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tteokdoroki · 6 days

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𐙚 🪷 TRUTH OR DRINK katsuki bakugou .ᐟ

⋆˙ᝰ about ! “you love me, you take care of me. that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done f'me." with the release of your husband's newest album and the announcement for his latest tour, the two of you are invited on set to film a special kind of promotional video for newlyweds. hopefully, this married couple leave without a hangover. ( 4.8K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, fluff, suggestive, angst if you squint, celebrity!au, all characters are aged up to 20s, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, drinking, newlyweds, exes, some family issues, long-distance, idol!bakugou, fem + model!reader - not beta read!

aali’s love letter ! happy birthday bakugou! another splendid year for our lord saviour dynamght !! i posted this late boo but its out!! i hope you guys are still able to enjoy <3 ty to @cuntcure for helping out n motivating me !! - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

“fuck, we’re really doing this, huh?”

across from you, katsuki bakugou shifts uncomfortably — ruby red eyes darting around the plain white set. studio lights glare from all directions, illuminating the slight sweat that beads at the blonde’s hairline. artificial lighting, bright and made to capture everything, refracts of the pearling perspiration and almost creates the illusion of a halo around the crown of your partner’s head. almost as if he’s an angel.

reaching over the small table that the producers have set up between you both, you grasp at katsuki’s rough fingers, toying with them as if to test the waters before you hold them fully — once he’s comfortable enough to accept your physical affection. his palms are warm and a little sweaty, but that doesn’t stop you from giving them a gentle squeeze.

“it’ll be fun,” you whisper, keeping your voice low and calm as the production crew continues to contrastingly flit around you in preparation for the shoot. “and it’ll be great promo for your album!” lifting his hands, you press a kiss to the blonde’s knuckles as though you’re sealing a promise, ensuring that they’re not empty. you smile reassuringly and bakugou returns it awkwardly, drawing back just a tad when a member of production sheepishly approaches the table to set down three different bottles of alcohol, two shot glasses and a pitcher of pineapple and coconut juice as your mixer of choice.

glass bottles of whisky, rum, and vodka glit under the white light too.

“we can back out at anytime,” comes your soft reminder once the crew member retreats to check the sound mic and cameras along with some other staff. “i want you to be comfortable.”

bakugou shakes his head, this time, bringing the backs of your hands to his lips — pale blonde lashes fluttering as he shuts away ruby framed eyes and takes a breath to calm himself. “wanna do it. like y’said it’ll be good. fun.” when he opens his eyes again, he’s looking at you with a toothy smirk that never fails to send a shiver down your spine and butterflies in a flurry through your tummy. “besides, we haven’t been able t’do somethin’ like this together in a while.”

nothing beats your grin after that and with a few more touch ups to your make up ( the both of you ) — you’re ready to begin filming.

“okay guys!” the director on set claps their hands. “wanna start us off? who are you and what are you doing here today?”

you give katsuki’s hands one last comforting squeeze before his crimson gaze slinks towards the camera that’s now rolling, fixating on its blinking red light as it matches his stare. “‘m katsuki bakugou ‘nd this is my wife,” he juts his head over to you gently, muttering your name with love laced between each of its syllables.

you too turn to face the camera, award winning smile settling gracefully on your lips. “and today we’re playing truth or drink!” you squirm excitedly. “we’re really happy to be here! thank you for having us!”

“i’m not.”

“katsuki!”

with a laugh behind the camera, the producer speaks again. “so, you’re some pretty special guests. what do you guys do? how long have you two been married?”

bakugou rolls his eyes at the enthusiasm. “i’m a singer-songwriter slash idol or whatever you wanna call it…and i’m on tour right now. so buy my album or you’re shit.”

“and i’m a fashion model slash content creator. we’ve been together for like…five years? married for half a year? a year?” musing out loud, you switch your gaze from the camera to katsuki — letting him know with your eyes that he’s doing a great job.

“eight months, three weeks ‘n two days.” he corrects you seriously, causing sweet laughter to bubble up on your lips.

“sorry, folks. eight months, three weeks and two days.” you retort jokingly. bakugou rolls eyes ruby framed eyes again.

“okay, so still pretty new. let’s start with a shot, shall we?”

ever the gentlemen, your husband pours you a decently sized shot using a drink he knows you like without even asking. he even tops it off with a mixer because he knows that sometimes you can’t get past a bitter aftertaste if the alcohol is too strong. once done with yours, he fills up his own glass before clinking it against yours — both of you knocking back the shot with practised ease.

“god, that shit’s strong.” the pale blonde grimaces.

despite having a facial expression to match, you somehow make light of the situation. “really puts hairs on your chest, doesn’t it, kats?”

“you like my tits naked and juicy, shut the hell up,” smirking cockily, katsuki slides your shot glasses to the side and toys with the stacked white question cards in front of him. “her words not mine.”

“anyways…first card please.”

doing as he’s told, katsuki flips the first card over — skimming the letters written in bold on the other side before he slams it back down. “‘m takin’ a shot.”

the shoot has barely begun and you already find yourself bursting into fits of adoring, amused giggles. “no! it’s not even your question to answer! you have to read it, it’s the first card!” you whine playfully.

“alright, fine,” flipping the card over again with a dejected air about him, bakugou announces the question to both you and the camera. “when was the last time we had sex and where did it happen?”

“oh god.” you pinch your brow.

“told ya. no shots, it’s the first card. y’gotta answer it, babe.” bakugou teases as he casts the card aside, leaning back in his chair slow and sexy like while he watches you hungrily. it’s like making you embarrassed has made him forget that he’s on camera.

sighing through your nose, you pout at the camera and producers who watch eagerly. “on the way here.”

“on the way to this shoot? oh my god!”

“yes! omg. shut up, this is so embarrassing. katsuki don’t laugh!” you practically wail as the set bursts out into laughter. “god, okay. it was on the way here and in the back of the SUV with the partition up. don’t ask me how we had time. katsuki always makes time.”

said katsuki wiggles two fingers towards the camera knowingly and chokes back a raspy chuckle when you frown in response, scooping up your own card. “next question,” your say as your gaze skims the card. “who is your least favourite parent in law? oooh, spicy.”

“definitely her dad,” your husband points a thumb in your direction without hesitation but mouths his words straight into the camera. “you’re a piece of shit by the way.”

the producer pipes in. “can we elaborate?”

“my dad was never the most supportive of my career…but claims everything i have is because of him. it sucks, he's a narcissist and we don’t really speak because of it.” you answer truthfully, attempting to shrug the weight of your familial situation off. you know that most girls dream of having their father walk them down the aisle on their wedding day…but it’s just not in the cards for you. sensing your anger, your hurt and your pain beginning to rise to the surface, katsuki takes the card from you and grasps at your hand — eyebrows raised earnestly into his hairline while he checks to see if you’re okay. a small, wistful smile plays at your lips and you give your partner a gentle nod. “it’s okay though, my mum, mitsuki and masaru have been great parents. katsuki’s mum and dad kept me grounded throughout our engagement, pretty much designed all of my wedding outfits. they were all custom.”

“outfits? as in multiple?”

“ah yes! mitsuki insisted that i had changes throughout the day.” you beam, a giddiness replacing any negative emotion you once felt. your future mother in law had done everything in her power to make you feel like a princess on your wedding day — to this day it made you feel extremely grateful for your positive relationship with bakugou’s family.

“they still fuckin’ spoil her, ma styles her for a lot shoots,” the blonde scoffs but the adoration dancing in the almost brown flecks of his carmine eyes tell a different story. “no seriously, ma ‘n pa love you so much. you’re like the daughter they never had.”

“aw, that’s so cute. i’ll cry.”

katsuki’s turn to pick a card rolls around again, but he doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time — index finger toying with your engagement ring. “what’s was the most stressful part about planning a wedding?” he reads. “oh, definitely the micromanaging from other people. shit pissed me off,” your husband answers almost straight away, already preparing to fix himself a shot when the producer asks him to elaborate.

he shakes his head and the producer turns to you. “our managers thought that they could have a say in our ceremony since it was like the celebrity wedding of the year,” shrugging, you fix your own shot which makes your spouse grin. “we ended up having one public and one smaller, private wedding to say fuck ‘em. and no, they didn’t fire me for this.”

“so a follow up, when you announced your engagement to the world what was a difficult thing you dealt with publicly?” someone from behind the camera asks.

pursing your lips, you look to katsuki for an answer. “the fan wars? some of my fans were…are still caught up on my ex and others think the great singer katsuki bakugou is too good for an influencer like me.”

“they don’t know shit. you’re too good for the world baby, i don’t deserve you.”

“corny ass,” you snort directly into the camera’s shot. “i’m sure that’s one of his song lyrics.”

“is fuckin’ not!” bakugou pouts, though he’ll deny that he was later. “pick another damn card.”

he pushes the pile towards you once more and you cheekily swipe one from the middle to make the video a little bit more interesting for those watching from home when it comes out. hopefully the viewers get a laugh out of bakugou calling you a cheater and you sticking your tongue out at him in retaliation — he pinches it back.

“ouch! owie, okay! okay, let go!” flipping the card so that the text is facing you, you begin to read it out loud slowly — nearly bursting out into an incredulous fit of giggles at the question printed in thick black letters. “this is so ironic, baby you’re gonna love this one,” katsuki raises a brow, intrigued by the coy smile you’re barely trying to hide now. “i dare you to call an ex and remind them that you’re happily married.”

a small silence echoes throughout the studio as you stare at one another, waiting and waiting, until a loud, raspy and haughty laugh rips through bakugou’s throat.

“what’s so funny?”

the blonde sat opposite you, still as handsome as the day you first met him — with glittering gem eyes that sparkle under the studio lights and a toothy smile that never fails to melt your heart, suddenly grows shy. a rose tint spreads its way over the bridge of his nose and his cheeks that have lost their youthful roundness, katsuki blushes softly but laughs with his entire body — only just embarrassed by the secret he's about to reveal to his most dedicated fans and the rest of the world.

leaning forward on the table, elbows on the edge, while you tuck your chin in the seat of your palm — biting your lip in amusement. “do you wanna tell them or should i?”

“i wanna take a fuckin’ short first. can i?” katsuki asks, almost innocently. he knocks back a glass of dark, bitter whisky once he gets the go ahead. “she’s my first. my first everythin’. girlfriend, time, wife—“

“i sure hope i’m your first and only wife, kats.” you cut him off swiftly, a mischievous lilt layered thick on your tone.

he slings an arm over the back of his chair, waving you off lovingly. “—you know what i mean, sweets.” bakugou shrugs in the direction of the producers. “i don’t have an ex to call.”

“okay, we’ll have your wife call one.”

at the film crew’s suggestion, your voice raises an octave, notes of surprise littered through out your melodic voice. “me? who would i even call?” you can’t help but snicker, trying to reach for the juice used for mixer so you can plan your escape route out of the dare.

your husband snatches the bottle from your reach, holding it protectively against his broad chest. “call shindou.” he grunts out low but highly amused.

“oh no, i’m not doing that. let me take the shot katsuki.” comes your instant response, tone turning slightly serious.

“who’s shindou?”

“her ex.”

“my ex.”

the both of you announce in unison, though you’re a little less entertained by your menace of a blonde husband — still guarding the drinks as he chucks the used question card to the side.

“why not?”

“cause it’ll be mean? he still hasn’t recovered from finding out i’m dating the idol he used to train with. yanno, the one who debuted over him.”

bakugou clicks his tongue cockily. “he’ll get over it. call him. c’mon, it’ll be funny and you love making me laugh.”

“alright fine but you have to swear you’ll answer the next one.” you turn to the camera. “he’s right though, his laugh is the prettiest in the world.”

bakugou blushes as you pull out your phone and scroll to the bottom of your contact list, surprised at yourself for not blocking and deleting the number. holding up the sleek device for everyone to view, you jab a thumb into the speaker button and watch with baited breath as it begins to ring throughout the studio.

“hello, yo speakin’,” a voice a little higher pitched than your husband’s filters through the speaker. it’s familiar, but doesn’t hold any of the comfort that bakugou brings. it’s been years since you ended things with your ex, the relationship was rocky and full of miscommunications and mistrusts before either of you skyrocketed to fame. there’s no malice between you both or a reason to cause katsuki why worry, you hope, but talking to yo shindou nowadays is akin to talking to a stranger.

giving the camera an awkward thumbs up, you reply shyly. “hi shin, what’s up?”

“oh hey sweetheart, this is a nice suprise.” your ex purrs through the line. you click the buttons side of your phone to turn up the volume — making sure his every word is picked up by the mics in the room.

bakugou chimes in, clearly looking for an opportunity to show off. “hey asshole, don’t get too excited.”

“hello to you too kats, what can i do you for princess?”

