#i know it won't count for the whole bingo thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarahghetti · 6 months

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direction to perfection; j.l.

pairing: jake lockley x reader, marc and steven are briefly alluded to but do not make an appearance

summary: one day, your vigilante lifestyle leads to you to crossing paths with a moon-serving weirdo in white bandages. jake promises that he won't get in the way, but there's something about his smirk that has your spidey-sense tingling, and what do you know—

he sets a building on fire.

it's not supposed to be romantic.

warnings: depictions of fighting and violence, injuries, hurt and comfort, reader is a spider-person and thus has a spider-person sense of humour😭.

word count: 3.8k

notes: part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'bonfire”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You have a love-hate relationship with your spidey-sense—it’s useful enough to give you a heads-up, but it’s not exactly a get-out-of-danger-free card.

It kicks in as you’re soaring through the air, an errant pulse in your veins that tells you one thing: MOVE. But there’s no time—before you even manage to lift your web-shooter, one of Doc Ock’s mechanical arms whips around and collides hard against your torso. For a moment, you feel your ribs crack underneath the metal, the sharp pains accompanied by a real stupid thought, even by your standards: guess I’m going to call in sick tomorrow—

—and then you finally hit the brick wall behind you. The air is ripped from your lungs and your thoughts short-circuit into nothingness. New York’s evening rush hour is drowned out by high-pitched ringing. If it weren’t for your wallcrawling ability, you’d be falling forty stories down onto the traffic below. Instead, rooted into the small crater you’ve made into an office building, all you can do is languish in what surely must be multiple broken bones and a slightly bruised ego for not being able to dodge a hit that you saw coming.

Speaking of—there’s another one heading towards you right now.

You leap upwards without a second thought, just narrowly avoiding becoming a shitty claw-machine prize as the arm lodges into the wall where your head used to be. Spots dance across your vision and you groan—your body does not want to move.

Suspended between two buildings, Doc Ock’s mechanical arms dig into concrete and brick as she follows you up. Her voice is deceptively empathetic. “Down so soon, little spider? I expected more from you!”

One of the arms rears back again but distantly, there’s the clench of a trigger—and it gets pinned behind her by a golden grappling hook.

The wire grows taut then there he is, using the reeling mechanism to lunge upwards. All the momentum is channeled into his crescent blade as Jake jams it between the plates of the trapped arm; it jerks like a wounded animal, suddenly uncoordinated and stiff. When it lashes out again, he easily dodges and jumps across the buildings onto the fire escape next to you.

“Mierda! You okay?”

Glowing white eyes, wide with concern—the sight is enough to shake you out of your concussive stupor. Jake extends a hand, and you take it readily, allowing him to help you up onto the rickety platform.

“Just peachy,” you wheeze as you lean almost your entire body weight against him.

This was supposed to be a simple mission. It wasn’t even supposed to be a mission in the first place, but one detained drug dealer led to another, which led to a smuggler and a mercenary and a goddamn gym teacheruntil you were faced with a whole corrupt laboratory that tied back to Doc Ock’s operations.

Jake got looped in somewhere between the mercenary and the gym teacher, apparently answering some kind of divine calling of his own. Egyptian god of the moon? Protecting travelers of the night? You just call the people you save New Yorkers, no fancy labelling here.

But you’re not so prideful as to turn away help when you need it, especially when it comes gift-wrapped in superhuman strength and a bullet-proof cape. Even though you catch him giving himself these looks in the windows you pass by or having whole conversations to himself under his breath—you’ve seen weirder.

Like now: There’s a clear conflict happening in—on?—Doc Ock. The damaged arm flails wildly through the air, and the other three can’t seem to decide between trying to calm it down, retreat, or kill you.

Those white eyes turn to you. “Sure you don’t want me to shoot her?”

“No!” Now you remember why you were initially wary of him—because when you first met, he was holding one of his blades to a lackey’s throat. Danger, danger! You didn’t even need your spidey-sense to tell you that; he wears the warning like a badge of honour. “We just need to subdue her till the cops come. Follow my lead.”

Jake gives you a mock salute. Fortunately, Doc Ock’s lab was deserted—except for her—when you crashed the place. Whatever supersecret bioweapon she’s cooking up will still be waiting for you to destroy it after you capture her.

With just one press of a button, you’re soaring back into action. The arms seem to have coordinated themselves again—having decided to kill you, how lucky—but so have you and Jake. One lunges towards you, and you pull upwards on your web, going feet over head as you as you flip backwards out of the way.

In that split-second moment when you’re fully upside-down, your arm extends downwards and thwip!—your web attaches to the titanium plating. The world realigns itself, and your momentum carries you in an arc below the arm, dragging it behind you as you continue in your original direction.

As soon as you land on the side of the opposing building, you yank hard. Immediately, your other hand comes up to shoot a dozen or so webs to attach the claw onto the wall. It won’t last—the brick is already crumbling under the force—but it gives Jake enough time to shake off Doc Ock’s attention and join you.

Closer than you were before, you can see just how much force it takes for him to drive his blade through the circuitry. Sparks burst like little fireworks around his hand. He makes it look easy, but a shudder crawls down your spine—you just know what he’s capable of.

You both leap out of the way as the arm thrashes erratically; Doc Ock cries out in frustration. That’s two arms down, and two that are busy suspending her in the air. You’ll have to catch her once you take out another one, but that’s no biggie.

“Jake!” You gesture towards the nearest arm, and he nods in understanding. Despite the pain radiating through your limbs, you grin. For all his snark and murderous tendencies (which you hope are just a joke), he’s a half-decent partner.

It’s too bad, then, that Doc Ock doesn’t seem to care about how good of a time you’re having. Her mouth twists into a snarl, and in a blink of an eye, she’s scrambling away. Retreating? Your poor, bruised head is hopeful for the night to end.

In a way, it’s right—she is trying to get away from you. Unfortunately, it also recognizes that she’s retracing your steps, right back to the lab where you first found her.

“Oh, damn it!”

Your injuries and Jake’s limited modes of superhuman transport make it impossible to gain any real ground as you chase after her. Doc Ock climbs through her shattered window half a minute before you do, and even if your conscious mind doesn’t realize it, some part of you does—it’s an ambush.

You dive to the ground just as a mini fridge is thrown in your direction. Pain shoots down your side, your vision blurring with tears. The sheer wave of nausea that washes over you makes your mouth water and fuck, you might actually puke like this.

There’s something else coming but you can’t do anything other than half-heartedly roll behind the nearest object. The workbench shields you from—what, a chair? You aren’t afforded anymore time to think about it because she rips off the counter next, several important-looking valves raining down around you. Through the noise, you just barely manage to pick up a quiet hissing in the air as you try to gather your bearings.

A line of workbenches down the centre of the room, an aisle on either side.

On the right: sinks and fume hoods.

On the left: whiteboards.

Directly in front of you: the absolute bane of—and possible end to—your existence, holding up that chunk of black countertop as if it were a hammer and you are a nail.

You brace yourself for the hit, but it never comes. There’s a surprised yelp from above you, and your peer through your arms at just the right time to see Jake land a brutal kick into Doc Ock’s chest, sending her flying. You don’t see her land, but you do hearit; equipment crashes to the ground, glass shattering on the linoleum.

With a hand from Jake, you’re back on your feet. Doc Ock is reeling at the far end of the room. The walls are littered with long, deep gashes—some from your initial confrontation with her, some likely from her mechanical arms flailing from Jake’s hit. Several of the fume hoods are missing their windows entirely, which definitely bodes ill considering that there are still chemicals in some of them.

Gritting your teeth, you somehow manage to get the words out, “Just stand down, Olivia!”

A hand is clutched at her side, and some petty part of you hopes that her ribs are broken too. “This isn’t over.”

You gesture to her mechanical arms, two of which are still malfunctioning like headless chickens, then to yourselves, who are (mostly) in one piece. “Well, it sure is about to be.”

She raises her eyebrows at Jake. “You raid a Spirit Halloween and suddenly think you can defeat me?”

