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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 5 months

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Could u do a Tom Blyth x reader where they’re roaming the streets of Berlin late at night after a day full of filming and the public don’t really know if Tom is in a relationship and then a few fans see you and Tom together. They post it on social media and it blows up and you read the comments and find very negative comments about you . The next time you and Tom go for a walk, you are very on edge and Tom notices this and asks you what’s wrong and he finds out you’ve been reading hate comments and he posts smth on his social media abt it or smth

Thank you :) I love ur work so much 💗

Noticed in Public || Tom Blyth x gf!reader

A/n: I love this! Thank you anon :) Also included my own little twist of reader being his hair and makeup artist.

Warnings: none!

Wc:

Divider by @pommecita

"I've been waiting for this all day," Tom lets out a sigh of relief as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, your arm wrapping itself around his torso. The two of you were on your nightly stroll around the city of berlin.

During the day, Tom would be filming on set and you would be doing his hair and makeup. You enjoy the time you would spend with each other during the hustle of filming days, but you most enjoyed the alone time you would have, exploring around the city that you would be in for a couple more months.

Berlin never slept. There was always something to do around even in the late hours of night. And you and Tom never got bored; whether it be exploring different parks, trying out different restaurants, or just walking around with each other; talking about everything and anything, enjoying each other's company.

You and Tom walk along on the many bridges in Berlin, people littering it. The good thing about hanging out in the middle of the night was that fans spotting the both of you was very rare. Tom's fans didn't weren't even fully sure that he was dating someone; let alone his own hair and makeup artist. Your relationship with him was very private, only with a few pics of you together but no one though much of it.

With an arm still around his torso, and his around you shoulder, pulling you closer to him, the two of you walk past a group of girls who probably were in their late teens. You couldn't help but notice their whispering as they looked at the two of you, Tom oblivious to this.

Feeling your arm slightly loosen around his torso and your attention somewhere else, he tilts your chin up, placing a kiss on your lips. "You okay?" Tom looks down at you as he studies your features. You nod, giving him a smile, "Yeah, of course."

He then peppers your face with kisses as you squeal making him laugh. "Are you Tom Blyth?" One of the girls from the group calls out from behind us as we both look back then look at each other. "Busted," He says before he walks fast, his hand pulling you along as you follow him off the bridge.

The next morning, you woke up beside Tom, his arm haphazardly thrown across your waist. For some odd reason, you woke up with a weird feeling in your stomach, you just weren't sure why. "Morning," Tom groggily says as you cup his face and place a kiss on his forehead. "Morning," You reply back as a lazy smile makes it to his face.

"You're going to be wearing your locks today," You point out to your boyfriend as he brushes his teeth, your preparing everything you would need to put his wig on. "Great, I get to spend more time with you," He smiles, his toothbrush still in his mouth as you laugh at his cuteness.

When you finish up with his hair and slight makeup, you walk with him to the filming set as you still needed to be with him throughout the day, fixing his hair and makeup throughout the day.

Around lunch time, you felt a buzz from your phone as you see what is was. It was a message from your sister. You and Tom are trending all over tiktok rn. You screw up your eyebrows as you follow the link she sends. Straight away, you recognise the girl to the be the girl who called out to Tom.

You watch the tiktok as she explains how she saw the Tom and a mysterious woman walking on the bridge and how she saw him kissing you, and walking away quickly when she asked if it was him.

She also mentioned that she couldn't quite tell who the mysterious girl was that was locking lips with Tom due to the darkness and the fact that you were wearing a beanie.

You tap on the comment section and scroll through them. A few people immediately saying that it was you since there were already a few pictures released of the two of you together. You couldn't help but notice the hate comments aswell.

Tom always told you to ignore the comments but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to know what they thought of it, even though it wasn't there business who Tom was dating. The comments stung.

They were the usual, 'she doesn't deserve him,' and the, 'he could do so much better' comments that stabbed you deep. Your mind lingered on it throughout the rest of the day. Tom could tell something was up when you were removing his hair and makeup.

You would usually conversate and laugh about the funny things that happened on set and whatnot, but this time, you were quiet, not really responding. "Darling," Tom grabs your forearm as you were packing up the desk.

"What's wrong? You've been acting strange all afternoon. If there's a problem, you know we can talk about it." He says softly as all you wanted to do was break down and stay in the comfort of his arms. "It's nothing, I'm just really exhausted. That's all," You try to smile, though it doesn't reach your eyes which Tom notices straight away, not buying your excuse.

"You sure?" He watches you as you quickly pack up everything as you smile at him and hum. Tom knew better than to push you and knew that you would tell him when you wanted to.

As the two of you did your usual walk around Berlin and buying random things, you were slightly on edge. Always on the lookout to see if there was anyone watching the two of you. You both decided to get some ice cream and waited outside the parlor.

Your head resting on his chest as he rubs circles on your back. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a group of girls walk your direction, whispering and giggling to each other. You instantly move so that Tom's frame was covering you as they walk by.

Tom looks down at you confused and then looks to the group that just walked by. "Y/n," He softly says to you as you don't respond, burying your face deeper in his jacket. "Y/n, please?" You sigh, turning your head to the side.

'"That girl that called out your name last night on the bridge made a tiktok about it and it's circulating around social media-" "Did you read the comments?" Tom blatantly asks.

"W-What?" You meet his eyes, "I said, did you read the comments?" He moves a strand of hair from your face as you sigh in defeat. "Ok- yeah- yeah I did. I couldn't help it!" You sniffle as hugs you tighter.

"Sweetheart, you know I how I don't like you reading those comments. They don't even know you and have absolutely no idea of how a beautiful girlfriend you are. I love you," He whispers as he kisses your forehead.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as he wipes it away. You go on your tippy toes and kiss him. His arm pulls you even closer to him by the waist to deepen the kiss. "I love you too" You whisper against his lips as you both smile.

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Liked by tomblyth and 4,298,928 people

What did I tell you guys? Tom and Y/n are the cutest 😭 (edited: HE FREAKIN LIKED MY POST)

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user387: my parents <3

user19: the fact that she’s his hair and makeup artist!

user2984: GUYS GUYS GUYS HE LIKED THE POST AHHH

user102: I KNEW SMTH WAS UP WHEN THAT VIDEO OF HIM GETTING HIS HAIR AND MAKEUP DONE WAS RELEASED

#tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games #hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas imagine #fanfiction #tom blyth x gf!reader #social media #social media au

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anonymityisfunwriter · 1 month

Text

I Can See You

"And I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission..."

Summary: You and Bucky don't see eye to eye, everyone knows that. They don't know that you and Bucky once knew each other under very different names. And they most certainly don't know that when he looks at you, he can still every stolen moment, his jacket on the floor, notes saying meet him at midnight, you up against the wall with him. No, they don't see that at all. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

"I already told you, I'm only doing this because I owe you."

Six months - that was your promise.

Six months of your time and best efforts.

"And as a part of this favor, you promised to keep an open mind."

And an open mind, you begrudgingly recall. You promised you would keep an open mind about making this a more permanent placement.

Nick Fury was sure that you'd find a home here in the Avengers Compound.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn't - but you weren't going to tell him that.

You hated owing people. Nick Fury even more so. You could bide your time for six months to pay your debt to him. He didn't need to know you had no intention of becoming an Avenger. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Nick."

"That doesn't sound like an open mind," he admonishes.

You smirk, enjoying the frantic hustle and bustle of the Avengers Compound with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, "You know that I don't do well in teams. I don't play fair, Nick."

"Never heard that one before."

"But I bet you believe me, don't you?" you retort.

"Open mind."

You roll your eyes, waving him off, "Yeah, yeah, when exactly do I get to meet these self righteous assholes?"

"How does now sound?"

"Like my worst nightmare," you mutter under your breath.

If he heard you, he doesn't let it show. Nick flings the door to the conference room open, revealing two men standing beside each other poring over a case file.

It's not their impressive statures that catch your attention. In fact, the blonde one hardly catches your eye at all.

And if you weren't highly trained and disciplined, a gasp would've lodged itself in your throat at the sight of the brunette you never thought you'd see again.

"Ah, Nick told us we might be meeting you today." The sandy haired super soldier extends his hand out to you. It doesn't escape your attention that the brunette snaps the file shut the moment he sees you. "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

You return the gesture, still barely paying attention to the man. Your eyes flicker to Bucky. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was entirely unfazed by your sudden reappearance.

You're thankful you do know better. You know so much better.

Bucky's eyes meet yours for a split second, they narrow slightly. It tells you everything that you need to know. You've caught him off guard.

Steve takes Bucky's silence as his cue to interject. He clears his throat, gesturing to his friend, "And this is Bucky Barnes. He's a, well, he's a man of few words."

Apparently, that hadn't changed since you knew him under an entirely different name.

"It's nice to meet you," you say to Steve. Your eyes flicker back to Bucky. His jaw ticks as a wide grin pulls at the corners of your mouth. He's worried that you'll give away his dirty little secret. Your eyes flash over to him, a mischievous gleam that Bucky doesn't miss, "The both of you."

Steve smiles at the change in your demeanor, "Nick filled me in about your little deal. Exactly how long is this trial run going to run?"

"Six months," you confidently reply, unabashedly staring at Bucky. "I'll be out of your hair in six months."

"But we're keeping an open mind, aren't we?" Nick urges you again.

You playfully roll your eyes, a beaming grin on your face, "Of course, Nick. You know, I don't know why, but suddenly, I get the sense that these next six months are going to be a hell of a lot of fun."

"That's an interesting take," Steve lilts.

"She's your problem now," Nick quips.

"Me? A problem?" you gasp in mock offense. You turn to Bucky, who's still yet to say a word. "Do I look like a problem, Bucky?"

Bucky's eyes narrow again. The muscle in his jaw ticks yet again. You swear you can almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. It's almost enough to make you laugh.

The silence is palpable as Bucky glares at you. Steve nervously laughs, taking a step closer to you. He gestures to your duffle bag, "How about I show you were you can put your stuff down? We'll give you a chance to settle in and you'll meet the rest of the team first thing in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan, Captain."

"Just Steve is fine."

"See?" You call over your shoulder to Nick. "I'm already having so much fun."

You're not surprised that he came to find you minutes later. If you're right, he waited just long enough to make sure he wasn't being obvious. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to feel his lurking gaze far before you see him. "I can see you."

"Why did you lie?" Bucky furiously demands, standing in the doorway of your new bedroom.

You grin to yourself, still turned away from Bucky. "Nice to see you again, Soldat."

"Bucky," he firmly states, his hands curling into tight fists. "My name is Bucky."

"If I recall correctly, you liked when I called you Soldat." You turn on your heel, taking several steps toward Bucky. He knows he should stop you. He knows he should stay as far away from you as possible, as far away from your bedroom as possible. And yet, there's a side of him that wants nothing more than to feel you close to him all over again. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't push you away. Not even when you're close enough to touch him. "Or did it sound better when I whispered it in your ear?" You lean in, your voice dropping to a soft whisper in his ear, "My Soldat."

He does his very best to suppress the shudder that rolls through his entire body. It takes him a beat longer than it should to regain his senses and take a step away from you. He demands again, "Why did you lie?"

You chuckle, finally stepping away and allowing him his space, "Would you prefer I tell your team mates about your history of getting a little too close to your enemies?"

"What makes you think that they don't know?" Bucky challenges.

You languidly shrug, "We'll call it a hunch."

"I'm not that person anymore." Bucky takes an angry step forward, desperate to convince you that he's a changed man. "I don't keep secrets anymore."

"So tell them," you offer. "What do I care?"

"You cared enough to lie," Bucky shoots back.

"If you want to let your team know that we used to fu-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm not that person anymore," he repeats himself. This time, he's not sure who he's trying to convince.

"Then we shouldn't have any problems, should we?" you rhetorically ask.

His eyes narrow, his gaze sharp and ready to kill, "What are you up to?"

"Me?" You gesture to yourself, resting your hand on your chest. "I'm not up to anything. Come on, Soldat, don't you trust me?"

"No, I don't because I know you, and you're always up to something," he bitterly accuses. "You've always got an angle."

"I assume you're talking about that day."

"You sold me out."

"You'll never see, will you?" You roll your eyes at him, waving him off, "I'm simply doing the favor that was asked of me."

"Six months?"

"Six months. And no one will ever have to know. Unless, of course, you can't help yourself."

He scoffs, "That won't be a problem."

"History has a tendency to repeat itself, Bucky," you state, putting an extra emphasis on his name.

"Not this time. Here's how this is going to go." He reaches out, snatching your wrist. His grip is tight enough to force you to pay attention, but not enough to actually hurt. "I'll stay away from you, and you're going to stay away from me. Got it? Let's just - let's keep this professional."

A grin spreads across your face. Your eyes flicker down to the burning grip on your wrist. You like that, even now, even after all these years, you still have an effect on the man you once called yours. "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm as reformed as you are."

That's exactly what worried him.

The months passed as quietly as Bucky could ever bring himself to hope.

Still, you never quite let it rest, never let him rest.

You always had a way of letting him know that you could see him. You could see how he was struggling to contain himself, struggling to suppress every flashback, struggling to simply keep his eyes off of you, struggling to contain all the feelings that he denied he felt for you.

He wondered if you knew that you kept him up all hours of the night. There were so many nights he spent sleep evaded, wondering what would happen if he just knocked on your door. Would you be up waiting for him? Would you smirk that smirk? The one he'd come to love and hate all at once. The one that was haunting him. The one he saw every time he close his eyes.

It wasn't just at night. It was every night. Every day. Every waking moment that you danced somewhere on the outskirts of his awareness. Every time you brushed past him in the hallway. You had to know you were driving him to the brink of madness.

Sometimes, you barely acknowledged him. Sometimes, you gave him that infuriating smirk. Every single time, he saw it. Every single time, he saw you.

That part of his life was, for lack of a better word, scrambled. And still, he could never forget your touch. That part was crystal clear.

And he couldn't decide whether he loved or hated the fact that it might just be you doing that to him.

It ate at him.

It was a special gift you possessed, he had to admit. You could make him see whatever you wanted him to see, the power to ensnare his senses. The good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. You had the power to do it, to make him see whatever you wanted him to. He told himself that's what it was. It wasn't remembering a long lost love, it was you messing with his head all over again.

He'd see flashes of the time you spent together once upon a time. His jacket on the floor. Up against the wall with you. Those old, crumpled notes telling him to meet you at midnight. He remembers every second of it.

But most of all, you. He remembers every whispered sweet nothing. He remembers the anticipation he felt every time he saw you. And he remembers your touch. Your lips on his, trailing down his jawline. Your fingers running over the planes of his chest.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't your powers. It was you. There was no forgetting a touch like that. No forgetting a person like you.

It just another way you tormented him. So few ever escaped the Winter Soldier. Even fewer lived to tell the tale.