“shin, don’t call me that. also we’re shooting truth or drink right now — newlyweds edition with kats. they wanted me to call, tell you i’m married or something… which i’m sure you know by now.” explaining in a rush, you push at bakugou’s forehead, right between arched, dark blonde brows to keep him and his laughter at bay.

“it’s all anyone can talk about these days, especially when i’m on set. married couple of the year.”

the producers mouth to you to ask shindou a question, in which you almost miss underneath the sounds of your newlywed husband suppressing snarky jokes and giggles. “they’re telling me to ask you if you’re happy for me ‘n kats. you don’t have to answer—“

“i am. happy for you. katsuki, as big as of an asshole as he is, makes you way fucking happier than i ever did. he’s good to you, but you’re better to him. the world wants to see you guys grow old together… i hope it stays that way or else i’ll have to swoop back in—“

cringing along the millions that will be watching in the near future, you slice through his words politely before bakugou can blow a gasket. “thanks, shin. you’re sweet.”

“anything for you, sweetcheeks—“

“alright, alright. you’re pushin’ it now, freak. r’member i’m the one clapping these sweet cheeks and i’ll always be a better fuck than you—“ abruptly, your newfound husband snatches up your phone — growling possessively down the line as if to ward your ex off.

“okaybyethankyou!” squealing you hang up the phone and breathe a heavy sigh of relief, head banging on the table in front of you as you try to hide your flustered face. “that went better than expected.”

the blonde before you shrugs nonchalantly as if he wasn’t seconds away from reaching into the phone and tearing shindou’s head from between his shoulders. “i do love an opportunity to show you off, rub our marriage in people’s faces.” alas, he pours you both a shot, adding a mixer to yours, sort of as a reward for making it through the call. “kay, next card,” he swipes one from the top of the pile once more, carefully murmuring its contents into the studio’s cool air. “can the both of you name one person you would have invited into your marital bedroom on your wedding night? see if you’re both thinking of the same person. easy. on three?”

“sure! one, two—“ you count, the temperature of the room raising as it awaits your big reveal. “kirishima.”

“kirishima.” katsuki says at the same time before smirking cockily at the film crew. “next!”

you join him just as your foot flirtatious slides up his leg from underneath the table. “kats says eijirou is packin’, by the way.” your husband’s smile fades into an embarrassed look, everyone in the room laughing along with you. of course he’s seen it. of course you’ve talked about this before. “anyway, my turn! most romantic thing i’ve ever done for you? c’mon now kats, you can think of something. i’m pretty sweet.”

reaching for your hand for the nth time during the shoot, bakugou laces his fingers with yours — decadent dark red eyes instantly drawn to the big rock on your engagement ring and the simple gold wedding band that sits above it as he recalls everything you’ve ever done for him. every gesture; every text, every act of physical touch or service. it would be hard to choose just one romantic thing.

the silence as he ponders almost fills you with dread, a nervousness fluttering about in your chest like a butterfly whose wings are beginning to fail them. they’d have to edit this part out if he couldn’t think of anything.

but then, those plush pink lips that kiss you and call for you, part gently and a soft sentiment escape’s from between them. “you love me,” is all bakugou can say, eyes wide and genuine. “you take care of me. that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done f'me…and, if we’re talkin’ specifics, you remember that time just before my album came out? before our wedding? i was fuckin’ stressed ‘n i was always locked up in the studio, trying to figure out the track list, the final song…”

you nod slowly, exhaling deeply through your nose. “yeah?” the background noise from the crew, cameras and mics wither away until it’s just yourself and bakugou in the room — holding hands as though you’re one another’s life lines.

“it was three am ‘n you were in another city for a shoot but…you still made the drive over to have dinner with me. to make sure i ate,” the tip of katsuki’s rough and calloused thumb brushes over the bumps formed by your knuckles. “just to help me run through things even though i was freakin’ the fuck out and you had a flight to milan the next day. you ate with me and that meant a lot.” he seems wistful as he talks, forgetting that the world will be able to see his heart beating all tender like when the cameras are put away and the footage is polished up.

perhaps he doesn’t care if the world sees him being so vulnerable with the woman he loves on screen. they’ll usually find such openness hidden between the lyrics of his songs. so, perhaps it’s the little alcohol running through his system. nevertheless, quiet love and appreciation seeps from katsuki bakugou’s pours into the quiet atmosphere of the set, the emotions crash over you in waves that you welcome — almost reducing you to tears brewed just for him.

“you asshole,” you sniff, lacking all the spite the insulting nickname carries. “i didn’t think that night meant so much to you… i just wanted to see my baby. wanted to make sure you were okay.”

cocking his head to the side fondly, the blonde singer uses the back of his hand to wipe at your free falling tears you hadn’t realised were there. bakugou doesn’t let go of you the entire time. “don’t cry sweets, you know i hate t’see you cry.”

watery laughter bubbles up on the seam of your lips. “don’t tell me what to do,”

“you said she drove from another city, would you guys say that distance made things difficult for you?”

“sometimes,” you answer the director truthfully. “while we were engaged we’d plan our wedding across different time zones. when i was awake walking for fashion week he was sleeping in his studio making songs.” you explain, looking to katsuki to confirm.

he nods along with another squeeze of your hand. “it was hard yeah, but we got through it. now she has my ring on her finger ‘n she’s stuck with me.”

“send help.” you mouth to the camera.

resuming the game, you snatch up a card and secretly hope that the question is a little more light hearted than the previous. “has my line of work ever made you jealous? oooh, good one,” adding the card to the ones already discarded, you squirm in your seat — excited to know your husband’s answer. “no shots! i want you sober and honest.”

“i’ve hardly had anythin’ to drink!” katsuki snorts. “what’s the sayin’? a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts? let me have something.”

“no! i want sober words and sober thoughts, that’s the aim of the game, stink.”

katsuki rolls his eyes so hard you fear they might drop out of his skull. “spoiled brat,” he mumbles begrudgingly, sucking his teeth. “okay before anyone says anythin’, i’m a secure guy. i trust and value my girl’s word above anyone else’s. i love seein’ her on billboards in every country i visit, on magazines at every airport I’ve ever flown from…”

“it feels like there’s a but coming.”

“wait for it…” you hum gleefully.

“but i hate that one cover shoot you did with that nerd, izuku, for vogue. that’s it. never do that shit again.” bakugou finishes, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

nearly leaping out of your seat, you point at your husband — bewildered. “i knew it! you said it didn’t bother you!”

“of course it did! he had his grubby arms wrapped around you! he stinks.”

“you did not just call izuku stinky, he’s got a feature on your album!”

“his feature can kiss my ass,” you know that bakugou is only half serious, the two have written some beautiful songs together and the cover hardly meant anything — izuku models from time to time as well. it just so happens you also work for the same brands. “my turn again, rate my proposal on a scale of one to ten. how good did i do?”

“nine point five.” you nod assertively, speaking to your audience with love bursting through your heart. “he proposed to me at his first sold out concert, like literally stopped singing and apologised to all of his fans because he had something important to say. that’s when he asked me, in front of his entire world. kats’ is real private so it meant so much to me…”

the blonde leans back in his seat but brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss directly to your wedding rings. “only nine point five? cheeky fucker.”

“it’s only ‘cause your genius-self decided to chuck my ring into the crowd?” you scoff.

“oi! i have good aim, you’re just shit at catchin’ things!” katsuki scoffs back, nudging you with his foot under the table.

“back to the game love birds.”

the two of you put your playful little spat on the back burner and you grasp the next card. “how many years into our our marriage do you think we’ll stop having sex—?”

“never,” katsuki cuts you off, looking directly into the lense as he jabs a thumb in your direction. “i can’t ever get her off my cock. she’s fuckin’ insane.”

heat flares up underneath the surface of your skin in embarrassment. “fuck you.”

“right after this shoot, sweetheart.” he winks right back at you before nodding down at the cards. “last two, yeah? did your life turn out as expected?”

chewing on your bottom lip, you give the question some thought. life has an unpredictable nature, no matter who you are or where you come from. if someone had told you a year into your college degree, that you’d be in front of sorts of cameras as a profession for the rest of your life — you wouldn’t have believed them. if someone had told you that you’d find the love of your life shortly after, you would have called them a liar too. your past has been heavy, a dark cloud you never thought you’d be able to escape — hauntingly daunting.

and even though you know that it’s a burden to place the weight of your happiness on someone else’s shoulders — but you know that katsuki has always been your golden, blinding light at the end of the tunnel. he’s something you never expected, but someone you entirely deserve after everything life has thrown at you.

“no, it hasn’t,” you whisper softly, ever so slightly distinct. your lover leans in, watching you curiously from over stacked question cards and bottles of barely touched alcohol. “i never expected to be so famous so young, that a silly little dream of mine could come true. that i never expected, i still can’t believe it…but, it’s like… meeting you. falling in love with you, on top of all that? it’s like i was destined to be with you, kats. you’re my soulmate. i knew that from the start.”

just like you earlier, emotion wells up inside katsuki. it breaches the cavity of his chest, slows down the rate of his heart and lungs and brings a slight shine to his beautiful blood red eyes. he sniffs but doesn’t dare look away from you — reading deep into your soul despite knowing the pages of it off by heart. “i feel the same,” he mumbles, reaching over to cup your face even with all of the cameras around. “i never expected to go on tour, sell albums and make music…but i feel like my heart always knew you were waitin’ for me.” quietness fills the space between the two of you, neither of you needing to say much. you cup the wrist of his hand that touched your face, leaning into his palm and pressing a kiss to it. “we’re so fuckin’ corny.”

“you love it.” you reply instantly. “i love you.”

“see?” katsuki asks the production crew as he draws the last card for both of you — holding it out for you to read. “cornball.”

“it’s cute! she’s cute and corny!”

“what about the rest of our marriage do you look forward to most?” since the video shoot is coming to an end, and you hardly want to cry any more, you both decide to make your answers short and sweet. “i look forward to spending forever by your side, taking over the world one continent at a time.” you gush, meaning every single word, smiling adoringly.

“ditto, can’t wait to grow old with you, brat.” bakugou mirrors your expression and finally, finally ends the shoot by pressing the ghost of a kiss to your awaiting lips. you feel warm knowing how comfortable he’s grown over the course of filming, even more so at all of the truths he’s given you tonight.

“that’s a wrap! thank you so much guys!”

katsuki salutes the camera, finishing up for you. “we’ve been the bakugous playin’ truth or drink. buy my album, see me on tour, buy a magazine with my wife’s beautiful face on it. like and subscribe.” all the while, you reflect on everything that you’ve learned about your husband whilst filming — that he loves you a lot more than he lets on, that you have his heart for all of eternity, that nothing in this world and cause his love for you to waver,

and as your matching wedding bands continue to gleam beneath the dimming studio lights, you only hope that he knows that you feel the exact same way about loving him too.

1K notes · View notes

benedictscanvas · 4 months

Text

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

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

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

---

“Hi love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jamie winces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

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

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

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

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

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

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

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

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

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

“Kit room.”

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

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

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

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

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re alright, though?”

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

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

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

Tell her, you prick.

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

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

“What’s it say?”

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

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

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

“On the ceiling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

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

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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highwayorgantrade · 7 months

Text

Safe House

Pairing: Female Reader! X Soap

Request: Nooo

Summary: Oh no! A bunch of soldiers posted up in your farmhouse bed and breakfast?? Whatever shall you do!! Should you fuck them??

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Overstimulation, begging, volume (keep quiet), unprotected sex, cervix kissing

Author's note: Okay listen y'all I did not plan on doing this whatsoever. I was in the middle of writing a Graves thing when I got this idea and I knew I just had to get that damn little brain worm out before it ruined my life further. This is gonna be a series!!!!!

The mission had gone wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong. 141 thought they were smart by teaming up with Los Vaqueros again to take down a trafficking ring - “Positive international relations,” Price had called it. “We even got imported muscle.” He grinned, referring to the 6’10” man they had called in, after hearing of his ability to do his job and keep his mouth shut.

However, the ring had decided on the same tactic, bringing in a nearby cartel to defend their location. Quickly, way too quickly, the group was overwhelmed, frantically phoning in to Laswell for extraction.

“Don’t worry,” She sighed, after directing the seven men to a relatively safe area, the black-tinted SUV already flying gravel. “I have a friend.”

You had just so happened to be the friend. Well, the relative was more accurate, being her sister-in-law. You knew what she did for work, but you never thought she would call on you for help with it.

“Please, (Y/N), it’ll only be for a few days, I swear. A week, tops.” She called you early one November morning. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” And you knew she wouldn’t. The fact was simple: You had lived relatively nearby, and the bed and breakfast you operated and lived in certainly had the facilities to house eight people, and it so happened to be the off-season.