“Yeah, sure, let me just take fashion advice from someone cosplaying as an octopus.”

Jake leans towards you. “Do you always talk this much?”

At that, Doc Ock’s eyes narrow, filled with determination. She’s not backing down this time, which means neither can you.

You both ready yourselves like you have countless times before, straightening your stance and setting your shoulders back. But Jake doesn’t show the same patience. No—he sees the remaining mechanical arms twitch in preparation, and a blade is already leaving his hand with deadly-precise aim.

Wait, wait, the hissing sound—the gas—

“Get down!” You ram your body into Jake’s, bringing you both to the ground as the blade makes contact with the titanium, sparks flying out and—

BOOM.

It’s like your heart stops.

For several moments, you don’t register anything at all. You aren’t even sure if you’re still breathing.

Slowly, your senses return. The scent of burning plastic invades your nostrils—even the air tastes like it too. Something’s landed on top of you, pinning you down with a surprising amount of strength. Warm and sturdy and pressing into all the wrong places, but you can’t even hear your own whimpering—there’s nothing but ringing in your ears.

Are your eyes closed? You can’t bring yourself to check. All you can do is try to remember how to live, and figure out what the hell is happening.

Your spidey-sense has gone quiet. That’s—that’s good. Hopefully. Or maybe it’s just been knocked out of you by the blast. You let that last thought get washed away into the muddled mess of your head; you could probably use a bit of positive thinking right now.

Everything hurts. That’s been true for the past hour, really, but there’s no gut-wrenchingly painful burn anywhere on your body like what you expected from a lab explosion. The closest thing is just that warmth against your back, in a thick arm across your chest, and encircled around your wrist, where it lingers along your pulse point.

Something brushes up against your cheek, roughly textured but trying to be so, so gentle. Words start to pierce through the hearing damage. “—estás bien, te tengo. No te preocupes, estás bien.”

“Jake?” Your voice comes out small and tinny, unsure of how loud to speak when everything sounds like it’s underwater. You receive an affirmative rumble, and the tension seeps out of your limbs, just a tad.

Tentatively, you open your eyes. And there’s—nothing. Just a white sheet of fabric covering your entire field of view. Jake huffs out a laugh at your confusion before finally standing up, his cape pulling back from where it was draped on top of you.

“Oh.”

It’s like a bomb went off. Nearly every surface has been scorched black, save for the perfectly untouched flooring around you where Jake shielded you both from the blast. Any equipment in the room has been reduced to pieces—if not completely combusted into ash and soot—and fires still linger despite the efforts of what’s left of the sprinkler system.

No sign of Doc Ock anywhere—she must’ve gotten away. Jake lets out a long string of curses under his breath, then finishes it off with an eloquent: “Fuck.”

The fire alarm is incessant, and the sprinklers have all but drenched your suit. If you had half a working brain left, you’d feel the shivers wracking your body and realize that you’re still bleeding out in several different places, but the only thing that crosses your mind is how tired you are.

You throw your mask off with a groan. The sirens in the distance only add to your growing headache. So close, you were so close this time.

“Come on.” Jake’s stands over you, mask retracted, and you can see the grimace on his face from how the mission turned out. Wordlessly, he offers to help you up, and is promptly ignored. He keeps his hand extended towards you, shaking it a little for emphasis, but you refuse to budge.

That is, until your mind so helpfully strays and wonders—how big was the blast?

Your eyes widen, and your body jerks upright as though electrocuted. Oh, God—you didn’t see anyone else in the lab other than Doc Ock when you arrived, but what about the other floors? What about the pedestrians on the sidewalk below, who might’ve had glass and debris rained down upon them when the windows were blown out?

It takes several tries to get to your feet, none of which are entirely successful because Jake has to intervene halfway through to hold you upright. Your second wind catches him off-guard and his brows furrow as you try to leap back into action. “Whoa—talk to me, bug. What’s happening?”

“Need to—” You try to shrug him off. His grip loosens for all of a moment before you’re stumbling again, and then he returns, as firm and steady as ever. “Was anyone hurt?”

“You.”

“Not what I meant,” you scowl. It’s thoroughly ineffective. The only response you get is a subtle tilting of his head, then a loss of his undivided attention as he listens to something—someone—in the room that you aren’t privy to.

His gaze flickers back to you, marginally softer. “No one else was hurt. You need to rest.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. What’s the point of superhealing if you can’t bounce back after a fight? This time when you struggle against him, Jake lets you go, crossing his arms as you limp around the room.

Fortunately, most of the smoke is being pulled out the windows; what’s left is enough to burn and scrape down your larynx, but you push through it. Doc Ock has to have left some kind of trace—if not during her escape, then in the work she left behind. But kicking around in the ashes yields nothing. There’s no conveniently placed folder full of evil plans, or vial labelled SUPER SECRET BIOWEAPON (ONLY COPY - NO NEED TO SEARCH ANY FURTHER).

Jake sighs. “What are you looking for?”

What are you looking for? The building is still on fire, for Christ’s sake—you should have been gone ten minutes ago. Still, your stubbornness is steadfast. “There has to be—something.”

He sweeps out an arm, gesturing to the resounding nothing around you. With wet curls stuck to his forehead, his tone veers on sardonic. “Oh? Your little spider-sense tell you that?”

“Spidey, and—and it’s not a radar, I can’t just turn it on,” you bristle. His ensuing snicker lands all wrong, and your mouth twists into a scowl. “Funny, is it? Blowing up a building?”

“Hey.” The lightness disappears from his expression. “How was I supposed to know about the gas leak?”

It’s a valid question. Still, the anger in you can’t help but flare up anyways, running on his words as if they were diesel. You bite back a retort at the last second, which isn’t enough because the resulting silence is accusatory in and of itself.

He takes a step towards you, chin raised as water continues to rain down on you both. Solid, sturdy—unyielding. The sight twists your stomach into knots, but you stand your ground, placing your hands on your hips even though it pulls painfully at a handful of your muscles. “Shit happens, bug. It’s no one’s fault—well, maybe a bit my fault, but—”

“I had her.” It’s a blatant lie, but full of conviction as it leaves your lips.

He’s nothing short of incredulous. “Did you?”

“Yes—”

Faster than your hazy mind can register it, his hand shoves at your shoulder. Not hard, but it didn’t need to be—you practically crumple, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to before you land flat on your ass, but Jake wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you.

You swat at his chest. You hate that his warmth is familiar. “Let me go.”

He counters: “What’s wrong?”

“You, asshole.”

“’m the bad guy now? You want a fight that bad?” His eyebrows cock upwards, regarding you like some unruly child.

He’s being inflammatory on purpose and it’s working. You’re an elastic band in his fingers, one that he keeps stretching and stretching and stretching until you snap. “I don’t want a fight, I want a—”

Win, you almost admit. You wanted a win, after all this time you’ve spent chasing after Doc Ock. Countless sleepless nights and lackeys thrown behind bars, only to fail in the final moments when it really mattered. The realization is debilitating, even in the confines of your own head, and so you lash out again, distracting yourself from the bitterness on your tongue by spewing it out instead.

“We’re not all out for blood, you know.” Then, because you can’t help yourself— “I’m not you, Jake.”

“Is that what this is about?” His hand tenses almost imperceptibly against your back, but you manage to catch it. Of course you do, with every sense on high alert, blood rushing in your ears. “You mad ‘cause I’m a killer?”

Something dangerous underlines his tone when he says the word and you flinch, trying to create some distance between the two of you on instinct. Jake doesn’t grant you that—his other arm comes to hold you as well, pulling you in even though you think you might suffocate in his presence.

“You knew this from the start. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to turn me in now.”

“Maybe I should,” you say in a rush, gaze steely as it meets his. For all your superhuman powers, none give you the ability to read what’s going on behind the storm in his eyes. You’re so close, you can almost feel the heat radiating off his skin, hear the words in his mouth before he even says them.

“You’re the one with the spidey-sense.” His voice is low. Somewhere in the back of your mind, through the shame and anger and desperation—you note that he’s called it by the right name this time. “You tell me. Am I a threat?”

Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your stomach is all fluttery and weird but—no. There’s no tingling at the back of your neck, no hair-raising along your arms. Petulance makes you want to lie and say yes anyways, but you can’t bring yourself to form the words. It just… isn’t true. And for some reason, you have feeling that this would be going too far, even as a rash potshot.

When you don’t respond, Jake’s expression softens, the lines of his face giving way to an understanding look that makes you feel smaller than his antagonism ever could. The fires have mostly died down now, but warm reds and oranges still flicker along the side of his jaw, in corners of his irises. His arms feel less like a cage and more like a lifeline, keeping you from drifting out to sea.

“Just—thought I finally caught her,” you mumble, and he pulls you the last few inches into a proper hug. Exhausted, you let yourself melt into his arms, the adrenaline beginning to seep away despite the cacophony of sirens in the background. “It’s been so long, Jake.”

“I know.” He doesn’t, not really—you haven’t divulged just how far this rivalry goes, but you don’t have to think very hard to realize that he’s speaking from experiences long before he ever met you. “We’ll get her next time.”

You snort softly into his suit. “What, you staying?”

It’s silly, the tinge of hopefulness that laces your voice just minutes after you’ve essentially accosted him. But Jake’s grinning when you pull back to look at him, all boyish confidence, and you nearly forget to breathe. “I could be convinced.”

Wait—what? He’s thrown you off-kilter. You—you didn’t think he’d actually— “Well—!”

At your stammering, he lets out a laugh, throwing back his head. It’s a wonderful sound, and when you flick his arm in response, there’s no real force to it.

“Well, you know what they say,” you sniff, trying to maintain your composure. “Friends close, enemies closer, and all that.”

“Right, right,” he nods gravely. The effect is severely diminished by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Keeping one arm around you, he starts to lead you towards an exit. “Don’t know how you’ll handle it—your spidey-sense going off all the time with me around.”

On the way out, he picks up your mask from where you discarded it, slapping it a few times against his leg to brush off the soot and ash. His own mask and hood come up to envelope his face as he hands it to you. Distantly, you wonder how his glowing white eyes would look in the dark. Probably a bit stupid, is your conclusion.

“I’m sure I can manage,” you sigh, and once you slip on your mask, he gives you a little pat on the head before you can bat him away. Jake leans away enough to avoid your attempts to tug at his hood, but at the next opportunity, he reaches over again, the little shit, hand drawing in close, and your spidey-sense, superhuman and extraordinary, it’s—

It’s never been quieter.

#moon knight x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #at time of posting i feel like dogshit ✌️#pls enjoy i am going to bed now goodnight #mk bingo 2024

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la-petite-lapin · 8 months

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Double the Love | Part Six*

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, Tali meets Simon, oral sex (M+F receiving)

The guys let off some steam

I stare up at Ghost's face, intense hazel eyes narrowing at me through the holes of his balaclava. For once, I'm almost scared of him. Almost.

"Ghost..." Johnny says, his voice hushed. My gaze darts across to the Scotsman to find him crossing the living room. He slows to a halt next to Ghost, placing a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder, "maybe we shouldn't do this tonight, eh? You've just got home. You need to let off some steam."

Ghost's eyes darken, not once leaving mine. "I'll let off some steam alright."

My heart is pounding in my throat now; my palms sweating and my legs quivering with anticipation. I press my thighs together, seeking some kind of relief. But it's not enough.

No. I want to know what he has in store for me. Even if I regret it later.

"Ghost..."

Johnny moves to Ghost's side and they share a look, Ghost's heavy gaze finally releasing me from its hold. A whole conversation is exchanged between the two of them in silence - a series of head tilts, and meaningful looks.

"Ask her nicely," is all Johnny says.

Ghost grunts and nods, turning his full attention back to me. "Alright, Tali - nicely - will you let us take you to bed?"

There's nothing nice about his tone. It's rough and gritty and entirely Ghost. Full of quiet, masculine rage, and bold, lustful promise. And it's oh so appealing.

It's been so long since I last had sex with anything other than my own hand or a fancy plastic toy. And it doesn't seem like Ghost is in the mood to be particularly gentle. For a split second, I start to doubt if this is really what I want.

But then I look at Johnny; his bright blue eyes full of hope and adoration. I know that he won't hurt me. Neither of them will. And I've never been surer of anything in my entire life.

I nod and - with a shaking voice - I say, "Yes, you can."

"Perfect." Ghost's voice is gruff and smug as he presses in closer to me, crowding in until we're standing chest-to-chest and I'm craning my neck up to look at his face. "Johnny?"

"Hmm?" there's a vacant hum from him as he steps up behind Ghost, bracketing him between our bodies. He drops his head to press a kiss to Ghost's black-clad shoulder.

Ghost turns his head, capturing Johnny's lips in a chaste kiss through the mask. "Go sit down. I think I need to make Tali understand a few things before we get started."

Johnny's eyes widen for a second, a look of surprise flashing there for a second before his eyelids lower. Lust glitters in his blue irises as he looks down at me, leaning across Ghost to drop a kiss to the top of my head. "I'll be in our room when you two are ready. Don't make me wait too long though, aye?"

The apartment is completely silent as Johnny pads out of the room. I can hear the muted thud of their bedroom door closing, and then it's just us. Just me and Ghost standing out in the living room, the dark promise of making me understand hovering in the air between us.

If I wasn't wet before, I definitely am now.

"So," Ghost starts, drawing my full attention back to his towering frame, "apparently we haven't been clear enough, princess. Apparently, you think we're just playing with you, or we haven't been open enough about what our relationship is... but that ends now. Got any questions?"

I bite my bottom lip and his eyes trace the movement with a predatory keenness. "Are you and Johnny bisexual?"

"Bingo. Anything else?"

"You... you want to fuck me?"

Ghost barks out a gruff laugh, pressing himself against me. Oh. I can feel the steel-hard length of him against my stomach. It eliminates any lingering traces of doubt I might have held, filling me with a calm, confident certainty.

My eyes are half-lidded, my lips parting as my breathing starts to get heavier. He presses himself against me for a couple more seconds before easing back, eyes pitch black and his own breathing fast and rugged. He's made his point, and he knows it.

"Does that answer that one?"

I nod, pressing my thighs together even harder.

"Ghost..."

His eyes flutter to a close, and he shakes his head, tipping it back. "That's not my name, Tali. Don't call me that anymore." His eyes open once again, and he fixes me with a look. The fondness and warmth there almost floors me. "Call me Simon. Please."

My breath catches in my throat.

"And take off my mask. Please."

My hands rise up to his jawline, slowly but surely in case he changes his mind. My fingers find the edges and I pause, waiting for his go-ahead. With a gentle nod, I dip my fingertips under the thick cotton and slowly pull it away from his face.

I don't look immediately, feeling the weight of the mask in my hand. It hangs limp in my fist, still warm from his skin.

And when I do look... God.

He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. My eyes find his; the only familiar feature in this new landscape. But then I start to branch out. His eyes are surrounded by a hasty smear of black paint, fading out around his thick, straight eyebrows, and crossing the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. It looks like it's been broken a couple times, but it's charming and adds to the rugged appeal of his face. His jawline is sharp and prominent, covered in a light dusting of dirty blond stubble that matches his hair; the slightly curly locks dipping down onto his forehead.

And then there's his mouth. Plush, full lips that would look almost feminine if not for the thick, harsh scars curving up from both corners, each about an inch long. They stand out; pearlescent against the rest of his skin. There's another scar trailing from his left cheekbone to just above his eyebrow too, and my eyes snag on it before dropping down to a smaller one bisecting his bottom lip.

He is perfect. To me, he is flawless.

I raise a hand to his face, placing a single finger on the tip of his nose and dragging it down to the centre of his bottom lip. I don't dare touch the scars; fearful that I might trigger a horrible memory for him. Instead, I cup his cheek in my hand, running a thumb along the curve of his cheekbone.