Not you. You not only lived to tell the tale, you taunted him with it. After that very first night, where he was, you were. He was never quite sure if it was glorious happenstance or your own doing.

Your very first encounter, you caught him totally off guard - something previously thought impossible. He didn't see you. He didn't hear you coming. He didn't feel you slip past him to reach your target before he ever could. All he remembered was hearing footsteps in the dark street. He knows for a fact you could've disappeared into the night without him ever knowing. He whirled around, searching for the culprit. He saw nothing, no one.

It should've been quick, an easy kill. Instead, it was the first time he ever failed.

To this day, he swears that he heard your whispered laugh when he realized his target was gone, vanished into the night.

You showed yourself the second time. He was more prepared that time. Not ready for it, but more prepared. The first time his vision failed him, he sprayed the room with bullets.

"Uh, uh," you condescendingly tutted, allowing him to see you standing before him. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Soldat."

He saw you standing before him for a short moment, just enough to memorize your face. And then he lost all sight. You stroked his cheek, he remembers that. It was the first time you ever touched him. It was the most tender touch he'd felt in decades.

When he regained his senses, you were gone. Along with his target.

The third time, he caught you - or you allowed him to catch you. He wasn't quite sure.

"Who are you?" he demanded, pinning you against the wall.

"Poor, Soldat," you cooed at him. It confused him. There was no fear in your voice. For some reason, he knew that if he released your arms from his iron grip, you wouldn't punch, scratch, or claw at him. You wouldn't fight back. You'd taunt him with your touch all over again. And for a reason that was more unknown to him, he really wanted you to. "They truly tell you nothing."

His sight was gone, but this time, he refused to let go. He gripped your wrists hard enough to leave bruises, pinning them over your head, "Let me see you."

"Say please." There it was that taunt that he knew would come. There was a lilt to your voice he'd never forget. In that moment he knew, he was powerless against you and your whims.

"Let me see you. Now." He grips you even tighter. For a long moment, he still saw nothing. All he could feel was your body pinned against the wall, pinned against him. He softly exhales, his breath dusting over your lips, "Please."

He thought he memorized your face the first time you allowed him to see you, but he was wrong. There was so much he missed. He missed the slope of your nose. How soft and plush your lips looked. The mischievousness shining in your brilliant eyes.

He studied your face again. Over and over. Forcing himself to commit every detail to memory. Your smirk melted into the warmest smile he'd ever seen you wear.

You lean into him, as close as his grip will allow you to. So close that your lips linger a breath away from his. For a moment, he thinks you're going to kiss him. Instead, you speak softly, your breath skating across his lips, "I like you, Soldat. We're going to have fun."

His heart still stuttered. At the time, he didn't know what you meant.

He learned quickly after that.

It was the definition of a whirlwind romance - or as close to a romance as two assassins could possibly get. Long nights spent beside you. Jet setting across the globe for missions, just waiting with bated breath in the hopes that you'd be there. You never talked about what it meant, what you felt, all you had were those nights. Somewhere in those nights, he stopped being Soldat, and he started being your Soldat.

So was it you? Were you the reason he could still see it?

Or was it him? Was it the fact that he could never really let those nights go?

He was a different person than the one you knew all those years ago. He was on the straight and narrow. He stayed out of trouble. You were the epitome of trouble. You sold him out the moment it was convenient for you. So why can't he let you go?

You caught him off guard when you showed up here. He was determined to make sure that didn't happen again. He just needed to be on his best behavior.

He knows you've been watching him - but he can see you, too.

You make a point to brush past him in the hallway on the way to the conference room. He thinks you can't see it, but you've been watching him closely.

You can see the waver of his Adam's apple, the way his eyes dart in your direction when you pass him, the way his jaw ticks shut as if he were doing his very best to contain himself.

Your days here on the Compound were dwindling down to your last few weeks. He still couldn't figure out why he couldn't let you go.

Even as he sits across the conference room table, you overwhelm each and every one of his senses. You pretend like you don't see him taking the seat directly across from you. Instead, you lean closer into Sam.

Sam grins at you. "So you can show me anything?"

"Anything," you promise, driving Bucky mad by using that torturous smirk on Sam.

Bucky's not sure what Sam sees. It could be anything. A powder white beach on some far off coast. A meadow filled with fragrant, vibrant flowers dancing in the daylight. You could make him feel like he was plummeting to his death. You could make him feel loved for the first time in his life. You could let him know a betrayal like no other.

He shakes away the runaway train of thought, focusing on the far off look in Sam's eye and the look of wonderment painting his face, "Whoa..."

"Bucky," Sam calls, his voice filled with laughter as you use your gift like a party trick. "Come try this! She's like a human VR."

"As tempting as that is," Bucky sarcastically remarks, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd like to get this meeting over with."

"Alright, team," Tony calls out, beginning their latest team meeting. "Fury added another assignment to our docket. Black tie, intercepting a black market intel deal. You get in, you get out. Should be easy enough."

"Whatever you say," Bucky mutters under his breath.

"Barnes," Tony smirks. "I'm so glad you agree. You're up."

"What? Why?" Bucky demands.

Tony nonchalantly shrugs, "Because I said so."

"Asshole," Bucky grumbles.

Tony's eyes flicker over to you next. In that moment, Bucky freezes. There's no way Tony know about the two of you, but it certainly feels like Tony's doing this just to punish him. "And you can take the human VR with you."

"No," Bucky sharply refutes, gripping the table so tightly he's sure Tony will have to get a new one. "I go, I go alone."

"Sorry, Barnes, we'll need more than brawn to get us into that gala."

Six months. Almost six months passed and he'd done everything in his power to avoid this. To avoid being alone with you. To avoid working in close proximity to you and the aura of temptation and betrayal that shrouded you.

The number of favors he now owed to his teammates was proof of it. He had no interest in testing the limit of his will power. "Then, I'll take Wanda."

Tony crosses his arms, shaking his head and looking far too pleased at Bucky's discomfort, "Nope, she's needed on a different assignment."

You smirk, tongue running over your teeth like a predator watching their prey fall into their trap. "Careful, Bucky, I'm starting to get the sense that you don't want to work with me."

Bucky's eyes dart to you, grimacing at you, "Whatever."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun."

"Bucky," Steve starts, tightly gripping his shoulder as the room filters out. "What's the problem?"

Bucky glowers at you as you saunter out of the conference room. Of course, you're far too pleased with this outcome. You make a point to grin at him as rage rolls off of him. "I don't trust her."

"Why? She's never given us any reason not to."

"Because -" Bucky starts, faltering after only a word. He can't bring himself to say why. That was between you and him. A memory he buried long ago. "Forget about it."

But he remembers. All of it. He remembers the moment you betrayed him and broke his heart all too well.

"My Soldat..."

He sighs in relief, he finally stops pacing the floor of your safe house. You asked to meet days ago and you had yet to show up. Weeks had passed without hearing from you. You'd never gone this long without making yourself known. Finally, here you were, back in his arms where you would always belong,"It's been too long. I was beginning to worry."

"Don't ever worry about me, my Soldat." Your words are sharper than he's ever heard from you, it shocks him. You caress his cheek, fingertips trailing down to his jawline, your words soften to a gentle whisper, "Don't ever worry about me."

He bends down and kisses the palm of your hand, "I will always worry. For you, I will worry for as long as I live."

You smile, resting your hand over his beating heart. That's why you were doing this. You made deals with people you hated, resigned yourself to a life always looking over your shoulder, and sealed your fate, all to keep his heart beating, all to give him the long, happy life he deserved.

"And for that, you'll always be my Soldat." You kiss him with everything you have left. Your last kiss. A goodbye kiss. Because if you loved something, you set it free. If they came back to you, they would always be yours. And now, you were setting him free. And he would never forgive you for this. He would never be yours again. "And that's why it had to end this way."

"What are you talking about?"

You back away from the window of your safe house, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

And that's when the SHIELD agents swarmed.

It was a moment hard to forget. Yet it was equally hard to remember, to remember why he didn't trust you, to remember why he could never allow himself to let his guard down, not when you were so good at taunting him. He was sure you were taunting. He knew it from the very moment you stepped into the armory in a red dress that nearly stopped his heart.

You make it a point to saunter past him, tossing a laugh over your shoulder, "Don't worry, Soldat. I'll be on my best behavior."

"I won't hold my breath." Flashes of old memories race through his head. This time, he's sure it's you. His eyes snap up to you with a glower, "You said you were going to be behave."

"I said I was going to be on my best behavior," you correct, making a show of picking out your knives for the night. "This is pretty much as good as it gets."

"That's what I was worried about," Bucky sighs to himself.

"Lighten up, Soldier. It's my last night, I'd like to have just a little fun."

"Last night?"

"That was the deal."

Bucky's eyes dart away from you as you lift your leg up. The fabric of your dress slides up as you strap a small dagger to your holster. He knows you're doing it on purpose to rile him up. That's not what worries him. What worries him is if you're not doing it intentionally. If you're not trying to get his attention and he's just so viscerally aware of you that he can't stop thinking about you. That's what worries him. He doesn't trust himself enough to be this drawn to you. He clears his throat of the knot forming, "So you're not staying?"

"Why? You gonna miss me?" you tease. He remains silent, his eyes unflinchingly forward. "Let's not kid ourselves, Bucky. You didn't want me to stay. Too risky - I might ruin your squeaky clean reputation."

He's absolutely certain that you're the only person that's ever referred to his reputation as squeaky clean. "You're really leaving?"

"It's okay, Soldat."

"I told you not to call me that," Bucky snaps. He's aware that his self control is slipping minute by minute. Every second in your presence is a test of his restraint.

"Do you still remember? Can you still see it in your mind? Or do you need me to show you?"

"Stop." He barks the second a flash of the memory starts playing in his head. He can see himself tossing his jacket on the floor in a frenzy. "That's enough."

You smirk that damned smirk at him again. His fist clenches tightly, the knuckles of his flesh hand white with strain. "You're thinking about us right now, aren't you?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push the image out of his head, he frantically shakes his head, "Stop it."

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"Not particularly," he rasps.

"Liar."

He clenches his jaw so tightly that he's worried he might break a tooth or two as he desperately tries to hold onto his last ounce of self control. He's fighting a losing battle. "I'm not a liar."

"So what would you do? If I touched you right now?" You rest your hand against his chest. "If I got just a little bit closer?"

He hopes you can't hear his heart stutter. "I - I wouldn't do anything."

"What if you knew they would never find out? If we were so quiet and we didn't make a sound?"

"It wouldn't change a thing."

"What if I told you I remember it all? Every night. Every mission. Every time you kissed me."

"I-" His voice falters. Now was his chance. This was it, whether he wanted you to stay or go. Would you stay if he admitted that he never stopped thinking about those stolen moments? Or would you betray him all over again and laugh in his face and smirk that damned smirk with pride at bringing him to his knees? He can't put his finger on it, but in this moment, he doesn't care. He'll take the chance. He swallows the knot in his throat, "I would tell you I remember all of it."

Your hand twitches against his chest. "What?"

"I remember every second. I'll never forget any of it. I could just never figure out: Was any of it real?"

"Can't you see, my Soldat?" Your hand skates past his collarbone, up his throat, coming to rest on his cheek. Your hand caresses him with a tenderness he thought he would never feel again. "It was always real. Every moment of it."

"Then why did you do it?" he softly exhales.

"I had my reasons."

He lunges forward, and in the blink of an eye, he's gripping your wrist and pinning it to the wall behind you, "Tell me."

You grin wildly. You've been here with him before. "Arrogant as ever, Soldat."

"If it was real, why did you do it?" he demands, flexing his grip.

You lick your lips, momentarily debating whether or not to give him the truth. It ate at you for years. From afar, you could live with the knowledge that he might always hate you for what you did. Watching the conflict warring in his eyes was an entirely different battle. You figure, of all the things you could give him, the truth would at least give him some sense of peace. "It wasn't safe."

He loosens his grip slightly, "I would've protected you."

"It wasn't safe for you."

His eyes flash open. "What?"

"You were my mission, Bucky," you finally confess. "There was never anything else - anyone else. It was you. Only you."

He lets go, the shock sending him staggering. Your hand skates down the wall, but he doesn't move back to allow you the space to move. "You were sent to kill me."

You tilt your head at him, "I clearly failed."

"That doesn't explain why you betrayed me."

"Someone found out about us."

He shakes his head, his eyes storming with anger, "No, we were careful."

"Someone knew. I got a nice gunshot in the back to prove it. They knew I wasn't going to complete my mission. They knew I was never going to kill you. I wasn't going to lead them right to you. I didn't know who was watching. I wasn't - I wasn't going to gamble your life until I was sure that they were all gone."

The realization dawns on Bucky almost immediately. Sure, you were one hell of an assassin. Sure, your powers were beyond belief and could take down even the most heinous villains. But not even you could singlehandedly take down the crime syndicate you used to work for. An organization almost as massive and pervasive as HYDRA was. That's why you put yourself in Nick Fury's debt. You did it for him. "That's why you owed Nick Fury. That's why you sold me out."

"As twisted as it sounds, you were safer in SHIELD's custody. The moment I knew you were safe and in custody, I killed each and every one of them."

His voice is hoarse as he speaks, "You should've told me."

"I wasn't going to risk your life just so you wouldn't think badly of me."

"Then why did you come here?" he demands. "If you had no intention of telling me the truth, if you were going to pretend, why ask to come here?"

"I didn't ask to come here. I didn't know you were here. I stopped looking for you some time ago."

"Why?"

"I dug deep to finish what they started. And once I tore them down brick by brick, I needed to rebuild. I had nothing left. It took me a while to resurface."

"Oh." There's a tightness in Bucky's chest at your confession. He never looked for you. He though you betrayed him. Up until now, there was no reason to believe anything else. You rebuilt your life on your own. You had no one, nothing left. You were left all alone. He left you all alone.

There's a strange look in Bucky's eye when you finally look up at him. There's a lightness you haven't scene in quite some time. "What?"

The corner of Bucky's mouth twitches up. You may not have known, but Nick Fury sure did. "Fury knew I was here. He knew where he was sending you. He knew about... us?"

"I assume he figured it out when I came to him, begging him to help me keep you safe."

A shaky exhale dances across your lips. Bucky closes the gap between the two of you, pressing you up against the wall with him. "It was real."

For the first time in a long time, you touch him. You rest your shaky hand against cheek, your fingers ghosting over his lips, "Finally, you see, it was real... my Soldat."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a

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zapreportsblog · 9 months

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Let’s Have A Baby

➥summary: Hobie and his girlfriend babysits her cousin and seeing how good she is with kids, hobie decides that now he wants a baby too

➥ Hobie brown x reader

➥ one shot

➥ a/n: heads up I’m high writing this, I was smoking weed

The sun beamed brightly through the curtains, casting a warm glow in (y/n)'s cozy apartment. Hobie arrived with a smile, a bouquet of colorful flowers in hand, ready to spend a relaxing day with his girlfriend. They had been looking forward to this quality time together, away from the hustle and bustle of their busy lives.