You were eager to accept, happy to help your sister, and it would be nice to have some muscle with the chores that needed done around the property. When the SUV pulled up, you quickly regretted your decision. You had expected a house full of military boys, tearing around like a pack of dogs, but out stepped six of the most attractive men you have ever seen, all completely different, but equally as handsome and rugged. Two were masked, but Christ, were they big anyway. As they loaded packs out of the van, you stepped into the grass, the cold air causing you to draw your cardigan tighter around yourself. When you approached, you kept a safe distance - partly because you didn’t know them, but also because you were afraid that if you got too close, you’d get lost in the intricacies of their faces.

“Hey!” You spoke finally, the rustling of the dying leaves nearly drowning you out. “I’m (Y/N), I hope the trip out wasn’t too awful!” You internally cringed at yourself for giving them the usual spiel you reserved for guests, but continued anyway. “Come on in, all the rooms are pretty much the same, but you can pick, so… that’s something.”

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” One of them finally spoke, casting a friendly grin your way, and you turned quickly to hide the burning on your cheeks.

You were proud of the way your property looked, hidden well off the road in a small forested area, the whole thing had kind of an eclectic feel to it, but you still felt kind of strange leading them into the common area.

“Okay!” You clasped your hands together, and tried to remember that you were only a housing opportunity - they had more important things to focus on. “Well, uh, I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can, but you might see me flitting about here and there. What’s mine is yours.” Some nodded their thanks, others were making quick work of checking their bags for God knows what, and one, the one in a skull mask, merely stared down at you, his large arms crossed on his chest.

Okay… You took that as your cue to leave, and you quickly stepped out the back door, hoping to make progress on your chores before the sun set.

The frigid air felt nearly unbearable compared to how hot you were burning in their presence - you didn’t even realize that you were slightly sweating. With a sigh, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities. Repaint the gazebo, refill and hang the bird feeders, and fix the greenery so everything is in full bloom by summer. Leaves crunched under your step as the half-painted gazebo came into view. You could hear voices coming from your house, a few with different accents, mostly British, but you could pick out a Scottish, a vaguely German, and a couple Spanish lilts. A booming laugh echoed, and you relaxed your tense shoulders at the sound.

“Don’t make me regret this, Kate.” You mumbled as you settled into the grass and popped open a paint can.

She was pretty. It was the first thing Soap had noticed. It looked like she belonged here, in the woods, with the wind blowing her hair and birds singing in her presence. No doubt she kept them well-fed. He had barely listened when she spoke - he was much too focused on how her sweater wrapped tightly around her body, or how her eyes seemed to physically sparkle with curiosity. She had said something, Soap had no idea, but he responded anyway. Something about the drive? The rooms?

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” He answered, stabbing that it was an appropriate response. The way she averted her eyes and a hint of a smile played at the edges of her lips told him that he was successful. When she turned around to lead them into the safehouse, Price gave him a nudge and shook his head ‘no.’ No fucking Kate’s pretty little sister? Might as well ask him to walk on fucking water, next.

She had promised to make herself scarce, and Soap was silently thankful. He didn’t want this woman caught up in what they were doing, and he didn’t want her to know something that could get her in trouble - Laswell would never forgive them. When she left, Alejandro was the first to speak.

“Nobody talk to me about this mission tonight.” He grumbled, and Soap recognized that as a request long ago, based on the way his jaw was clenched nearly the entire drive to the location, muttering what Soap assumed to be expletives every so often. He trudged up the stairs with his bag, Rudy trailing not far behind.

“Right, then.” Ghost spoke, rolling his shoulders and pulling out a map of the enemy facility and laying it on the wood table, and Soap nearly laughed at how out of place it looked. “If they’ve gotten support from that gang, it eliminates them from support from anyone else, and makes them a target to others, not just us.”

“We need to get to them first.” Konig’s hand landed on the map, gesturing vaguely at an entrance. “This was lightly guarded.” Soap stared at the location, before his eyes flitted out the window to see you approaching a gazebo outside, and he itched to get this out of the way.

“Aye, they might reinforce that entrance since they know it’s weak now. Leaves somewhere else open to vulnerability.” Soap strategized, his eyes lingering on how your hands ran through your hair, and JESUS, how did it still look perfect after that? A light thump on the back of his head pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back to see Gaz with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

“No-go, mate. Red zone. Laswell would have your head on a stick.”

“Might be worth it.” Ghost chimed in, following his gaze to the woman.

Price pointed a warning finger to Ghost, his face stony.

“Ghost, stop instigating. Gaz, leave Soap alone. Konig…” He took a breath, considering the man had nothing to do with their antics. “Good job. Soap, I wish I had control over who a soldier decides to sleep with, but I don’t.”

“That girl in Ibiza left a bad taste in your mouth, Cap?” Soap retorted, recalling one of his more infamous hook-ups, and Price laughed loudly.

“Lesson for the inexperienced,” Ghost turned to Konig. “Remember your date’s name or she will throw a knife at you.” Konig shook his head at this, and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to call it a day.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

Soap had already tuned the ribbing out, and when Ghost packed up the plans, he was already tracing your path, walking out the back door to meet you.

A rustling of leaves caused your head to perk up, and you turned to see the one who had spoken to you earlier, a small smile on his face.

“Need any help?” He tilted his head at the gazebo. “More hands make less work ‘n all.” You looked back at your work, having made minimal progress since you began.

“Oh! Yeah, sure. If you want.” You responded, pulling the paint tray out in front of you so he could take the spare paintbrush. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“I’m Johnny. Most of the guys call me Soap, though.”

Soap? The nickname seemed to come out of nowhere, and you crinkled your nose at this.

“Why do they call you that? You shower more than everyone else or something?” He laughed at this, reaching up to cover the underside of a railing in white paint, and you fought to keep your eyes from lingering on his arms.

“Good at cleaning house, love.” Soap corrected you, your lips pursing at the nickname. “How long have you had this place?”

You shrugged, simply happy that he was making conversation with you.

“Coupl’a years. Since I was twenty. Bought it as a dump and flipped it.” He makes a noise of approval and takes a deep breath.

“Your, uh, boyfriend live here with you, does he?” At this, you can’t help but allow a laugh to tear through you, both in recognition of what Soap was doing, and out of pure shock that he was doing it.

“Not sure where my boyfriend lives, I haven’t met him yet. Let me know if you find him, though, yeah?” Soap shook his head.

“I don’t think I will, but thank you for the offer.”

The back and forth with Soap left your head reeling, and you considered your options as you painted in silence. Kate would kill you if she found out, but she doesn’t need to find out. It has been terribly long since you’ve even been on a date, or even had sex for that matter, and Soap certainly isn’t the worst looking man in the world. He clearly had a great body, and you delved down the rabbit hole of how his arms would look pinning your arms above your head, his battle-worn dog tag trailing cold electricity down your chest.

A flash of yellow light pulled you out of your musings, and a firefly landed on your knee. You took a deep breath and turned to Soap, his attention garnered by your sudden movement of waving the small bug away.

“Do you wanna have a drink tonight? With me?” Your face was comically serious, and Soap let out a soft chuckle as he replaced the lid on the paint, taking the brush from your hand.

“Aye.” He stood, sighing a bit at the noise his knees made, and handed you the paint tray.

“I’ll, uh, go put this up and meet you inside.” You offered him a small smile, and his head tilted at you, trying to hide his own.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Soap had to stop himself from running back into the house. Giddiness coursed through him, and he burst through the door to see Gaz, Ghost, and Konig sat in various places around the living room, the TV tuned in to the local news.

“Get the fuck out.” He stated simply, his eyes wide and a dumb grin on his face.

“Pardon?” Ghost barely spared him a glance, and Konig automatically stood, silently confused as to where he was supposed to go. Gaz merely stared up at him.

“I said,” Soap wrapped his hand around Ghost’s bicep and pulled, forcing the man to stand, and Gaz followed. “Get the fuck out.”

“You sendin’ us to bed, then, eh?”

Soap picked up Ghost’s bag for him, and shoved it into his chest, nearly pushing the men up the stairs.

“I am.” He turned to Gaz, his mouth already open to protest, and pointed a finger in his face. “If you fuck this up for me, I will end you.”

The second the three men shut the door to their respective rooms, you stepped back into the house, locking the backdoor behind you.

I raised an eyebrow at the television, and grinned at Soap.

“Did you turn on the news?” I ask, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine from cabinets, pouring us both a fairly full glass.

“Yeah, it’s a new form of foreplay.” He laughed, taking a sip. “Learnin’ that we world is shite.”

“Oh, so foreplay is important to you?” And that question was your first step. He glanced at you from across the kitchen island, and you could just see the gears in his mind turning, figuring out the best way to get himself into your bed. Honestly, he could have asked to bend you dead over the kitchen counter, his large hand pulling your hair as leverage as he thrusted into you from behind.

But your imagination always runs wild.

“Mm. ‘S very important.” You cocked your head at his answer, and he shrugged. “I prefer to have a girl simply beggin’ before I even think of finishing.” He took a step around the island, not quite in front of you, but leaning on the side. You sipped your wine again, trying to cover your reaction to his answer, but there was no wine glass big enough to cover how you pressed your legs together, one hand gripping the counter with slightly more force than necessary.

“How do you do that?” It was an effort to keep your tone even , trying not to show how badly he was affecting you.

“Eh.” He set his wine glass down, finger lightly circling the base of the stem. “Usually have ‘em coming a few times before I get my own.”

Holy fuck. You needed Soap, and you needed him bad.

“Ah, so only good reviews then?” Damnit, why is your voice suddenly higher? You cleared your throat to try to get it to return to normal, and the fucking bastard smirked at you.

“So far. Tell me, love.” That damn nickname again. “When was the last time you were fucked?” You opened your mouth to answer, but it didn’t matter as Soap began talking again. “Ah, lemme revise that. When was the last time you were properly fucked? The last time someone had you cryin’, had you just stupid on their cock?”

You were buzzing, shaking slightly at Soap’s vulgar words. His accent got lower, rougher as he spoke, and you could feel your arousal tying a knot in your throat.He simply stared at you, waiting for your answer with a dumb smile on his face, like he already knew.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me…” He began, in mock sympathy. “Never?” You shook your head at him, not wanting to tell him the truth.

In all reality, you’ve never orgasmed with someone else. It was all only you, and you learned quickly not to say this, as all men would try to be the first. Then you’d end the night by lying, and they would go with their egos inflated.

You both stood, the tension in the kitchen more than you could bear, and just as you were about to dismiss yourself for the night, Soap wrapped a hand around your forearm - Not tightly enough to worry you, but just enough so you looked up at him, your faces inches from each other.

“Love, I don’t like to, uh, think I’m all that, y’know?” He cleared his throat. “But I’d like to try. Show some thanks to our host.”

In one last attempt at quieting down your own perverse thoughts, you set your wine glass down, and looked at the floor.

“Ah, you don’t need to thank me Soap.”

“I absolutely do,” He responded immediately. “I really do need to. Nothin’ better than a pretty face while I work.”

You bite the inside of your lip, considering all the ways this could go bad. Every single one was overrun with the way Soap was searching your eyes, silently pleading for you. With a purse of your lips, you poured the rest of your wine down the sink, and smiled.

“Absolutely.”

You barely got the words out before Soap wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way up the stairs, searching for any room that didn’t look like it was already occupied.

“Mine’s on the other end.” You breathed in an effort not to laugh at his eagerness, and he turned on his heels toward a door that was differently painted than the rest. He placed a hand over your head, protecting you from a bump as he ducked through the doorframe, and less-than-gently set you on your bed, locking the door behind him.

When he turned, you didn’t see the sweet man offering to help you with painting, you saw a soldier. A soldier tuned into your every breath, every movement, and every thought. He kneeled in front of the bed, between your legs, and began planting lighter than air kisses on your ankle, untying your shoes and setting them to the side haphazardly.

“Red means stop.” He whispered against your skin, traveling upward to your knee. “Yellow is slow down, green is good. Repeat it.”

“Red is-“ You were cut off by your own gasp as he delivered a light bite to the inside of your thigh before kissing it again, and you could feel him smile against you. “Red is stop. Yellow is slow. Green is good.”

“And where are we now?” He breathed against the spot right where your thigh met your most sensitive area, and you felt your stomach jump.

“Green. So, so green.” A whimper escaped you, and Soap tsked, like he was about to scold you.

“Stay quiet, lass.” Teased Soap, as he slid your shorts down, along with your underwear, and he whistled lowly. “A Chriosd ann an ifrinn, seall ort, a nighean bhòidheach.” And with that, he licked one long, thick strip up your cunt, dipping down to tease your hole with his tongue. Soap was eating you out like a man starved, and you were obsessed.

