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wandasfifthwife · 2 months

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teasing doesn’t win gold medals

paring: CEO!Wanda x fem!reader

tw: 18+ MDNI, established relationship (dating or married, up to you), dom!Wanda, bratty sub!reader, fingering (r receiving), strap in v sex (r receiving), Wanda’s a bit mean (but we love her for it), degrading terms (bitch in heat lmao), oral fixation?, orgasm denial, Wanda uses magic during it

a/n: not proofread, sorry loves— promise I’ll come back and revise (so for now excuse any grammar/spelling errors lmao), sorry if this is shitty, enjoy!!

If there were a cliff nearby, Wanda feels as if she’s standing at the edge with her feet halfway off the crevice. It’s hard enough trying to balance a work life balance, and even harder when you kept looking at her with lust in your eyes.

You took your time whenever you felt you had a moment of her attention. Maintaining eye contact and adjusting your shirt, smiling like you’ve won when she’d look. Brushing against her when she’d leave to refill her glass, breath stuttering in your chest when she’d kiss your neck. A shiver crawling down your neck when she would return your lustful looks. It drove you crazy.

You sat beside her on the couch while she logged onto an online meeting. You begged her to stop, explaining how she’s only ever been giving her attention to anything but you. Even after your whine, she still picked up the phone.

“Campaign ideas are hard to come by, especially if you’re wanting a more risky approach for these print ads—“ you tuned them out, crawling off the couch and heading into the kitchen. You pulled out the cake you got from an event you both attended a day ago. Wanda barely paid you any mind, eyes only looking to you for a moment.

It wasn’t initially meant to be anything more than a simple way to pass the time. When it got your index finger after a lapse of judgement you should’ve known that cleaning it off with your tongue would’ve caught her attention.

You were quick to catch on and continued your ministrations, too lost in riling her to care what could happen. The voices on the call echoed between the space, reminding the both of you that it was the only thing holding her back. It enabled your actions, a smirk on your face when you put two fingers in your mouth.

Having had enough Wanda ends the call and you feel your thighs clench together as you imagine what she could do. You lick at the remaining frosting on your fingers, not looking away when she comes to corner you into the counter.

“Having fun?”

You moan around your fingers dramatically. She pries your fingers away, replacing them with hers. Her fingers push further back, intentional in their movement so she can watch your eyes tear up.

“Can’t help presenting yourself to me anytime I’m around, acting like a bitch in heat.”

You whine around her fingers and she’s quick to shush you. She’s both gentle and stern in her tone and it’s shutting your mind down.

“Could’ve been verbal, asked what you wanted but instead you have to parade around,” she takes her fingers out and holds your jaw, “why do you feel the need to? Who are you trying to satisfy? Yourself or me?”

Your mind’s a mess and it was hard to think clearly, causing too much time to pass by.

“I asked you a question baby, I expect an answer—“

“You.”

“Such a stupid answer. I don’t think you know how to satisfy me.”

“Then let me.”

She walks you back to the couch, patting her lap to signal for you to straddle. Wanda pulls at your shirt, not in any rush. You quickly grow impatient, hands coming to grab at her but she stops you. Tendrils of magic wrap around your wrists, pulling them behind your back.

“Thought you said you wanted to please me? Did you forget that already?”

You shake your head but she doesn’t look like she believes you. She takes the rest of her time removing your clothing one by one until you’re completely bare on top of her.

“So pretty,” she whispers against your lips before pulling you into a kiss. You tilt your head to comfortably deepen the kiss. Her hands are sliding up the back of your thighs, grinning when you moan into the kiss.

The room was cold, a stark difference from the warmth in her hands. Everything about her had you pressing further into her. Two fingers slide into you, catching you off guard.

“Poor baby. I’m so sorry that taking care of me is proving to be so difficult. You can barely sit still.”

“I want to please you,” you cry and she coos. She thrusts her fingers particularly rough, pulling a strangled sound from you.

She pushes another finger in, “you’re so wet.”

“Because of you, it’s all for you.”

Her lips find yours again as she adjusts herself against the couch, hands coming to pull you right over her strap. A quiet moan sounding from her when you’re pressing back on her already, magic enveloping the strap to allow her to feel you wrap around her.

“You okay, baby?”