"Simon," I say his name, testing it in my mouth. It's going to take some getting used to. I exhale a long, slow breath, trying to tamp down my horniness and appreciate how significant this moment is. For me. For him. For us. "It's nice to finally meet you, Simon."

"It's an honour to meet you too, Tali. It's been too long."

He covers the hand resting on his face with his, pulling it to his mouth and pressing a tender kiss to my palm.

The warmth and urgency comes rushing back to me with that one, simple gesture. Sucking in a short breath, I lock my eyes onto his and drop the mask onto the floor. His eyes flicker with interest.

"Now," I say softly, "should we go and find Johnny? I think we've let him wait long enough."

I can't get down the hallway quick enough, Simon hot on my heels as I giggle, amused as he gives chase.

I throw the bedroom door open with a thud, barely crossing the threshold before Simon gathers me up into his arms. My feet leave the ground as he growls playfully against the shell of my ear.

"Nice to see that you two talked," Johnny offers from the bed, his tone drenched in amusement.

I look up to see that he's reclined on the bed, stripped down to a pair of grey joggers. The thick gauze bandage that covers his injured ribs stands out against his tanned skin, and there's a cocky smile playing on his lips as he watches the two of us. He makes no effort to move from his position.

"We did," I confirm, still trapped in the cage of Simon's muscle-corded arms. "You have a very pretty boyfriend."

"Pretty," Simon grumbles next to my ear. I turn my head to see that his eyebrows are raised, and I soak every inch of his expression in. Seeing him without the mask is going to take some getting used to, but I love it. "Fucking pretty, love?"

I nod shamelessly.

A beat passes before I lower my tone, batting my eyelashes at Johnny as I say, "So are you guys going to fuck me or what?"

"Yeah?" Simon growls.

Johnny licks his lips. His palms run down the lengths of his thick thighs, drawing attention to the impressive tent in his pants. My eyes are locked on his as I exhale a breathy, "Yeah."

With that, I'm on my back on the bed. Johnny sidles up behind me as Simon approaches the mattress with slow, methodical strides. He pauses at the edge, stripping himself of his black tactical gear and trousers. He stands there in black boxers and a t-shirt, the thick length I felt pressed against me in the living room standing proud, straining against the material.

The room is dim, illuminated only by the warm glow from my bedside lamp, adding to the relaxed atmosphere as Johnny trails a hand along the side of my body, trailing over my breast. He stops when he finds a nipple, peaked and stiff, in the absence of a bra. I hear the sharp intake of breath he makes, followed by, "You'll never guess, Si. She's not even wearing a bra. Teasing us like a naughty lass."

Simon's hands find his waistband, yanking his boxers down. His erection is on full display, standing to attention. It's thick and long, curved slightly upwards; the tip flushed and pink. It makes my throat dry, all the moisture heading south.

"Can I come over to the bed?" he asks, voice soft and respectful. It makes me even hotter.

I nod my consent, but he still doesn't move. "Yes."

That does the trick. Slowly, he makes his way to the edge of the mattress and kneels on the bed. "Come here," he commands, pupils dilated. "Take off your shorts and come here."

I shimmy out of my shorts and flimsy lace underwear but stay at the head of the bed, relishing in the feeling of Johnny's hands roaming all over me. "You come here," I command, feeling more than a little bold.

Simon growls. "Demanding little princess. Putting me through my paces, yeah? Showing me who's boss?"

I nod as Simon crawls up the bed, leaning over me to kiss Johnny. I tip my head back to watch, soaking at the sight waiting for me. Their mouths are locked, tongues flickering into each other's mouths as Simon grabs Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him even closer. After several seconds, they release one another and Johnny goes back to running his hands over me. This time, there's the addition of his mouth sucking marks against the skin of my throat - nipping with his teeth then running his tongue over them.

Simon eases back down my body, turning his attention to my legs; my knees drawn up towards my chest.

"I wonder," he grumbles, tone dripping with desire, "if you'll sound even louder with us than when you're alone."

And, with that, he parts my thighs with firm hands and bows his head.

I want him. Gods, I want him.

He presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to each thigh, taking his time in a thinly-veiled effort to drive me insane. His breath is unbearably warm against me, my own exhales leaving my mouth in small, shallow pants.

"Fuck," I groan. In a moment of desperation, I reach a hand down and tangle it in the golden strands of Simon's hair, pulling him into me. His dark, answering laugh vibrates against my already-sensitive pussy and I let out a tortured whine. "Please."

And he obliges. Pinning my hips to the bed with one strong forearm, he's a frenzy of teeth and lips and tongue. He's like a man starved, giving me exactly what I want.

My skin heats and I claw at the neck of my shirt while Simon works away, not slowing down for even a second as I barrel towards an orgasm at break-neck speed. Chuckling indulgently, Johnny helps me out of the fabric's confines, leaving me completely bare and still all too warm as I writhe against them.

I come in a blinding haze of ecstasy, shouting my pleasure with a loud moan.

When I come back to my senses, Johnny is stroking my hair, brushing it away from my face. Simon is kneeling over me, his mouth and chin glossy with moisture and eyes wild.

"That was so fucking hot, Tali."

"Think you can go again?" Johnny's voice rings out from behind me and I realise that I'm slumped back against him, his other hand still resting lightly on my breast.

My throat tightens and the tingle between my legs makes itself known once again. I can so go again, but first... there's something else I want.

"Can... could I watch you guys?"

Simon's jaw slackens. His eyes meet Johnny's - who offers him a shrug - before they both turn to me, looking amused.

"What do ye want to see, lassie?"

"I want to see you suck Simon's dick."

Johnny smirks, pressing a bold kiss to my lips before rising up from his spot. I lean back against the headboard, watching on as Simon settles into a seated position at the edge of the bed. Johnny kneels down between his legs, and a look of adoration passes between them as I angle myself to get a better view.

Johnny places a loving hand on Simon's bare thigh, squeezing once lightly. "Are ye ready, darlin'?"

Simon barely has time to nod before Johnny's head is dipping down, taking the base of Simon's erection in one hand to steady himself. His mouth follows; his lips wrapping around Simon's length and taking inch by inch into his throat with ease.

Simon's head tips back, a deep groan spilling from his throat as Johnny works him reverently. His tanned fist moves in time with his mouth; occupying what Johnny can't fit. I lean back into the pillows, my hand falling between my own legs as I play with myself in lazy, unfocused motions, enthralled in them.

"Fuck, Johnny. Just like that." Simon's groan echoes around the room. His hand drops to Johnny's hair, not to push his head, but to tangle in the longer locks of his hair. It's loving and tender; beautiful and intimate.

I can't tear my eyes away from them - not even for a second - until Simon throws his head back and lets out an Earth-shaking moan. Johnny's head stops bobbing and he resurfaces, swallowing and running the back of his hand across his mouth. When he's done, there's a cat-like grin on his lips and a hazy look in his eyes.

Simon crawls back into the middle of the bed, laying down next to me. His chest heaves, spent from his fun. "Want to stop?" he asks gently, his skin dotted with sweat and carrying the beautiful, heady scent of salt and wood-smoke.

A smile finds my lips and I find myself shaking my head, locking eyes with Johnny as he rises back to his feet. "I never said I was done."

"Jesus, you're fucking insatiable," Simon groans, his tone only half-teasing. His head meets the pillow with a heavy thud.

Johnny, on the other hand, only smiles; a hungry glint in his eye. "I'm not complaining."

a/n: hey guys! happy monday :) hope you enjoy part 6 and the shameless smut. I figured the slow burn has ran for long enough, and we deserve some of the good stuff! what would you be interested in seeing in the next part? - much love, lapetitelapin

#cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #cod fanfic #callofduty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #johnny soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #romance #smut #double the love

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taeswolfie · 11 months

Text

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒙

☽︎𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓☾︎

Ch.05 - Ch.07

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Y/n sits next to Stiles in class. He's been mad at Scott since parent/teacher conference day because, while people were running around in the school parking lot in a panic to get away from an actual mountain lion (which was gunned down by Allison's dad, Chris Argent), Noah had gotten hit by a car. He wasn't seriously injured but he was hurt nonetheless. Now, as Scott makes his way into class and behind Stiles, he ignores their werewolf friend.

