotten you involved though."

He shakily pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and looking like bambi on ice while doing it.

Eddie quickly came round to offer his help, hands spread as Steve groaned out a curse and clutched his head.

The older took a step forward right as Steve lurched back, unbalanced and shaky.

"Oh shit." He said, eyes wide as he crashed backwards into Eddie, the latter catching him with a grunt.

Despite the entire situation, Gareth found himself stifling a laugh as Eddie wrapped his noodle arms around Steve's chest, trying to hold the other up without falling himself.

"Come on big boy, why don't we just siiiit back down." Eddie said, slightly breathless as he helped guide Steve back to the floor. "There we go…"

They did so outside the bathroom stall, Eddie sinking into a kneel as Steve sort of flopped down on top of him.

Blinked a few times, like the drop had rattled what little sense he’d managed to recover in the last few minutes.

A pleased noise came out of his cousin's throat, and holy shit was Gareth going to have blackmail for life, because rather than vacate Eddie's lap, Steve just turned around in it.

Reached up with one finger outstretched and proved himself to be very much still under the influence as he touched Eddie's nose.

"Boop!" He said, and then giggled as Eddie dropped onto his ass in surprise.

Gareth watched Robin as she took the whole thing in, from Steve's snickers to Eddie's shocked expression, eyes growing wide in excitement.

He failed entirely to cover his own amusement when Eddie abruptly found himself with two sailors invading his personal space, each taking turns to boop his nose.

“Uh.” He managed to get out, blinking rapidly and at a loss for words. “Ah.”

Steve caught the metalhead’s awkward, red-faced expression and proceeded to drop his head to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter against the man's vest.

The helpless look his best friend sent him was one Gareth would remember for a long time.

“O-kay.” Eddie said, frazzled, as Steve recovered far too quickly, turning to rest his cheek against a slim shoulder as he walked two fingers up Eddie’s battle vest and towards his hair. Likewise, Robin had discovered Eddie’s wallet chain, and had begun fiddling with it.

One finger curled around a strand of brown hair and Eddie jerked his head, removing the tempting piece away from Steve’s hands.

“I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, your highness.” He said, his own hand smacking against his waist before Robin figured out the other end of his chain ended in a handcuff, “But you of all people should know the hair is off limits.”

Completely undeterred, Steve just gave him a loose, easy grin. “It’s so pretty though.” He complained, fluttering his eyelashes in a blatant attempt to try and turn on the ol’ Harrington charm. “You can touch mine if you want.”

Yeah, Gareth’s blackmail was getting better by the second.

He might even get a new piece for his drum kit out of it, if this kept up.

Free weed too, considering Eddie’s blush was now fire-engine red.

“Man,” Eddie said in a clear bid to deflect the entire situation (and Steve’s fingers) away from his hair, “the last time someone called me pretty was right before I got pantsed—-is Tommy H hiding in one of the stalls again?”

Steve picked his head up, confusion crashing down his face.

“Did he do that?” He asked.

Then, with growing horror; “Do you think I’d do that?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your whole little court’s M.O.?”

Steve sucked in a breath, looking downright hurt. "I wouldn’t do that." He insisted, eyes wheeling from Eddie to Gareth and back, as though hoping Gareth would back him up.

“I’m not--I’m not friends with Tommy anymore.” Steve continued, voice growing smaller as he spoke. “I’m not friends with anybody anymore, except maybe Dustin.”

It sounded so defeated; trodden on and subdued that Gareth stepped forward automatically, to do--something.

Provide the fucking comfort his cousin was oft denied and hug the guy.

As always, it turned out to be the wrong move.

"Oh thank god." A kid said, seconds after bulldozing through the main door and nearly bowling Gareth over in the process. "I found them!" He shouted over his shoulder as swept into the room.

“Speak of the devil.” Steve said flatly, and even drugged, he managed to pull himself back together from distressed to stoic in mere seconds.

The curly-haired kid--Dustin apparently--stormed right up to the pile of humans splayed on the floor, hands on his hips. "What the hell. We told you two to stay put!"

Steve rolled his eyes as Robin booed him.

“Have you forgotten what’s happening? Or how we’re kinda in a Red Dawn situation?” Dustin continued, looking like he’d just escaped from a summer camp.

The kid even had a walkie talkie clutched in one hand, of all things.

“We know.” Steve and Robin deadpanned at once, before looking at each other; Steve pointing a finger towards Robin and Robin pointing one back.

This caused the kids to trade their own long suffering, “can you believe this shit” faces.

"We need to go, and the only way we’re gonna get out of here unnoticed is if we blend in with the crowd." Dustin said impatiently. “Now come on Steve, get up already, you've had worse.”

"I really don't think I have." Steve muttered, but moved to push himself to his feet anyway.

Eddie beat him to it, and he and Gareth both hovered nearby in case Steve was still unsteady.

Thankfully, the kids' presence seemed to sober up Robin and Steve both.

Not actually sober, that wasn't how drugs worked, but whatever was left of the fun was sucked right out of the bathroom, replaced by two teenagers who were sort of functional on whatever they'd been drugged with.

Stress and adrenaline, Gareth knew, could overcome a lot of things. Including Russian "truth serum" apparently.

“Yeah well you're lucky you got found by these guys and not anyone else. " Dustin continued pointedly, before turning his attention towards Gareth and Eddie both. "Thanks for watching our friends, but we've got them from here."

Gareth made a sort of unhinged, disbelieving noise.

“No, no you do not.” He declared, anxiety clawing at his gut at the mere thought of abandoning Steve to two children.

"I don't think you heard him." The girl stepped forward, braids swinging about her face as she lifted her chin and nailed him with a cold glare.

As if this entire situation couldn’t possibly get weirder, Gareth suddenly realized she had a helmet in her hands and knee pads on.

"He said we got this. So scram." She flicked her fingers out in a dismissive sort of "shoo" gesture.