Light, breathy moans left you, ever so aware of how quiet everything else was.

“Tell me what feels good, love.” He punctuated his command with a nip to your thigh, pulling your mind out of the pleasure-induced haze. His tongue traveled through your folds, eyes trained on you to see your reaction to his ministrations. Soap’s lips wrap around your clit, fingers toying with your soaking entrance, and it felt like all rational thought had left you. You didn’t care about who exactly was between your legs, nor if his team could hear your desperate mewls.

The pressure inside you was building, and your movement was strange - trying to wriggle away from the incessant barrage against your clit, and trying to grind impossibly closer to Soap’s lips, and by his huff, it was clear he had enough of that. One large arm wrapped around a thigh, his other pressing down on your abdomen, and the only noise Soap could muster was a few low groans as he continued devouring you.

The knot inside you was getting tighter and tighter, and it felt like it was going to snap any second. A split moment of panic ran through you as your back arched off the bed, Begs and cries tumbling out of your lips before you could think of them.

“Soap, please, please.” You cried, hands aching from gripping the sheets. “Please don’t stop, please…” Staying true to your direction, Soap was unrelenting against you, the combination of his sucking, biting, and licking at your clit had dizzy spots appearing in your vision. With one hard push on your abdomen, and a particularly slow drag of his tongue at your entrance, you felt that snap, and you finally understood why it was called the Little Death.

Your mind had gone completely blank, mouth open in a silent scream, and your thighs clamped around either side of Soap’s head, where he still had yet to stop drinking you. It felt like your heart had even stopped beating, until the pounding was heard in your ears. As Soap continued, you felt your body lurch upwards, fingers tangling in Soap’s hair until he finally looked up at you, his hand coming back to slide a finger into you.The sudden intrusion forced a gasp from you, and he gently kissed your thigh, where you noticed the ache that predates a bruise.

“How we doin’, love? We okay?” His voice was impossibly sweet, a complete 180 to how he just made you feel. You nodded, despite feeling like every single sense in your body had been blown out. His finger continued sliding in and out of you, your walls pulsing around him.

“Green.” You confirmed breathily, and he smiled a wolfish grin before adding a second digit into you, his pace quickening. A quick flash of aggravation and desperation coursed through you, and you knew how to get exactly what you wanted.

You looked down at him, eyebrows upturned in a pleading look, and your doe-eyes were working overtime.

“Please, Soap, just fuck me.” You said, voice higher and more gentle than you thought it would come out, and he groaned, rolling his head against your leg. His fingers took on a ‘come here’ motion, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the feeling.

“Ah, I know what you want. You want these…” Soap planted a kiss on your thighs, interrupting his own speech. “God, these pretty thighs pinned behind your head, taking me so well, takin’ me so good.” He looked absolutely pussydrunk, his eyes darting between your eyes and his fingers, tsking and offering a slight noise of false sympathy when a tear rolled down your cheek. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, and you could feel that fire building inside of you again. “Christ, love, you wanna come again, huh?” You nodded furiously at his question, one hand coming up to absentmindedly play with your tits. A bright look crossed Soap’s face, and while his hands continued, his mouth met your hands.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, and before you could think, he bit down - the orgasm that crashed through you was stronger than the last, and the muscles in your thighs screamed from being clenched so tightly. You felt his fingers work their way out of your pussy, hissing at the feeling of your walls clenching around nothing.

“You want me to fuck you now, pretty thing?” His face was almost smug as he climbed up on the bed, one hand going to your lower back to effortlessly raise you, and he peppered light kisses on your sweat-covered face. Of course you want him, how could you not? Your body was buzzing with the aftershocks of two orgasms, and here he was, lining himself up with you.

“God, yes, please.” You breathed, hands coming to rest on his back. Soap brought his lips down next to your ear, sending another shock straight to your core.

“Beg better.” He punctuated his command by rubbing his cock through your folds, and you twitched when the head ground against your already sensitive clit. Beg better? Fuck you, Soap.

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you and, hopefully, how serious you looked.

“Fuck me, Soap. Now.”

The simple instruction was all it took for him to push inside you, and it was like it activated something in him - Soap simply could not shut up.

“Ach, mo Dhia, tha thu a 'faireachdainn cho foirfe timcheall orm. So perfect.” He planted a kiss to your temple. “So perfect, my pretty girl.”

You brought your lips up to his neck, kissing the curve where it meets his shoulder, and his babbling only continued as his cock dragged against nearly every nerve, your broken moans echoing through your room. God, his slow pace was nearly agonizing, you wanted more, you needed more. It was like Soap read your mind as he paused, hooking your knees above his shoulders, effectively pinning you into the mattress. He flashed you a wicked grin before he began his jackhammer pace, and this new position had him reaching impossibly deep inside you.

A vague, low ache began in your abdomen every time he bottomed out, his head kissing your cervix every single time. The depth combined with his pace, his groaning and endless praise in your ear - it felt like it was all culminating in a perfect storm, one that was threatening to break down every fibre of your being.

“Fuck, Soap, I’m going to-” You interrupted yourself with a low, hoarse groan, your admission only spurring him on as he replaced his hold on your knees with his hands.

“Look at me, love, I wanna see it, I wanna see you.” His stuttering hips told you he was in the same spot as you, and you both were not going to last much longer. “Come for me, pretty girl.” He growled, and that was all it took for you.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as you released around him, and your ending brought his own on. Curses left him lips as he buried himself inside you, collapsing next to you.

“Ach, come ‘ere.” He breathed, reaching his arm out to hook around your waist and pulling you to him, one leg wrapping around his waist. One hand rested on your jaw, planting kisses on your forehead, cheek, anywhere he could get access to. Your body felt numb, and you knew he stayed true to his word - you were fucked absolutely stupid. You wanted to talk, you wanted to ask where this left you? Would you ignore that this happened? Would it recur? Would he tell his team about it? You wanted to ask, and yet you didn’t - The song of crickets and his heartbeat was a lullaby, and one that you couldn’t fight.

The snare of sleep overtook you as your heart rate evened out, and only one thought was on your mind before you gave up the fight for consciousness:

You really fucking hope you don’t regret this.

#mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfic #cod x reader

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moonlit-imagines · 4 months

Text

Headcanons for being Scott and Hope’s child (Hank Jr. Edition)

Scott Lang/Hope van Dyne x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Scott and Hope have a baby girl (reader). And everything seems to be fine, but somewhere from the age of five, it becomes clear that the reader is a complete copy of her grandfather Hank Pym, that is: she is incredibly smart, she loves ants (she can talk about them for hours), she also has problems controlling anger (she hit a guy in the face at school for saying that ant-man sucks), thinks that there is no one smarter than her and her grandfather, and she also transferred his sarcastic communication style and views on things and people around, for example, when she first met Tony, she said: "You can never trust Stark."”

somewhere in the distant future a special kid was born

and that special kid had special parents and special grandparents

and those parents and grandparents were two generations of superheroes who saved countless lives (and, well, the world)

so it was no surprise to them that this next generation would be just as intelligent and caring as the ones before them

*cue a toddler with crayons in class*

“and then my grandpa asked the ants nicely to fly him to a bunch of different places and do all these cool things like move stuff around and like do other stuff” -you rambling on

“do you like anything besides ants?” -your teacher

“no” -you, continuing to draw ants on your paper

hank and janet were quite proud grandparents

and scott and hope, your wonderful amazing parents…couldn’t get enough of it

“honey, what about wasps? wasps are cool, right?” -hope

“no” -you

“she’s spending too much time with my dad” -hope

“well, he’s the only babysitter we’ve got since cassie got that new job” -scott

“oh, you mean our old job? yeah, miss those days where we could go flying around getting into trouble and beating people up” -hope

“well, you promised we’d retire so y/n wouldn’t end up with a childhood like yours” -scott

“y/n’s gonna want to be a superhero when they get older, arent they?” -hope

“let’s not think too far ahead. it might kill me” -scott

scott reads you his biography every night before bed

and you always giggle at the parts where your mom and grandpa bully him

“hey, not funny!” -scott

“so funny” -you

“dont get any ideas” -scott

“daddy, are you gonna get arrested again?” -you

“if i do it’ll be grandpa hank’s fault” -scott

you continued spending time with grandpa hank and grandma janet

and they spoiled the crap out of you

hank…got you an ant farm

“now you’re just being ridiculous, hank” -janet

“what? i’m just having some bonding time with my grandchild! hope never wanted anything to do with me growing up” -hank

once you started getting older, you wanted to hang out in grandpa’s lab allll the time. day and night

your parents hated it

“hey, think this one will suck us all into the quantum realm?” -scott

“it was one time!” -cassie

cassie was at hank and janet’s a lot, too, actually. they always wanted to help her with her suits and gadgets and all that

and make sure she had plenty of pym particles

“you have enough, right? here, take some more, i have plenty” -hank

“grandpa, please, i have more than enough, thank you” -cassie

“can i have some pym particles?” -you

“we can play with them in the backyard next time youre over” -hank

you draw new suit designs for cassie all the time

some of them she actually incorporates into her suits

and as you get older, you try to start designing more tech for her

“y/n is really scaring me” -hope

“why?” -scott

“just watch her and my parents together…they’re the same” -hope

“dear god, what have we done” -scott

“dad, look at this new pym particle powered weapon, i just finished the prototype!” -you

“okay, now i’m mad because where was this when i needed it!” -scott

“fifteen to twenty years too late” -hope

“we should have gotten together sooner” -scott

“i disagree” -hope

“wow, not even a pity agreement” -scott

asking your parents if they’ll get back into crime fighting

they said no

asking if you can get into crime fighting

they said no again

so you just kinda stockpiled all your ideas

and did everything you could to further your grandpa’s work

and help your sister

and keep your parents’ minds at ease (doesn’t really work)

and maybe one day you’ll be able to ride those ants and kick some ass like you always dreamed

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

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so-many-fandoms-here · 1 year

Text

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice)

• Characters: Suguru Niragi, fem!Reader

• Genre: Idk actually 🫡

• Warnings: violence

Off Limits

༺☆༻༺☆༻༺☆༻༺☆༻

Everybody that is more than a week at The Beach knows Niragi. It could be his loud and dramatic attitude or the big gun he carries around all the time. Fact is: he’s known. And therefore you’re known too.

He did make it obvious pretty quickly that it’s better to not even think about you if they value their lives at least a little bit.

But of course there always has to be some sort of idiot who just won’t listen to all the warnings he’ll get.

It’s a rather calm day at The Beach today. No games, no fear of dying, just accepting and making the best of the day.

You sit at the bar, sipping your second raspberry bacardi for tonight and enjoying the feeling of the bass hammering through the floor and your body.

„Hello there“, you hear a deep voice greeting you. Turning your head to your right you look into the face of some stranger. A girl stands behind him, pleading him to just go.

Well, this will be real fun.

„All alone baby?“, he asks, prepping his elbow on the bar.

„Please, just let us leave already!“, the girl almost cries. „You don’t want this.“ But he just ignores her. „I heard you’re supposed to be 'off limits'.“ You can’t stop the grin creeping on your face as he leans closer.

„I’m waiting for someone. He should be here any minute.“, you answer amused. „Well, but he’s not here now. Finders keepers.“

The people near you start whispering to each other and the girl again tries to make him leave, this time tugging on his swimming trucks.

„Wow, those afraid looks really give me the feeling I’m playing with fire. Truth be told, you’re so hot I had the feeling all along.“

„You are playing with fire! And you’re about to get badly burned when he comes back!“, the girl continues her useless efforts.

„Oh please“, the guy says amused as he pushed her away. „I’m down for a good fist fight.“

„You’re new, right?“, you ask him, acting flirty and drawing his attention back to you. „You know the faces around here?“ With a giggle you answer: „No, just had a feeling.“

„Well, your intentions are right. I came two days ago. If I’d knew what beautiful women were waiting for me I would have come here way sooner.“ It’s hard to not let your giggling turn into laughing, so you take another sip from your bacardi, hoping it’ll help to keep your volume down. „This annoying girl there tried to warn me all day since I saw you, but believe me babygirl, there’s nothing that could scare me away from you.“

„Oh, is that so?“ The room goes silent as his voice echoes trough the air. The guy turns around, getting a little bit pale around the nose as he spots Niragi with his riffle aimed at him, but he catches himself pretty quickly again and stands up as Niragi walks up to him.

„You think your gun scares me?“, he asks, acting all tough. „Yeah“, Niragi answers bluntly. „Usually this is the point where your small brain tells you to go.“

The guy puffs out his chest, trying to make himself look taller. „Well, I see trough your bluff. You think because you’re a militant and carrying a huge gun around you’re better than me. But let me tell you one thing“ he gets closer to Niragi, causing the rest to start whispering. „You’re a coward. As if you have the balls to pull the tri-“ Before he’s able to finish his sentence, a shot echoes trough the room, followed by the high pitched scream of the, now not so brave, guy. He falls to the ground, pressing his hands in his thigh.