As the day unfolded, they lounged on the couch, sharing laughter, stories, and affectionate moments. Time seemed to fly as they lost themselves in each other's company. The comforting ambiance of the apartment created an atmosphere of tranquility that made them forget about the outside world.

Just as they settled into their leisurely pace, there was a sudden knock on the door. (y/n) hesitated for a moment, wondering who could be visiting at such an unexpected time. She opened the door to find her relative, Alice, standing there, with two adorable kids by her side – a baby, Lily, and a bubbly toddler, Max.

Alice looked flustered and explained the urgency of her situation. She had an important appointment that couldn't be postponed, and all the babysitters she had arranged canceled at the last minute. She turned to (y/n) with a hopeful expression, "I hate to ask, but would you be able to watch the kids for a few hours? I promise it won't take long."

(y/n)'s heart melted at the sight of the innocent faces of Lily and Max. Despite her initial reservations, she couldn't resist their charm and, after sharing a brief glance with Hobie, agreed to help her relative out.

“Yeah, sure I don’t mind.”

With Alice's heartfelt gratitude, she handed over a diaper bag filled with essentials, along with instructions on feeding and nap times. As Alice rushed off, leaving them with the kids, Hobie and (y/n) exchanged a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Hobie scooped up little Max in his arms, and the toddler giggled, quickly warming up to his newfound friend. Meanwhile, (y/n) gently cradled baby Lily, who was cooing softly. The apartment soon echoed with the sound of joyful laughter, toys scattered across the living room floor.

Hobie and (y/n) found themselves caught up in the sheer delight of playing tag with Max. The toddler's boundless energy and infectious laughter filled the room, making it impossible not to join in the fun. Hobie ran after Max with a playful glint in his eyes, while (y/n) carried baby Alice in her arms, wiggling her little feet in the air.

•••

"Tag, you're it!" Hobie called out, reaching out to tap Max on the shoulder. The little boy squealed with delight and dashed away, his tiny feet pitter-pattering on the floor.

Meanwhile, baby Alice, who couldn't run like Max, seemed to enjoy the game just as much. She gazed up at (y/n) with wide eyes, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement. Every time Hobie chased Max around the living room, (y/n) playfully moved Alice's legs as if she were running too. The sight of Alice's gummy smile melted their hearts, and they couldn't help but shower her with affectionate coos and kisses.

As the game intensified, Hobie and Max sped past furniture, making wild turns and laughing uproariously. The apartment echoed with the sounds of happiness and joy, as if time itself had ceased to exist, leaving only the present moment of shared delight.

The little apartment became their playground, and they reveled in the simplicity of the game. No worries about the outside world, no deadlines, just pure unadulterated joy. (y/n) was grateful for these unexpected moments, realizing that sometimes the best memories are made when life throws you a surprise.

After a few rounds of tag, they all gathered in the center of the room, breathless and exhilarated. Baby Alice clapped her tiny hands together, as if she knew she had been a part of something special. Hobie and (y/n) exchanged a knowing look, realizing that their day had taken an unexpected but wonderful turn.

With Max's energy finally waning, they decided to take a break and set up a makeshift picnic on the living room floor. They laid out a blanket and placed an assortment of snacks and toys for Max to enjoy. (y/n) continued to hold Alice in her arms, cuddling her close as they all sat together.

As they nibbled on snacks, Hobie couldn't help but be in awe of (y/n)'s natural way with children. Her caring and gentle demeanor was evident, and it only made him fall even more in love with her. Their eyes met, and in that moment, they silently acknowledged how much this day meant to them – the laughter, the love, and the sense of togetherness.

•••

With the excitement of tag wearing off, the group decided to wind down and enjoy a Disney movie together. Hobie found a classic animated film that he remembered fondly from his childhood, and they all settled on the couch with baby Alice nestled comfortably in (y/n)'s arms.

As the movie started, Max's curiosity got the best of him, and he turned to Hobie with wide-eyed wonder. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing at the main character on the screen.

"That's Simba," Hobie replied with a smile. "He's the lion cub and the future king."

"Why does he look sad?" Max inquired, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Hobie patiently explained, "Simba lost his dad and has to go on a big adventure to find himself and become the king he's meant to be."

Max nodded thoughtfully and seemed satisfied with the answer. But his inquisitive nature wasn't satisfied yet, and he bombarded Hobie with more questions throughout the movie. "Why are they singing? What's that animal called? Why is she wearing a dress?" Hobie answered each query with enthusiasm, happy to engage in Max's curiosity.

(y/n) chuckled softly, admiring Hobie's patience and how he interacted with Max. She couldn't help but feel grateful for having someone like him in her life, someone who not only embraced her family but also took the time to bond with her younger relatives.

As the movie played on, the room filled with a sense of warmth and joy. Baby Alice seemed fascinated by the colorful characters on the screen, her eyes fixated on the dancing animals and vibrant scenery. Every now and then, she would let out a contented coo, as if she were trying to join the conversation in her own baby language.

The movie continued, and Hobie and (y/n) exchanged affectionate glances, their hearts full of love and happiness. Despite the initial interruption to their planned relaxing day, they had found something even more meaningful – a chance to share special moments with the little ones, making memories that would last a lifetime.

As the movie drew to a close, Max leaned against Hobie, his eyes drooping with drowsiness. (y/n) gently rocked baby Alice, and soon, she too began to drift off to sleep, her little fingers curling around (y/n)'s thumb.

With the movie ending, Hobie and (y/n) exchanged a quiet smile. The apartment had transformed into a haven of love and laughter, and the unexpected visit had brought them closer in ways they couldn't have foreseen.

Hobie carefully lifted Max into his arms, cradling the sleepy toddler as they prepared to say goodbye to Alice and head home. But in that moment, (y/n) knew that the memories they created that day would forever hold a special place in their hearts, reminding them of the joy that can be found in the most unplanned moments.

•••

As (y/n)'s relative gathered her children to leave, she turned to Hobie and (y/n) with a grateful smile. "Thank you both so much for watching the kids. I know it was an unexpected request, but I couldn't have asked for better babysitters. You two are amazing with them!"

Hobie and (y/n) exchanged pleased glances, feeling a sense of pride in having cared for the little ones so well. "It was our pleasure," (y/n) replied, gently handing baby Alice back to her relative. "Anytime you need help, don't hesitate to ask."

With that, Alice and Max were on their way home, leaving Hobie and (y/n) alone once again in the tranquility of the apartment. As the door closed behind them, they let out a sigh of contentment, their hearts still warmed by the precious moments they had shared with the kids.

Hobie settled back onto the couch, pulling (y/n) close to him. He grinned mischievously and said, "You know what, love? I want a baby now."

(y/n) looked up at him, a mix of surprise and joy in her eyes. "Are you serious, Hobie?"

He nodded, his eyes filled with sincerity. "Yeah, I mean, seeing you with those kids, it made me realize how incredible you'd be as a mother. And I can't imagine anything better than starting a family with you."

Her heart swelled with love for him, and she leaned in to kiss him softly. "I'd love to have a family with you, Hobie," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and affection. "But let's take our time and enjoy each other for now. When the time is right, we'll make that beautiful dream come true."

Hobie smiled, understanding and respecting her wishes. He knew that their love was strong and that they had a lifetime ahead of them to explore parenthood when the timing felt perfect.

They spent the rest of the day in each other's arms, basking in the love they shared. Their hearts were filled not only with love for each other but also with the newfound joy of spending time with little ones. The unexpected visit had brought them closer than ever before, igniting a desire to create a future together filled with laughter, love, and the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

As the evening sun painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, Hobie and (y/n) knew that this day would forever hold a special place in their hearts. It had been a day of unexpected surprises, of building beautiful memories, and of realizing that their love had the power to create something magical.

With a sense of gratitude for the day they had shared, they snuggled up together on the couch, looking forward to the countless adventures and cherished moments that awaited them in the journey of love and life.

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yooniesim · 3 months

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I'm sitting here thinking about a pretty age-old debate on simblr... the race of sims that have black hairstyles, particularly in cc preview pics.

I know it's been talked about repeatedly, but when it comes to cc previews for paid cc I think it's especially worth talking about. Some people say, well, the creator only uses a few different sim models each time, it's not like they're intending to be racist or something. It's just for convenience, because they're busy, they're hustling, they gotta pay their bills. They always use the same sim, so it's fine. But like... isn't that gross to y'all? Someone making money off of black hairstyles, but they can't even be assed to go in cas for 15 mins to make a black sim? Isn't that a prime example of appropriation of black culture for profit? Like the human aspect of us as a person is gone, it's just another part of us being advertised and sold. Black hair makes money, black hair cc is limited, it will sell and nothing else matters. It feels like black hairstyles are some kind of trend with them too, because none of these creators made them before it was possible to profit off of them... back then it was "too hard" just like now it's apparently "too hard" to make a different preview sim.

Also, it's not lost of me that when a creator does make a black sim for their previews, they're as light skinned and white looking as possible. Whether just by skintone, very eurocentric features (like they just gave a white sim slightly darker skin), vitiligo to make most of the skin light, or claiming the sim has albinism. And while some of this I'm sure is just finding that aesthetic more "pretty", I also think this has to do with potential sales. I'm going to be honest... besides engagement by black simblr itself, I've noticed a lot of posts I have get less engagement/reblogs if the sim in question has darker skin and darker hair. It's much more likely to pick up in the mainstream cc finds blogs/YouTube videos etc, if the content is for white sims or the sim has lighter skin and light hair. I don't care about engagement and simply make whatever sim I want to make, and since I do have that variety, it's how I noticed this strange trend. And with the volume of content paywall creators make, I think they noticed this too. Posts with lighter skinned sims get better engagement, and thus, make more money.

Have you ever noticed, even in paywalled cc packs, there will usually be a sort of token effect? One white sim, one ethnically ambiguous sim, one black sim. This is great if you're showing off something that will vary for different skintones- makeup and skin details, for example- but why is it always like this? And why is the variety usually only in previews for cc packs instead of solo items (like hairs)? It feels like it's all to sell better, to appeal to different demographics and say, hey, I didn't forget poc exist! Please pay for my content! It feels disgenuine, and since creators like this rarely engage with the community anymore besides paid content, it's hard to figure out whether they feel this way or not.

Personally, I don't care much what people do in their own games- I might look at them weird for a sec, but I move on, cos it's their issue not mine. But like many other aspects to this community, when it crosses over into paid content, it sparks my interest. It feels like everything, everything, is about maximizing profit now. And for the people that focus on that, that's their prerogative and all, I can't exactly stop them, but. It's just something I observed and wouldn't mind discussing with y'all.

(Note: I don't apply the "profiting off black culture" part to black creators, obviously. Also no hate to any creators that do this stuff. Be reasonable adults, please. I'm just discussing in a constructive criticism type of way.)

#ceci speaks #nonsims #text #the patreon issue #ceci speaks a lot more #negative #kinda?#just thinking #first thinkpiece in a while lol

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sweetracha · 1 year

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First Sleep Over with Stray Kids

Goodnight Moon: Lee Know

Sugar Content: Spicy Sweet (Smut), Sugary Sweet (Fluff), Sour Sweet (Mild Angst)

Allery Warning: Idol Member, Secret Relationship, Lowkey Unhealthy Relationship, Possessive Minho, Dom Minho, Nicknames (Kitten, Princess, Master, Sir), 'Public' Intercourse

The Sweetest Treats: @cr4ziee0szn

Confectioner's Note: This is my first time actually writing smut. While I read it, it was definitely different to write it. Hope you all enjoy!

Amber glows through the cracks of the log as embers burn out into a dark night sky becoming the stars. The moon chandeliers above as the subtle fog surrounds the venue. The world became the stage for lovers, dancing as if a part of nature itself.

Minho held you close. His hold was gentle as if he'd shatter you but secure as not to let the soft breeze take you from him. Nothing will take you from him again.

All Min knew was flashing lights, tabloids, gossip, packed stadiums, little sleep, and dancing. That was his safety in this all. When he danced he was able to block out the whole world around him. It didn’t matter if he was one of the biggest idols or an absolute nobody, dancing was his lifeline. Then he met you.

You were working at a small cafe located in the heart of Seoul. Patrons easily missed the quiet escape amongst the hustle and bustle of the city. Music played over the speakers in a low hum. Almost unconsciously you swayed along. Slowly you began to lose your mind to the calm melodic tunes. DING! You snapped to attention as the little sliver bell rang, alerting you of a customer. There you were met with a different Lee Know than the world knew. No longer was he the confident, cocky, stone-cold idol. Instead, he was a shy captivated boy who now knew what his childhood storybooks meant by love at first sight. Sweet as the sugar you baked with, you greeted him.

The next year went by like a flash. Two comebacks, a world tour, hosting, and everything else that took him away from you. As an idol, he was not allowed to date, especially a nobody like you. He hated how the company described you that way after finding out. JYP himself organized a meeting to discuss "outside influences" affecting the team. Minho's blood boiled when he saw those words. The boys loved you! Chan saw you as a gift to them. The maknaes came to you for comfort most days. Even Changbin admitted on more than one occasion that he would protect you from any threat. To imply you were hurting the team made Minho want to quit altogether. But he knew that wouldn't be what you wanted. You told him one night after a tearful confession that he was not allowed to pick you over his career, you made him swear by it.

So without much of a choice, he had to break your heart. He showed up at your apartment and delivered the bad news then left. The staff made him delete all your information and scrub any trace of his once beloved sweetheart from his life.

Or at least that's what the company believed. After the meeting concluded Chan pulled Min swiftly into a supply closet, sporting looks of confusion from other idols. Christopher laid out the plan in full. Lee Know was to remain single and tell the public the reason why he frequented the bake shop was upon staff's request. However, Lee Minho would be fully committed to his blushing love as long as he kept it hidden. That meant no photos, no open lines of communication, and no more visiting his favorite Cafe. Everything began to weigh on you two until a little chicken came up with an idea.

"Why don't you two go camping?" Felix stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We can't 'just go camping' Felix, it's not that easy" Minho snapped back, he hated talking about you in this way. "Why? Chan only stated that you two can't be in public or visit each other's places…the woods are pretty private if you ask me" Lixie said with a hint of suggestion and a wink in his eye. He was right though, camping had been another escape for Minho before his life became crazed. Maybe it could be an escape now for the two of you? A place where he can have you all to himself, where no one can get in the way.

“I need you” he stated bluntly. His sudden words shook you out of your trance. With a giggle you responded “But you have me”

Long slender fingers tilted your chin upwards, making you stare into Minho’s now possessive eyes. “Kitten I need to show the world you are mine. I need every single living thing to know only I can have my kitten.” You nodded and he approved of your now redding complexion.