You smile and she takes it as an invitation to help guide you down on her. You bite down on the inside of your mouth as you adjust to her size. It feels like she’s everywhere— a hand on your waist, one on your face, wiping your tears, her clothed chest pressed against your bare one.

An unusual amount of time passes, but you still sit patiently, though slightly lost on why she hasn’t started to move.

“You wanted to please me, I’m giving you an opportunity.”

You grasp the situation and pleads for help are already spilling out from your lips.

“Either this or I leave.”

Your thighs shook when you first lifted your hips. It took a minute to start a steady rhythm, whiny moans coming from you cause with each thrust she got deeper.

“Oh—” you shiver, head thrown back when she hits that spot within you, “fuck Wanda I’m going to come— ah, please. please let me come.”

And oh what a sight you were bouncing on her dick with tears in your eyes. It was almost enough for her to take pity on you.

“You’re not coming tonight.”

A gasp sounds from you when she pulls you down, meeting your thrusts with her own, chasing after her own high. A shaky breath sounding from her when the stimulation pushes her over the edge. You watch in adoration as she comes down from her high. You whimper and clench around her making her wince.

Her hands were tight in your waist, pulling you off her despite your efforts of keeping her there. She presses a gentle kiss to your lips, “you’re so good for me. I promise I’ll treat you so well in the morning, but you can’t tease me and think you’d continue like nothing happened.”

You peck her cheek in understanding, body growing tired to speak. Not to mention with how stimulated you were, you’re not sure if the words that would come out of your mouth would help your current cause. You’d dig a further grave.

Wanda took care in wrapping you in her arms, bringing you to come sit in the shower with her. You sat between her thighs, relaxing as soon as the warm water hit your body. She laughs softly behind you.

“Tired baby,” she asks, continuing her sweet but random kisses over your shoulders.

“Very. You know you can be so cruel sometimes.”

“Says you. You can be a little minx. Getting me turned on during a meeting is crazy.”

You playfully slap her thigh, “not like you didn’t like it.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #dom Wanda #dom!wanda #x sub!reader #sub!reader #sub reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x reader smut #wanda maximoff x you #Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

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armthearmour · 1 year

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Steel Brocade: Puffed & Slashed Costume Armor

Surviving to this day in the collections of the world’s most illustrious museums are a group of three armors. These armors have much in common, but most striking is the attempts made by their armorers to render in steel a convincing portrayal of the puffed and slashed clothing fashionable to the early 16th century.

Though this fashion is synonymous with the landsknecht mercenaries who may have been responsible for popularizing it, the puffed and slashed style was enjoyed by members at all levels of society.

Portrait of Duke Henry of Saxony by Lucas Cranach the Elder, 1514, Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Dresden.

The earliest of these three armors is housed at the Wallace Collection. Consisting only of a cuirass and arms, this armor is, at first glance, rather underwhelming when compared with the other armors in this group. Though the embossed bands styled with etched slashes embellished with gold provide the impression of a puffed and slashed doublet, the execution is all rather stiff, and lacks the impressive volume and fullness exemplified by the other armors.

It is for this reason that this armor, previously considered contemporary to the KHM and Metropolitan examples, has received relatively little attention. However, recent scholarship by Dr. Tobias Capwell suggests that this work is not, indeed, contemporary to the other examples, and is rather about ten years older, dating to ca. 1515. Dr. Capwell also considers this piece to be the work of Konrad Seusenhofer, a favored armorer of the Emperor Maximilian I.

Seen through this lens, not as a poorly executed contemporary of greater armors, but as a less developed ancestor to them, this armor takes on new life. It speaks to innovation and experimentation; an early attempt at a technique which would later be perfected.

The second in this line is the garniture of Wilhelm von Rogendorf, housed at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna.

This armor is unique for its condition, which is remarkably good. Not only does this armor retain more of its pieces than the other two, it is also accompanied by a number of “pieces of exchange,” elements which could be swapped out so the armor could be worn in the field.

Finished in 1523, as attested to by the date etched on the right shoulder strap, this armor was made for the Count Wilhelm von Rogendorf by Kolman Helmschmid and etched by Daniel Hopfer.

Wilhelm von Rogendorf himself was heir to a new, up-and-coming German noble family.