Immediately everyone backs away when Niragi steps over him, trying to keep as much distant to the raven haired guy as possible. Only you stay where you were, keep sipping your sweet beverage.

„Y-You’re insane!“ The screaming is so distorted from the pain he feels that it almost sounds creepy.

Niragi bends down, looks him in the eyes and flexes with his tongue piercing, a sinister smile decorating his face. „You have no idea.“, he whispers, before another shot rings in your ears, ending the pathetic being of the guy.

Slowly Niragi stands back up, snapping the glass out of your hands to drink the rest. He then throws an arm around your waist and pushes you off the bar stool so you stand beside him. „Anyone else wanting to say something to her?“, he asks loud, pointing his gun on everyone in sight.

Silence.

„Thats what I thought.“ With that he grabs your wrist and starts dragging you with him.

„Fucking around now, are we?“, he asks while dragging you to his room. „No“, you answer with a grin on your lips. „But I like it when you deal with them.“

You know how fucked up it is, but it always warms your heart to see him so obsessive over you that he is ready to kill anyone who just lays an eye on you.

I have an huge blockage right now and it frustrates me. This Oneshot kinda frustrates me too.

#fanfiction #alice in borderland #x reader #aib #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland x y/n #aib x reader #aib x y/n #suguru niragi #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi alice in borderland #alice in borderland niragi #suguru niragi x reader

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starglow-xx · 1 year

Text

— Oh Baby!

part 2! - a solution? sure, let’s call it that

heartslabyul & savanaclaw x f! reader

synopsis: when the boys of heartslabyul and savanaclaw get turned to kids, who else is supposed to take of them except their beloved prefect? go figure. damn you crowley. oh, and you too grim.

fandom: twisted wonderland

type of work: part of mini series! : “Oh Baby!” ; written segment, fluff / platonic themes, comedy? ; check out pt. 1 here!

warnings: a stressed prefect pt. 2, unedited

a/n: YALL it’s been a year since i posted the first part to this and obviously since then i’ve completed the books for octavinelle, scarabia, and pomefiore, so maybe they’ll have future appearances later hehe but no promises

“you’re telling me you don’t know how to fix this?!” you whisper yelled.

“that’s what i said was it not?”

you wanted to scream in frustration at the headmaster but refrained yourself from doing so as your newly turned baby friends were oh so peacefully playing in the common room as you and crowley talked in the kitchen, and didn’t want to draw attention.

“loosey duecey! loosey duecey! loosey duecey! loosey duecey!”

“shut up!”

maybe peacefully was too good of a word in this situation.

“WELL THEN! it seems that i am no longer needed so i will take my leave—”

“get the hell back here for seven’s sake! and didn’t i tell you to keep your voice down?!”

“but—”

“shut up! if you won’t help me solve my problem then don’t speak at all!” you continued to whisper yell.

“...”

“seriously?!”

with strength that you usually save for rounding up ace, deuce, and grim (on normal circumstances), you grab the stupid headmaster by the back of his cloak thing as he turns away from you to make his escape.

“oh no you don’t!”

the bird for brains had the audacity to sigh at you like he was the one inconvenienced with 8 children. 8 actual children.

“ms. prefect, you must understand, that despite how gracious i am, i simply do not have time for—”

“i’ll go on strike if you don’t help me!”

“...come again?”

you sweatdrop as you let go of his cloak. you didn’t really think the whole thing through, it kind of just came out of you mouth, but it seemed to get his attention so you’re going to have to role with it dammit.

“t-that’s right!”

you cursed in your head slightly as you stammer. there’s no turning back!

“i’ll for once since i’ve gotten here be an normal student! so that means no cleaning after your messes, doing chores that shouldn’t be my responsibility, fighting stupid overblots blah blah blah, you get the picture?”, you threaten.

crowley is silent as he contemplates your words.

“and no, holding housing or allowance over my head is not going to work, because i will literally get myself adopted by another dorm or so help me.”

at that, crowley sighs once again, but this time in defeat at the teenage girl in front of him.

“all right, i’ll go work with the staff to try and figure something out.”

phew.

“however!”

god dammit you can never win can you.

crowley with a stern voice as he wags one of his fingers shatters your hopes and dreams with a simple, “the children must stay here!”

you couldn’t believe your ears, and started to yell, forgetting about whisper yelling.

“what?! why?! i’m asking for help with them because i can’t handle it!”

he simply raises an eyebrow at you.

“do you think it’ll be beneficial and efficient to have the children running around potions and stacks of books while we try and find their cure?”

you sigh, disappointed but not surprised at his rebuttal.

“...no sir”

“great! i guess we’re on the same page after all! i wish you the best of luck prefect, for i am gracious.”

you deadpan.

“right of course. whatever would i do without your help headmaster”

“oh you’d probably perish!”

“that was sarcasm”

ignoring your retort, the man dramatically swished his coat cape thing nearly whacking you in the face (you’re 98% sure it was on purpose) as you feel a migraine start coming on, and the you 15 minutes ago wouldn’t believe it wasn’t because of the children.

after a deep sigh, you follow after crowley reentering what grim dubbed as the “danger zone” only to catch the evasive headmaster walk out the door and shut it behind them.

from where you’re standing, you hear grim, who’s awake now, but still lying on the floor, mumble something along the lines of “useless” and you couldn’t agree more.

you eye the handful of children running around and yelling at each other.

oh great seven, this is going to be one hell of a migraine.

i love their shenanigans <33

as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate on here or any other sites!

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x-reader-things · 8 months

Note

I also just finished watching arcane again!! The series is phenomenal-and I was once again reminded I would love to hold hands with Viktor-

Can I request some headcanons for how Viktor would comfort his partner who experiences anxiety? Gn!reader please!!

Thank you for requesting! :DDD

This is my first time writing specifically for Arcane and this character so I hope it’s on character - did my best with the little I skimmed from his fandom wiki for Arcane and from what I remember from the show-

AND YES IT IS A PHENOMENAL ONE HOLY SHIT THE ANIMATION AND THE CHARACTERS AND THE VOICE ACTING ARE????? CHEFS KISS

Personally Vi and Ekko are my favorites- <33

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!!

“It’ll pass soon”

Viktor x reader [romantic]

Summary ; In which you’re anxious, and Viktor always knows how to help you out.

Requested? ; Yes

Warnings ; none, besides small descriptions of physical anxiety - kinda based it on what I deal with myself, but everyone reacts to anxiety differently.

Definitions ; счастье моё (stchastye moyo) - gender-neutral, meaning “my happiness”

Word count ; 554

——————————————————————

Viktor is, first and foremost, a scientist.

He notices things through keen observation, studies them to no end to understand them, and draws conclusions that should be able to help others like himself.

And with those skills, comes observing you.

How you act. What you like and dislike. What makes you comfortable and uncomfortable.

And definitely what makes you anxious.

He knows hextech can’t truly fix that.

He should know, he deals with anxiety himself.

So as a partner and a scientist, he recognizes the signs.

The nervous glances.

The subtle deep breaths you take to calm yourself down. Or at least try to.

Never works. Maybe sometimes on the rare occasion, but not completely.

Then there’s the nervous jitters - maybe bouncing your leg, or running a hand through your hair constantly (if you have the hair type to do it) or running a hand over your face, or shaking your hands out to try and get the shakiness away.

Whatever it is, Viktor recognizes it.

He waits and checks in every so often, just to see if you’re able to calm yourself down first, instead of prying you to tell him what was going on.

When you don’t calm down though, he decides a distraction is probably better to try first.

He shows you the inventions he and Jayce are working on, discusses them with you, tries to see what you think about it. Half of the time that helps you calm down, primarily because you focus on his voice, and also because you love hearing and experiencing his work.

Anxiety is a fickle thing.

So when it doesn’t work out, that’s when he asks you what’s wrong.

“You don’t have to tell me just yet, but I’d like to know whenever you’re ready.”

If it’s really bad, he has you both sit down, and you just lay your head on his shoulder. He rests his cheek against your head and wraps an arm around you, one of his hands coming up to run against your upper arm to ground you there. Breathes slowly until you do it too.

And he waits until you’re ready to talk.

If it’s a sudden panic you just grab onto his shoulder or hand and squeeze it, and he already knows.

Viktor either excuses himself from his work or if he’s talking to someone (normally it’s just Jayce - he understands immediately and spares you a quick sympathetic nod), and lets you lead him to a secluded area nearby and lets you spew your worries and panic to him.

He tells you you’re safe with him.

Reminds you that things would be ok and that with anxiety this is normal.

“It’ll pass soon. I know it doesn’t feel like it but it will, alright? How about this, tell me five things you can see right now.”

“Um - the ground. The tile.”

“Good, good. What else?”

“Your shoes. They’re uh - they’re kind of scuffed, you should get them cleaned.”

He laughs quietly. “What else, счастье моё?”

“The window.” Another encouraging hum for you to continue. “The hexgate outside. It’s glowing, some airship just came through.” Your eyes settle on the person in front of you. “You.”

Viktor smiles at you. “A little on the nose, huh?”

You smile back at him.

He helps you breathe again.

He always does.

#arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #x reader #romantic!reader #gn!reader #romantic x reader #kinda just realized now #that #heckinf #all of the characters I write have some small forms of physical touch as a love language and #i think that’s because I’m touch starved myself I apologize AGSHDNFJFNF #SO I THINK ITS THERE FOR THIS ONE TO #anyways also based the anxiety off of what I deal with as I said before so #also jayce seems like an awesome friend despite the politician he becomes so there’s a sliver of that in here as well

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jupipedia · 1 year

Text

one. awkwardness.

previous. next.

y/n knew that the first meeting between him and shoto would be a little awkward due to neither of them being familiar with the other, but he found that he greatly underestimated how awkward it would truly be as he sat across from shoto, pretending to be typing on his laptop. shoto had arrived before y/n did and was quick to formally greet him before going back to his laptop. y/n didn’t want to assume that shoto was avoiding conversation similarly to he was so he didn’t interrupt shoto’s typing in case he truly was setting up for their meeting.

“sorry if this is awkward for you. i know we don’t know each other beyond our names, but i hope that we can use this project to become friends. i assume that is the professor’s end goal, at least,” shoto broke the silence, prompting y/n to halt in his feigned typing and look up at the man.

“no! i mean— not no to the friends part but to the awkward part. no as in it’s fine and i’m definitely making this more awkward than it truly is,” y/n sputtered, embarrassed at the crack in his voice as he almost choked on his words.

“i got what you meant. no worries,” shoto gave a toothless smile before glancing back at his screen. “it says that we are expected to meet up at least three times a week including one day of the weekend. for every first meeting, we choose an emotion and that is the emotion we have to incorporate into some form of writing for the week. along with our writing, he wants a visual representation. hmm, sounds easy enough to me,” shoto explained, muttering the last part to himself.

“well, i’m not sure how much help i’ll be with the written proportion, but i am a design major, so i don’t mind doing the brunt of the visual representation. i was reading over the rubric earlier and i have a few ideas already,” y/n said, opening the draft with his ideas in writing.

“i’m so glad that you said that because i am a political literature major and i cannot draw or anything to save my life. i can however do the majority of the written portion, as long as we can come up with a general outline for what it should contain,” y/n nodded along to shoto’s words before turning his laptop to the bi-coloured boy.

“i actually have an idea that i really wanted to do for the project and wanted to run it by you. i was thinking that we could do a calendar layout, but with week numbers rather than months. i think it’ll earn us the bonus points for creativity and it would be way more enjoyable than doing the standard slide show with a company generated theme.”

“i like that. yeah, we should do that,” shoto easily agreed, having been impressed with y/n’s demo of the calendar inspired layout. “it’s really well done for it to be just a demo. it’ll look great as we continue to add to it every week.”

“yeah, thanks,” y/n responded, cringing to himself at his short response before talking again. “what days are you free during the week and which day do you want to meet during the weekend?”

“i’m free after 3 p.m. on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays and on tuesdays and thursdays, i have a free block from 12 p.m. to about 6 p.m. since i do track. i was also hoping that we could make our weekend meet up on a saturday? i usually spend sunday with my friends from highschool.”

“saturday would be best for me, too, but it would have to be a brunch thing as i usually take studio trips in the evenings. but i can do mondays and wednesdays after 4 p.m. so we could meet up before, during, or after dinner if you want.”