Minho laid you down on the previously discarded blanket you two used for dinner. Soft fabric barely protected you from the rough ground but you didn’t care, not with how Min is feeling you up. He groped and grabbed as if he needed to know this wasn’t a dream. The now naked beauty in front of him was too good to be true.

“Minho touch me, please” You pleaded as he took his sweet time savoring your skin under his lips. You tasted as if you were created in that little cafe he loved so much. “Please sir” your weak little voice lit a fire in him.

“Look at you begging for me darling. Your sweet little moans are so tempting kitten. We are alone you know? Finally alone…and I am going to give you so many reasons to scream” His eyes went dark.

Minho lowered himself down your body as he slowly spread your legs. His grip was enough to tell you not to move them. While you both knew you were more than capable of being a brat, the way he was acting tonight told you that you better behave. A gentle test lick was given to your clit not long after a confident stripe followed.

“You taste fucking delicious kitten, and you sound even better” he continued with his actions upon hearing your cries of pleasure. Once he felt you were wet enough, Minho easily slipped in two fingers. “I haven’t had time to fuck you properly baby, You've gotten so tight on me again. I need to prep you isn’t that right pretty girl?” His words were sweet but laced with a mocking tone. You were drunk on him. All you could do was cry out incoherent statements as Minho felt you clench around his digits. “Come on baby, you know what to do. Show the stars just how good I can make you feel.” With one final thrust, he felt you convulse through your orgasm. Min helped you down from your high but in your foggy state, you didn’t notice him pull his cock free from his sweats. It wasn’t until you felt the tip pushing through your entrance did you realize.

“I can’t it's too much” Your oversensitive mind took over. “You can princess, you are going to lay there like a good obedient kitten and take what I give you. Got it?” “too big” “I said ‘Got it’” Minho emphasized with a hand to your neck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you whined out in satisfaction.

He wanted to start slow, he really did. But with the way you were looking at him, glossy-eyed and innocent as you babbled away he had to ram into you. Quickly he sent a hard and steady pace that made you scream out. It was when you went completely silent, face contorting in pure ecstasy that he knew he found it. “Does that feel good kitten, did your master find your sweet spot?” he asked rhetorically as he slammed into that spot over and over again. With the way you were clenching around him, he knew he wouldn’t last long. He doubled his efforts if that was even possible.

“PLEASE” is all you could get out before you constricted again. “Cum for me pretty kitty, fucking cum” and with that you did. Shortly after Minho followed with a rumbling growl of your name. He fell next to you on the blanket, heart beating rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. A warm soft feeling came over him. Looking down he found a sleepy kitten curled into his chest. He knew he needed to clean you up and take you into the tent…but that can wait for a few moments. Right now he just wanted to be with you. He wanted to spend time with his true escape.

Sleep Over Series Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, I.N

#stray kids #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids fluff #skz smut #skz fluff #lee know x reader #minho x reader

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yeahyeahchloe · 10 months

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It Wasn't in my Head (1)

(a/n: hellooo! im super excited to be putting my ideas into writing ((finally)) and sharing it with u! this will be a multi part fic, im not sure how long yet, but i am a fan of long slowburn stories so get ready. also, this story will contain inappropriate themes so minors and ageless blogs dni! this is only my third or fourth fic ive ever done so plz be nice to me hehe. ok on with it then)

Summary: Abby is the starting linebacker at UW and when her team starts to falter her coach decides to get the team into ballet, in order to teach them that grace and stability is important in football too. Abby is just as upset about her teammates about this, until she sees her pretty new ballet teacher...

dancer!reader x football!abby

!!ABBY IS STRAIGHT IN THE BEGINNING. READER IS HER GAY AWAKENING!!

The locker slammed in the empty room as the blonde walked out alone, ready for practice. There were a few "hey man"s thrown her way as she walked out the doors.

Abby had always had a thing for sports since she was a kid. She tried a lot of them too, none of them quite working out.

That was before she found football.

Football was one of the only things that ever made Abby truly happy. She knew it was kind of corny to say, but she seriously felt lost without it.

So when she worked her ass off and was offered a once in a lifetime opportunity to play on the men's football team at the college in her hometown, it just kind of felt like fate was aligned.

Abby jogged over to where she saw everyone else running and started doing so. Abby got along fine with all the boys on her team, I mean it was her team after all, but she never really felt the need to truly befriend any of them. She had her close circle and that was all she needed.

Her said close circle consisted of her friends Miguel, Ellie, and Vi.

Her and Miguel met when they were teenagers at a boxing class. She ended up hating boxing but loving what came out of it. Miguel was the type of guy to make anyone feel good about anything. He could turn anything into the funniest joke, or a life lesson.

And Ellie, well she met Ellie not long ago, when their dads met in a poker club and Ellie's dad kina killed Abby's in the game. They had been friends ever since they started talking about their lack of mothers and love of corny dad jokes. Abby had also always known Ellie was gay, but the deal was kind of sealed when she would gush about her crush on a girl named Riley.

And Vi, well Vi was Abby's best friend since childhood. Abby was embarrassed to say, but she was the scared, shy kid sitting on the ABC rug in the classroom. Thankfully, Vi was the complete opposite and marched right up to Abby on her short little legs and struck up conversation. And the rest of the story just kind of wrote itself.

"Hey! Hey Anderson! Slow down!"

Abby looked over her shoulder to analyze the face calling out to her. She turned back ahead and cringed before turning back around and smiling at the man.

Owen wasn't a bad guy per-say, it was really just the way he couldn't learn when to stop. He had practically been eating out of Abby's hands the past three years they've been playing together.

It always confused Abby why she wasn't attracted to Owen, but she sort of just wasn't, and she thought she had made that pretty clear. She also just liked to think that sports were important to her, and she had too much going on for crushes or relationships.

"Hey Owen what's goin on?" Abby slowed so the man could catch up and tried to approach the conversation politely.

"Oh yaknow...practice," He said in between huffs, trying to catch up with the fit girl next to him, "What about you?"

"Yeah just, practice," She commented, coated with awkwardness.

Owen went to open his mouth to speak again, but thankfully her coach whistled loudly and told everyone to hustle in.

They flocked over to their coach and took a knee in front of him while the moustached man opened his mouth and started speaking.

"I called y'all over here to talk before ya started doing drills," he gruffed in his strange accent, "I hope y'all have noticied, that all your scrimages have been straight crap recently. I've seen blindfolded toddlers play ball better than you sissies!"

Abby cringed at his harsh words, but she couldn't help but agree. She assumed everyone was slacking recently due to the fact it was August, and the season hadn't even started yet.

"So, since I wont be caught coaching a ton of pansies, I've decided to get some outside help," everyone seemed confused by his words, and Abby couldn't help but be confused herself.

What the hell kind of outside help did they need?

"Huskies, y'all are gonna be taking ballet classes," the coach said, smirk prominent on his mustache covered lips.

Everyone immediately groaned and commented with wild distaste for the man's decision.

"Shut your nabbin!" he erupted with anger in his voice, "I don't want to hear another damn word! Y'all are takin ballet to learn that just because you think you're big tough men, don't mean you are! You will learn how to move properly on your feet, improving your agility, balance, and strength coordination. You start tomorrow and are fortunate enough to be taught by the greatest ballet dancer in the state and a student at this school. Dismissed,"

Fuck

(a/n: ok wow first chapter! hoped you guys liked it, I promise the next chapter will be more interesting. I will try and have it out soon! ♡︎♡︎)

#tlou #abby anderson #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #x reader #ellie williams #joel miller #first chapter #im nervy #i hope u likey #athlete!abby #football!abby

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 3 months

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🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Seven

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

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Your eyes were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. With the sun slowly beginning to lower itself beneath the horizon, twinkling lights illuminated cobbled streets. You hadn’t seen much of the hustle and bustle of the day life of the town, but the night life was only just beginning. Street vendors selling popup stand food emerged and began their tune, calling for customers while food sizzled over flame. The firelight reflected within your sparkling eyes and your mouth began to water from the smells.

“My stomach is definitely hungry now,” You whispered, fingers unconsciously curling around Shanks’ white tunic. The older man laughed at you, more than happy to hear that even common street food was not below your standard.

“We can try some of it later, once I know that your stomach can handle it,” He told you, looking down into your face and trying his hardest to resist relenting to the pleading pout that had appeared. “I’m serious, Aria. Hongo said that your stomach is hardly used to our food, you could make yourself really ill if you dive into street food head first.”

“Oh I do hate it when you are right,” You huffed at him, lips pouting a little further. “But I haven’t gotten sick since that first week now have I? Surely a little bite won’t do any harm…” Shanks’ eyebrow rose at your words. You had a way with words and facial expressions he’d come to learn at the beginning of your stay on board the Red Force. Surely a byproduct of your upbringing. The ability to control ones emotions and face was a strict quality among nobles.

“Bat your eyelashes at me all you want, madam Aria,” Shanks replied to you, raising his hand and flicking your hat from its perch on your hair so he could fully see your beautiful face. The strings caught around your throat, keeping the hat resting between your shoulders. The man then gently knocked his knuckles beneath your chin. “No street food until Hongo says so.”

Curses.

Your gaze turned petulant and you let out a huff in complaint. All these wonderful smells and you couldn’t even have a single bite!

“That is very cruel of you, Captain,” You huffed demurely, looking around at the stalls with a more than necessary mournful gaze. “Well it’s not like you can keep me from buying my own food.” Oh? The noble lady was now using blackmail? Shanks chuckled, knowing that while you could indeed buy your own food against Shanks’ wishes, you were a stellar patient to Hongo and wouldn’t dare go against anything he had told you.

“Come, the men are waiting and refuse to begin drinking without you present.” Shanks said, turning your attention away from the tantalizing street food. His fingers ran down your forearm before finding your own and claiming them. “Best stick close, these nights can get a little rowdy at times when the drinks come out.”

Letting Shanks lead you through the crowd by hand, you forced your mind away from his hand clutching yours firmly and warmly to consider his words. The men are waiting and refuse to begin drinking without you present. Why would the men refuse to drink without you present? You’d never intentionally intruded on their drinking time and tended to stay on the fringes of their drinking nights, watching and observing rather than partaking. Hangovers looked painful.

“Why are they refusing to start drinking without me?” You finally asked after a minute or two of walking and contemplating in silence. Shanks glanced at you, a curve on his lips. You were a smart woman, clearly, you had gotten yourself out of a very bad situation all by yourself in such an extraordinary way… but you weren’t that observant when it came to what the crew thought of you. “Shanks?” You probed again. “I don’t even drink unless it’s wine.”

“Remind me to introduce you to Mihawk,” Shanks mused, thinking of how you and his old friend would have similar tastes in the refined alcohol. “They want to start the night off with you since this is the first island you’ve been on besides your home. They want to celebrate.” Your forehead scrunched.

“They are going to get highly inebriated, aren’t they…?”

“In your honor, Aria,” Shanks laughed at your facial expression. “In your honor.” The rest of the way to the bar was spent in silence, your fingers holding onto Shanks warm ones as he lead you through increasingly busy streets. You had to admit to yourself that in your excitement, you hadn’t taken in to account of what it would be like to be surrounded by so many people. It was almost suffocating for you. Shanks, feeling your grip tighten up to a clench, glanced back at you. Your eyes were darting about and you were breathing at a heavier rate. You looked like a prey animal wanting to bolt. So he gave your vice grip a gentle squeeze, redirecting your attention away from the people and back to him. Your eyes met his once more.

“We’re almost through the thick of it, it’ll be quieter once we reach the outer harbor.” He promised you, how words assuring and soothing. It still amazed you that he could calm your fraying nerves with but a few words and a gentle reassurance. The anxiety attacks you had suffered from living under your mothers roof usually took a lot more than gentle words of affirmation to placate what your mind had locked itself in. Taking a deep breath and trying to remain calm beneath the street lights and racket of the night life, you nodded at him.

Just as Shanks had promised, when he led you down a little cobbled road that hung between two vendors selling leftovers from the morning bakes, you felt your nerves settle as noise and people faded to a distant rumble. Of course there were still people about, but not in the congested quantity you and Shanks had just vacated.

“Claustrophobic?” Shanks softly questioned, slowing down his pace now that he had you out of the midst of the night life. You loosened your grip on his hand before shaking your head.

“I— I don’t think so, I’ve just never been around that many people so close to me at once.” You spoke, placing your other hand over your beating heart. “It reminded me of how I felt in Bonn manor. It was—” You sighed and stared at the distant waters of the Blue. “It was suffocating to me, like I was trapped inside a marionette doll for my mother to puppeteer in front of guests.”

Shanks couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live as someone else’s puppet, but he could understand not having the freedom to do what you so wished. He couldn’t help but look closer at your body, checking all the places you had looked so sickly thin and boney in. Even with only a few weeks of good food in you had already rounded out some of the points on your body. In passing memory, Shanks wondered if the terrible bruising he’d seen on your back and torso had healed. He wanted to ask you about them. Desperately desired to know so in fact. But he didn’t want to overstep his boundary with you. It wasn’t like he could just ask you to remove your tunic so he could inspect your torso.

“You’ve cut your strings, Aria,” Shanks finally replied, glancing at the bar you and he were nearing. “And we’re going to make sure that no one can thread you again.” Looking into his serious face, you fully believed his words. Shanks was a man of his word. All the men on board the Red Force were. Pursing your lips, your eyelashes fluttered while you contemplated the very strings you had cut.

You could still feel them on your back, dragging along as you walked and leaving behind a trail that would no doubt lead your mother right to you should you make even one mistake. She was a tenacious mother whose child had disobeyed. You shuddered in thought of what you would face should you ever land yourself in her presence again. Your attention was diverted when Shanks let your hand go and took your chin in hand.

“Aria?” He questioned, seeing the storm of thoughts behind your lovely eyes. You had been thinking hard about something, something that bothered you. “What is it?” There was no way you were going to unleash all your worries and fears upon this man, not when he had already taken on so much burden because of you.

“I don’t know the first thing about bar etiquette,” You stated frankly, watching as Shanks’ eyebrows furrowed and laugh lines appeared. The pirate snorted at you.

“First rule of bar etiquette, there is no bar etiquette. Just be polite, which you always are, and mind yourself. Sometimes people go looking for a fight when they’ve had too much to drink.” Oh you knew that all too well, your mother had a perchance to indulge in an entire bottle of vino when you displeased her. She was somewhat of a violent drunk, both in fist and word, she also had a favorite crop she liked to use for ‘behavior’ correction. “—if anyone tries anything with you, come get me, okay?”

Staring into Shanks brown eyes you nodded before plastering a frank look on your face, pushing back your worries and fears.

“I’m not the sort to go looking for trouble, Shanks, that would be unbecoming of me and you know it.” Another chuckle and a twitch of his lips, and the man drew his thumb across his lips.