"And leave my drugged cousin with his new girlfriend behind!?" Gareth challenged right back, emotions far too raw and frayed to care he was snarling at a little girl. "I don’t think so!”

"Cousin!?" Dustin bit out, sounding almost betrayed for some reason, at the same time Robin who'd been climbing to her feet with Eddie’s help, shouted; "I am not his girlfriend!"

Steve, clearly unwilling to entertain whatever fight was brewing, clapped his hands together.

"Yes cousin, Dustin. It's a type of family member." Steve said, after they all flinched and looked to him. He at least looked steadier on his feet this time, though Gareth still lingered nearby in case he took a wrong step.

"I know what a cousin is, Steve!" Dustin shot back.

“Then why are you acting like a lunatic?” Steve complained, and Gareth got to watch in real time as Steve pulled on the persona he often wore in high school down around him. “You said it yourself, we don’t have a lot of time. Worse, I don't know if anyone saw Gareth and Munson here with us.”

He jerked a thumb sideways in Eddie’s direction, not that anyone couldn’t figure out who “Munson” was.

“They stay with us until we’re out of this mall.” Steve finished, before he started towards the door.

One step he was Gareth’s cousin, drugged and vulnerable because of it.

The next he stood taller, talked smoother, took charge with an aurora that said he expected everyone to listen to him.

It was fake as hell, but it worked.

“I know you’ve got a plan Dustin, so spill it.” He commanded as he walked.

Dustin, despite all the squawking, did just that.

xXx

Of all the things Gareth had expected to see upon escorting their little ragtag crew out of the bathroom, groups of intimidating, mean looking assholes wasn’t on the list.

He found himself repeatedly nudging Eddie in the ribs, unable to take his eyes off what was clearly a checkpoint as he staggered to a halt.

It was one thing to be told people were after Steve and the “Scoop’s Troop” As Robin had jokingly named them.

It was another entirely to see the security guard directly in front of him look over a woman’s ID before apologizing to her, a sleazy grin matching his oily pony-tail as he waved her on.

They really were looking for someone.

Not someone, Gareth realized in dawning horror.

Them.

Robin apparently, came to the same conclusion seconds later, because she snatched Steve and Dustin’s arms both, hauling them backwards.

“Argue about Dustin’s address later, we need to find a different way out.” She hissed quietly as she tried to slowly reversed direction, movements still a bit sloppy.

She might have even gotten away with it, had Sleazy Pony-Tail not turned and made eye contact with Gareth right after she spoke.

His eyes swept over him, then to the rest of the group, freezing like a cat that had spotted its prey.

“Abort, abort!” Dustin sputtered, wheeling about on his heel.

Erica, whose name Gareth had learned when she kicked him in the shin after he asked why an actual infant was running around with Steve and Robin, pointed towards the escalators before she beelined over to it, ducking into the center and riding it down like a slide.

Something Eddied was downright delighted to copy.

Gareth might have enjoyed it himself, had he not been looking over his shoulder to see not one, not two, but four security guards giving chase--and gaining.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckikity fuck.” He heard Robin chant as she shot past, Steve planting himself at the top as he made sure everyone got down to the next level before sliding down himself.

"Do not let them leave!" One of the guards yelled to the others, accent clear as a bell.

"Holy shit that guy's actually Russian." Gareth found himself saying as he skidded across the floor and bolted after the others, Steve hot on his heels.

He had kinda expected the Russian thing to be some sort of drug influenced inside joke and not an actual, honest-to-God Soviet.

Which led to the question of why the fuck adult men in security uniforms had drugged random teenage retail workers.

Food workers.

Whatever the fuck one called a two people who scooped ice-cream in sailor costumes.

"There's another group up ahead!" Eddie yelped, swerving sideways and nearly taking Erica out while doing it.

Noise erupted ahead of them in the form of foreign shouting and loud, harshly barked commands to “Freeze!”

‘Oh hell no.’ Gareth thought wildly, as he caught the form of the giant fricken gun the guard closest to him held.

“Split up!” Dustin howled, and before anyone could comment about how bad an idea that was, Gareth found himself being yanked sideways.

Steve swore loudly behind him as Robin, who’d crashed backwards, pulled him in the opposite direction and in a second their group broke in two. Gareth, Eddie and Dustin going one way, Steve, Robin and Erica another.

"This isn’t happening." Gareth muttered, words made in a sort of pleading denial as he and Eddie turned the corner and immediately vaulted over the counter of an Orange Julius. “I smoked or drank or did something and this is a hallucination that is not. Actually. Happening.”

Dustin at least, was smart enough to dive around the counter instead of over it, sliding towards them on his knees.

Eddie quickly yanked him down to the floor in-between himself and Gareth once he was close enough to grab, one hand going over the hat to shove the kids head down.

Annoying or not, he was at least several years younger than them, and Gareth could practically feel Eddie’s protective instinct kick in as he kept his hand on Dustin’s head.

Together they tried to silence their breathing as the guards’ shouting continued on behind them.

What was worse than their noises though, was when they unexpectedly and suddenly, went silent.

Gareth’s breath felt far too loud as the stillness gained a suppressive weight, pressing down harshly against him and making it harder and harder to inhale.

‘Panic attack.’ He realized, thoughts a touch detached. ‘You can’t afford to have a panic attack right now.’

Not when it had a high chance of getting them all killed.

Slowly he moved his own free hand, placing it atop of Eddie’s, fingers gripping down in a way that was no doubt painful.

Eddie glanced over to him and Gareth thanked every single time he’d smoked way too much weed, because his best friend immediately clocked what was wrong.

Turned his hand over, so that Gareth could hold onto it atop Dustin’s hat.

It didn’t help with the knowledge that his very much still drugged cousin and his equally drugged not-girlfriend were also hiding somewhere, or that there was significantly more Russians than there where terrified teenagers (and one--whatever age Erica was.)

Flashlights cut shapes into the wall overheard, trailing along the Orange Julius menu. Quiet voices covered even quieter footsteps and Gareth had the sudden realization the probability of there being more than one guard carrying a huge gun, was very, very high.