A medal showing Wilhelm von Rogendorf as a Knight of the Order of Calavatra, dated 1536, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

Born in 1481 the second son of Kaspar von Rogendorf, Wilhelm became heir to his family’s estates when his elder brother Sigmund died in 1507, by which time Wilhelm was already a courtier at the Habsburg court. He entered into the service of King Charles I of Spain (later Emperor Charles V) no later than 1517 and was appointed Governor of Friesland. In 1522, Wilhelm accompanied Charles to Spain where he commanded a regiment of 4,000 landsknechts and was again placed in charge of a restless border territory. In 1524, he successfully captured the Fortress of Fuenterrabía from the French, which won him great praise from the Emperor. Shortly thereafter, Wilhelm was named Captain of the Imperial Bodyguard and given the governorships of Catalonia, the Cerdagne, and the Roussillon. Additionally, he was appointed to the Spanish chivalric Order of Calavatra. Wilhelm would retire from court in 1539, but would be recalled in 1541 to command Imperial troops against the Ottomans in Hungary. He would be killed later that same year at the siege of Buda by a stray cannonball.

Though Wilhelm’s armor is now displayed in its parade configuration, the surviving pieces of exchange attest to the fact that it was also an armor for combat. The cuirass is equipped with the long tassets common to the early 16th century. A pair of holes can be observed at the top of the last lame.

These holes correspond to holes at the top of the half-cuisses which accompany this armor, showing that these cuisses would be pointed to the tassets rather than worn separately.

In the rear, the cuirass is accompanied by a rump-defense, also known as a hoguine. Small turning pins near the waist allow this to be removed for combat.

Both spaulders

and gauntlets

survive. Additionally, the KHM retains the armor’s right vambrace

while the Wallace Collection holds the rerebrace and couter for the left arm.

Recently, these pieces were assembled to show what the arm harness for field as a single unit would have looked like.

This armor would also have been accompanied by a gorget, now missing, and a helmet. Frequently, this armor is displayed alongside a close-helmet, however it is more likely the armor would have been accompanied by a burgonet similar in form to this example from the KHM.

One final, unique surprise this armor holds is a hidden lance rest which is incorporated into the turned edge by the right arm. This rest folds down to allow a light lance to be braced atop it, and when folded up, is nearly invisible so as to not ruin the smooth surface of the breastplate with the prominent staples typically required for affixing a lance rest.

The third and final armor of this group is housed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

The least complete of these three armors, it may also be the most visually impressive. Comprised of only a backplate, hoguine, and arms, the puffs and slashes of this piece (also by Kolman Helmschmid and Daniel Hopfer) are ornately cusped. The slashed regions, displaying the gilded “fabric” beneath, and heavily etched to resemble an expensive silk brocade.

The sleeves of this armor are even more voluminous than those of the Rogendorf armor, though they are similarly articulated and provide the wearer with a surprising degree of mobility. It is thought that this armor may have been made for prominent Polish nobleman Jerzy Herkules Radziwill.

Interestingly, the hoguine of this armor is composed of two separate plates, rather than a single solid plate. Where the hoguine of the other two armors terminates in a decorative fabric border, the Met armor continues into two more articulated lames, covering the top rear of the thighs. Holes along the bottom edge suggest that this armor may have been accompanied by fully enclosing cuisses which pointed to the bottom of the fauld and hoguine.

Sources

“A Pair of Gauntlets.” Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien. https://www.khm.at/de/object/540164/.

“A Pair of Spaulders with Besagews.” Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien. https://www.khm.at/de/object/372772/.

Cranach, Lucas the Elder. “Portrait of Duke Henry of Saxony.” Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden. https://skd-online-collection.skd.museum/Details/Index/246875.

Krause, Stefan. Fashion in Steel. Vienna: Kunsthistorisches Museum, 2017.

“Landsknecht Costume Armour.” Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien. https://www.khm.at/de/object/372771/.

“Left Upper Cannon and Couter.” The Wallace Collection. https://wallacelive.wallacecollection.org:443/eMP/eMuseumPlus?service=ExternalInterface&module=collection&objectId=60736&viewType=detailView.

“Open Burgonet.” Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien. https://www.khm.at/en/object/503346/.