“Aye, but it’s not you I’m worried about…” He mused, knowing full well that at least one drunk would be stupid enough to try and siddle up to you to shoot their shot. You were an incredibly beautiful woman. “Just stay close to at least one of us while we’re here, I don’t want you getting drink on your new clothes.”

That only make you scowl in reminder that he’d paid for your clothes, and with a knowing grin the pirate directed you into the bar.

The amount of dirty looks you had sent Shanks was entirely unbecoming of you as a lady of good breeding but the man was being entirely ridiculous and you were at your whits end! It was hard for you to get over him paying for your clothes, you were more than capable of doing so! All you had to do was pawn off one of the expensive gems on your pendant. It was as simple as that. But no, you hadn’t been allowed to pay for your clothes, and apparently, your drinks too. Shanks had requested a glass of the bar’s best wine for you try out, because you had made it very clear that you did not drink booze, you drank wine, and then smugly left you fuming with glass in hand.

“And here I thought I was being petulant,” You softly murmured to yourself, eyeing the red haired man over your glass. He and the men were several drinks in and playing rounds of cards to determine who would be buying the next round of drinks. You thought it ridiculous but also found it somewhat amusing to watch them fight over who was sneaking looks and who was slipping cards into their sleeves. Of course, even though the men were very engrossed in their card game that didn’t stop Shanks from periodically lifting his gaze to check on you. Each time he did so you replied with a look that only made him grin and flash his dimples. “Entirely ridiculous,” You huffed to yourself, turning away to pick at the cheese and bread Hongo had approved of.

It wasn’t a glamorous meal by any means, but cheese, bread, and wine was delicious and it wasn’t kind that was found on the Red Force. You’d been told that both were locally made so at least you got to try some of what Ingles had to offer. Nibbling on a piece of cheese, you listed to the snail singer belting out a tune that apparently everyone but you, knew. More things you didn’t know. How frustrating.

“With the number of scowls you’ve sent the capt’n I’m beginning to wonder what he did,” Your gaze broke away from the signing snail.

“He knows what he did, Snake,” You simply replied, ripping off another chuck of bread and eating it as delicately as you could. Some habits you’d never get rid of. “Who’s winning?”

“Benn, pretty sure he snuck a look at Lime’s cards though,” Building Snake grunted, nodding at the barmaid after she had refilled his tankard. “Then again, they’re all playing dirty tonight.”

“Should I be surprised?” You questioned, pirates were pirates after all.

“Usually they play straight, no peeking or nothin’, but they’re going a little harder tonight since we’re celebratin’ your first island.” The pirate shrugged, scratching the back of his head.

“Sounds more of an excuse to just get inebriated, I do hope they can swim because I cannot and I will not be rescuing any of you if you fall overboard.”

“They can take care of themselves, little lady, you just enjoy yourself and don’t worry bout us.” Building Snake went back to join the table and you watched on as the game of cards continued. But even as the night continued, your enjoyment dwindled to be replaced by worries and fears. Three weeks of freedom on board the Red Force had nearly tricked your mind into believing that you were safe and stable. But it was a temporary solution was it not?

Lingering thoughts of safety troubled you, even after the men wrapped up their drinking and cards and herded you back to the Red Force in a protected circle of drunk men. You were rather in impressed at how well they could still move despite their state and only shook your head at the thought of what the morrow would bring: a hangover. You’d only had two glasses of wine, not nearly enough to cause you to lose inhibition. But you certainly felt its effects.

While everyone else had headed beneath the deck to get some much needed rest, you remained on the highest deck, sitting in a chair and gazing at the stars. You had thought that the alcohol would make you feel less worried about your situation and future, but if anything, it had loosened up the emotions you held so tightly in your chest. Fears and insecurity were biting at your heels like rabid dogs while your mother tightened your cut strings around your neck like a noose.

“All that effort to make you relax and I still find you thinking.” Shanks soft voice broke the quiet night, and twisting your head you saw him coming up the stairs from the main deck, bottle in hand. You eyed it. “Water, little one,” He reassured you, coming around to take the seat next to you with a sigh. “I’ve been drinking long enough to know that I’ll need it.”

Humming in reply, you gathered your legs to your chest and rested your chin on your knee, now looking at the calm waters. You never realized just how much you liked the sea until you had spent three weeks on a ship out of necessity. For a few moments quiet stretched out and the sounds of waves slapping the hull filled the deafening silence.

“You are worrying again,” How infuriatingly astute of him to notice. Was there nothing you could hide from the captain?

“It’s nothing you need to be concerned over, captain,” Shanks rolled his head to look at you with raised eyebrows. You refused to look at him, choosing to keep your gaze on the water. Back to being formal and reserved, Shanks found it frustrating and saddening. He sighed and leaned back in his seat.

“It was the Lord of the Coast,” He started, thinking back to the fateful day his life had changed. Lord of the Coast. You knew what that was, a Sea King. A vicious one too. Your history tutor had spent an entire week giving you lectures on the Sea Kings, so you knew a bit about them. What had Shanks done getting mixed up with such a dangerous beast? Your eyes flickered to the place where his left arm once resided. Oh. “I met a little boy, Luffy, on Dawn Island. He hung around the ship while we rested and got supplies. Loved the idea of becoming a pirate. Nearly took his eye out one day trying to prove himself.”

Now your attention was entirely on Shanks. Of course you had wondered how he had lost his arms but you certainly had the manners to not outright question him. But losing an arm to a Sea King? Losing only an arm to a Sea King? You knew that Shanks was smart, clever, but not just anyone could tangle with a beast and live to tell the tale. Seeing that you were finally looking at him, Shanks continued.

“Me and the crew had a run in with some… disgruntled pirates, they weren’t too happy we had already drank the only bar dry. Luffy got mixed up in the mess and the next thing I know the boy’s been taken out to sea by the disgruntled captain.” Your eye twitched a little, there was no need to drag an innocent little boy into a disagreement. What kind of pirate did that?

“At least he could swim, couldn’t he?” You softly questioned, hoping that the boy hadn’t just been dropped into the sea to die. A wry smile appeared on Shanks’ lips.

“Course he could,” He told you. “But he ate the devil fruit the men and I has in storage, and made a scene in front of the pirate.”

“Salt water…” You murmured, slowly realizing in horror that the pirate did drop a little boy in the sea knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to swim. Your eyes burned, tears threatening to form. “Oh no, don’t tell me he drowned.”

“He didn’t, I got to him in time,” Shanks reassured you, taking a sip of his water as his shoulder ached in memory. “But by the time I got to him, the Sea King showed up and lunged.” He swing out his remaining arm like an axe. “I lost my left arm, but I saved Luffy and that, that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.”

“You wear your sword sheath on your right hip,” You pointed out, eyebrows furrowing as reality weighed heavily in the air. “You’re…”

“Left handed, indeed I am,” Shanks finished for you. “I’m not afraid to help those who need it, Aria, no matter what sacrifice.” A chill ran down your spine, for you knew that he meant those words. You could see it in his eyes. But you didn’t want him to sacrifice more of himself just for you.

“I can fight my own battles now,” You said, willing those words into your heart and mind. Shanks had no doubts of that.

“True,” He echoed with a nod. “But who says you have to fight those battles alone?”

Date Published: 1/16/24

Last Edit: 1/16/24

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#one piece shanks #one piece #opla #opla shanks #shanks x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 3 months

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Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic Rivals AU])

Hiii! New day new chapter! Sorry it took so long to get out, my birthday is in Sunday so I’ve been busy. Not proofread, enjoy!

Cursing, slight mentions of wounds.

Word count: 2k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 8: No, I don't wanna fall in love with you.

—

Swinging around the city always helped clear Miguel's head, finding it very calming compared to the very chaotic hustle and bustle of Neuva York. From the top of the Empire State, everyone looked like ants, and it gave him the ability to de-mask himself without the possibility of anyone finding him. It was one of the many perks of being Spider-Man, the ability to hide away above the rest of the world.

Although, usually the breathtaking skyline against orange and pink hues that painted the sky was enough to serve as a temporary distraction before he had to return to his usual routine, but it seems that today’s events were too much for his mind to just drop. With a heavy sigh, he ran his gloved hand through his now slightly disheveled brown locks, gripping his mask with his free hand.

God…

As if you hadn't already dug some sort of permanent spot into his life, now you were completely messing with his mind without even knowing it.

He shouldn’t have kissed you back. Not because he didn’t want to, because if he was being completely honest with himself… maybe he did. But, you’ve never liked him, you’ve never liked Miguel. He’s convinced himself his whole life that he disliked you, not just because of your constant battle at attempting to one up each other grade wise, but because you both were far too stubborn and egotistical to be able to sit in a room with each other without squabbling. He’s never been partially nice to you, sure, but neither have you to him. He hated you.

Right?

He wasn’t so sure anymore. But he knew for certain how you felt about him. You loved Spider-Man, not Miguel. And although he knows he’s being a bit selfish, and only going to hurt himself in the process, he was gonna keep it that way. He’d take all the snarky comments and glares you shoot his way, if it meant being able to kiss you again. He’d shatter the entire universe in his bare hands if it meant for you to keep kissing him the way that you did.

—

“O’Hara, hey- are you deaf now or something?” Your hand landing on his shoulder pulls him out from his thoughts, he’s been in them more often than usual lately he glanced over his shoulder to send you a quick glare before turning back down at his notebook. His eyes scan over the words on the page but none of them registered in his mind. He felt your finger tapped on his shoulder. “You can’t keep ignoring me. We have to work on this project, you know.” You huffed quietly, your eyes drifting from the back of his head, to the front of the class to make sure the teacher wasn’t watching and back again. “You’ve been skipping out on practice.” This was the second time today you’ve tried to get him to talk to you, and still he doesn’t give you anything but a glare, the cold shoulder, it was insufferable. The biggest thorn in your side had decided to just remove itself at the worst time, two weeks away from the presentation of the scene project.

With a huff, you sat fully in your seat once more and looked back down at your own book. Just deciding to attempt to catch him after class again, but the more the time ticked away the more your agitation towards him grew. This was somewhat odd behavior for him. He hasn’t flat out ignored you since you had been in the 7th grade, the most you’ve gotten out of him as of recent is his usual glare or scowl. You’d never admit to his face, but him ignoring, it almost felt like torture. You have no idea what you did for him to suddenly give you the cold shoulder, a week ago at the aquarium before your sudden graze with death, you had thought that you both somewhat gotten along for once. Now he goes out of his way to dodge you in the halls or leave your texts on read, you couldn’t help but feel that same small sinking feeling in your chest that you felt when you first tried talking to him in the 6th grade only for him to scoff and turn up his nose at you. If it weren’t for the fact you had to work on this stupid project together, you probably wouldn’t be so persistent.

Or, at least that’s what your telling yourself.

—

8:45pm.

Miguel was currently an hour and 15 minutes late to yours and his study session, not like he showed anymore anyways. At least he could justify the nagging voice in the back of his brain telling him to go to your dorm by telling himself that patrolling was a better use of his time and resources, and way less of a headache then having to deal with you when you’re pissed off.

Thankfully, the streets of Neuva York were relatively calm, no crazy mastermind villains trying to take over the world, just a few pity crimes here and there, not enough for him to actually break a sweat but just enough to not be able to call it a night just yet. Small vandalism, an attempted mugging, helping an elderly lady cross the road, small more simpler tasks. With each one ignoring the small inconsistent yet slightly irritating buzzing that his phone was releasing in his suit pocket.

11 missed calls, and 24 unseen messages. His gloved thumb slowly scrolled through the preview of the messages as he took a small break on top of a random counter rooftop, his free hand pulling his mask up to just above his nose before going to grab the BLT sandwich from the bodega and taking a bite out of it. Each chew and swallow becomes slower the more he nears finishing the sandwich. Telling himself he’d finally suck it up and face the music, the migraine inducing headache that was your scolding.

As he downs the last bite, he clicks on your contact, finger itching to hit the call button.

“Help!”

“Shit…” He mumbled to himself as he quickly pulled himself up on his feet, stashing his phone away once more before his mask was back over his mouth.

He’ll call you afterwards, he tells himself.

—

9:38pm.

He flaked. Again.

“I’m not surprised, still disappointed though.” You mumble to yourself as you go to change out of your school clothes and into a nice pair of sweats and a sleeping shirt, placing your headphones on to listen to some music, it’s still early enough so you decided to get some reading in. Stretching your arms over your head, before going over to your bookshelf, your fingernails tapping the spine of each book until you reach the one you wanted to read.

Setting back into your bed, after turning off your overhead light and turning on your lamp instead, you finally open up on the page that you left off.

“Now you must have a good long holiday!”

“I intend to.”

Something in his resolute tone made Jo look up quickly to find him looking down at her with an expression that assured her the dreaded moment had come, and made her put out her hand with an imploring, “No, Teddy. Please don’t!”

“I will, and you must hear me. It’s no use, Jo, we’ve got to have it out, and the sooner the better for both of us,” he answered, getting flushed and excited all at one.

Tap tap.

“Say what you like then, I’ll listen,” said Jo, with a desperate sort of patience.

Laurie was a young lover but he was in earnest, and meant to ‘have it out’, if he died in the attempt, so he plunged into the subject with characteristic impetuousity, saying in a voice that would get choke now and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady…

Tap tap.

“I’ve loved you ever since I’ve known you, Jo, couldn’t help it, you've been so good to me. Now I’m going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can’t go on so any longer.”

“I wanted to save you this-“

Tap tap.

“Is someone throwing rocks at my window or something?” You quickly close your book after rebookmarking your page, trying to wave off the idea, your on one of the higher levels of the building. So being able to accurately hit the window over and over would be difficult.

Placing your book on the side of your bed, you get up and go to draw your curtains back, only to be met with a familiar blue and red mask popping up in your window pane. Your brows shot up and biting back the urge to let out a small startled yelp, your hands made quick work to unlock your window and open it up to allow him to climb in, trying his best to not knock over all the trinkets on your bedside table. Trying your best to stifle your laugh as you watch him crawl all over the tiny surface like a cat.

“I didn’t realize we were at that level, Spider-Man.” You joked, letting a small chuckle slip past your lips as he finally stumbled onto his feet and off the counter. Your laughs only increased as you watched the red lines on his mask narrow as he seemingly glared at you.

“Says the one who kissed me.”

“Touché.” You said only you were able to eventually stop laughing, allowing your eyes to finally scan over him. Your face quickly contouring into one of concern when you finally noticed the large tear on the side of his left hip, along with a bleeding bash. You must have not noticed it by the way he was bending over. Your hand flys to cover your mouth as you stare at it, it wasn’t life threatening, but it sure as hell looked painful. “Oh my god, what happened!?”

“Oh this? Pff, it’s nothing” His left hand goes to cover the gash from your view as his right hand goes to wave the question of, his tone nonchalantly as if he had just gotten a paper cut. Now it’s your turn to glare at him.