Worse?

This part of the mall wasn’t that big. There were only so many places to hide, and as such, only so many places to look.

Death comes for everyone eventually, but Gareth hadn’t exactly expected it to show up before he hit twenty.

Not that they could do anything but wait. Pray to God and the universe and any other higher power he could think of to intervene, head pressed hard against the wood behind him as the small noises drew nearer.

What he hadn’t expected was for said prayers to get answered in the form of a of a fucking car being thrown into the Russian’s like bowling balls.

“Run!” Dustin shouted, and Gareth wasted absolutely no time in doing just that.

The only goal on his mind was to find Steve, get out, and then have a very long discussion about what the hell this all was, in that exact order.

#fun fic facts I kept writing Orange Julius as King Julian #so thats my new fake 80s store #Tagline can be “yay I’m a sacrifice!”#Pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #gareth emerson #platonic stobin #gareth is eddies robin #gareth is steves cousin #gareth and steve cousin au #Poor Dustin is mad jelly steve has a cousin that isnt him #we will dig into that later #tw drugs #tw vomit #tw guns #tw panic attack #Steve and robin have already had their scene I just moved it back so he is aware she is a lesbian #I will make it clearer in the next part #Drugged steve has no personal boundaries and homeboy would not at this point consider the stuff wit heddie flirting with Robin ALSO #digs into later #that was gay steve #HELLA gay #the more robin gets to know steve the more shes convinced half the basketball team is queer af #0o0 fanfics #denial is a river in Egypt that Gareth is struggling to swim down

1K notes · View notes

mallowsweetmiri · 5 months

Text

• One of the Boys •

Reader x Fred Weasley

Based off of Katy Perry’s song “One of the Boys”

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: You’ve always been one of the boys. That was until you came back from summer break looking a bit, different, as Fred puts it.

Warnings: cursing, mildly steamy scenario

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

One of the boys

“Today was bloody brilliant!” Fred cheered and clapped you on the back as he raised his cup to Gryffindor. Practically the whole school was shoved in your common room to celebrate the quidditch cup.

“To Gryffindor!” Oliver bellowed drunkly as everyone drank and cheered.

“Seriously, Y/N, you played fucking amazing today,” Angelina bellowed, downing the rest of her drink.

“I can second that. Since when did you get so bloody good, little one?” George smiled as he put his arm around you. The twins had always been your good friends, the three of you joining the Gryffindor quidditch team in your third years. They’d often referred to you as little one, due to the fact that they towered over you. They constantly teased and pranked you, but you would also join in on their antics. More often than not, you guys were playing quidditch during the warm seasons and pranking Filch in the winter. You were really just one of the boys and you couldn’t be more happy to be a part of their mischief.

“I’ve always been good, Georgie. But I will admit, this was probably my best game yet,” you beamed as you joined the rest in downing your drink.

“You’re only that good thanks to our rigorous coaching throughout the years,” Fred smiled wryly, filling his own cup up again. You rolled your eyes.

“Yea right, Weasley. The two of you combined still wouldn’t be as good as me,” you challenged. The three of you went back and forth all night, drinking and laughing and celebrating Gryffindors victory. The high spirits continued throughout the week and before you knew it you were saying goodbye to all your friends at platform 9 and 3/4.

“Oh! So good to see you sweetie,” Molly smiled warmly as she dragged you into a tight hug, “Have a good summer, we’ll see you in the fall! Say goodbye boys.” Fred and George both approached you and each gave you a quick hug before heading out with the Weasley family.

“See you next year little one!” George called out.

“Don’t skimp out on the quidditch practice, Y/N! You could use it,” Fred shouted, giving you a cheeky smile and a wave. You rolled your eyes and sent a smile back before meeting with your own family and heading home for the summer.

3 months later

You checked yourself out in the mirror one last time and smoothed the top of your hair flat.

“Come on, Y/N! You’re going to miss the train,” your dad called from downstairs.

“Coming!”

Over the summer you had grown a considerable amount. Your dad had been teasing you about how much time you spent in the bathroom getting ready, but you didn’t care. For once in your life you actually felt pretty. Your body had begun to fill out in all the right places and your hair had grown out well past your shoulders now. You had started to shave your legs and wear perfume. You had even bought new clothes as you had outgrown your old wardrobe. All of this had instilled you with a newfound confidence that had you beaming. As you walked onto platform 9 and 3/4, you wore a fitted long sleeve shirt and some new low waisted jeans. You had blown out your hair into soft falling curls and you had even applied some lip gloss. You were excited to start your sixth year with all your friends and your new look.

“Bye guys! I’ll see you for Christmas,” you hugged your family before loading your trunks on the train. As you put your final trunk into the train, someone called your name from behind.

“Y/N?”

You turned around to see Fred and George standing behind you, still towering over your frame.

“Fred! George! How was your summer?” You bounded towards them and hugged George. When you pulled back to hug Fred he just stood there with his mouth slightly agape. George nudged him and he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and leaned in to hug you.

“You look… different,” was all he could manage to say. You chuckled and put your hands on your hips.

“Yes, I’m not so little anymore. You guys can stop calling me little one now,” you teased.

“Nah, you’re still tiny,” George brushed you off as you all started to head onto the train to find a compartment. After walking down the length of the train, you had finally found the compartment where Lee and Angelina were.

“Y/N! How was your summer! Oh my gosh, you look absolutely stunning,” Angelina beamed as she hugged you and pulled you down to sit next to her.

“Thanks Angie, I can say the same about you! And my summer was amazing,” you guys chatted back and forth, catching up on all the latest gossip and all the fun things you did over the summer. Fred and George beamed about the Quidditch World Cup and soon the five of you were full of sweets and ready to take a quick nap before you had to change into your school robes.