“sounds like a plan. i’ll add that to the document,” shoto nodded, going back to his computer without another word.

and the awkward silence was back.

y/n groaned silently as they held their head in their hand behind the computer screen.

it was difficult for y/n to sit in the silence without wanting to bring up anything that the two could possibly talk about, but he didn’t want to annoy shoto with his constant spiels and rambling. y/n could talk for hours if he was asked to, but his throat dries all the way up when he has to talk to shoto.

he asked kamya what she knew about his partner from the assignment and all she knew was that he was friends with her partner, having seen the two on campus together before. she didn’t know any club affiliations nor did she know his past relationships or better yet, his current status. it came as a shock to him as kamya usually knew everyone's business before they had the chance to tell her themselves.

“so, since our first week is probably going to be the most awkward, i was thinking we should make that this week's emotion. i mean, it’s fitting, no?” todoroki’s voice brought y/n out of his thoughts and back to the cafe table.

“yeah, i think that would be the best course of action. it’ll probably help break the tension. awk-awkward tension, that is,” y/n said, stumbling over his word after realizing the accidental implication that he potentially made.

“okay, i’ll email you with drafts for the week and you can do the same if you like, but i doubt that i’ll be able to give any artistic assistance,” shoto joked, earning a slight giggle from the dark skinned male across from him.

“no worries, i’ll still send you updates in case picasso’s ghost whispers anything in your ear,” y/n joked back, packing up his things with the intention of leaving soon.

“i’ll see you monday at 5 for dinner and planning,” shoto said, watching as the boy stood from his seat.

“monday at 5. i’ll be there. wherever there is. see you.”

y/n walked away from the table after receiving a wave from shoto. y/n didn’t make it more than 10 steps away from the cafe before he loudly exhaled and held his hand to his chest.

fuck, he’s even prettier when he smiles.

the first meeting didn’t change anything between the two outside of meeting times. y/n even began to make the extra effort to not see shoto before they met for the second time as he allowed himself to reflect and cringe at his departing joke, deeming himself too nervous to calmly interact with him on a daily basis.

the second meeting definitely went better than the first as there was a lot more material to cover with their ideas. y/n’s forced his eyes to stay on his ipad rather than letting them trail over to the boy across from him. he spent most of the meeting working on a general template that could be edited to fit each week of their project, only looking up from it to show shoto his work or to listening to whatever comment todoroki made on his own work.

“you did a really nice job with the written portion. there are no typos or wordy sentences and i’ve never been so glad to have someone as a partner. i usually feel bad about being so unhelpful with the written parts but i know that i would not have been any help to you,” y/n said as he read the text that todoroki provided for their project during their final weekly meeting.

y/n wasn’t just exaggerating for the sake of fawning over his crush, he truly admired the word choice of the written portion. he wasn’t expecting something so polished and eloquent to be produced for a mere draft that would be updated later.

“it’s still not perfect, but i’m glad you are impressed with my contribution. and it’s only fair that we have a well-written entry to match your artwork. i mean, the draft was good, but this is coming along beautifully,” shoto zoomed in on parts of the design y/n made.

“i’m planning to make it interactive so i’ll at least contribute something other than a few drawings. i hope that’s okay with you,” y/n turned his attention back to his ipad as his face grew warm from the praise.

“perfect. i am all for it.”

the two parted ways after finishing their final draft, todoroki excusing himself to meet up with his friends and y/n planning to go to kamya’s dorm to rant about whatever was on his mind.

so, shoto todoroki.

“...mya, i’m telling you, he’s so fucking attractive without even trying. and he’s naturally charming. he gives the nicest feedback which feeds my ego in the best ways. i’m losing my mind,” y/n ranted, pushing his head into the throw pillow on kamya’s bed.

“you are one of the most delusional people i know. he’s being nice because you are good at art. not because he’s falling for you, stupid. get a grip,” kamya said, not sparing the boy a glance as she continued to type on her laptop.

y/n stared at kamya for a few seconds before speaking. “i hope you fail your econ exam.”

“because i won’t feed into your delusions?!” kamya laughed at her friend as he started to hit her with the pillow in his hands. “my bad, you right. he’s madly in love with you and wants you so bad.”

“now was that so hard to say?”

#— (jupipedia.)#anime x black!reader #anime x male reader #mha x black reader #mha x reader #my hero academia fanfic #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x black reader #shoto todoroki x male reader #mha x male reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki x male reader #todoroki x black!reader #*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )

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moonlightreal · 4 months

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The Night World’s end of the world

A bit of pondering, with bonus picture of Sarah Strange.

The setup: animal attacks, natural disasters and strange diseases are on the rise! The end of the world is coming! Most of the Night World thinks it’ll be the end of the human world and they will be free to live their best vampire- and shapeshifter-lives, enslaving humans to feed from like they did back in prehistory. But Circle Daybreak is not down for mass human destruction and wants to try and stop what’s coming. Luckily there is a prophecy! There are four “Wild Powers,” four people with a special gift-- blue fire! Very cool. If they all work together they can stop the darkness. Circle Daybreak has a guide to help find them:

One from the land of kings long forgotten;

One from the hearth which still holds the spark;

One from the Day World where two eyes are watching;

One from the twilight to be one with the dark.

The first three we found in the books that have been published. A vampire prince, a ditzy but soulful lost witch, and a vampire hunter who is herself half vampire. The three of them are from the “royal families” of the Night World, the vampire Redferns and the witchy Harmans.

Information from Strange Fate indicates that the fourth Wild Power is Kierlan Drache, from the “royal family” of the shapeshifters. His family name is linked to some very cool new shapeshifter lore that Ms. Smith added for the last four books. The Drache family are dragonborn, before Skyrim or Game of Thrones did it.

In ancient times the dragons were the most powerful and cruel of shapeshifters, ruling whole kingdoms and keeping humans as cattle. Ms. Smith’s dragons seem to be totally evil, drawing on all the darkest ancient serpent mythology. Being shapeshifters, they can be dragon or human, and have the unique power to take on any human or animal form they wish. Ordinary shapeshuifters are limited to one human form and one animal form, the descendants of the dragons are able to choose their animal form while true dragons can shapeshift into any animal or human.

The true dragons are the villains in the end of the world arc, rising from centuries of slumber to bring about the end of the world. Exactly how this will happen is a bit murky; despite the disasters Jez hears about in Huntress, by Witchlight the human world still seems to be puttering along with high school continuing as usual.

This made me wonder: was this “end of the world” arc Ms. Smith’s idea? Or did the publisher decide the series needed a dramatic wrapup? Because Ms. Smith doesn’t seem super invested in the apocalyptic worldbuilding of it all. She had great fun writing the post-apocalypse story that was originally part of Strange Fate then split off to become the standalone novel The Last Lullaby, and I know this because she told me. :-) I emailed her to say “post-apocalyptic is fun to write isn’t it?” and she sent a brief “it sure is!” reply. My only actual conversation with the woman of mystery. But she seems much less into the apocalyptic event itself. This is what made me wonder if Ms. Smith wasn’t the decider in the whole end of the world thing and just wanted to keep writing her supernatural high school stories.

Thinking about the spread of Wild Powers it occurs to me that we have an uneven spread. Witches, vampires and shapeshifters are represented, but humans only get a half-inclusion.

So… is Kierlan a confirmed Wild Power or just a likely Wild Power? ‘Cause Circle Daybreak agents tracked down Iliana through her ancestry long before she could use the blue fire. What I’m saying is, I wonder if Kierlan is a ringer and Sarah will turn out to be the real Wild Power.

On that subject, we have a picture of Sarah, made by Ms. Smith on a dollmaker. (Wherever you are now, Ms. Smith, I hope you’re having loads of fun making all your characters with AI art because it is a blast.)

I’ll have to paraphrase the description since I couldn’t find it again but in my memory Ms. Smith waxes eloquent about how Sarah “May be a bit clumsy and a bit of a crybaby…” which, uh, reminds me of somebody.

And Ms. Smith goes on to talk about Sarah’s bluegreen eyes, shimmering as if with unshed tears, as her most beautiful feature.

#night world #lj smith

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reniqt · 2 years

Text

14 — LETS DATE :★︎:

“you seem pretty happy.”

you shift your gaze towards the boy who’s happily carrying a bucket of paintbrushes across the room, a long sigh escaping your lips.

this was definitely not the same riki you first saw in the men’s bathroom, but a whole different person.

surprisingly, you never knew the reason why, discovering nothing but warmness in his eyes whenever you were in his presence.

but strangely,

you felt weird.

“hm?” riki sweetly says in your direction, lips pursing as his eyes dance to yours. “what do you mean?”

his innocent eyes replace the disgust within you, only vanishing to shudders that are sent through you.

“I mean,” you hesitate, averting your gaze. “I guess you’ve been enjoying jay’s company a lot, huh?” you dryly laugh.

his stare remains on you. “of course I have. His reputation is like—wow.” he cheerfully says, eyes lit with joy as he resumed propping the objects.

his playful response earns small laughter from you, hopping off the stool to set the area. You offered him a few paint brushes as the boy pulled up a chair, politely grabbing them off the palm of your hands.

for the past few weeks inside the abandoned art room, it was quite obvious to you both that you’ve always been the one having to watch riki paint, but not you.

you always watched from afar, whether it would be just silently examining his artwork or sharing small conversations about your daily life. You didn’t mind.

but the moment riki opens his mouth to speak, it triggers a feeling of fear in you.

“y/n, do you not paint?”

and you, who was busy watching his movements from beside, immediately go silent.

“I mean..it’s just that I’ve never seen you draw before.” he truthfully tells you, gliding his brush.

He does that little head first then eyes thing, eyes gradually meeting yours.

“..Is there a reason why?”

but he’s instantly filled with regret as he watches your expression turn dark, stiffening the tension between you both.

he quickly returns back to his artwork after getting a silent response, only to still as you turned your back.

“…I stopped painting.”

he glances at you again.

you wished you could explain why, but all that appeared were burning memories from middle school you wished you had forgotten.

in fact,

you hated painting.

if anything, you’d be scared to draw again, in hopes of losing that precious talent of yours.

you took a breath, slowly turning yourself around to meet the boy’s guilt looking gaze, pulling up your own chair to escape this insanely awkward conversation.

“I’m..” you start. “I’m sorry, let’s just move on.” You nervously say, avoiding any forms of eye contact.

but riki feels his heart soften as he watches your sullen expression, slowly nodding before continuing his work.

you both refuse to say anything for the next few minutes, unable to remove the coldness that surrounded you both as you quietly began to fiddle with your pencil.

but thankfully, the silence is cleared in a heartbeat thanks to his stupidity.

“..now how do you draw a star again?”

you were brought back into reality in an instant, a genuine but soft laugh leaving you at his dumb question.

“I can’t help you this time.”

“pleeeaase.”

“nope.”

next thing you know, you both are making silly arguments with each other as if nothing had happened. It was difficult for you to wipe the playful grin off your lips, knowing damn well this was all part of riki’s evil plan for your happiness.

but you admit, it worked.

this guy, he’s…. different.

“riki, I have a question.”

he turns his attention towards you once more, his laughter fading to silence whilst warmly humming in response.

“you know there’s been rumors going on about us dating.”

he scoffed. “Us? it’s the total opposite, though.” he laughs it off, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sure it’ll go away, anyways.”

“yeah? but..” you turn to him. “I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“..you and me…going out.”

he paused.

“what?”

and what riki expected you to say wasn’t anything like he expected at all.

the moment those words left your lips, he’s stiffer than ever.

“what did you just—”

his jaw drops, his eyes widen, and his cheeks are flushed.

he couldn’t even hold back the overflowing shock that ran through his body, instantly causing him to react with confusion on his face.

his ears were red.

his butterflies returned,

“so, lets do it.”

and all he could think about was the innocent grin on your lips.

“lets date.”