“Parts of an Armour.” The Wallace Collection. https://wallacelive.wallacecollection.org:443/eMP/eMuseumPlus?service=ExternalInterface&module=collection&objectId=60519&viewType=detailView.

“Portions of a Costume Armor.” The Metropolitan Museum of Art. https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/27790.

“Vambrace.” Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien. https://www.khm.at/de/object/372773/.

“Wilhelm von Rogendorf.” Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien. https://www.khm.at/de/object/1409642/

#long post #armor #armour #landsknecht #costume armor #art #history #renaissance #germany #german #hre #holy roman empire #europe #european #themet #metmuseum #khm #skd #wallace collection

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julianalvarez9 · 11 months

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hot n cold / rúben dias

summary: being in the will-they-won't-they stage with rúben was confusing, to say the least. maybe a bit of rain during the treble parade can make things clearer for you.

wc: 1.1 words.

author's note: just a lottttt of pinning and tension that doesn't really get addressed, i'm sorry 😮‍💨 but they KNOW!!! 🙏🏻 also, lots of soft rúben for my soul 🙏🏻

rain in manchester. it shouldn't surprise none of you, part of the whole team that organized the parade, but still, it does.

first, the answer is to delay it. but, you all know the achievement is too big to overlook, so cancelling it isn't an option, with the fans and team all ready to celebrate the huge achievement only done once by a previous team. a direct rival, nonetheless. and considering there are already a sea of blue waiting for their home heroes, the answer comes rather easy: do it anyways. under pure, manchester weather.

the rain comes pouring down on all of you, and it almost feels predestined: like there was no other way of doing it. but also, you're freezing cold, rain soaking all your clothes and glueing them to your body. you couldn't care less at the moment, too focused on not missing a thing, which was difficult to do when jack was putting on a show for everyone to see.

your back clashes against somebody's front, and you want to turn desperately to offer your apologies, except, two big arms wrap around your figure, effectively immobilising you. "fuck, you're freezing" is the first thing the person says, and by his mere voice you know who it is.

you're not only dripping water with the sassines that can be perceived coming out of your lips. "i think that's the expected result when you're standing in the rain for one hour, rúben," you deadpan, and try to get out of his hold. you don't really care about prying eyes from fans right now, because the bus just got to its destination, so the coast is clear, one could say. but still, feeling you flush against him feels wrong, just because you know you're enjoying it far more than you should. he's a colleague, after all.

"come on, come here," he insists, and you can't really get out of his grip with the force he's caging you in now. you two are so close together that you can feel the medals hanging from his neck, and resting comfortably on his chest. his voice brings you back, and you feel like you've been caught staring, when in reality, you've not. "i'm hot. i can warm you up" he resonates, and although he doesn't refer to him being hot, but rather, his body temperature, which is notoriously higher than yours currently, you can't hel but laugh at the connotation. "wasn't really a secret that you're hot when you're shirtless, dias".

he tries to stifle a laugh, but still, the smirk painted on his lips, which enhances the little dimple he has in his cheek, betrays him. "anyways, you'll freeze to death," you say, turning a bit to get to see his face when you're speaking to him. you notice now the way that he's looking at you, so lovingly, that you're almost forced to turn around again to avoid getting flustered in his gaze. especially, when he shrugs your statement off. "wouldn't be such a horrible way to die, right?". thankfully, john comes before you can answer anything to the portuguese.

"come on, lovebirds, we have a treble to celebrate!".

you freeze at his words, and rúben is the one to move you forward when he starts walking, still holding you onto him, as if you'd leave his side at the first chance you had. that's what you would be supposed to do; but everybody's too drunk to remember any of the ruled you must follow, so you decide to follow that path too. except, you know that rúben doesn't have a drop of alcohol on his system, and you're not really in for drinking while at work: so you two are completely sober. "don't listen to him," he whispers when john's out of sight, and you realize you two are the only ones still in the bus. "but he's right. we have to get you warmed up. can't have my favorite staff getting sick, can we?".

ruben doesn't leave your side at all. not when you get down the bus, not when you enter the building. you don't see any of your colleagues, and your first instinct is to go out there, and search for them. for sure, they're all in place, doing their job, and you feel guilty not being there.