“Every year I tell myself not to eat so many chocolate frogs, and every year I eat more than I did the year before,” Lee groaned, leaning back and rubbing his stomach. You laughed and slid down in your own seat, leaning your head against the window and looking out across the green landscape. You were so happy to be back with your friends. The summertime was amazing, but there was nothing like Hogwarts. As you smiled to yourself, you looked up from the window to see Fred staring at you with a serious expression. You raised an eyebrow at him but he just shook his head and looked out the window. That was weird. You shook it off and leaned your head against the window again and nodded off.

Before long, the train had pulled into the station and crowds of students were piling out into to the night to go to welcoming feast. As you filed out of the train and towards the carriages, Fred and George lagged behind a bit and whispered to each other.

“Do you think they’re acting a bit strange?” You leaned in towards Angelina, sending another glance back towards the twins.

“Aren’t they always?” Angelina shrugged as she stepped into the carriage. She had a point.

After a few minutes, you found yourself at the Gryffindor table listening to Dumbledore announce the Tri-Wizard Tournament, everybody increasingly getting excited as his speech went on. The excitement reached its peak as piles of fresh food appeared in front of you and everybody dug into the feast.

“Oh how I missed this food,” you groaned, piling food into your mouth. George hummed in agreement as he piled more potatoes into his mouth. You could feel Fred staring at you again but you decided against meeting his gaze this time. Were they going to prank you or something? He was acting so weird.

Shortly after dinner, everybody headed up to their dorms. Despite wanting to hang out together in the common room, the long day of travel and the large feast caught up with the Gryffindors as the students filed up the winding stairs to their rooms. You had just gotten to your room when you realized you left your book in the common room. You turned around and quietly padded down the stairs to retrieve it. You slowed your steps as you saw the twins huddled together on a couch with their backs turned from you.

“Well yes, I’m not disagreeing. Any bloke can see she looks good, so what? I mean, what are you trying to say?” You managed to hear George say as you approached the coffee table.

“Ooh, who looks good? Does someone have a crush?”

The twins jumped as you grabbed your book next to them.

“Bloody hell, Y/N!” Fred exclaimed with wide eyes. George laughed.

“See, you say you’re no longer little, but you’re so tiny your footsteps don’t even make a sound,” George teased, leaning back into the couch and tossing his arm over it. You rolled your eyes.

“You guys just stomp around like ogres, I walk like a normal human. Anyways, I’m heading to bed. Try not to drool over Angelina, Georgie. It’s only the first day back,” you teased as you turned to head up towards the girls dormitory. You heard George let out a loud laugh before hearing a loud slap and more commotion. You just smiled to yourself, oh how you missed those two. You entered your room and placed your book on your bedside table before going to your wardrobe to change.

“I think George likes you,” you nodded to Angelina as she shot up in her bed.

“Really?” She said with a slight smile. You just chuckled. You were so happy to be back.

The weeks flew by and soon the other wizarding schools had arrived. The only thing that sucked about this whole tournament was that there was no quidditch. It was a surprisingly warm November day when you bounded into the common room looking for a certain pair of red heads. You spotted them huddled up in the corner of the room, probably working on one of their pranking products as you had learned of recently.

“You two,” you pointed at the twins as they whipped their heads up, “wanna play quidditch? Two on two, George and Angelina, Me and Fred.” A cheeky grin immediately grew on George’s face as he turned to look at Fred. A more sheepish smile appeared on Fred’s face as he stood up.

“Alright, Y/N, let’s kick some ass.”

The game had turned out to be exactly what the four of you needed in midst of all the school work that was being assigned. You and Fred flew seamlessly together, scoring over and over again on George and Angelina. They were putting up a good front, but your flying skills were outmatched. You had even attracted a small crowd of students by the time the game ended.

“Good game,” you said, landing onto the field and sticking out your hand for Angelina.

“Yes, valiant effort you two,” Fred smirked, shaking Angelina’s hand after you.

“Merlin, Y/N, I forgot how good you are,” Angelina mumbled as she took her defeat in stride.

“Yeah, shes bloody brilliant,” Fred mumbled with a reserved smile. You looked up at him, beaming at the compliment but he quickly looked away and cleared his throat.

“Gotta admit it, little one. You sure can fly,” George clapped you on the back before following Angelina off the field.

“We make a good team, Freddie,” you smiled, patting his arm before beginning to walk off the field as well. You couldn’t help but feel a little sad. Why was Fred acting so weird around you? Did he not like you anymore? He had been so distant this year, choosing to spend his time with George and whenever you came over to join them, he seemed to shut down and become reserved. And Fred had certainly never been reserved before. You shook your head and walked back to your dorm to shower. You decided you’d ask George about it that night.

After dinner, you sat in the common room working on some homework with Angelina. You tried to focus on your assignment, but your eyes kept drifting over to the pair huddled in the corner. How in the world were you going to ask George about Fred when they were always together? As if your prayers had been answered, Fred stood up and walked out of the common room. Your eyes followed him until he disappeared through the portrait hole. You took no time waiting and began to walk over to George.

“Ah, Y/N, what’s up?” George closed whatever he was working on and put his arm over the back of the couch. You took a seat next to him and turned to face him, nervously playing with your sleeves.

“Um, I actually had a question for you,” you stammered, looking up towards the portrait hole to make sure Fred wasn’t coming back.

“Spit it out, Y/N. What’s up? You’re making me worried,” George laughed, scooting closer to you. You cleared your throat.

“Does Fred have a problem with me? I dunno, it just seems like he doesn’t like me around anymore. He’s been acting so weird and I don’t want to bother him if he doesn’t want me hanging out with you guys anymore,” you trailed off, looking down at your legs. George put his arm around your shoulders.

“Y/N, I can promise you that is not the case,” he sighed, “we both love hanging out with you.”

“Really?” You let out a breath and chuckled.

“Yes, really. Merlin, he is such an idiot,” he grumbled to himself, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” You raised an eyebrow at him when Fred walked back into the common room. You looked up and your eyes met his. As he got closer to you and George, his brows furrowed. George took his arm off your shoulders and you shifted your body away from his.