“Can you let me help you patch it up at least?” You asked, but you were already guiding him to sit on your half done bed. “I’m not a medic or anything, but I can at least clean it up so it doesn’t get infected.” You added, going towards your bathroom to search for your first aid kid that all the dorms had.

Once you found the kit, and didn’t hear any protest from the spider, you made your way down to your knees to his left and began to clean up the wound, murmuring a silent apology when he winced from the rubbing alcohol making context with the wound.

“…You must get tired of having to always clean yourself up and restitch your suit all the time huh?” You finally broke the silence,tossing the blood and alcohol soaked cotton in your small trash can.

“It’s…yeah, sorry about, badgering in and stuff, I wouldn’t have stopped by if I didn’t think I couldn’t make it home.” His admission made your heart sink a bit, but it wasn’t completely true, his building was another few minutes of a swing from yours, and his brother always helped him clean up after a nasty fight.

Miguel just wanted an excuse to see you and talk to you again.

“You’ve saved my life twice, Spider-Man. You are always welcome to stop by if you need help.” You tell him ernstly as you wiped off the last bit of blood off his hip, before going to place wrapping on the area.

“Thank you…” He whispered, his tone just as gentle as it was the first time he spoke to you when he reassured you he wouldn’t let you go.

“Of course.”

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini @cowboylikeevie @thedevax @codenameredkrystalmatrix

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #love me or hate me fanfic #academic rivals au #atsv miguel #miguel ohara spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel fanfic #miguel x reader

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jaybirddreads · 5 months

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Trolls Band Together: "You just call on me, brother" (John Dory and Floyd)

Floyd’s letter is wrong.

When it first appeared, stuck to John Dory’s door, his heart overtook his head. Floyd was reaching out to him. Floyd– Floyd wrote him. John Dory’s heart sank as fast as it had risen when his eyes skimmed the contents of the letter. Immediately, the handwriting wasn’t Floyd. Or, it wasn’t the Floyd that John Dory remembered. Floyd’s scrawl was barely legible half the time back then. John Dory would spend hours deciphering his sheet music and lyrics and re-writing them in neat printed letters so they could actually practice instead of triggering aneurysms trying to read Floyd’s handwriting. John Dory had been jealous of Branch back then, because he didn’t know how to read. The handwriting in the letter that John Dory had received was big and clunky golden cursive with strokes a lot bolder than his shy little brother.

The contents of the letter itself worried John Dory as he read it over and over again.

Dear John Dory, (Floyd– if he had written this letter– would have addressed him as John or JD.) I’m being held against my will by superstars Velvet and Veneer. Come to Mount Rageous at once and bring our brothers. Love, Floyd, the sensitive one. (Floyd would never sign off as ‘the sensitive one’.) The message itself, apart from the strange greeting and ending of the letter, was weird. John Dory didn’t know in what world his stubborn, sarcastic little brother would refer to his kidnappers as ‘superstars’.

Floyd would also never want to risk putting any of his brothers, especially Branch, in danger. It would make no sense for him to tell John Dory to bring their brothers or even contact him– as concerning as it sounds now that he thinks about it. John Dory is positive that his brother did not write this letter. John Dory’s reasons to come to this conclusion are; 1. He claims to be being held captive. 2. It’s just not something that Floyd would do. 3. How would he even get the letter to John Dory if he’s all the way in Mount Rageous? 4. How the hell would Floyd have ever found John Dory in the first place? He lives in the middle of nowhere.

John Dory has no idea who Velvet and Veneer are, but if there is a chance that they are hurting his brother, he will do anything in his power to put a stop to that. John Dory is not going to abandon his brother again. A few years ago, he head trekked back home with his tail between his legs in search of forgiveness from at least his Gran and youngest brother only to find his grandmother’s pod abandoned, overgrown with weeds, and infected with dozens of insects. All that was left in the pod was Gran’s dirty furniture and a couple of dusty framed pictures still hung on the walls. John Dory had collected those as carefully as he could and cleaned them. They’re put away in a cupboard somewhere around his living space. He has no idea if Gran and Branch are okay, but he hopes they are. If Floyd needs his help now, John Dory is going to provide, like he should have for all four of his younger brothers years ago.

He closes the letter– that is most likely bait– and grabs one of his many maps.

Mount Rageous is a far trip from where he is right now. If he and Rhonda hurry, they can cut the trip down to a day and a half. He’s not the biggest fan of hustling, but if that's what it takes to get to Floyd before anything really bad happens, so be it. Luckily, Rhonda loves hustling. She purrs, shaking excitedly when John Dory hovers his finger over the red-orange button.

John Dory hits the ground hard after they slow down. His elbows and knees ache. They’re still hours from Mount Rageous, but that’s good. It gives him time to come up with a plan. He knows he wants to get to Mount Rageous, find Floyd, and get him out, but that’s a wishlist, not a plan. John Dory’s radio hisses and he reaches up to turn the dial. He skips through stations, trying to find something quiet since Rhonda hates when he turns the radio off. He passes a station and pauses, turning the dial backward. We now return to superstar sensations, Velvet and Veneer’s latest hit single– music bleeds through the radio, a catchy beat that John Dory can instantly recognize as the type of rhythm that made him and his brothers famous in the first place. A girl and a boy begin to sing, the sounds of their voices are unreal. It eerily reminds him of Floyd’s singing. The people who might have hurt his brother are popstars? Ironic. Creepy, maybe. Stalkerish, probably.

The radio provides him with nearly everything he needs. It gives him the date of their next concert, the location, and the duration. Later tonight, when he arrives at Mount Rageous, he will have to find the Boom Box before 9pm where he will have an hour to find Floyd and break him out. It’s not much better than his wishlist, but it definitely has more properties of a plan. John Dory was almost glad that it was rageons that had Floyd. They were definitely easier on the eyes than bergens, and not as strong. The moment Rhonda crossed the threshold between the Troll Kingdom and Mount Rageous, the difference was clear as night and day. Everything was big, shiny, and neon. Even the people.

Rhonda went unnoticed, tiny among the gigantic vehicles of the rageons.

It didn’t take as long as John Dory had imagined to find Boom Box. The crowds pouring out the door were a clear indication of what it was. It reminded John Dory of his days of selling out venues. Rhonda jumps from the main road and digs into the tail-end of the crowd, weaving through dancing rageons left and right. John Dory steers her into a dark corner, under a lonely bench that all the party-goers are ignoring. The music thrums through the air and Velvet and Veneer’s voices are much louder and much clearer than they were over the radio. They’re singing a song that feels so much like Floyd that it’s messing with John Dory’s head. The lyrics swim around his head, as if he’s a teenager again, sneaking Floyd’s journal out from under his bed to see what was going on in his little brother’s head. He and Spruce used to giggle at Floyd’s unnecessarily deep ramblings about whatever it was that got him in a tizzy. Yes, it was wrong of him to invade Floyd’s privacy like that, but in his defense, Floyd was the heaviest sleeper he had ever met (and John Dory would be lying if he said that Floyd didn’t have a talent of lyrical genius– some of their best hits were thanks to Floyd and his sad, sad journal).

John Dory rolled out of the way of several pairs of heavy black boots as a brood of angsty rageons dragged their feet to get to the snack bar. He ducks through several long pairs of legs until he reaches the nearest wall. John Dory watches as the shiny giants dance and laugh and cheer. He slides against the wall until he reaches a vent, just out of sight from most of the rageons. If Floyd is here, John Dory will search every single nook and cranny until he finds his brother. John Dory runs down every vent, turning corners sharply. He peers through every grate he finds. He sees bathrooms, dressing rooms, offices, and storage closets.

He feels almost hopeless until he comes across the final vent opening in the west half of the building. John Dory peered in through the thin grate blinds. It was an empty purple dressing room. Make up, wigs, and costumes were strewn about haphazardly. John Dory was about to turn away and look in another part of Boom Box when his eyes caught a glimmer of something. He saw a large ornate purple perfume bottle. John Dory’s eyes widened when he noticed something move inside the semi-transparent bottle. A spark of magenta had John Dory propelling down into the dressing room without a second thought. He hit the surface of the vanity, face first, with a resounding thunk. John Dory groans, peels his face from the vanity, and shouts Floyd’s name.

Floyd– his sweet, shy, sensitive brother– gasps and presses his hands against the glass of the perfume bottle, “John Dory!” he gasps, his voice trembling with strained emotion. It’s so strange to see Floyd now, after nearly twenty years. His little brother is a man now. A man trapped in a giant glass bottle. Yeah, John Dory was right. There was no way that Floyd had written that number. “I never thought I’d see any of my brothers again.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” John Dory says, pressing his hand against the glasses where Floyd’s hand was. “I’ll get you out.”

“You can’t,” Floyd’s eyes were wide with fear, “it’s a trap, JD. Velvet and Veneer are pop obsessed succubi and they’ve been stealing my talent to get famous!”

“I know it’s a trap. I’m not leaving you here. Not my brother.” John Dory shook his head. He looks around the dressing room, searching for something he can use to break the glass and get his brother out of that suffocating bottle. John Dory attempts to break the glass, but it’s no use. He kicks at it, punches at it, throws the heaviest things he can carry at it.

Floyd drops his head against the glass with a soft thump, “It’s no use, JD. The bottle is made of diamond…”

“Diamond,” John Dory repeats the word. It rolls off the tip of his tongue like a dry, dusty heap. There is only one thing that can shatter diamond. John Dory feels helpless once more. Floyd’s eyes droop as he stares at his feet. “There’s only one thing that can shatter diamond…”

“Yeah,” Floyd laughs miserably. Laughter and loud foot falls cause his head to shoot up, “John, you have to leave. They’re coming back. If they catch you—”

“Floyd, I won’t abandon you.” John Dory argues.

Floyd slams his fist against the glass, “No, just save yourself, please. Do it for me.”

“Floyd–”

“I don’t want to see my big brother trapped in a jar.” Floyd says.

The door knob jiggles and the click of a key echoes. John Dory looks at Floyd, his chest swelling with determination. He shoots his trusty grappling hook up, and it latches onto the vent. “I’ll be back for you, bro. Count on it.” John Dory’s pulled back up into the vent as the door opens and two near-identical rageons enter the dressing room. The last thing that John Dory sees before he begrudgingly makes his escape is one of the rageons picking Floyd’s bottle up and shaking him cruelly.

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #john dory #floyd #brozone #branch #clay #spruce

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tomthefanboy · 2 years

Photo

Last week I made a simple post saying I wanted a D&D version of this chart with a gnoll in the middle. I know that most of the time if you want something on the internet you have to make it yourself, but I couldn't figure out what each axis would be.

I wanted the D&D chart SO BADLY that I started boosting the posts about it with tumblr Blaze... Post 1 EVERY Post 2 TIER Post 3 OF BLAZE Post 4

and after spending $250 I had a very wild week...

...and had a lot interactions to sift through!

Before I go too deep into the feedback and my reactions, I would like everyone to know that only ONE tumblr user out of.... (3604 plus 19895 plus 25938 plus 63883... cary the tens...) ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY interactions actually had the combination of empathy, creativity, and reading comprehension to HEAR ME.

@emptymanuscript made me not one, but TWO D&D versions of the chart!

LOOK AT THEM!

Gnolls in the middle and everything! Fantastic.

This gives me the catharsis of being heard and a level of closure fitting with a $250 purchase on the internet. Especially when combined with all of these new friends (whom I will be spending the next month getting to know)!

Hoooooowwwwwwwwwever... I still want a version that has the D&D creature types Humanoid on one side and Beast on the other side of the gnoll. so lets slip under the cut and take a look at the suggestions.

So first off, Axis 1. The X axis if you like maths. This is where I felt like Human to Beast would fit. That changes the chart into something like this.

This will be the basis for most of the charts going forward, meaning that in addition to the top and bottom creatures we place at the extremes of Axis 2 (the Y Axis) we will also need to consider monsters that are "half-humanoid" or "half-beast" versions of those types.

Since I started with creature types, lets start with the two groups of suggestions that actually involved the Rules As Written (aka RAW) D&D monster types.

Fiendish - Celestial got a lot of hate from comments due to the lore of gnolls. Gnolls are the spawn of the demonlord Yeenoghu and reproduce through a wicked ritual. People claimed that this meant they could not be placed in the center of the chart this way. They were too hung up on the top of the chart being a celestial type creature, if you make the top of the chart a creature that's halfway between a demon and an angel (such as a chaotic neutral pixie) and the BOTTOM of the chart a creature that is full blood, bad-n-nasty demon (like say, Yeenoghu itself) then gnolls serve a pretty good middle ground. Then the corners would be creatures that are mixes of each of the sides (demonic beast, demonic humanoid, fey beast, fey humanoid) and you get a pretty solid chart like this;

A smaller group considered the mortal natures of both Beasts and Humanoids and chose a different set of criteria...

These don't have a unified voice but generally it was about an axis between what was natural/organic/normal and what was un-natural/in-organic/aberrant. Multiple creature types fit this bill at each end. Plants and fey are tied to living things while Undead, Constructs and Aberrations are based in inorganic and un-natural processes. We've already got fey in our last chart, so lets see how that looks on an axis against Constructs and Undead (both of these a created via magic like gnolls, so we'll leave out the alien aberrations and try not to think about them reproducing).

Before we continue, let's take our first side bar.

There were some fools out there thinking they could shame me for spending my money on this, proving they don't understand budgets OR the internet. Only ONE of you out there thought to ask me for some money and I respected their hustle so much I gave them enough to blaze one of their own posts. Don't think the rest of you will get some though, even if you come at me with charities or shit, so don't try it. That time has passed.

Such foolishness. Weep for them. Don't tag them. Definitely do not interact. I DO hope they get this blaze post as well though. (Hey @staff, you can do that right? It's not like any of them would have the mental fortitude to read this far after all)

From here we get into the more esoteric groupings. This is where the people who are VERY into D&D and the people who are completely unfamiliar overlap. Let's look at the physical descriptors first.

Size categories are a thing in D&D and Gnolls are medium creatures like dwarves or elves and most humanoids. There's plenty of small monsters and plenty of big ones as well so it is relatively easy to find Large or Small creatures on the humanoid side and the Beast side and then a Tiny creature for the top and a Huge creature for the bottom.

This makes for a satisfactory chart, but not one that captures the complexities of the original animal meme.

The Softness and Hardness of a creature can be reflected in they shape and their stats. It may be acidic but the gently curves of a black pudding are pretty soft, just like the fists of an iron golem are hard. The corners of a chart like this are a bit trickier, there's all shapes of armored things you need to find softer partial-beasts and partial-humanoids. Oozes don't come in half measures so a different creature might be needed.

Let's take a look at another side bar before we continue. There were a lot of people with something to say that were unhelpful in new and different ways.

I'm sure there are dozens of you out there who had been thinking about a Third Axis (the Z axis) this whole time. That stops being a "D&D version of this chart"! Not applicable to this discussion! Same with anything that doesn't have gnolls in the middle!