"Still not talking to me?" Scott asks. He sighs when Stiles doesn't answer. "Can you at least tell me if your dad's okay? I mean, it's just a bruise, right? Some soft tissue damage. Nothing... That big."

"Not helping." Y/n spoke under her breath knowing Scott would hear her.

He hangs his head for a moment before trying again. "You know I feel really bad about it, right?" Still no answer from Stiles. "Okay." He sighs again. "What if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out, and... That I went to Derek for help?"

Stiles rolls his eyes in disbelief before looking at Y/n who was looking at her notebook. "Y/n, can you please-"

"No." She cut off, not even glancing away from her paper. "You're not gonna drag me into this. It's between you two."

Stiles sighs and faces forward again. "If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting him. But obviously I'm not talking to you." The bell rings for the start of class and Scott pulls his books from his bag.

Y/n can feel Stiles' growing intrest and his feeble attempts to stop his curiosity in favor of continuing to ignore Scott, but she knows it won't work. She smirks and whispers to herself. "3...2...1..."

Stiles whips around to face Scott. "What did he say?"

"Bingo." Y/n smiles in amusement.

"Wh- he wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?" Stiles confirms as he, Scott and Y/n leave the classroom, Scott having told them what happened with the Hale.

"Yeah." Scott nods.

"All right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone, and that someone's usually us." He gestures between himself and Y/n.

"I know. That's what he means when he says he doesn't know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it."

"It seems more like you need anger manegment than tapping into it." Y/n mused.

"How's he gonna teach you?" Stiles continued his questioning.

"I don't know. I don't think he does either."

"Okay. When are you seeing him again?"

"He told me not to talk about it. Just act normal and get through the day."

Stiles stops walking making Scott and Y/n stop too. "When?"

"He's picking me up at the Animal Clinic after work."

"After work. All right, well, that gives us to the end of the school day then."

"To do what?"

"To teach you ourselves." Stiles grabs Y/n's wrist as they continue to walk and she gives him a confused look.

"How are we gonna teach him?" She asked.

"I'm still thinking of that."

...

Y/n listens in to Allison and Lydia as she sits in the cafeteria with Stiles and Scott, the latter hiding behind a World History book. Allison is reading from an older book to Lydia about the Beast of Gévaudan. Y/n's heard of La Bête before. Her mother would tell her stories when she was younger, one of them being about the Maid of Gévaudan. A woman who killed the Beast with a deadly spear head, a witch's charm, and the help of a man of Silver. Most people would think that the Beast's death was a triumphant story, but the story her mother told was one laced with sadness.

Lydia left after a bit and Stiles looked at Scott. "I think the book's making it more obvious. Besides, she's reading anyway."

"So did you come up with a plan yet?" Scott peeked around the book at his friends.

"I think so."

"Does that mean you don't hate me now?"

"No. But your crap has infiltrated my life, so now I have to do something about it. Plus I'm definitely a better Yoda than Derek."

"Okay, yeah, you teach me."

"Yeah, I'll be your Yoda."

"Yeah, you... Be my Yoda."

"Your Yoda I will be." Stiles chuckles at his not-so-great Yoda impression and Y/n huffs a laugh while Scott had no reaction. "I said it backwards."

"Yeah, I-I know."

"Have you still not watched Star Wars?" Y/n asked. "I mean, I haven't seen them fully but even I know who Yoda is."

Scott gives her a helpless shrug. "All right, you know what? I definitely still hate you. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah." Stiles gets up with his things, grabs Scott's 'cover', and pulls Y/n along with him as he leaves the cafeteria. Scott scrambles after them as Allison notices him. She calls for him but he hides in the boys' bathroom to avoid her.

"Why do you keep dragging me with you away from Scott?" Y/n asked as Stiles pulled her along with him down the halls.

"Do you want to sit with Scott?" He seemed to accuse.

"It's not that I want to sit with Scott, it's just that it seems like you're trying to keep me away from him because you're mad at him." When he didn't respond she sighed and made them stop walking. "Stiles, I'm not gonna pick sides, okay? You're both my friend so I'm on both of your sides, always."

"Yeah, okay. I get it. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She smiled at him. "Now, let's go Obi-wan this shit." She lightly tugged on the hand Stiles was still holding her with and they started walking again. His eyes fell from her profile down to their hands, a bit of surprise going through him when she didn't let go. His mind was too occupied with trying to help Scott, so he was unable to overthink her actions as he usually would. Instead he just found that he liked the way her hand felt in his, and so he held on a little tighter and smiled when she did the same.

Later Y/n and Stiles lead Scott to the lacrosse field. Stiles carried a lacrosse stick and a duffel bag. "Okay." Stiles sat himself, the stick, and the bag on the bench seat. "Now... Put this on." He rummaged through the bag and handed Scott a heart monitor strap.

"Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?" Scott asked once he looked at it.

"Yeah. We borrowed it."

"Stole it." Y/n and Scott chorused.

"Temporarily misappropriated."

"Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day." Y/n explains.

"Isn't that Coach's phone?" Scott spots the named device in Y/n's hand.

"That, I stole." Stiles nodded.

"Why?"

"All right, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right?"

"When you're playing lacrosse," Y/n gives an example.

"When you're with Allison," Stiles adds.

"Whenever you get angry."

"Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate."

"Like The Incredible Hulk." Scott realizes.

"Kind of like The Incredible Hulk, yeah."

"No, I'm like The Incredible Hulk." Scott seemed to really like that idea.

"Would you shut up and put the strap on?" Scott obeys.

They all stand in the middle of the field as Stiles tapes Scott's wrists together behind his back. "This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my free period."

"Tell me about it." Y/n comments.

"All right. You ready?" Stiles asks as he and Y/n move a good distance away.

"No."

"Remember, don't get angry." Stiles sits the bag down and Y/n sits down behind it, taking Coach's phone and opening the heart rate app.

"I'm starting to think this was a really bad idea." A moment later Stiles takes up his lacrosse stick and hurls a ball at Scott who groans in pain from the impact. Y/n checks the phone. His heart rate is 115. He throws another ball and it hits Scott square in the chest. "Okay, that one... Kinda hurt."

"Quiet. Remember, you're supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, all right? About staying calm."

"Stay calm." He mutters to himself just as he gets hit again. "Staying calm. Staying totally calm. There's no balls flying at my- agh!" He's hit again. A few more are thrown. "Aah! Son of a bitch!" Scott groans.

"You know what? I think my aim is actually improving."

"Wonder why."

"Ah, buh, buh. Don't get angry."

"I'm not getting angry."

She looks again and it's 130 this time. "You seem to be enjoying this a little too much." Y/n looked up at Stiles.

He scrunched his face. "Nah." He continues to throw balls at Scott.

After another particularly hard one Scott tries to stop Stiles for a moment. "Stop. Just wait. Wait, just hold on."

"Stiles, wait-" Y/n tries to catch him, but it's too late as Stiles throws another and Scott drops down to his knees. "Stiles." She shows him the phone. Scott's heart rate has jumped to 160. Scott groans as he tries to calm down.

"Scott?" Stiles calls. Scott ends up tearing the tape and he hunches over on the ground, breathing heavily. He seems to calm down as the monitor also starts to drop.

Y/n gets up and goes over to Scott to check on him, Stiles following. "Scott, you started to shift."

"From anger." He pants. "But it was more than that. The angrier I got, the stronger I felt."

"So it is anger, then. Derek's right." Stiles says.

"I can't be around Allison."

"Just because she makes you happy?"

"No, because she makes me weak."

...