◦ synopsis middle school years were difficult for you. After you finally moved away from your supposedly old bully, an unexpected surprise begans to follow

—

tlist: @xiaojunsmintchoco @nyfwyeonjun @laylasimp @mintbgyu @maeumiluv @emobeomgyu @hrtattcker @luviesbi @anik-4 @kamiwazhere @jakelux @ahnneyong @sophhloaff @tzyuki @lil-iva @emoworu @kyoyangwon @aachillies @k1ttyl1x @markzitos <3 @kimjiho1 <3 @euphorecore @zorrilloberry @artstaeh @nikipedia07 @wonniesimp @kyoyangwon @uwudaizy @un-flirt @ilovechanhee @sfthyuka @woosunnie @i-yeseo @chiyuv @ilovejaketoomuch ( request or DM to be added ) + @boobies34567 cuz u need to laugh

permtlist: @enhacolor @certainyouthpeanut @hiqhkey @szniki ♡︎ @lvepsh ♡︎

unable to tag: @chaeryeongsredhair @myjellyboo

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whentherewerebicycles · 10 months

Text

liz has my car for an interview so I’m just hanging out at the hospital for another hour waiting for my doctor to call and tell me what happens next. I have one time-sensitive work task I need to finish but apart from that I am just giving myself full permission to be easy and gentle with myself today. I wish someone would call me and help me understand how soon I should expect the surgery to happen so I can make arrangements at work. I’m trying to do the thing where I make a plan as a way of reasserting a sense of control over my life so here is my plan: I assume it’ll happen in late June or early July. and then I should expect to spend July, August, and September waiting, and then probably a bit longer than that as my period is very irregular when I’m not being medicated. so maybe in October or November I can start this excruciating process all over again. I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of just like, the yawning abyss of despair or whatever, but I guess the silver lining is I can spend those 3-4 months setting money aside and not dividing my life into two-week windows of waiting. I know this is a despair feeling and not an actual reflection of reality but I feel like I’ve put some essential part of my self on hold this year, like I’ve just been living in this weird state of emotional paralysis where I can’t really envision what the immediate or longer-term future will look like because I don’t know if I’ll be pregnant or not. and I guess it feels in some ways like a more painful continuation of last year where I didn’t know what my next job would be or if I’d stay in texas or what my life would look like after may, and that all worked out okay in the end but it’s just kind of hard on the mind/heart to exist for a long time in that held-breath mode of waiting. I want to come out of that if I can, I want to exist in the happy now of living in a place where I love, with some of my very favorite people and animals in the world around me, working in my dream job. but I feel such deep sadness right now and I feel like I’m half in and half outside of my own life and I know it’ll pass in time but it’s hard. I was staring at the ceiling today because I didn’t want to look at the ultrasound screen and I was just thinking what I always try to think in moments like this, which is some version of: let everything that happens to me move me towards deeper compassion, let everything that hurts make me gentler and more loving with others, let me turn outwards to the world instead of inwards to my hurt, but of course it’s aspirational rather than a reflection of reality, because a bad thing happening makes me curl in on myself like a pill bug, and the horizons of my world pull in tighter and tighter, and then I get stuck in the vicious cycle of feeling worse because I’m so mired in the self, so unable to see past its little collection of hurts and hopes, and I don’t know. this will pass. but probably I will need a ritual to mark it, something to help me draw lines around it so I don’t have to carry it and carry it and carry it and carry it. so I can put it down.

#personal #IUI tag

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munchy-munch · 2 years

Text

Aconitum - Meeting The Avengers Pt.1

I'm back!!!

______________________________________________________________

Aconitum. What a beautiful flower. Vibrant in color and full in its bell shape. But aconitum is more than what it appears. A symbol of caution for what dangers lies as you come closer. A deadly beauty by nature. It's not it's fault. That's how it was made. That's how you were made. You are their perfect little creation. A beauty, drawing in all sorts, but a deadly little flower, killing with only a kiss. It's your nature, and you can't help it. But a question you should ask yourself is, will the flower wither away in hydra's grasps, or will someone come and save the flower, giving it all the nurturing, it needs to blossom as it was supposed to?

______________________________________________________________

The avengers? It doesn’t really invoke fear, but then again, I don’t know who they are yet.

“I can introduce you to them in small groups if that makes it a bit easier,” Bruce asked.

“I’d rather get everything over quickly,” I said.

My legs felt so weak. I wobbled and held onto the closest thing next to me, Bruce’s arm. But he didn’t freeze up like last time. This time, he held onto my shoulder and told me to take my time. And I did just that. With his help, I walked out of the room, and we slowly walked down the hall until I felt I could walk on my own.

“Thank you,” I said, not looking at him.

“No problem y/n.”

“Is everyone friends of Hulk?” Bruce paused for a moment. He looked at me a little weirdly before composing himself.

“I think he’d consider them friends of his. Why do you ask?”

“Because Hulk is my closest friend. And I’m interested in knowing more about him,” I said as we continued to walk in silence.

We went around turns and long, lengthy hallways, but my eyes never left the windows bordering the walls we walked past. Bruce and I found ourselves in an elevator. I guess they’re not on this floor. The elevator ride was silent. I glanced towards Bruce a couple of times, not that he noticed. He seemed very tired. I hope I haven’t been taking up too much of his time. I was about to speak up, but the door opened, and Bruce was quick to walk out.

I followed behind him and into the room. We were in the room I had run into earlier. I looked over to my right and saw that giant window, once again capturing me with its presence.

“Y/n,” I heard Bruce ask. I turned my head and saw Bruce looked over at me with three other people standing in front of us.

“Sorry,” I said. Bruce gave me a small smile, waving it off.

“This is Natasha,” Bruce said, gesturing towards the redheaded woman. She nodded her head towards me with a smile on her face.

“Clint,” Bruce said as one of the men stepped forward.

“Nice to meet you y/n,” he said. For some reason I had to find my voice before I could respond to him.

“Nice to meet you too, Clint,” I said stiffly.

“And lastly-”

“Tony Stark,” the man with the facial hair said, holding out his hand. I looked between him and his hand before looking over to Bruce.

“Bruce,” I said.

“He can’t touch you, Tony. Which you would know if you read all of his file,” Bruce said, that last part a bit under his breath.

“Sorry Tony,” I said.

“Nothing to apologize about.”

The man named Tony looked lost in thought for a moment before tapping the center of his chest. I was confused for a moment, but then something started spreading over his clothes, something shiny and red. I stepped back, not sure what exactly I was witnessing. The metal covered his whole body, including his head.

“Tony,” I asked. The piece over his face popped open and Tony was there smiling.

“How about that handshake,” he said, sticking his arm back out.

“It’s not skin, but it’ll do for now,” he said.

I reached out and grabbed his hand. I’ve never held someone’s hand before. It felt so surreal, so much so that my eyes started to burn.

“Thank you,” I told him

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said over and over before I hugged the man. No one around said a thing, but I don’t really care. I’ve never felt like this before. The feelings are so overwhelming I just felt like I needed to wrap myself around him. I felt a hand rubbing my back causing me to wrap my arms around Tony even harder. I like what we’re doing.

“Mr. Stark,” a voice asked. I let go of Tony and looked towards the voice.

“Ahh, Peter, just in time. This is y/n. You read your brief, right?”

“Of course, Mr. Stark,” the man said, walking up to the group.

“I’m Peter,” he said, giving me a goofy smile, one I couldn’t help but return.

“Hi Peter, I’m…y/n,” I said. That name still doesn’t feel like my own. I’ll get used to it though, at some point.

“Hey, Y/n, do you feel comfortable with Peter giving you a tour. I’ll come and get you as soon as I can. I just need to-”

“That’s fine Bruce. I’ll be ok,” I said, a small smile on my face.

Bruce nodded and left towards the elevator, Tony following him, but not before giving me a quick goodbye. Truthfully, I didn’t want to leave Bruce’s side. But if I’m staying in the building I should be ok.

“It was nice meeting you Y/n, but Clint and I have a mission to carry out,” Natasha said, dragging Clint behind her. It was now only Peter and me.

“So, how long have you been here y/n,” Peter asked.

“Since yesterday. Hulk saved me from them,” said.

“Well, I can show you some of Hulk’s favorite spots if you want,” he said. I perked up at the mention of my friend.

“I’d love that,” I said, following Peter through the halls.

“This is the kitchen, Hulk’s favorite spot in the entire tower. Isn’t much of a surprise, but he really likes to eat.” The kitchen was vast. It was much larger than any room I’ve been in too.

“There’s food here,” I asked, my eyes sparkling.

“Well, yea.” I looked at him and he pointed to a large silver box. I opened the box and saw all kinds of food in so many different colors. All I remember is that dreadful white.

I began grabbing different things out of the fridge. I was about to head to the table nearby, but I saw an interesting box next to the box. So, I grabbed it and laid the food out on the table nearby.

“You’re not eating all of that right,” Peter asked.

“Can I,” I asked.

“Well…” he was taking too long, so I started to eat.

I don’t know what came over me, but I was inhaling food left and right. So many flavors, so many textures and temperatures. Did food like this always exist? I opened the box next to me and dumped its contents onto the table. Why was it covered in more packaging? Oh well. I ripped them open and gulfed them down. Peter had placed a glass of something onto the table next to me before taking a seat himself. I’ve never seen such a clear drink before. But I trust Peter, so I gulped it down, so refreshing.

“I can see you and Hulk are going to be great friends,” Peter said. I laughed and liquid came back up and out of my nose. Peter and I stared into each other's eyes before he started to laugh, and I joined him.

“Spider boy, it has been some time since I’ve seen you,” a loud voice announced.

“It’s spider man,” Peter mumbled under his breath.

Two tall men walked into the room and stood in front of the table. One was large with short blonde hair and something covering his eye. The other had long black hair to match his all-black clothes.

“Who is this,” the blond man asked.

“Didn’t Mr. Stark tell you about him,” Peter asked as I continued to munch on my treats.

“We have just returned from Asgard. We’ve had no news of a new arrival,” the blonde man said. He and Peter continued to talk, but my eyes drifted towards the man with black hair. He looked…bored? Maybe slightly irritated to be here. Then why was he here then? The man turned his eyes towards me, and a smile slithered onto his face. The man disappeared and reappeared in the chair next to me.

“To whom do I owe this pleasure,” he said, his hand grabbing my own. I was so caught up in him touching my skin that I didn’t even reply to him.

“You’re touching me,” I said.

“Oh, do you not like that? My apologies.” He retracted his hand from my own.

“No, it’s just I can’t usually touch people without hurting them. My toxins,” I said. But for some reason, that caused him to grab my hand once again.

“Well, no need to worry. It’ll take a lot to hurt a god like myself,” he said.

“God?”

“Yes. My brother and I are from Asgard. And I’ll ask again. To whom do I owe this pleasure?”

“Y/n, I said. And you are,” I asked.

“Loki Laufeyson.” His grip on my hand became tighter as he began to lift it towards his face. But right before it reached its destination, his brother called out.

“Loki. Are you bothering y/n,” his brother asked. Loki huffed under his breath and gently released my hand.

“Of course not, just getting acquainted,” he said. I turned my eyes towards Loki’s brother who met my gaze.

“Hello,” I said, shifting under his heavy gaze. It wasn’t harsh or bad, just heavy. He clapped a hand onto my back and let out a loud laugh.

“Midgardians never cease to entertain. I am Thor Odinson,” he said loudly.

“Y/n. Nice to meet you Thor,” I said. The loud god continued to talk to Peter and Loki as I ate the last of my food. That was until I heard a loud gasp, Thor.

“Are those my pop tarts,” he asked.

“Pop Tarts? What’s that,” I asked. The gods' eyes widened.

“You’ve never heard of pop tarts?” He appeared to be thinking before he continued to talk, “I will let you have this box as a welcome gift,” he said. I should probably get my own pop tarts in the future because I think it’s my favorite food.

Peter continued to entertain Thor’s conversation as Loki, and I sat on the side. But Loki was good company. He told me lots about Asgard and the different realms. He told me about his mothers, but not much about his father. I have a feeling there’s a story behind that.

“If you ever want any company,” he looked towards Thor before looking back at me, “quiet company, then I’ll be in the library. If I’m not there, just call out and I’ll be there,” Loki said before telling Thor it was time to leave.

“I hope to see you again y/n,” Thor said. I smiled.

“I hope so too.” I waved them off.

Maybe it was all of the food, but I’m getting tired. Peter took me to find Bruce to figure out where I’d be sleeping tonight.

‘If everyone else is like the ones I met today, then I think I’ll like it here’ I thought as Peter and I got onto the elevator heading down.

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sometimesiwritethingsilike · 9 months

Text

I was bitten by the ASTV bug and went back to my Marvel fic roots for this:

Summary:

As it turns out, projecting his issues onto a fifteen-year-old doesn't solve anything. In fact, it kind of breaks everything, including Miguel. Now he has to figure out how to put things back together and make things right with those he's hurt. Or, 5 times Miguel redeems himself by saving a Spider. Learning to love again and building a family along the way? Total coincidence.

Snippet:

It’s exactly the assembly he’d been expecting, all eight of them — though he could’ve done without Peter having brought Mayday.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” Miguel announces, tone carefully neutral.

Hobie and Gwen react with immediate disbelief. Still, they move aside when Miles steps up.

“Then why are you here?”

Miguel gestures to their roof.

“It’ll be easier to explain if I’m not trying to shout across buildings.”

Miles appraises him, wary in a way that makes him seem much older. The sight twists something in Miguel’s chest.

Finally, Miles nods, stepping back to give Miguel room to swing over.

Miguel lands as close to the edge of the building as he can, all too aware of the nervous energy that thrums through the group. He doesn’t want to set them off.