“What are you guys talking about?” Fred questioned, stopping in his tracks and crossing his arms over his chest, looking mildly annoyed. Why were his forearms so ripped? You shook your head and cleared your throat.

“I was just bugging him about the herbology assignment, which he hasn’t even started,” you glared at George. It was true that he hadn’t even started the lengthy assignment that was due by the end of the week. George chuckled.

“Did you set it up Freddie?” George questioned, probably about a prank, looking up at his twin. Fred still looked visibly annoyed.

“Yes. I did, but I should’ve made you do it.” Fred said dryly, his jaw clenching slightly. George rolled his eyes. You looked between the twins with a confused expression. You rarely saw them annoyed at each other.

“Alright, well I’m headed upstairs. Goodnight you guys,” you ducked out of the awkward atmosphere and towards Angelina to grab your books.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” George said as Fred sat down in your seat and began to whisper something to George. What was that all about?

A few days went by and Fred was still acting distant. You wondered if George had even said anything to Fred about it. If anything, Fred was avoiding you even more. George tried to give you passing smiles and waves, but anytime he passed you in the halls, Fred would completely ignore you. Even at dinner, he would rarely engage in conversation with you and you were starting to feel really hurt. After this particular night where he purposefully avoided your gaze the entire dinner, you were actually angry at him. He’d been acting so weird all year and then as soon as you talked to George about it, he started completely ignoring you. That night, you left your dorm and stomped up to the twins room. You knocked on the door and stood there with your arms crossed waiting until George opened it. He looked taken aback by your angry presence.

“I need to talk to Fred, alone.” You stated. George gulped and turned to Lee.

“Let’s go to the common room,” he grabbed Lee and pushed past you. Fred was now looking at you from his bed. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. It looked half scared and half the nonchalant expression he’d been giving you the past few days.

“What the fuck is your problem with me?” You stomped over the his bed where he sat. He raised an eyebrow at you and crossed his arms.

“I don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. What are you talking about?” He shrugged as he looked up at you nonchalantly, but you could see his jaw tensing.

“Are you serious right now, Fred? You know exactly what I’m been talking about. You’ve been avoiding me all week, ever since I talked to George about you. I don’t know if he even mentioned it to you, but I thought you didn’t like me anymore! He told me that wasn’t true, but now I’m not too sure anymore! You’ve been acting like a prat all week!” You were fuming at this point. You couldn’t believe he had the audacity to pretend like he hadn’t been ignoring you for days.

“That’s not fuckimg true! I told you I don’t have a problem with you, Y/N,” he jumped up off the bed and stalked towards you, “why can’t you just take my word for it?” His height became apparent as he loomed over you. You only stood up straighter and kept your arms crossed.

“Well then what’s your problem? Why don’t you like hanging out with me anymore? Why are you avoiding me?” You questioned, your anger slowly seeping away and being replaced with the hurt you’d been feeling. Fred sighed, his posture relaxing as he saw your eyes fill with sadness. He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I do like hanging out with you, Y/N. Merlin, I’ve been missing spending time with you, I just…” he trailed off, his eyes falling to the floor.

“You just what, Fred? Since when are you so shy?” You asked genuinely. That only made Fred groan and run his hands roughly through his hair again.

“Since I started liking you! Since you showed up on the platform looking like that and now I can’t even look at you without thinking you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” the words tumbled out of his mouth and left you standing there with your mouth open. Did he just say he likes you? Did he just call you beautiful? “I miss playing quidditch with you and coming up with pranks together but fuck, Y/N. I don’t want to be your friend anymore. I want to be with you.” You stood still for what felt like a long time. Were you dreaming right now? Your brain scrambled to make sense of what was happening. I mean, Fred was standing in front of you, confessing his feelings to you in a very real way. But you’d been friends for so long. What if this ruined everything? But he was standing right in front of you with his messy hair and his freckled face and his furrowed brows and he just looked so good and he was finally talking to you again and

“Oh, fuck it,” you breathed out, closing the space between the two of you. You were kissing him. And it felt so good. He groaned into your lips as his hands found their way to the small of your back, pulling you flush against his body as his lips worked against your own. Your hands tangled in his red locks as you pulled at his neck to deepen the kiss. His hands slid up your body until he held your cheeks. He kissed you softly one more time before pulling back. You face was blushed red as you stared up at him with wide eyes. He finally let out a breathy laugh and his lips curved up into a crooked smile.

“You’re so cute, fuck,” he laughed, still holding your face in his large hands, “I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a prat. I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But after kissing you, fuck, I should’ve ruined it a long time ago.”

“I just wish you would’ve told me earlier. Had I known you liked me, I could’ve had you kissing me all year,” you smirked as you walked him to the edge of his bed. He sat on the edge and pulled you down with him.

“Let’s make up for lost time then,” Fred whispered as he pulled you to his lips. You groaned as you straddled his lap and deepened the kiss. This man knew how to use his tongue.

“Fuck, Freddie,” you moaned into his mouth as his hands found their way to your ass. He chuckled as his grabbed your hips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you bent over your luggage on the platform,” he breathed out with a smirk as he slapped your ass. You gasped and hit his chest.

“Freddie!” You scolded, but it didn’t last long as he pulled you back to his mouth, making you moan as his thumbs rubbed over your hip bones.

“Bloody hell,” you heard someone say from the door. You gasped and pulled away from Fred only to see George standing in the doorway with his jaw wide open. Fred’s smirked stayed plastered on his face and his grip held you tight on his lap.

“Sorry Georgie, think you can give us a few more minutes? We’re still talking.”