Y/n had left the boys as they went to the locker rooms. She could have followed them in as long as the other boys were decent, but she didn't want to. Scott was convinced at the moment that Allison made him weaker, yet Y/n wasn't quite so sure. There's something about the girl that Y/n thinks helps Scott. It's like it's on the tip of her tongue and she can't grasp it. For now she tables it for future thought and makes her way to her locker to retrieve her present for Allison. With Scott whisking her away Y/n hadn't been able to give it to her on her birthday, but now is just as good. A late gift is just as good as an on time one. Once she grabbed the gift bag she went on a search for her friend.

She found Allison sitting against some lockers with the book Y/n saw her with earlier in her lap, a few papers on the floor next to her. "Hey, you." Y/n greets as soon as she's close enough.

Allison looks up and smiles once she sees Y/n. "Hey."

Y/n plops down next to her. "I wasn't able to give you this because you ran away with Scott, like the cute couple you are, so I'm doing it now." She held the bag up for Allison to take. "Happy late birthday." She said the last part quietly.

"Oh, Y/n! You really didn't have to." She shyly took the bag.

"I didn't have to but I wanted to. It was no biggie, really. Just open it." She excitedly coaxed.

"Okay, okay." Allison chuckled. Once she did open it she gasped and pulled out the gift. A brown wooden arrow held a small dreamcatcher, and hanging around it were strings with white feathers and some beads. "It's beautiful! Did you make this?" She looked at Y/n.

"Yeah." She nodded with a proud smile. "It's just something I like to do sometimes."

"The arrow. How did you...?"

"Scott told me you liked archery." Allison nodded in understanding as she continued to admire her gift. She lightly touched the webbing with a smile. "My mom used to tell me that dreamcatchers help you when you sleep. The bad dreams get caught in the web while the good dreams slip through the hole in the middle. She taught me how to make them when I was younger." A sad smile came to Y/n's face and Allison noticed.

She put a comforting hand on hers. "Thank you. I love it."

"It's no problem." Y/n glanced up and saw Jackson coming their way and scowled. "I hate to ditch you but I'd rather not be around him."

"Yeah, that's fine. I get it. I'll see you later?"

Y/n nodded. "Definitely. I'm glad you liked your present." They shared one more smile and a quick hug before Y/n got up to walk away, unfortunately having to walk past Jackson. She stopped in her tracks just as he passed and she glanced back at him. A faint scent of decay clung to him and she's just now noticing how awful he looks. She frowns, almost wanting to ask if he was alright. After a moment she ultimately decides to leave it, he wouldn't appreciate any concern she would have anyway.

...

Y/n is already sitting in Coach's class when Scott and Stiles come in, the last few students taking their seats as the bell rings. "Let's go. Sit, sit, sit, sit. We got a lot to cover today. Let's go. Quicker." Coach coaxes the students.

Scott sits next to Y/n and Stiles goes to sit behind her until Scott stops him. "Hey, Stiles, sit behind me, dude." Stiles scrambles to take the seat yet Allison beats him to it making him bashfully retreat, giving Scott a helpless look. Stiles settles down behind Y/n and they are forced to listen to Scott's awkward conversation.

"Hey." Allison greets Scott.

"Hey."

"I haven't seen you all day."

"Uh, yeah. I've been, uh, super busy."

"When are you gonna get your phone fixed? I feel like I'm totally disconnected from you."

"Uh, soon. Real soon."

"I changed lab partners, by the way."

"Oh. To who?"

"To you, dummy."

"Me? I mean, are you sure?"

"Yeah. This way I have an excuse to bring you home and study."

"Oh."

"You don't mind, do you?"

"I just- I don't want to bring your grade down."

"Well, I mean, maybe I can bring your grade up. Come to my place tonight. 8:30?"

"Tonight?"

"8:30."

Coach slams a book down on his desk. "Let's settle down. Let's start with a quick summary of last night's reading." A few students put their hands up. "Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading. How about, uh..." He walks around his desk. "McCall."

"What?" Scott looks up at Coach.

"The reading."

"Last night's reading?"

"How about, uh, the reading of the Gettysburg Address?"

"What?" Scott asks, confused.

"That's sarcasm. You familiar with the term 'sarcasm,' McCall?"

He nods and glances at Y/n and Stiles. "Very." Stiles smiles and Y/n smirks, the two discretely high-fiving.

"Did you do the reading or not?"

"Um... l-I think I forgot."

"Nice work, McCall. It's not like you're not averaging a D in this class. Come on, buddy. You know I can't keep you on the team if you have a D." Scott glances down and nods. "How about you summarize, uh, the previous night's reading? No?" Stiles looks at Coach's phone to check Scott's heart rate. "How about the, uh, the night before that? How about you summarize anything you've ever read... In your entire life?" Coach's voice rises along with Scott's heart rate.

Y/n grits her teeth as Coach rants. She folds her arms, her fingers digging into the flesh. If she were a wolf she would be shifting right now. Coach was normally cool but today was obviously not a good day especially with Scott failing and his position in lacrosse becoming shaky. That didn't mean what Coach was doing was right though. Unfortunately there's nothing she could do to help. She slumps down as far as she can in her seat and closes her eyes.

"I- I, uh-" Scott tries to think.

"No? A blog? How about, uh, how about, uh, the back of a cereal box? No? How about the adults only warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything?" When Scott can't respond, Coach continues. "Thank you, McCall, thank you." He bangs on his desk. "Thank you, McCall! Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation. You just blew it for everybody. Thanks. Next practice you can start with suicide runs. Unless that's too much reading." The phone was doing its rapid beeps until it suddenly started going down. Stiles looked over to see Allison holding Scott's hand under the desk, the gesture calming him down. "All right. Everybody else, settle down."

Stiles get's Y/n's attention and nods his head towards the couple. She sees their hands and smiles.

...

Scott goes through a door with his friends following as they walk down the halls.

"It's her." Stiles blurts.

"What do you mean?" Scott asks.

"It's Allison." Y/n clarifies.

"Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her." Stiles questions.

"Okay." Scott nods.

"Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field." Y/n gives another example.

"Yeah, I did."

"So that's what brought you back so you could score." Stiles explains. "And then after the game in the locker room, you didn't kill her. At least not like how you were trying to kill us." Scott looks at Stiles. "She brings you back, is what we're saying."

"No, no, no, but it's not always true, because literally every time I'm kissing her or- or touching her."

"No, that's not the same. When you're doing that, you're just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, you know?" Scott gets a smirk on his face. "You're thinking about sex right now, aren't you?"

Scott nods a bit. "Yeah. Sorry."

Y/n rolls her eyes with a head shake and a sigh. "Boys." She mutters as Stiles continues.

"That's fine. Look, back in the classroom when she was holding your hand, that was different, okay? I don't think she makes you weak. I- I think she actually gives you control. She's kind of like an anchor."

Y/n's eyes widen with a small gasp. "An anchor! Stiles, you genius!" She grabs his arms, giving him a slight shake and an excited smile before she seemed to catch herself and let him go. "I was trying to remember that word all day." She covered up. Before anyone could question it she turned to Scott. "She's your anchor."

"You mean because I love her." Scott says.

"Exactly." Stiles agrees, rubbing at his arm from Y/n's slightly too strong grip.

Scott pauses in his walking as he realizes what he had said. "Did I just say that?"

"Yes, you just said that." Y/n smirks.

Scott smiles. "I love her."

"That's great. Now, moving on-" Stiles is cut off.

"No, no, no, really. I think I'm totally in love with her."

"And that's beautiful. Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please? Because you obviously can't be around her all the time."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Scott nods. "Sorry. So what do I do?"

Stiles sighs. "I don't know. Yet." Stiles spins in a slow circle as he thinks and once he faces them again he looks like he's got something.

"You're getting an idea, aren't you?" Y/n observed.

"Yeah."

"Is the idea gonna get me in trouble?" Scott asks.

"Maybe."

"Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?"

"Yeah, definitely. Come on."

Stiles led them to the parking lot near a truck and four tougher looking guys. "What are we doing?" Scott asked.

"You'll see, hold on." Stiles stopped them near the truck. "Okay. Stand right there. Y/n stay with me." He directs.

"Okay." She said unsure, standing next to him in front of Scott.