Up close, he can see that Miles looks exhausted, and injured. There are gashes on his shoulder, climbing up to his neck.

For a moment Miguel’s gut burns acrid with guilt until he realizes that the edges of the wounds are cauterized. He might’ve lost control, but he knows intimately well what his talons can do. These nasty cuts reek of Prowler claws, likely a souvenir from 42.

“Well?” Miles prompts, crossing his arms. “You gonna talk or what?”

So Miguel does his best to ignore everyone but Miles as he lays out the plan to defeat Spot and how Miles’ power is the key to doing so. When he’s finished, half the group’s eyes are on him and the other half are on a pensive Miles, who, for once, isn’t wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

“Kinda convenient innit?” Hobie states, staring Miguel down, “a Spider’s gotta get up close and personal with the villain and it so happens to be the one you’re tryna get rid of.”

“It’s not like that,” Miguel argues, keeping his temper in check.

“Isn’t it?” Hobie throws back, sardonic and irreverent in all the ways that have always pushed Miguel’s buttons.

“Trust me, if I could take Morales’ place, I would.”

“Don’t think you know the meaning of that word mate.”

Miguel bites down a retort. Hobie grins, surprised but happy to take the win.

“Alright,” Miles finally says, “What’s the catch?”

Miguel’s brows draw up in confusion.

“What?”

“No offense—”

“— ’e means full offense—” Hobie interjects.

“—But you’ve made it clear that you’re not the kinda guy to give something for nothing,” Miles continues, “So, what’s the catch? If you let us use your tech, I have to go along with what you want? I gotta let my dad die?”

The others look away. Peter actually flinches.

Miguel sighs. Right. He brought this on himself.

“No.” He says, in a tone he hopes is very honest and very final.

The others stare at him in shock. Miles’ gaze is softer. There’s something in his eyes, a glimmer of that young, infectious hope that was there before Miguel ruined the vision of the Spider Society for him.

“It’s your world, Morales,” Miguel affirms, “It’s your story. You call the shots.”

“So if I tell you to go right now, you’d do it?”

Miguel swallows thickly.

“I’d tell you you need all the help you can get but yes, I’d go.”

“And if I tell you I can do both things I gotta do, but I’m saving my dad first, you’ll listen?”

“Yes.”

“Then swear it.”

#across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #astv miguel #astv fanfic #miguel o'hara #miles morales #gwen stacy #hobie brown #peter b parker #fanfic #pavitr prabhakar #sometimesiwriteastv

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hollybell51 · 2 years

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Chapter Nineteen

The epilogue

A Heart of Ice - Jack Frost x fem!Reader

Chapter Eighteen, masterpost

Word count: 699

Summary: you make up your mind about several things, and make a few resolutions. Jack is unsure and happy in equal parts

Notes: thank you to everyone who got this far, I really hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please consider leaving some feedback in any form, I really appreciate every bit. Anyways, you may also want to check out my other stuff, or not, I don’t mind but it’s there if you decide to. Again, thank you!

“So,” Jack said, swinging his staff as he walked along the powerlines towards you. “Keeping your word?”

“Yep.” You didn’t take your eyes off the sleeping child just visible through the window below. You tapped the joint in your hand, watching the ash fall to the ground.

“It’s only been a week,” Jack pointed out, “I’m sure he’s doing fine.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to see for myself, you know?” You took another breath of smoke, blowing the cloud out into the air in front of you. Jamie was asleep, peaceful and happy as every, though with the addition of a few new drawings. You especially liked the one of him standing between the figure of girl with rays of golden shooting off her and a white-haired boy with a curved staff and snowflakes floating around him. They all had massive smiles on their faces.

Jack sighed, lightly jumping over you to the side of the powerline closest to Jamie’s house. “You’re sure I can’t convince you to stop using those damn things?”

You looked at the blunt in your hand, then at him. “I thought about it,” you shrugged.

“And?”

“And you make a good point.” You got up, wobbling slightly as you crossed the wire to Jamie’s roof.

“Wait, seriously?” Jack asked, following.

“Yeah,” I say, “I was waiting for you.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my (Y/N)?”

You laughed.

“Really, is this a joke?”

“Nope, I’m serious.” You paused for a moment, thinking your next words through carefully. “I was remembering what you said, about how when I kissed you when I was high that it didn’t mean anything, and you’re wrong. It did mean something, because when I’m high I don’t have my own logic to stop me doing stuff. And then I was thinking that if that’s the case, then I probably would wanna remember that kinda thing, right?”

“Right…” he said, still unsure.

“So,” you continued, “I decided that I can do things without logically thinking them through without the assistance of drugs, but if I use drugs then I don’t get to remember them. I won’t get withdrawals because I’m not physically dependent on any of them, so it’ll be easy enough to stop. And I have you now, too.” You stopped, smiling at him.

He nodded. “That’s… that’s solid reasoning.”

“Anyway, come help me with this.” You reached out a hand, jumping to the street below as soon as he took it. You weren’t going to tell him – not yet, anyway – but there was another reason why you’d decided to stop. The poets and songwriters and all the people, really, were right about love. It was a drug, but being in love was better than any high you’d ever had before. Jack was better than any high you’d ever had before.

“Don’t do that!” he protested, stumbling.

“Sorry,” you laughed, fishing in your pocket. You withdrew a bag of three rolled marijuana joints, a packet of ecstasy, and another packet of cocaine powder.

“That’s all?” he asked, eyeing the collection in your hand.

You turned your body sideways, pulling your pocket inside out to show him.

“Ok, how’re you gonna get rid of them?”

“I’m just gonna shove them down the side of this dumpster,” you shrugged.

“What if someone finds them?”

You shrugged again, emptying the packets into the bin and shuffling some of the rubbish around to hide the contents. “Nobody in their right mind would take something they found in a dumpster.”

“True.” He nodded, then smiled at you.

“Happy?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Very, now I can kiss you and you won’t taste like horse shit.”

“I don’t taste like mmf—!” You were cut off by his lips on yours, but you weren’t complaining. You rested your hands on his shoulders, stepping closer to him as he placed his staff against the wall, his hands sliding down your sides to settle on your hips. You fitted perfectly together.

“I love you,” he whispered, his cool breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine.

“I know, I love you too.” Yep, definitely better than anything you could smoke, snort or shoot.

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breakthechainx · 2 years

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𝙲𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚘𝚗 & 𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 // 𝕖𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕖 𝕞𝕦𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕡𝕥. 𝟛

Summary: Moving to Hawkins wasn’t your ideal plan for your senior year of highschool, but upon arrival you make some new friends and a relationship you believe may work out, or so you think. Through all of this, you slowly begin to meet the “town freak”, Eddie Munson, and try your best to build a relationship with him, but some obstacles may hold you back. Will true love prevail? (alternate reality)

Warnings: 18+ abusive partner, swearing, family abuse, interaction between y/n and billy, angst, injuries

part 1 • part 2

Hawkins, 1985;

You gulped nervously, unable to shake the fear pulsing through your entire body. Regardless of what you say, you knew it would end badly. He’s never satisfied with an answer, whether you lie or tell the truth.

“We just ran into each other and he was introducing himself…” You trailed off, lips quivering. Maybe telling the truth would get you out of this situation safely… right? Wrong.

He scoffed and looked down at the ground, shaking his head with a slight tsk tsk escaping his lips. You grimaced, unable to camouflage your fear. This will not end well.

“Billy I promise it was nothi-” you blurted out, but were silenced after an abrupt shove to the side of your car. You yelped, but only loud enough for him to hear. Drawing attention would only make it worse.

“Nothing? You really expect me to believe that?” he growled, still smirking as if it was all an elaborate joke. You couldn’t help but look away, unable to meet his eyes. “He’s a fucking freak, and if I ever…look at me when I’m speaking to you!” He grabbed your chin, turning your face towards him as tears managed to well up in your eyes.

“If I ever catch you talking to that motherfucker again, or even breathing the same air as him, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” He barked, “Do you understand me?”

You clenched your eyes close, eyes full of tears by this point. You shook your head instantaneously in agreement, unable to speak.

“Say it,” he snapped, leaning in closer to your face. Those words struck a familiar nerve with you; one you grew up with since your mother passed. One tactic your father would use when getting what he wanted.

“I promise! I understand!” You blurted out quickly, shaking your head that was clenched in his grasp.

“Billy?” You heard a familiar voice from behind Billy’s frame, and you looked past him to see none other than Max, waiting for her usual ride home after school. Billy never looked her way, only staring you down, examining you in every way.

You looked at him, lip still trembling as a steady stream of tears started to make their way down your cheek, onto Billy’s fingers that gripped your chin. “We’ll talk about this later,” he growled, tossing your face to the side as he turned to walk towards Max.

Max gave you a concerning glance, unable to say anything without facing Billy’s wrath herself. You stood there, dumbfounded and scared, gripping your arms closer together as leaned against the car. Hugging yourself, you hoped you could just escape into yourself, away from the feelings lingering in your chest.

Once Billy was out of sight, a small sob escaped your lips, and you covered your mouth as tears were able to flow freely. What have you gotten yourself into? Where did you go wrong? Your mind raced as you stood there weeping.

Before you could fully breakdown, a voice came from the distance. “Y/n?” you looked up, Eddie across the parking lot, staring at you with concern. His brows furrowed as he continued, “You alright?” he asked.

Your heart began to race, Billy’s words ingrained in your head as you quickly shuffled for your keys. Eddie's footsteps approached you in the distance as you finally unlocked your car, throwing your books and bag in the passenger seat. “Y/n? Is everything alright?”

You got yourself in the car, fidgeting with the keys to try and shove them in the ignition, “I’m fine,” you blurted out, heart pounding. If Billy sees you with him, you're dead.

Before you could close the door, Eddie grabbed the top of it, “Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” He asked, worry painting his face. You didn't even risk looking at him.

You wiped your eyes quickly, clearing your throat before stating, “Yes I-I just really need to go…” You pulled the door close as Eddie ripped his hand back before you could close the door on his fingers.

You pulled out of the parking lot, tires screeching as you drove away, but before you were completely out of the lot, you looked in your rearview mirror, noticing Eddie lingering, eyes wide. Your chest quickly rose and fell as you continued to cry, and he was the last thing you saw before you finally pulled out of the school.

Four days later…

The weekend went by slowly, dread filling you as you pulled into the school parking lot yet again. You had spent your Friday night trying to explain to Billy what you were doing talking to Eddie Munson in the cafeteria that day. However, he wasn’t buying anything you had to say. He kicked you out of his house late that night after leaving you with a busted lip for simply talking over him, as he would put it; even though you were just trying to plead with him to let you go from his grasp.

You sat there in the parking lot for a long while, thinking of how you were going to explain the cut that covered your lip. You had spent most of the morning trying to cover it, but nothing was working. Just say you fell, everyone always falls for that lie, you thought.

After contemplating even getting out of the car, you finally took a deep breath and opened the door. Grabbing your books and bag, you trudged to first period, knowing you’d have to face the interrogation of Nancy.

Finally making your way to class, you plopped down in your seat with your head down as Nancy took a seat next to you. You avoided any eye contact with her, knowing she’d eventually pick up on the scratch anyways.

Before either of you were able to speak, the teacher walked in, and you said a thankful prayer. Class went by and once the lesson was up, you hurriedly packed your bag and grabbed your books. Nancy spoke quickly, “Hey, is everything okay, y/n?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just have a big test I have to get to! I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” You walked out of the class hurriedly, making your way down the hall with your head hung low.

As you turned the corner to make your way to your next class, you felt a hand grab your arm and yank, yelping as you were pulled into a room by the unknown person.

Before you could scream, a hand covered your mouth as the stranger turned you towards them, and you locked eyes with none other than Eddie. Your eyes widened, both in shock and in fear. Heart racing, you shook your head, knowing just how bad this was for the both of you.

You examined the dark room you were in, and noticed exactly which classroom he had drug you in; an unused room besides the fact that Eddie held his Hellfire Club meetings here occasionally. Essentially a storage closet for old classroom furniture and previously used drama club props. No one would notice you two in here, but you didn't care; Billy had eyes everywhere.

“Shh, it’s just me…” Eddie whispered, regardless of the door being closed. “It’s just me, y/n,” his soft, doe eyes examining your face as he removed his hand from your busted lip.

This is bad, like really fucking bad.

author note: so sorry these keep taking so long, life tends to get in the way sometimes but I may upload more frequently this week since I'm having some good inspo! trigger warnings galore for some abuse and swearing. hopefully it gets a bit softer the next few chapters. thank you for all of the support!

#eddie the freak munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #nancy wheeler #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #st4 fanfic #stranger things s4 #st4 #stranger things alternative story #stranger things season four #eddie munson x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #reader x eddie munson #eddie x reader

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