rúben gets to catch your wrist, just barely. "where are you going?" he asks, his eyes big and questioning. you only get to point with your thumb, signaling back towards where the exit to get to the stage is, but he's clearly not pleased with your answer. "you're not getting back there without a dry shirt" he says, giving you the blue shirt he had in his hold, and the towel a staff member had somehow dumped on him in a hurry. your eyes clearly spoke before you needed to, because ruben answered before you even muttered a word. "don't worry about me. see you out there, yeah?".

you're too focused filming and taking pictures to even see when rúben gets out, but the way the crowd cheers his name alerts you of his presence on the stage. the first thing you notice is the clear contrast between his shirt and the one the rest of his teammates are wearing. he has a nice, white shirt that hugs him just right, at the same time that marks him as a champions league champion. instead, the rest of the guys are wearing a light blue one, with light blue and neon yellow letters accentuating the fact that they're treble winners.

no one seems to notice the slip up, or at least, think it's accidental, but john sees you, and he knows. after all, it's not too complicated to put two and two together. he nods approvingly, like a proud father, only to shift his focus to clap rúben in the back. it seems to be a bit too strong to his liking given how fast he turns around, browns knitted together in confusion.

your focus gets taken out of their little interaction when jack does the next thing that has the crown roaring, and get reminded, again, of what your job here is. not to fool around with rúben, you chastise yourself, but still, can't help but look for him a few minutes after. this time, he's looking at you, and it makes your cheeks grow warm. he tugs his shirt and points at you, making a little thumbs up. rúben seems to mouth "looks good on you", and you playfully roll your eyes at him. "it's because it's yours".

#football imagines #football imagine #football x you #football x reader #rúben dias imagine #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fluff

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kleem-o · 8 months

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Camouflage: WerewolfBakugou! X reader

Part 2

Synopsis: Years passed since you and Bakugou parted ways, and Bakugou never spent a day without thinking of you. Did you feel the same? Hopefully he’ll know, since fate seems to always bring you together. Part 2 of this.

a/n: heyy here it is yall hope u enjoy, im back at school so updates in my blog might take a while, but i promise to never leave any of these unfinished (including the brahms!dabi)! Love yall also this will probably become a series bc i like taking things slow lol

“FUCK!”

Bakugou hissed in pain as an arrow pierced his shin. “Bakubro! Here– Take cover!” The forest was a mess. Just a mere hour ago everything was going well. Bakugou and his trusty friend, Kirishima, were guarding the gates just like usual. The war was getting worse, it came to a point where right when you left, Bakugou was forced to train, to become a weapon of war. His parents obviously fought hard to keep their child safe, but in reality no one was. The beastmen’s front were getting pushed too much, they needed more men. And Bakugou is just one of thousands of children that were trained to become especially good at fighting, strategizing, killing.

At the age of 17, Bakugou was already being placed at the front, his parents praying for his safety, as they’re left in horror of the trauma that Bakugou would face. They would be relieved and shocked to see their son back home, bearing medals of honor, human soldier’s heads. The beastmen would celebrate their wins, and Bakugou would become a rising icon for them, hope. Bakugou would meet lots of companions, but lots would leave. Either from leaving the military, or by… other means. One of his companions that never left was his friend Kirishima. It was with this friend that he was guarding the gates with, when all of a sudden humans attacked.

This was a surprise to both of them as it was just a day ago that they won against a number of troops from the humans, were they this desperate now? Regardless, it was still a surprise that caught them off guard, even though the beastmen were currently greater in numbers at the moment, Bakugou still got hit. Kirishima forced Bakugou to stay put as the rest fight, and sooner but later, they won.

“Those fucking human dumbass, do they enjoy watching their people die??” Bakugou muttered as a medic was patching up his leg. “Well, it was pretty dumb, probably a last show of pride? Anyway, we still have to focus, there might be more to it than we think.” Kirishima said as he looked outside the window to watch the parade of victory of their soldiers that recently returned from the west. “What…” Kirishima’s eyes widened as he continued to watch outside. “Hey dumbass, what’s happening??” And without looking at Bakugou, he answered “They brought some humans.”