Next up we have some suggestions for metrics along SOCIAL lines instead of physical ones.

The lines here are very blurry. Gnolls work in packs but are not really social creatures. The destroy civilizations brutally but they do use weapons and magic items they find. They can speak language. The cuddle-to-kill spectrum is as skewed as the fiendish - celestial axis discussed earlier. Aside from player characters, gnolls want to kill and destroy things. I know the savagery is attractive to the monster-fuckers out there but they are 100% kill you. to go further down that axis you'd have to start looking into undead or outer planar beings that destroy the body, the mind, and the soul. So lets look at the Feral to Civil axis instead. Gnolls don't have as much infighting as some creatures. They are at least capable of teamwork to achieve their goals of mayhem so lets focus on that as a metric. Modrons exemplify orderly cooperation for a group cause but there's no CULTURE there. Just Law vs Chaos. We need a civil creature that is neither/both humanoid and beast and an utterly feral creature for the other side that will even turn on its own kind. Even more feral and unthinking than your average beast... But we simply can't ignore sexiness and willingness to cuddle in the equation... Metal to Cottagecore sums it all up best I think, so let's look for that.

When you practice for an exam a lot people will tell you to trust your gut. I'm here to tell you to trust your first Blaze results. As much as I loved the thrill and attention of the higher tiers, the roller coast ride of the $25 tier was enough to get me where I needed to go. Let's see one of the first suggests and the most popular.

Gnolls are a combination of brutal warrior and arcane origin story. There are certain gnolls with magical powers but in general they are not relied upon. This makes them a good middle ground. So we need a creature at one end that is a cunning spellcaster and an opposite that is a muscle-bound brute. A number of arcane outsiders fit the first while half the giants fit the latter. But anything with a language is not quite dumb enough for an extreme. So there may be a need for outsiders on both ends if an unthinking/non-magical outsider can be found. BUT are outsiders by default eldritch magical creatures? Also, should I listen to the person that posted my face in their reblog more than the others? That seems important...

As much as I'd love to have different creatures on every single chart as a weird flex, but the Tarrasque literally REFLECTS SPELLS and is one of the few creatures dumber than an ogre without being an ooze, construct or undead. On the other end, I had considered that the Death Tyrant or the Demilich with its Strength of 1 might represent the ultimate embodiment of mind over matter, but nobody has as many MAGIC spells and MIND powers as the Illithilich!

As we reach the final side bar, allow me to slap down a block of tags for all the people who left notes specifically asking to see how it ends. that way they get an alert even if this blaze doesn't get to them. @trickstercheshi

@kippkap

@musings-of-an-avimancer

@thatwingeddaydreamer

@smokenmoths

@queuest

If you did a CTRL-F and just scrolled down to your name, I don't take it personally. I applaud your efficiency!

Let's see all the "none of the aboves" that my Blaze Train awoke as it shrieked across their dashboards!

Not all comments are created equal.

Out of all the excellent ideas there was one that stood out to me early on and only got a few more people fully on board through the entire Blaze Train.

Yes. That's right. We come all the way back around to physical descriptors. But it's not that simple! On the original chart, the rat, weasel, and raccoon are also mischievous and unpredictable with their grabby little hands. Meanwhile the quadrupedal Horse has evolved just as far in a different direction. Solidity and strength are in their hooves. Llamas and goats benefit from this power and stability but use it for wildly different purposes. There are also easy D&D creatures to pick out for each side without dabbling in lycanthropy or shifters.

And now I can rest, knowing that I have the chart that I wanted all along. Now I just need to blaze this and see which chart people like the most and how many ideas people have for the Z axis on them. (you sick bastards)

#Blaze Train off the rails #Last Full post #everything else will be reblogs #tumblr blaze #D&D #welcome to the deep lore.#argue all you want MDMR #gonna come at me ya best come correct #with reblogs and diagrams #and the first image is the invert so I can see it on the activity log easier

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brokebonewritings · 3 months

Text

All My Battles

Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags: 18+, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, making a home

Summary: A trip back to Bar Harbor creates a summer a new memories as you and Matt renovate your childhood home into a place to spend your future summers. Song: Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley

Word Count: 3K

Navigation || Series Masterlist

“Don’t worry! We will make sure both your apartments are safe and sound!”

“And we promise no major ragers while you’re away!” Foggy quickly said after Karen’s initial reassurance.

“Ha Ha, You’re hilarious.” You say with a deadpan expression.

Both you and Matt were packing for the summer to go up to your childhood home and fill it with your own furniture. Thanks to your wonderful team of attorneys, you were able to expedite the paperwork of signing the house over to your name.

It was a long battle, but your mom was out of the house at the beginning of the summer. Though it didn't come without a fight. She was very slow at moving the process along until you finally sent Foggy up to Maine with eviction papers.

"I just can't believe it's finally over!" You sigh as you close the trunk of your car.

"I'll drink to that, serving your mom that eviction notice was the best theatrics I've seen in a while, and Marci took me to see Phantom of the Opera last week!"

All three of you laugh, as you wait to finish locking up his apartment. You see him step onto the sidewalk and make his way towards the group.

"Okay, ready to go?" He asks.

"Yep, I just closed the trunk so we're all good here."

Karen is the first to step forward and give you both a big hug. Foggy being the last and stepping away with tears in his eyes.

"Don't you forget about us here in the Big Apple." He says tearfully.

"I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow." You respond playfully.

The man wipes his metaphorical tears, and turns to Karen. "She thinks I'm a Scarecrow."

"Yeah, probably the lack of brains." She snarks.

"Hey!"

This earns another group laugh, as you and Matt get into the car. It was going to be a long summer, but it would be worth it. You get to redecorate your family home, even though you thought the previous decoration was perfect. Your mom took most of the furniture when she moved.

As the car pulls out of the city, leaving behind the familiar hustle and bustle, a sense of sadness fills you. "So, any ideas on what we should do with the place?" you asked, eager to hear his thoughts.

"You're asking the blindman for decoration advice?" He smirks, which pulls a giggle from your chest.

"Well this is gonna be our summer home, so I just want to get an opinion of someone who will be spending every year there."

Matt paused for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his knee as he contemplated. "Well," he began, "I think we should start by repainting the walls. I know your favorite color is orange."

"You remembered my favorite color?"

"Of course, maybe a soft shade of blue to give it a more serene atmosphere."

You nodded, imagining how the color would transform the space. "And what about the furniture? I know we'll have to buy new pieces, but do you have any specific style in mind?"

"God, just anything without plastic wrap on it." He laughs.

You laugh along with him. "You really hated sitting on that couch."

"It was an overstimulation nightmare."

"Yeah, well, no more plastic-wrapped nightmares," you reply with a grin. "We'll find something comfortable and stylish."

As the two of you continue to discuss ideas for the house, you feel the excitement building up inside you. This summer was going to be a fresh start, not just in terms of your living situation but also in your relationship with Matt. It had been a long journey to get to this point, but now that you were finally together, everything felt right.

The landscape outside transforms from towering skyscrapers to vast green fields and rolling hills. It's as if the world itself is mirroring the sense of calm and new beginnings you feel in your heart.

With the passing hours, you make sure to stop frequently so that you both stretch your legs. Soon enough you enter the Bar Harbor limits and begin to recognize your surroundings.

As you approach your childhood home, memories flood back — running through the fields, chasing fireflies on warm summer nights, and sitting on the front porch with your dad and a big cup of iced tea.

The familiar sight of the white picket fence and the old oak tree in the front yard is a relief to see. It hasn't changed much since you were last here, except for the overgrown grass and faded paint on the house. But that's all about to change.

You and Matt step out of the car, taking a moment to breathe in the crisp sea air. The scent of wildflowers and fresh pine brings a smile to your face. This place holds so many precious memories, and now it's time to make new ones.

"I can't believe we're finally here," you say, your voice filled with wonder.

Matt reaches out to take your hand, his touch grounding you in this moment. "Ready to get to work?" He asks and you reply with a soft 'yes'.

Together, you approach the front door, pulling out the key and inserting it into the lock. The door creaks open as you step inside, dust particles dancing in the sunlight streaming through the large bay windows.

As you make your way from room to room, deciding on furniture layouts and discussing which pieces to buy, the house starts to feel like home. Matt's fingers glide over the surfaces as he senses the textures and dimensions, his uncanny ability to visualize the space turning into an invaluable asset.

The next day you and Matt set to work immediately, armed with paintbrushes and a vision for transforming the old house into your dream summer retreat. The walls soon shed their faded colors and come alive with the soft shade of orange you chose. The air is filled with the scent of fresh paint, invigorating and promising.

Days turn into weeks as you tackle each room with determination. The living room is filled with cozy furniture, perfect for curling up together with a book or watching movies on lazy afternoons. The kitchen becomes a vibrant space, adorned with colorful tiles and filled with the aroma of delicious meals being cooked. And the bedrooms become sanctuaries, personalized with photographs and cherished little touches.

As the final touches are being made, you and Matt stand back to admire your handiwork. The transformation is remarkable, a testament to the love and care you poured into this project. The summer home now radiates warmth and comfort, a haven from the outside world.

You begin to cry as you both stand in the middle of the parlor. Matt's arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug. It was all finally done, and you couldn't feel the overwhelming sense of sadness. The very same you felt as you left the city.

"It's alright, sweetheart. I got you." He whispers as you continue to sob.

You hold onto Matt, feeling his steady presence anchoring you amidst the waves of emotion. The tears flow freely, a mixture of relief, joy, and a bittersweet longing for the old memories that haunted these walls. You couldn't wait to bring your friends and family here in the future summers, and make new memories that were happier than the old.

After a while, the tears subside, and you sniffle, wiping away your damp cheeks with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you murmur against his chest.

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face gently. "There's nothing to apologize for," he says softly.

You nod, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "You're right." You pause, feeling a surge of love radiating from the man in front of you.

"We made it," he says softly, his voice filled with reassurance. "We turned this house into our own little sanctuary."

"I love you," you whisper, burying your face in Matt's chest.

He holds you tighter, his heartbeat reverberating through your body. "I love you too," he replies.

That night you decide to have a picnic on the porch. You turn on the fairy lights, and set the radio to the local classic rock station. As you set up outside, Matt was in the kitchen preparing the meal you both were going to enjoy. Everything was perfect.

As twilight settles in, casting a soft golden glow over the porch, you light a few candles and spread out a cozy blanket. The scent of freshly cut grass mingles with the aroma of the meal Matt has prepared, creating an intoxicating symphony for your senses.

After dinner, you both clean and decide to stay outside for the rest of the evening and bask in the romantic setting you had set up. He notes that he forgot to bring the best part of dinner and runs back inside to grab dessert.

Matt emerges from the kitchen, carrying a basket filled with delicious treats. He carefully sets the basket down and joins you on the blanket, wrapping his arm around you.

"This is amazing," he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his presence enveloping you. "I wanted to create this special moment for us," you say softly, your gaze fixed on the flickering lights.

The two of you spend the evening laughing and reminiscing, savoring each bite of food and each tender moment shared. As the night deepens, you find yourselves lost in conversation under a sky sprinkled with constellations.

Matt's fingers trace patterns on your arm, creating a soothing rhythm that matches the cadence of your conversation. You pause for a moment, overcome by a wave of gratitude. Gratitude for this beautiful night, for the love that fills your heart, and for the journey that has brought you here. You lean in closer to Matt, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I never imagined we would be here," you say softly, your voice filled with wonder. "Creating a home together, filled with love and happiness."

Matt squeezes your hand gently. "Life has a funny way of surprising us," he replies, his voice laced with sincerity. "And I'm grateful for every twist and turn that led us here."

As the hours pass, you find yourselves lost in conversation, delving into topics ranging from childhood dreams to future aspirations. Each word exchanged deepens your connection, solidifying the bond you've built over the years.

Eventually, the conversation mellows into comfortable silence, yet the electricity in the air remains tangible. You nestle closer to each other under the blanket, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. With every passing second, it becomes clearer that this is where you're meant to be.

You look up at Matt, gently grabbing his chin and pulling him in for a kiss. As your lips meet, a surge of warmth courses through your veins. The kiss is gentle yet filled with a quiet intensity, a beautiful reflection of the bond you share. Time seems to stand still as you savor the taste of his lips, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

When the kiss deepens, you feel a sense of belonging and contentment settle within you. Under the soft glow of the moon, you and Matt continue to share sweet, lingering kisses, each one filled with an unspoken promise.

Eventually you both feel the exhaustion from the long work day, and decide to head inside for the night. Matt is the first one to head inside and as you pick up the blanket and turn off the lights on the porch.

You linger long enough for Matt to come back out and wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your neck lightly. "We have a lifetime of moments like this ahead of us," he says softly. "Come inside now."

Nodding, you follow him back inside for the night. Inside, the house is bathed in a soft, inviting glow. The scent of freshly painted walls lingers in the air, a gentle reminder of the transformation you both undertook together.

Matt leads you upstairs to the bedroom, where the moonlight spills through the open curtains, casting ethereal shadows on the hardwood floor. He pulls back the covers and invites you to slide into bed. You nestle against the plush pillows and feel the weight of the day slowly melt away.

As Matt joins you under the covers, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His touch is gentle yet possessive, a silent affirmation of his love for you. The room feels hushed, as if it holds its breath in reverence for the intimacy shared between two souls.

You close your eyes, letting the tranquility of the moment wash over you. The sound of your steady breaths fills the room, creating a soothing rhythm that lulls you closer to sleep.

The day before you leave is filled with eventful commotion as you invite some of your neighbors over for a small barbecue. You and Matt spend the morning setting up the backyard, draping string lights across the trees and arranging tables and chairs.

The aroma of grilled burgers and vegetables fills the air as the food sizzles on the barbecue. You decided to man the grill to give Matt a break from all the cooking he insisted on doing. The neighbors arrive one by one, carrying dishes to share. Laughter and conversation fill the backyard as everyone gathers around, sharing stories and exchanging smiles.

Another car begins to pull into your driveway, and you realize who it is before you see the two figures step out of the vehicle.

"No fucking way" You say as you turn to Matt who has a huge smile spread across his face.

"I called them last night when you went out to pick up dinner." He replies.

You start sprinting towards the car as Foggy steps out and walks around the car. Once he sees you running, he mutters an 'Oh shit' as you jump into his arms. He catches you and spins you a bit before setting you down. You give a gentler hug to Karen.

"I can't believe you guys drove all the way out here!" You say happily.

"We had to come see this house! Especially if we're invited here every summer." Karen says while lightly nudging your side.

Leading your friends to the picnic area, you introduce them to your neighbors and some old friends from high school. The backyard is filled with the joyful chatter of voices, as everyone embraces the sense of community and love that permeates the atmosphere.