#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #wizarding world #harry potter fanfiction #reader x fred weasley #y/n x Fred weasley #george weasley #Fred weasley #harry potter oneshot #Harry Potter master list #hpboys #Fred weasley one shot #fred weasley oneshot

966 notes · View notes

t0rturedangel · 4 months

Text

╭ . . . 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 ੭

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ; ♰ ৎ﹕𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴

Okay, before I start- i know that hazbin hotel has a lot of good ass songs, and I want to make own little custom songs but I cant write songs for shit however I can write poetry (not well but I'm trying) so instead of writing songs for you, I'll write shitty poetry that does not rhyme. Also sorry if my depictions of love aren't good- i have literally never been in love before, and if the ending is rushed, I'm not used to writing so much in one setting

➷ ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳＳＣＥＮＥ | ＮＥＸＴＳＣＥＮＥ

There once was an Cherubim angel,

so gentle and kind,

perched upon a cloud

You sat on a cloud, smiling to yourself as you watched over all the different angels talk to each other about their duties- heaven was perfect, no- no not just perfect, heaven was a utopia. No angel can do any wrong, it is only virtue that existed upon these clouds and you were among these creatures of purity, you were one of god's creations just as all the other's were.

The clouds around you were soft, almost as if they were made of the soft silk your robes were made of, they were formed to bring comfort to any angel that came in contact with them and while all angels were already joyful, the clouds merely helped them stary from sinful thoughts.

She waited for another angel,

a Seraphim named Lucifer,

a friend, so close to her

You wondered though, were was lucifer? He was always about yet you didn't have any idea on where or how to find him. In all honesty, you found Lucifer to be amazing- his ideas, imagination, creativity bought stars to your eyes (figuratively, you had no iris or pupil- your eyes, more specifically your sclera, were a soft yellow colour with white swirls decorating them), to you his words were so brilliant, other angels couldn't even begin to speak or think the way he does.

He always came up with new ideas, new creations him, you and the other angels can create- can look after and love. You couldn't help but indulge in his chats with you- adding onto his ideas in anyway you can and while you personally thought your ideas weren't as amazing as his, to Lucifer your ideas were flawless- he always said that.

Lucifer was brilliant, he truly was- you could never understand why the other angels despised his thoughts so much.

Perhaps, the cherubim was in love,

perhaps she enjoyed Lucifer's company

much more beyond just meer friendship.

Okay, you needed to slow down- you were always thinking how great he was, maybe you didn't just like him as a friend... just maybe you liked him a bit more. Though, that way of thinking should stop soon- after all you have angelic duties to do! there is no way you can just abandon them just because you adored Lucifer....'s ideas.

You took a breath and got on your feet, spreading your wings (you had four wings, two on each side) so you could take off and start your work, however when you were jus about to begin to fly a figure rushed to you- wrapping their arms around your torso.

The seraphim appeared,

all smiles and glee

he held his friend closely

with tender, with care

Lucifer came out of no where, though his presence was welcomed warmly by you : who held him back just as tight. " Luci! " you grinned letting go of him, he had gotten there just in time- it was almost like he knew you were about to fly off, " [name]! Ha ha! how are you? " he asked holding both of your hands- a dorky smile engraved onto his face " Where have you been? I was worried " that was half-true, there was no evil (what even was evil? you didn't know, it doesn't exist not yet ) but there was a high chance that Sera was telling him off again.

" How sweet, but don't worry I'm alright cherub " he brought your hands closer to him- something that grin he held could only grow as the seconds passed by, seeming like he wanted to say something " Luci- I know that look in your eye, you've being creating again! Tell me everything ", your own smile began to grow as you squeezed his hand.

" You know me too well! Okay, so i was thinking of trying to make [ creature ], sounds cool right? well guess what else! " and with that he began to ramble about his ideas once more, with you chirping in some of your own ideas which made Lucifer sound even happier.

The two angels were at peace,

within the company of each other-

did they love each other?

would they dare say it?

You flew around with Lucifer, laughing together while yelling out some nonsense that seemed to only make sense to you and him- just you and him. Though your fun was quick to end when the two of you reached the tallest cloud in all of heaven and the two of you- both out of breath- fell onto it. " That was fun! " you chuckled, still trying to catch your breath " yeah! I loved that " was the reply, then silence fell upon the two of you. Though it wasnt awkward silence, it never was when it came to [name] and Lucifer- it was comforting and peaceful.

Though this silence was broken quickly by you. Over the last few weeks, months you were coming to understand your feelings towards the seraphim, and while you could easily deny them- to avoid them and focus of everything but that but you just couldn't, you sucked with feelings especially hiding them! and plus, how could you live if you didn't tell Luci how you felt " Luci... I " love you, those words were suddenly lodged in your throat and you couldn't let them be said- be heard why did that happen, you were sure you could say them- hell you said them before to people who you see as family!, "sorry what i meant was I- " loved you for so long now, I love you and I don't think I can ever stop loving you " loved that too- it was so fun! "

She couldn't say it,

she was too scared to tell her dear Lucifer

of her true feelings... though did he feel the same?

What was wrong with you? You couldnt say it, why? You loved Lucifer- there you admitted it in your mind but you just cant say it to him. You sighed and stared at your mirror- looking over your face, your long hair (angels all had long hair, it was one of the things that they always cared for and almost showed off)

Of course he did,

how could he not?

he loved her more than anything

she listen to his ideas, she added onto them

she never hated them, never judged.

but then, the high order formed the earth-

Adam and Lilith.

" [name? " Lucifer walked over to you, a smile on his face- though he always smiled, this smile seemed different in a way but you couldn't place your finger on it however that did not stop you from returning his smile " Luci! hey! " you grinned as he stopped just in front of you " [name]? do you know the two humans? " " Adam and Lilith? " " yes! Me and Lilith... are in love!"

...

he.. he loved the human Lilith? The one who ran from Adam (you heard of this from Sera, and while you acted disappointed you agreed with Lilith's decision of leaving Adam, you would have too), he found her and fell for her? .. how? she hasn't even existed for that long! How could you possibly fall that quick? it was impossible right?