“I swear to god, how many fucking times do I have to tell them to leave civilians?!” Bakugou yelled as he kicked an empty bottle. They were on their way to the hostages, after scolding and beating up, the men that brought humans in their gates despite his several warnings of leaving civilians alone. He knew deep down that not all humans were bad, hopefully. I mean, he met you right? God when will he forget you? It’s been years and he still thinks of you, the way you snuggle up to him at night when it was cold, the way you played with his tail, the way he let you rub his ears, the way your eyes shined when you smiled, your laughter, and that stupid nickname you always called him– “Fluffy?”

Bakugou stopped dead in his tracks, causing Kirishima to bump into him. “Hey what the hell man?” Kirishima watched in surprise as Bakugou quickly turned to the cell where he heard that voice, and there he saw you.

Your face was thin, clothes dirty, and hair a mess, but your eyes still lit up the same way. Just like the first time you both set your eyes on each other, you were alone.“..Y/N?” The way you perked up when he called your name made his heart literally skip a beat. It was you, really you. He immediately opened the cell and entered to embrace you. “God, fluffy, its been a while huh.” You laughed as you hugged him tightly while he buried his face at the crook of your neck. Your scent was still the same, like home. Kirishima chuckled as he saw how Bakugou’s tail wagged back and forth quickly, and Bakugou’s face heated up at the realization. Quickly pulling away, he pulled you with him “Let’s get you outta here..” But you don’t fail to acknowledge how despite talking brash and walking quickly, his hands held yours quite gently.

Bakugou took you to his home secretly, telling Kirishima to deal with everything while Kirishima reluctantly agreed, not wanting to bear the wrath of his best friend. Upon entering his home, Bakugou got the bath ready, took some of his clothes for you to wear, and told you to go have a relaxing bath while he cooked some food for the both of you. Okay, you got this Bakugou, he thought as his tail wagged quickly, he remembered everything his mother taught him about “treating women right.”

Just as you were done bathing, he finished cooking. “Hey, here I cooked something for us–” Bakugou felt heat rise to his neck as he saw you wearing his shirt with your wet hair. “Thanks, fluffy!” Bakugou had to avoid your eyes when he felt his tail wagging furiously again, fucking dumbass, he cursed himself. You both ate in silence when you noticed him avoiding your gaze. “Fluffy, are you embarrassed?” You giggled as you teased the man. “W-what?? Fuck no! I’m just, uh the food is great y’know.” You giggled as Bakugou picked on his food. “..So.. what happened?”

When you both finished eating, you started telling him all that happened in your life. How you never got to meet your brother, how the village that they left you in got raided too, and how you spent most of your life alone, getting by going from one village to another, until a bunch of beastmen took you. You would joke how maybe it’s because you and Bakugou were the ones meant to be with one another, but the sadness and darkness in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him. “So, how’s your life here? Where’re Mitsuki, Masaru..?”

“They’re here in this village too, safe and sound.” Bakugou knew his parents would be delighted to meet you, but not now. It was too dangerous for you to be going around the village right now, he had to find a way to keep you hidden here, he’ll just get his parents to come over some time– “Huh..” Bakugou slightly jumped from his seat when he realized how close you gotten. “Can I touch it?” Bakugou was a blushing mess, his throat was closing up, and he felt his stupid fucking tail wag again. “Huh?w-what..” You kept staring into his eyes, he felt like he was being hypnotized, falling deeper into your soul. Was this it? After years of not meeting, were you finally gonna be his? Just like that? He really wanted it to be more romantic like his plans, but who was he to complain, he’d love to be your mate, whether you’re a human did not matter to him one bit. So, with a blush covering his cheeks, neck, and ears he whimpered. “..Yes.” You got closer and closer and he closed his eyes, ready to kiss you when– “haha your ears are as fluffy as ever, fluffy.”

You meant his ears, fuck. Bakugou felt like exploding, he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, he must’ve looked like a fucking idiot, pouting his lips. “..you.. You’ll be the death of me woman!!” Bakugou tackled you into a tickle fight, just like when you were both kids, but this time he actually won. You both talked a lot, telling each other about experiences you both went through, and you noticed that Bakugou’s was full of glory and… kindness. He revealed that he spared a lot of humans mercy, since not all of them actually want to be in this war right? This made your heart ache because he was right, most people were innocent and were just dragged into this mess.