"Do you have your keys?" He asked Scott who pulled his keys out. "Perfect. Hold 'em up like so." He positions Scott's hand to where he's holding up a key in plain view. "Just like that. Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison. Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?" Scott nods. "Okay. Just... Keep holding it right there. Y/n, come with me." She follows as told and sees him casually pull out his own keys.

"What..." She whispers shocked as he keyed the truck. He moved to the sidewalk, pulling Y/n along, and casually stood there. For good measure he put his arm over her shoulders before he really put his plan in action.

"Hey, hey, hey, dude!" He yelled towards Scott. "What do you think you're doing to that truck, bro?" He glanced at the guys who were now looking at them because of the yelling.

"Oh, no." Y/n muttered.

"What the hell?" One of the guys yelled, spotting Scott holding up the key. Scott flounders and hastily puts the key away, but the damage is already done. Scott gets decked.

"Ow! My God. Wow." Stiles winces. Scott gets back up and rushes into the guy only to get kneed in the face and making him go down again. He gets dragged back to the guys and they all start wailing on him. Stiles checks the phone as Scott's heart rate rises again. "Ah, come on, stay calm. Stay calm."

"Oh, geez." Y/n groaned. "Was this really necessary?" She glanced at Stiles.

He clicks his tongue. "Uh, yeah, totally. Oh that's not okay." He comments again.

Y/n furrows her brows as she looks at Scott. "Find Allison, Scott. Find her voice." She whispers so he could hear her. He seems to listen as a moment later he starts to calm when Mr. Harris suddenly arrives to stop the beating.

"Stop! Hey, stop it right now." The guys run as Mr. Harris comes closer. "What do you idiots think you're doing?" He looks down at Scott. Scott props himself up and Stiles holds the phone up for him to see, a grin on his face as it shows a calm heart rate.

The trio now sit in Mr. Harris's classroom having got detention for the stunt outside. Y/n sits at the table in front of Scott and Stiles. She boredly has her elbow propped on the table with her chin on her hand. She's pretty sure she's supposed to be doing some type of homework while she waits to be released, but she just can't help not really listening to Mr. Harris sometimes, this being one of those times. There's just something about the teacher that really gets on her nerves. Probably because he's an asshat.

"Excuse me, sir?" Scott calls Mr. Harris politely and he looks up. "Uh, I know it's detention and all, but, uh, we're supposed to be at work," he gestures to himself and Y/n, "and I don't want to get fired." Mr. Harris just gives him a small smile and looks back down at his papers. Scott sighs then looks at Stiles. "You knew I would heal."

"Yep." Stiles nods.

"So you did that to help me learn?"

"Yep."

"But partially to punish me."

"Yeah. Well, that one's obvious."

"Dude, you're one of my best friends, and I can't have you being angry with me."

"I'm not angry anymore." He's quiet for a moment. "Look, you have something, Scott. Okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do. So that means you don't have a choice anymore. It means you have to do something."

They look at each other. "I know. And I will."

"All right, all three of you, out of here." Harris suddenly announced.

They all perk up. "Thank you."

"Wait." Y/n narrows her eyes. "Really? They fix their friendship and exactly now is when you decide to let us go?"

"You can always stay a few more hours if you so desperately want to, Ms. L/n."

Y/n holds up her hands in mock surrender. "No, thank you." She gathered her stuff and left with her friends.

...

Alan works in the back room of the clinic when he hears the front door. Thinking it's Y/n and Scott he starts talking to them. "Scott, I kind of expect something like this from Y/n, but you're late again. I hope this isn't getting to be a habit." He looks towards the door but instead of the teens he sees Derek Hale. "Can I help you?"

"Hope so." Derek responds. "I want to know about the animal you found with the spiral on its side?"

"Excuse me? What animal?"

"Three months ago. The deer. You remember this?" He unfolds a paper he had found on his car and shows it to the vet. It's a picture of a deer with a spiral carved into its side, exactly like he had just said.

"Oh, yes." He nods. "It's just a deer. And I didn't find it. They called me because they wanted to know if I'd ever seen anything like it."

"What'd you tell 'em?"

"I told them no."

Derek is quiet as he puts the paper away and takes a few steps closer. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Alan takes a few steps back and puts the metal table between them.

"The sound of your heartbeat rising." They now stand across from each other, the only thing separating them is the table.

"Excuse me?"

"It's the sound of you lying." The table does nothing to help as Derek reaches over and pulls Alan over.

Alan blinks his eyes open and finds himself in a chair. A cut is on his cheek and his hands are bound behind him. "Oh, God." He pulls on the tape around his wrists and looks around.

"Are you protecting someone?" Derek asks and Alan looks over his shoulder at him.

"All right. The key to the drug locker is in my pocket."

"I don't want drugs. I want to know why you're lying." He gets up close behind Alan to intimidate him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Derek spins him around in the chair and lifts him and the chair up in the air. "What are you doing to me? What do you want?"

"I want to know who you are or who you're protecting."

"What the hell are you doing?!" Y/n yells, her and Scott having finally arrived.

Alan looks over at them. "Y/n, Scott, get out of here!" Derek sets him down and then decks him, knocking him out.

"Stop! Stop!" Scott yells as they rush over.

Y/n kneels in front of Alan, lightly touching his cheek under the cut, then she glares at Derek. "What is wrong with you?"

"Look, when he's conscious, he can stop himself from healing, but unconscious, he can't." Derek explains to them.

"Are you out of your mind? What are you talking about?" Scott asks.

"You want to know what the spiral means, Scott? It's our sign for a vendetta, for revenge. It means he won't stop killing until he's satisfied."

"You think he's the Alpha?" Y/n asks bewildered. "He's not. I mean, I would know if I was living with a damn werewolf for several freaking years."

"We're about to find out." He goes to swipe at Alan with his claws but Scott stops him, now fully shifted. He growls at Derek and shoves his arm away.

Scott looks at his hand and breathes, calming down and shifting back while glaring at Derek. "Hit him again, and then you'll see me get angry."

"If he hits him again he won't see tomorrow's sunrise." Y/n threatens. Derek calms down and she gets a cotton ball to clean the cut on Alan's cheek. She gently dabs at the spot and frowns at her unconscious guardian.

"Do you have a plan?" Derek asks Scott.

"Just give me an hour."

"Then what?"

"Meet us at the school. In the parking lot." Derek doesn't say anything and just walks away. Y/n huffs angrily and throws the cotton ball away.

...

Stiles pulls into the dark parking lot of the highschool, a fuming Y/n in the backseat. They all get out and stand at the back of the Jeep. "This is a terrible idea." Stiles says.

"Yeah, I know." Scott agrees.

"But we're still gonna do it?"

"Can you think of something better?"

"Well, personally I'm a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away."

"Just make sure we can get inside." Stiles opens the back of the Jeep to get the bolt cutters.

"I can always just shove wolfsbane down Derek's throat and we wouldn't have to do anything at all." Y/n suggests.

"No." Scott shoots her down and she rolls her eyes just as Derek pulls up. "He's here."

"Where is he?" Y/n asks as soon as Derek gets out of his car.

"He's in the back." Y/n looks through the windows and spots Alan still knocked out in Derek's backseat with tape over his mouth.

"Oh, well, he looks comfortable." Stiles says.

"If there is even one more scratch on him-" Y/n points a finger at Derek.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No more sunrise." Derek rolls his eyes. Scott pulls Y/n away from Derek and Stiles follows as they head for the school. "Wait. Hey. What are you doing?"

"You said I was linked with the Alpha, I'm gonna see if you're right." Scott leads the way as they make their way into the school and towards the office.

"Okay, one question. What are you gonna do if the Alpha doesn't show up?" Stiles asks as he sets up the PA system.

"I don't know." Scott admits.

"And what are you gonna do if he does show up?"

"I don't know."

"Good plan." Stiles nods.

"All right. You said that a wolf howls to signal his position to the rest of the pack, right?" Scott looks at Y/n. She nods.

"But if you bring him here, does that make you part of his pack?" Stiles asks.

"I hope not."