It took you a few seconds to compose yourself so you can smile for Lucifer, though it didnt feel right " That's... brilliant Luci! I'm so happy you found love- how does it feel like? " and with that question you bared the suffering of listening to Lucifer, the one you loved, gush about Lilith, and you were almost envious of Lilith- almost hated her, you never met her and now dear god you probably don't ever want to. You had lost your Lucifer to her, though... you suppose he was never yours.

and with that,

those confessions of requited love

would forever be sealed away,

locked behind their grinning lips

though the perish of love was not their only problem.

Lucifer went too far,

he created evil through the second bride,

she bit the apple, she took the fall

and Lucifer and his love was to blame

though you would not let him be punished alone.

You too were part of this.

" No! " You screamed as you ran to the shaking Lucifer's side, almost trying to shield him from the anger of the higher order of angels. " Leave him be! He has done nothing wrong! " you defended him, still caring over your friend. Nevertheless, the angels did not listen to your words in the way you intended- they saw this as a further act of aggression from you as you also had a part to play in coursing dear Eve into biting the apple from the tree of knowledge of good or evil, you lead her to the tree, plucked the apple with Lucifer in tow and let her bite it. Now you and Lucifer were being punished, Lucifer getting the harsher side of it.

The angel was thrown to the depths,

to a world name named Hell,

where the only side of humans Lucifer was granted to see,

was the side he created.

You were also punished to fall,

tho to hell was too much they said

so you fell the half way

now for ever trapped in a dead land-

forever banished to be alone.

𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪��𝘥𝘦𝘳 ⠆ ⸺ @reverse-soe @jellibean2018 @aliazy @sugarrush-blush @littledolly2345 @immahuman @marsilis

536 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 2 months

Text

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 1)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Arguing, and Name Calling

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Five years later, Rafe makes an unplanned stop at a diner that reveals a secret that Y/N has been keeping from him.

Masterlist

Y/N wipes the counter with a clean rag, looking up at the clock across the wall. Three more hours until Stella is dropped off from daycare. “If you think rubbing that spot over and over again will make a genie appear and you can wish for her to be here faster, then I’m sorry to say that you are going to be disappointed,” Harvey jokes, following her gaze to the clock. She stops cleaning, “Sorry, I just miss her so much. I think I’m PMSing.” “Sure, we can blame it on your period,” he laughs. Y/N pushes him over in annoyance, escaping to her back office to hopefully make the time go faster.

She smiles at the picture of the grandma on the desk, settling on her chair to order more inventory. Her life plans weren’t exactly to take over the diner, yet it’s not like she was planning on having a baby at twenty either. Y/N was left the diner in her grandma’s will and she took it so that it could stay in the family. There are no regrets in either of those decisions. Sure, she didn’t get her big break in LA or New York, but she would never dream of trading her daughter for anything in the world. Stella Y/L/N is the light of her life, even if she is the spinning image of her dad. Stella is all Y/N’s and that’s all that matters. She may have Rafe’s eyes, but she has Y/N’s sense of humour. Her lips are the same as his, but she loves the same movies as her mom. Her hair colour may match his, but she also has the same bad habit of biting her nails as her mom.

Y/N focuses on the words on her screen when Harvey comes running into her office. “A total hunk just came into the restaurant and I have been ordered by Patty to come get you. She thinks he can be your soulmate. Says to let you take his table,” he informs, pointing behind him with his thumb. Y/N shakes her head, “I’m the owner. I really should be the one telling you to take tables, but I won’t disappoint Patty. I’ll be out in a second.” Harvey nods and heads back out to check on his customers. She finishes up the order she was working on, fixing her shirt before heading out the door.

The sound of a door opening draws Rafe’s attention and his heart stops at the scent of vanilla he hasn’t smelt in five years. Even if it was only one night, he has been haunted by the wearer of that scent for years. His eyes land on her and he can’t believe he gets to see her again. Her smile is still as brilliant. Y/N heads behind the counter to get an apron and his insides collapse in on himself as he watches her smile dim at his sight. He doesn’t know why she would be upset at him. She was the one who left in the morning without a word. Suddenly, the face on his watch needs to be constantly adjusted.

As Y/N exits her office, she has to stop herself from screaming at the man sitting in the booth. She could never forget him; a living reminder of him literally came out of her vagina almost four years ago. Fear creeps into her brain. The only possible reason he could be here after all these years is because of that living reminder. With the resources he has, he would most certainly win custody over Stella and Y/N couldn’t allow that to happen. But maybe he doesn’t know about her. If he did, then wouldn’t it make more sense to bring a lawyer with him? She decides to find out why he is really here first before she goes on the defence as she walks over to take his order.

“What are you doing here?” she grits through bared teeth. He gives her a confused look, “I had a meeting with clients. I thought I would stop to get something to eat before heading back to the Outer Banks.”

Her expression lightens up at his words. “So you aren’t here to see me?” His head moves from side to side, “No. I mean that night was amazing, but I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I’m just hungry.” He notices that her eyes keep glancing towards the clock and the nail of her thumb is being gripped by her teeth. He wonders why she looks so worried all of a sudden.

“Okay, good. I mean cool. What can I get you? A burger? Salad? Pie?”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, Buttercup. Why are you in such a rush? Aren’t you going to get my drink order first?”

“Right. Of course. What can I get you to drink?”

“A coffee, please.”

Rafe had never seen a woman run away from him so fast before and he has got to say that he is offended. He doesn’t know what he did to garner such a reaction from her, but he vows to make it up to her. His hand goes up to his mouth, so he can check his breath. Smells fine. The mug of coffee is quickly placed in front of him and she practically forces him to give her his food order right at this second.

Y/N hands the order to Patty in the kitchen, “Pat, I need you to focus on this order, please. Get it out first and as fast as you can.” The older woman’s eyebrow shoots up. “That’s a little unusual, but I can do that for you, honey. Can you watch the other food then for me, please?” she asks. Y/N does as asks and makes sure the chicken tenders in the fryer don’t burn. Patty gets Rafe’s food done in a jiffy and Y/N takes it out to him. She stays behind the counter, looking between the clock and Rafe eating every so often. She swears she has never seen someone eat so slowly. He has to be doing this on purpose. He can feel her gaze on him and he has pieced together that something must be coming that she doesn’t want him to see. His curiosity gets the best of him, so he decides to make this lunch last.