As the night keeps growing, Bakugou decided that it was time for bed. He lead you to his bed and bid you goodnight. When he was about to leave you called out to him. “Fluffy? Where are you going? Aren’t you gonna sleep?” “Of course I’m gonna sleep, I’ll sleep on the couch.” He saw you looked confused, and that irked him a little, did you not think of him as a man? “A man and a woman in bed, at night, all alone? You sure ‘bout that princess?” Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname, and Bakugou smirked seeing you all flustered. “I might not be able to control myself you know–” “-okay, okay! I get it, ‘night fluffy.” Bakugou was about to leave when he said “Call me Katsuki.”

As you lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling you can’t help but think about him. Everything in the room reminded you of him, from the paintings on the wall, the scent of the pillow, even the color of the sheets. It all reminded you of him. And it killed you as much as you loved it, because it reminded you of him, of your mission.

“not all of them actually want to be in this war right?” Your heart ached at Bakugou’s words, because this applied to most people, but not you.

taglist: @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @scrumptiouslampwobblercop @zaiban2989 @kbbksworld14 @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #x reader #werewolf x reader #werewolf bakugou #werewolf

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aurathebardwife · 2 months

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It's a strange order, thinks Fox. Unusual more likely but orders are orders. It's not strange for Fox to trek through the Senate to the High Chancellor's office. It's also not strange to do so accompanied by Thorn or Thire, on occasion even both. But the loud march of footsteps behind him, that is strange. But orders are orders, so they follow whatever is told.

Fox announces their presence at the office and permission is given quickly.

"Remember what I told you and don't stay behind. I want all of you inside," he says to his men. He doesn't have to wait for confirmation, he knows his men follow him to the depths of this planet if they have to, and opens the door.

"Ah commander, I need..." Chancellor Palpatine starts but he falls silent quickly. Fox walks in first, followed by Thorn and Thire, and takes place next to the Chancellor's chair instead of in front of the desk. That spot is for others. More and more of his men enter the office. "Commander, are you sure... Look, I know I said... Hmm..." The Chancellor isn't sure what to say when he is slowly surrounded by the Coruscant Guard. They take place in front of his desk and filter around it, beside him and even behind him, until the Chancellor has nowhere to go. "Commander, what is the meaning of this?!"

"You asked for 60 of us, sir. I decided it would be best if all of us came this time, so you could see for yourself if this is enough," Fox answers. His men followed his order and all came into the office. He likes the nervous look on Palpatine's face, too bad there will be no recordings of that. Nothing ever gets recorded in this office...

"I know I did but this is excessive, commander!"

"What's the plan, sir?"

Fox enjoys the defeated sigh even more, how he wishes he could have that.

"Fine. I need you to," the Chancellor starts speaking and Fox should listen but he is distracted by the tense atmosphere. Nearly all of these troopers have never been in this office and it shows. His men are nervous. While it is not visible to the untrained eye, Fox can see it in their seemingly perfect parade rest, the slight sway, a tight fist, a nearly invisible shuffle of feet. Aside from that he picks up something else, his men are chatting over a private channel! He cannot listen in, but his HUD shows it. These plebs, that's not how to ac—

The first swish and stab come out of nowhere. Suddenly there's blood and the Chancellor bends over, clutching his stomach. Fox blinks at it, then at his men but no one seems out of place but also, no one helps.

"Commander! Argh! I need—" the Chancellor starts but Fox understands the plan. He nods and pulls out his own combat knife, shiny and rarely used.

"Whoever came up with this and didn't inform me, will get fresher duty for a month," he says and steps forward with the knife raised. The rush of stabbing his superior is great, the shout of his men following suit even greater. Not all of them do, some turn around to shield them from the door, others take the used knives and hide them in their pack, others start to clean armour. Blood flows and Palpatine screams. A well oiled machine and a perfectly executed plan.

The aftermath is even stranger than the plan. No punishment has been given after the Jedi found out that Palpatine was a sith. Instead the guard is congratulated for their quick thinking and a medal ceremony is held.

"Still wearing that chest candy, Fox?" Thorn asks him, as if he isn't wearing it as well.

"What can I say, it's not every day I get rewarded for killing my superior. Even if it has been a year now.'"

"And it's not every day a GAR wide holiday is celebrated. Where to Fox?"