As night falls and everyone leaves, the four of you gather around a crackling bonfire, its dancing flames illuminating the faces around you. Matt sits beside you, his hand entwined with yours, as you listen to Foggy telling one of his infamous stories. You all add in little quips to enhance the story as everyone listens and drinks.

The crackling sound of the flames blends with the soft hum of laughter, creating a harmonious symphony of friendship and love. As you look around at the faces illuminated by the fire's glow, you can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Gratitude for the unwavering support of your friends, who have stood by you through thick and thin. Gratitude for this beautiful home that has become a haven, a place of solace and happiness. And most of all, gratitude for the love that surrounds you, weaving its way through every moment shared.

As the night wears on and the fire begins to die down, you find yourself lost in a comfortable silence. The embers glow softly, casting a warm light that dances across your friends' faces. Karen leans her head on Foggy's shoulder, while Matt rests his chin on top of your head.

"What a great night, amongst friends." Foggy sighs.

"I'm really glad you guys came out here to see the house." You begin. "It's like this house was built for our family."

"You wouldn't have this house if it weren't for your dad." Matt reminds and you nod in agreement.

"To Tommy!" Foggy says while raising his beer can.

You smile as the rest of you raise your drinks and cheers to your dad. A tear rolls down your cheek, but Matt wipes it away before it's able to fall from your face.

"You know," Karen says, breaking the silence, "your dad would be so proud of you right now. Look at what you've built, what you've overcome. It's truly amazing."

The moment is bittersweet, as the memory of your father tugs at your heart. It's been years since he passed away, but the house stands as a testament to his hard work and love for his family, a symbol of the legacy he left behind.

As the night winds down, you and your friends gather up the empty beer cans and remnants of the barbecue feast. The fire has dwindled to mere embers, casting a soft glow upon the yard.

With a final round of goodnights, Foggy and Karen retreat to their respective rooms. You and Matt finish cleaning in the kitchen and make sure everything is put away before you all leave in the morning.

As you climb into bed, exhaustion weighs heavily on your eyelids. Matt wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his embrace soothes you, easing away the worries and stresses of the day.

"Thank you for everything," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He tightens his hold on you, his voice filled with affection. "I would do anything for you. You know that."

With a final sigh, you surrender to the gentle embrace of slumber, knowing that tomorrow will bring new adventures and challenges. But for now, in this haven of love and sanctuary, you find solace.

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rainswept · 10 months

Text

🌙 — of all things ☽ . * ☾

✦ stars above, lull me to sleep. | kaedehara kazuha ✦

☽ . * ☾ — and the same gentle fingers that rip your heartstrings soothe your sobs.

the same kind tongue that whispers saccharine words in your ear delves down your throat and deprives you of air.

the same white nails are cut to not harm you, yet when forgotten and overgrown, are sharpened on your skin.

it’s a sickly, pretty little thing, love. it’s like how eyes often look better when filled with tears. it’s like a hundred degree fever after experiencing a hundred-and-four. it claws deep inside of you and makes your vessel its home, often an uninvited guest.

☽ . * ☾

kaedehara kazuha is a gentle soul. his touch is light, as if he is worried you will break and is unwilling to be the one to do so. kaedehara kazuha’s love is soft and wavering. kaedehara kazuha is unlike anything else.

but kaedehara kazuha is tactless. absent, unreliable. of all things, that is his fatal flaw. he is wild and uncaged, and his soul is reliant on wild abandon. kaedehara kazuha cannot love in a stable manner.

so you sit on atop the crow’s nest. colorful clouds paint the sky, the sunset gleams in his vermillion eyes and reflection of the sea stares back at you through them. he sits beside you, like he always does. so close, but so far. his hand is within a finger’s length of yours.

the thought is unwanted.

so you pull your hand, your flesh and bones, mind and body, away. you struggle to pry it from his warmth, but you hate more the idea of giving in. your fingers fiddle with the fabrics loosely framing your skin.

he looks at you as you do, but his eyes quickly avert.

you’ve done this every night for as many as you can remember, the crux fleet bounding about on the wooden decks as the waves shake the rafters and his gaze shakes your heart. you only noticed recently, though.

neither of you speak. the hustle and bustle of the boat is enough to quell the urge, and silences between you two were always comfortable regardless — other than right now.

the sky dances in hues of vermillion and azure, the sun coaxing the clouds to perpetuate its voice one last time. the sea kisses the unseen stars on the horizon, and it longs for the night even as it reflects the sky back at itself. the wind swirls through your throat as you take a sighing breath in and out your mouth.

he looks over at you. he’s pretty in this light, you think. the way his hair, pure white edges made glow by setting sun, frames his face. how his eyes gleam.

you realize your thoughts with a settling guilt, akin to an iceberg slowly sinking deeper and deeper into rigid depths. your still-beating heart drifts around inside of a hollow, rattling ribcage. it’s loss, you think.

of all things, it’s loss.

you look at the sky with a gaze that is barely there. you slowly lose touch with the feeling in your body, cold seeping from an internal chill.

it’s loss, as he caresses your skin with such gentle hesitance. it’s loss that plagues your mind as you dance around what you feel, unknowing of its origin.

it’s loss that lingers in the sun as it clambers to hold on above the water.

loss is a lifetime of wondering what would of happened; and it’s loss when neither of you choose to speak.

characters and world not owned by rainswept.

575 words.

#✰ RAINSWEPT #✰ RAINSWEPT KAZUHA #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagine #genshin imagine #genshin impact imagines #kazuha imagine #kazuha imagines #kaedehara kazuha imagines #kaedehara kazuha imagine #kaedehara kazuha x you #kazuha x you

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inlocusmads · 4 months

Text

kindness and other things you can expect from your boss ~ trystan x nora

The quarterly honour-your-employees day coincides with Nora's birthday. Everyone wants to be 'best detective/genius' giving Mafalda a long overdue headache. (crimes of passion)

wc: 1.3k, general audiences a/n: guys guys guys guys guys the incredible wonderful @stars-are-within-me (I'm literally at a loss for words) with the collective awesomeness of Thia from @oh-so-youre-a-nerd gave me this ABSOLUTE BEAUTY for Nora's birthday which is, well, right now!

I'm still processing this surprise and it's like - I have a lot of thoughts but they're all "ghjkfdfvgbhjkgfdsdfg" so I have no idea how to make sense of "dfghjkjhgfdvbnm" and a lot of pillow-screaming. Instead, I wrote a drabble!

***

“All right, all right, all right.” Mafalda snapped her fingers. “Clearly the idea is to not perpetuate unhealthy working environments.”

“She means you.” Ruby whispered to Nora.

“Hey, I am perfectly deserving of the plaque.”

“You have been competing for the plaque since the plaque was introduced.” Luke wielded his power of statistics. “And have won like a lot of times already, sit down.”

“It was three times, man. You had a five-quarter streak three years ago.”

“C’mon, go easy on him.” Ruby insisted.

“As if you didn’t get the award like fifteen times already.” Luke countered. “I am very proud of you by the way, but seriously babe. You earned boss’s favor ever since you cracked the Darcy Lever and the Sunlight Films conspiracy from thumb prints across beer glasses.”

“It was a slow year for you, Nora.” Mafalda supplied, quickly subverting the topic. “Perhaps the award should go to, erm-,” - she scanned the room, “- the point is, everyone did well.”

“Are you saying my progress matters less because I happened to take care of myself much more in the last quarter leading up to today, and didn’t spend all that time worrying about work in a society that deems itself pro-hustle at the cost of everyone’s mental health?”

“Are you really playing the but-it’s-my-birthday card right now?” Mafalda crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, everyone enjoyed the burger combos on me, didn’t you all?”

Everyone turned their attention to Trystan who had his feet propped up on Nora’s desk, indulging in his first (that they knew of) greasy food exploit. “Mm” - he mumbled, taking quick bites of his cheeseburger. “Thish is one of the besh burgers I have ever had. We had a branch in Drakkos that closed ten years ago.” - he licked the sauce off his fingers before staring at the others who were staring at him. “What?”

“Just because it is your birthday that doesn’t mean you’re getting the plaque.” Ruby reasoned. “Right Mafalda?”

“I hate this.” she responded.

“See? Boss sees reason.”

“But c’mon -- it’s -- what is one more quarter? I just made a place for it on my wall.”

“Look, we all did really well these months.” Luke played the mediator. “Ruby’s faster forensic processing saved us a lot of time. I updated all of our databases so any new information is constantly added to pre-set dossiers. Nora’s gotten pretty good at -- filing, I guess and Trystan’s--”

“What? I did stuff. I did the--” Trystan snapped his fingers, trying to recollect something. “-- the thing.”

“You’re not being helpful.” Nora said.

“Good. I would hate to be of any help.” Trystan tossed a stray French fry in the air and caught it with his teeth. “The whole point of working as a private detective--”

“Consultant.”

“As a private detective-slash-consultant--”

“Just a consultant.”

“And a consultant-- is that it is independent of the trivialities of a cubical-shaped office. No Employee of the Month, none of that.”

“You have never worked in an office.” Luke added quietly.

“The point is- they matter very less to me. I am all about the work. And the fun.” he tossed another fry into the air and caught it at the nick of time. “Mostly just the fun. All right, maybe it is all about the fun.”

“Too bad because the award would have gone to you.”

A chorus of “What?”s erupted. Mafalda picked up the Best Detective/Genius Award from its permanent (now temporary) place on Nora’s desk and handed it over to him. The term was, well, outdated. They couldn’t have “Employee of the Month” considering everyone had unique job titles and it would be weird to equate forensic processing with on-foot investigations. The only thing they could somewhat compare was everyone’s role in a case and how much they were able to contribute towards faster getting-through-the-stack-of-files.

“Oh I love this!” Trystan read the plaque.

“This doesn’t--” Nora started to protest, but quickly withdrew it. “I suppose he deserves it.”

“Not cool, boss, not cool at all.” Luke heckled. “It doesn’t make sense, how-”

“It makes perfect sense to me, Luke. Trystan has learned a lot in his time here, he has used his resources for the good of the job, he is a valuable person on the team - on many occasions risking his life especially with his status as a celebrity-- and well-” Mafalda shrugged. “He is good at what he does. It makes sense to encourage a new team player. And I would insist Nora to give it out. Pass on the plaque from the former winner to the current winner. Ensures teamsmanship in the -- I’m sorry, my Lia just started soccer-- the point is, before I go off on a tangent, please uh, clap. Thank you. Do not make me do this again.”

Except instead of the room erupting with scattered applause, confused murmurs and Luke’s rebuttals just after he had proclaimed everyone was deserving of the award, Trystan pulled open the music app to look up ‘royalty free award music’ and hit play.

“No-- no you are not making it into a thing.”

“I am definitely making it into a thing.” Trystan threw Nora a smirk and unfolded a cardboard crown that the kind people at the burger place had given along with the food. When everyone threw him perplexed looks, he shrugged, “Only coronation I’d get to take part in my life.” and tossed his phone at Mafalda. “Take a picture for me?”

“No.”

“Please, boss?"

She didn't object further.

A good solid ten minutes went by with them figuring out the correct pose. Trystan wanted Nora to pose as if she’s handing him the plaque. Then he decided he no longer wanted a picture and insisted his boss press record instead. A few minutes went by because Mafalda had accidentally clicked on slo-mo and they had to rectify that and ensure the filters were all set right.

They also had to get the lighting correctly, so Ruby had to stand holding the curtain up at a certain angle so the natural sunlight could hit their faces right. Luke was tasked with fishing a coronation mantle out of the box of costumes in the back of the closet, but was only successful at finding a red bedsheet and a fur wrap-around, so that’d have to do.

Fifteen minutes later, with the royalty free coronation music playing its tenth loop, pictures were taken.

“You know what? I am amending it. Trystan shares the prize with Nora.” Mafalda decided out of the blue, because she loved being an agent of chaos like that.

Another chorus of ‘What? What?” ensued. A plot twist? An amendment to the sacred employee code? Can Mafalda (even though she is literally the boss) do that? Is she for real? Luke blamed what he called the ‘birthday bias’. He never got to share the medallion with Ruby on his birthday. It wasn’t fair.

Ruby gave up on the lighting and was arguing with Mafalda over Nora’s five-win sweep. There were shouts to scrap the policy entirely. Some (Nora) argued on behalf of all the present January-born 33-year olds. Some (also Nora) advocated for the inherent sanctity of the all-or-nothing policy behind the ‘Best Detective/Genius’ award - “either one person gets it or nobody gets it! We are not doing halves!”

Forty five minutes later after fervent arguing, with Trystan’s phone charging in the background thanks to the battery draining after playing the royalty anthem a hundred times, the five of them were able to calm down and think rationally.

Clearly Nora deserved the award as much as Trystan did - it was a slow, but rough year for both of them - and well, it was mostly just an incentive to get at least half the people to agree on something and piss the other half off, instead of going 25-75.

Mafalda hated divide-and-conquer as much as the next guy, but hey, you could only turn thirty-three once.

***

A/N: Okay now I can scream.

DFGHJKFTGJHKJLJHDGFSDGHFJKLKJBNVCXDFSGRTYTULJNBMVNCBXVDSGRYRDSXCERVTYBFUNIHNYBTFVDRCXSCRVDTBFYGNUHIKYBJVTDHCSHRVDTBFYGNUHMIJ

This is honestly the most thoughtful thing and like, ugh Stars, how are you the nicest, most wonderful person to ever possibly walk this Earth? It brings me so much joy that you guys show so much love and support to the actual gremlins I write about. Thia, of course, I just -- I just am crying at the details - the funky rings on Trystan's fingers, Nora's scar, JUST THEM, like it's just it is the most touching feeling to like have a piece of fanart that just *gets* your gremlins - not only the bigger details, but the smaller ones that just makes it so incredibly special - I just -- I can't, I'm literally going to start crying again lmao.

Thank you THANK YOU so much for this, I might have to be the Devil and acquire ten million souls to like repay this thoughtful gesture, it is just EVERYTHING TO ME, OKAY? Now brb I'm just gonna continue crying, screaming, kicking my feet in the air and just being the most insufferable person offline about it.

ALSO Fun factoid nobody-asked-for: I was meant to write a Heist fic y'know as a homage to Brooklyn 99 and the "Detective/Genius" plaque but then it got too long and kind of went nowhere at the moment, so I was like "why not write something from mafalda's point of view" so here you go lmaoooo. But seriously, I love the B99 reference - literally one of my fav shows! This is just so sweet, I'm just going to keep screaming about this piece of fanart for like ever and ever

Tagging:

perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam @stars-are-within-me

crimes: @trappedinfanfiction @ao719 @cassie-thorne @peonierose @moominofthevalley @jerzwriter

#crimes of passion #crimes of passion fics #w:inlocusmads #trystan x nora #trystan thorne x mc #gorgeous art!!#gifts from friends #by: oh so youre a nerd

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