The jingle of a bell above the door catches his attention. He turns to see a little girl run into the diner and round the counter to the woman standing behind it. “Mommy,” she screams, jumping into Y/N’s arms. With a clear view of the girl now that she is being carried by her mom, Rafe can now see her in more detail.

The long locks that frame her face are the same muddy blonde colour as his. Her eyes match his ocean-blue ones. And she definitely inherited the shape of his lips. He tries to do the math in his head. He isn’t great at guessing kids’ age. She looks about three, maybe four. So four years plus the ten months of pregnancy, that child is almost certainly his. He feels like his world is falling in on itself. How could he not know that he had a little girl? Did she know she had a daddy? He promised himself if he ever had a kid that they would never feel the same way about him as he does about his dad. But he did one step worse by not even being in his daughter’s life. Anger starts to fill him and he knows he needs to find a way to manage it before he lets it out on the wrong person.

“Stells, what are you doing back so early?” Y/N questions her grinning daughter, moving the hair out of the girl’s face. She nods along to the explanation about daycare ending early today, so Mrs. Winters dropped her off early. Her eyes are focused on Rafe and she watches as he pieces the puzzle together. She observes as he slaps money onto the table, quickly making his exit. “Shit,” the mother whispers. “Can you go to my office, please? Mommy will bring you a snack, baby.” Y/N makes sure Stella is making her way to the office before running after Rafe. Her feet slap against the concrete and she spots him entering his truck. She goes to chase after him, but he drives off in a blink of an eye.

——

He had a daughter. He had a little girl that he could cherish and watch grow that she kept a secret from him. He doesn’t even know their daughter’s name. His anger fills him to the brim and he needs an outlet to get rid of it. The white powder in the small baggies calls to him, so he rushes to his coffee table. He draws the cocaine into lines and brings his nose down to snort the powder. The drugs start to affect him; his judgement starts to be clouded.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to dial a number, “Barry, I need you to find an address for me.”

——

“So how was daycare, Stella?” Y/N questions her daughter, cutting up a cucumber for a snack. Stella runs up to the counter, “It was good, Mommy. I got a rainbow sticker for being a good girl.” The girl pulls at the front of her shirt to show off the sticker on it. “That’s great, Baby. You must have worked hard today to be a good girl. I’m proud of the effort you put in. Now, why don’t you go get ready for your snack? Mommy is almost done getting everything ready,” she suggests, moving on to get the cheese cut. Stella yells an okay and runs to the bathroom.

The hard knock on the door reverberates around the open floor plan of the small house. This stops Y/N in her tracks and she goes to answer the door. When she sees who it is, she tries to shut the door in his face, but his foot stops her. “How come you didn’t tell me I had a daughter?” he growls, pushing his way into her house. His force causes her to stumble backwards and luckily, she is able to catch herself before she falls on her bum like on the night they first met. She shuts the door, turning toward him, “I was going to tell you. But by the time I found out I was pregnant, I had already learnt the type of person you truly were.”

“The type of person I truly was? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Can you keep your voice down, please? She is just down the hall.”

“What do you mean?” he snarls, approaching her so they are chest to chest. The dark look in his eyes and the towering figure over her should’ve scared her. She can see the abnormal size of his pupils, so she knows he is high. However, she can’t stop thinking about the man that she met. Not about the stories of his anger issues or how he beats people to a pulp. Not about how he not only does cocaine but sells it at parties too. All she can see is the man who lost his button and ranted about how his father is an asshole. Passing the anger of her hiding Stella, she can see the sadness he feels about missing out on her life so far. Yet, the fact that he shows up at her house, high and yelling while Stella is there causes her to feel her own fury as her maternal side starts to show.

She stands straight, taking a few steps forward that makes him walk backwards, “What do I mean? I mean that I found out that you not only do drugs, but you sell them. I found out that you beat people up who aren’t in the same financial circle as you. I found out that you have anger issues that you don’t seem to want to change. Rafe, you weren’t the type of father I wanted for my daughter.” Seeing such a sweet person say all those vile but true things about him sends a pang through his heart.

“You never gave me a chance to change! I would’ve done anything for her if I knew she existed.”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing right now, you are proving me right. Look what you did when you found out about her. You didn’t try to talk to me like an adult. You went out and got high then barged into my house demanding answers.”

“You know what? All of you bitches are the same. You think that you are so much better than everyone because you don’t do drugs or get angry. Well let me tell you something, you are just a poor slut who got pregnant on purpose to have a permanent cash cow. You aren’t better than me. You are just better at hiding it than me.”

The volume she was about to talk at was not one she had ever used before, but she wasn’t about to let him talk about her or her daughter like that. “GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNLESS YOU HAVE A LAWYER WITH YOU!” She storms toward the door and throws the door open. Rafe didn’t think someone with such a nice personality could be so loud. It helps bring him back to reality and he realizes what he just did. His shoulders relax with his anger. He looks at her sadly as he follows her pointed finger out of the door.

Y/N shuts it once he is out the door. She runs her fingers through her hair, giving a tug to the end of her roots. The frustrated sigh she lets out is the only sound in the room until a small voice catches her attention. “Mommy, are you okay?” Y/N turns to her teary-eyed daughter and concern floods through her. She rushes to her, bringing her up to rest against her hip. Her forehead rests against the younger girl’s temple, “I’m okay, Stells. Mommy isn’t hurt, just angry. Are you okay, Baby? I know hearing Mommy yell might have been scary. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Stella’s arms circle her mother’s shoulders and she gives her mother a kiss on the cheek as comfort. “I’m okay, Mommy. The scary man is gone now. Who was he?”

Y/N wishes she could pretend like there was no man, but Stella had obviously seen Rafe. There is no denying it. Y/N just has no idea who she wants Rafe to be to her daughter.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii

307 notes · View notes