"To the other Commanders at 79's." Fox can't stop himself and wraps his arm around Thire's neck with a grin. "To the death of an asshole!"

#ides of march #i couldn't help myself #commander fox #commander thire #coruscant guard #star wars clones #star wars #star wars the clone wars #palpatine #juzuwrites

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formulakatya · 7 months

Text

BLESSING IN DISGUISE | TAA

"maybe it's a blessing in disguise, i see my reflection in your eyes"

summary: where you and trent are childhood friends, you find yourself in a difficult situation, clueless on what to do, you call trent for advice.

pairing: trent alexander-arnold × freestyle skier!reader

notes: i'm back! i've been out of ideas recently but on a whim, i decided to write a story to the first audio i get on my tiktok for you page which just so happened to be reflections by the neighbourhood :) this is unedited work and a rather short story so im sorry about that!

warnings: none that i can think of, just really bad writing.

—

holding your skies tightly, you waited nervously for the score. you had given your final run your all, landing the prestigious and tricky 1620 jump. “come on,” you mumbled underneath your breath. your heart pounding, you held your breath as you glanced at the score board nervously.

93.50

you could’ve swore you felt your heart break right there and then. falling down onto the snow, you looked down at the ground as you tried to compose yourself together, desperately trying to hold back the tears threatening to flow.

it wasn’t enough.

composing yourself, you stood back up as you tried your best to smile as you congratulated the winner before walking towards your coach who engulfed you in a hug. “it wasn’t good enough,” you spoke through shaky breaths, tears spilling out.

“you tried your best,” he spoke on his attempt to comfort you. “at least you landed the 1620, first time in competition!”

“yeah,” you nodded before going back to the other two medalists, shaking hands with them as you posed for a picture.

“well done on that 1620!”

“thanks,” you smiled at eileen, your training partner and also the skier who had came in third. “well done on yours as well.”

“wanna go out for dinner later?”

“sure,” you nodded, trying to think about what you would do at dinner and during the few days extra you had in austria in a pathetic attempt to cheer yourself up.

but all you could think of was the silver medal.

—

staring at the ceiling, you wiped your tears dry as you let out a sigh.

why was it still not good enough?

turning your head, you picked up your phone to check the time before going through your notifications. you had put your phone on ‘do not disturb’, no doubt missing a couple of texts and calls.

trent: congratulations! what a performance!

staring at the message for a minute or so, you hesitated before opening the message, typing a quick ‘thank you’ and sending it before closing your phone and going back to staring at the ceiling.

what if you had done a different jump? what if you had executed the 1620 a little better?

looking back at your phone, you noticed trent had replied to your message as you unplugged your phone from the charging cable.

trent: if you wanna talk about it i’m free to call.

he knew you all too well.

deliberating whether you should take him up on the offer for a while, you finally decided to, dialling his number and putting the phone on speaker as you waited a response.

“hey,” trent’s voice could be heard from the other end of the line. “you okay?”

“could be better, honestly,” you replied. “how did you deal with it?”

“deal with what?”

“y’know…” you replied vaguely, not wanting to bring up the dreaded loss.

“oh,” he responded, picking up on what you were referring to. “not well to be honest, but talking to someone helped me. and lots of crying as well. i guess it was easier because we won the champions league and fa cup. seeing the fans at the parade helped as well.”

trent paused for awhile, nothing but a slight sigh being able to be heard on the other line.

“second place always feels the worst, i get that— especially losing by one point as well. but don’t be so hard on yourself, there’s no point y’know? you did everything you could’ve done and it was one hell of a performance,” he continued speaking. “i know you’re probably beating yourself up over it so don’t. there’s nothing you can do to change what happened and knowing you, you tried your best. you tried your best and that’s all you could really do. take a few days off, pick yourself up and come back stronger, y’know?”

“mhm,” you hummed in response. “it just hurts. it hurts a lot.”

“it’s only natural,” he responded. “you’ll bounce back, though, i know you will.”

“thanks, trent,” you smiled, taking in the words of advice. “you really helped.”

“no problem,” he laughed. “i’m always here if you need anything, alright, love?”

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #footballer #football #football fanfic #football x reader #football x yn #football fluff #football angst #football smut #football one shot #trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold fic

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