"I doubt it will." Y/n says.

"I hope not, too." Stiles finishes setting up and nods to Scott. "All right. All you." He sits the microphone in front of Scott. He clears his throat, takes a deep breath, presses the button and... Howls?

"Was that okay?" Scott asks once he's done making ears bleed. "I mean, that was a howl, right?"

"l- yeah, technically." Stiles tries.

"It was awful." Y/n shakes her head.

"Well, what did it sound like to you?" Scott asks.

"Like a cat being choked to death, Scott."

"It sounded like a million nails scratching against a mile long black board." Y/n grimaces.

"What do I do? How am I supposed to do this?"

"Hey, hey." Stiles goes around to stand behind Scott and grip his shoulders encouragingly. "Listen to me. You're calling the Alpha. All right? Be a man. Be a werewolf, not a teen wolf. Be a werewolf." Scott nods and Stiles backs up. Scott takes a deep breath, a determined look on his face. His eyes glow, he presses the button and HOWLS.

"I'm gonna kill all three of you." Derek threatens the teens when they get back outside. "What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?"

"Sorry. I didn't know it would be that loud." Scott apologized.

"Yeah, it was loud. And it was awesome." Stiles said the last word in a sing-song voice. Y/n snorted a laugh at him.

"Shut up."

"Don't be such a sour wolf."

Y/n smiles at the joke and her eyes wander over to Derek's car. The smile fades when she notices the lack of a man in the backseat. "Where's Alan?"

"What?" Derek looks back and finds that Alan is indeed missing, the door left open. "I didn't do anything." He looks back at her. A sudden growl rips through the air and Derek coughs up blood. He gets lifted in the air by the Alpha with his claws in Derek's back.

"Shit! Go, go, go!" Y/n shoves the boys into gear and they sprint to the school. They burst through the doors and quickly close them, hiding under the windows.

Ch.07

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kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay · 1 year

Text

View 🏙️

Summary: This isn't how you thought you'd see the city from above for the first time.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, black mail, non-con (touching and sex), loss of virgintiy, coercion, manipulation, improper boss-employee relations, hidden cameras, power-imbalance, hinted anal sex

Word count: 1.5k

Author's note: And here we have entry number four for @the-slumberparty's BINGO challenge! I can't believe I'm writing so much lately and I am truly grateful to have signed up for this fun little venture because it has helped me write more than I probably have in the whole past year.

I ticked off a single square this time, which is "blackmail" and turned it into a deliciously spicy piece of writing. Enjoy!

...

He has you naked and pressed up against the clear glass pane of his office, the streets of the city sprawling in every direction far below you.

His suit brushes up against your bare back, legs encased by his to keep you immobile against the window. Your head is turned to the side, left cheek against the glass, your hitching breaths fogging it over.

“Don't be so difficult, darling,” he slithers in your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through your already trembling body. “We both know there's no way out of this.”

You try to shake your head no, shame and helplessness scorching your insides. You know calling for help won't do you any good. No one is coming.

“All you have to do is spread your pretty legs and you can go unscathed and with a glowing review on your records once the internship is over,” he says lowly, letting go of one of your hands he'd pressed to the glass to reach around your body and grab at your chest. He lets out a hum and bend down further to nuzzle at your neck.

“No...” you whisp weakly, your now free hand reaching back to bat at his fruitlessly.

“Yes,” the black-haired devil calling himself your boss replies. “I will split your tight little virgin pussy open on my cock whether you want to or not. But it is your decision if the footage of your deflowering is gonna be spread around or kept safely in my pocket.”

You let out a sob and sink further against the cold window. You can't get out of this. You fought with everything you had, shouted for help, bartered for your life with anything you could think of. But he kept on.

Stalking you through his sealed off office like the predator he is, stripping you of your clothes piece by piece once he's caught you and telling you about all the horrible things he wants to force you to do.

“You were asking for it, lovely. So eager to please, jumping at every opportunity to be of use, looking at me with those innocent eyes... Very tempting indeed,” he husks, giving your neck a playful bite.

“And what can I say, when I see something I like, I take it.”

You shake your head again and push back against his hold, but he is stronger than you and just like before, all your effort is for nothing.

“Better accept it, darling girl. I can ruin your reputation with the flick of a finger. I'm pretty sure you don't want all your future job prospects to go down the drain just because you're a little scared to get fucked like you deserve, hm?”

You can't speak. You've gone mute in your shock, mind and body out of sync as the situation unfolds, and not in your favour.

“Come now, let's get you away from the window,” he coos in a mockingly caring tone when he notices your defeat. You silent acquiescence.

Mr Laufeyson steps back, pulling you with him as he walks away from the window and drags you over to his desk. Giving you an unkind shove, he sprawls you over the hard wood, your back painfully colliding with the cold surface while he grabs your dangling legs and presses them apart.

You let out an embarrassed cry and try to close your legs, but he's stronger than you. When you reach down to hide yourself, he gives your hand a mean smack and pinches your thigh until you retract your hand and sag back against the desk with a quiet sob.

“What a pretty little flower we have here,” the raven-haired man praises and you jerk when he reaches out to spread your lips with his index and ring finger. His middle finger flicks down and coyly circles your clit until you whimper helplessly.

“Ripe and ready for the taking,” he muses, sounding all too pleased with himself when he inserts a finger into your barely wet pussy and pushes it as far as it can go.

You twitch and writhe, your body wanting nothing more than to escape this man's unbidden touch. But you can't. He'll ruin you, showing his mistake for everyone to see and still it will be you who reaps the consequences of his actions.

Your hands reach up to grasp the edge of the polished desk with a death grip and keep them away from your splayed body parts.

Your boss keeps toying with you, finding better ways to stimulate your clit and adding a second finger to your quickly moistening cunt.

When you let out a whimpered moan he gives a triumphant chuckle and lets go of your thigh to instead reach up and massage your breasts, squeezing and kneading, pinching your nipples until you cry out and twist your body away from his cruel touch.

Horror bubbles in your gut when you feel a familiar heat rising in your loins and more tears spill out of your bloodshot, swollen eyes.

Your muscles bear down on the man's questing fingers, but just before you can tip over that dreaded edge, he pulls his hand away and gives your cunt a harsh spank that almost has you jumping out of your own skin.

“Little harlot, almost coming on my fingers. If you are to come, you will do so writhing on my cock,” he states and pushes his slicked fingers into his mouth while undoing his belt.

Once they are clean of your essence, he pulls them out and shoves down his pants and underwear until they fall down to his feet and he steps out of them.

You're too dazed and terrified to do more than watch as he unbuttons his blazer and tosses it aside as well before pushing up the sleeves of his dress shirt and reaching your your frozen form.

His movement startles you out of your state and your eyes automatically dart down to the erect cock standing proud between the cruel bastard's legs.

You gulp. That would never fit in you-

Mr Laufeyson pulls you off the desk and leaves you on shaky legs as he slides between the desk and yourself. You can hear the wood creek when he leans just against the edge and you make to turn around to see what he's doing but his hands clamp down on your waist to keep you facing forward and away from him.

You puff out scared breaths when he slides his hands down to your thighs and bends to get a good grip on them before hauling you off your feet and back against his chest, thighs spread wide apart like butterfly wings, baring every hidden crevice usually kept safe between them.

“Wait- wait, please,” you croak out suddenly, your hands scrambling for anything to hold onto but coming up empty in the position he's got you in.

“Shhh, lovely girl, let it happen. I promise you're going to feel pleasure beyond your understanding,” he shushes you.

His body shifts and the raven-haired man briefly lets go of one leg, letting it dangle uselessly while he reaches between you and draws his cock up against your defenceless pussy.

He guides it through your pussy lips, sawing up and down to coat himself in your slick before drawing back and nestling the head just in your opening. Once he's in place, he hoists your leg back up and pushes away from the desk to fully stand on his own two feet while you precariously dangle from him with just the tip of his cock touching your pussy.

“Ready?” he taunts in your ear and you make to shake your head, but the cruel man doesn't wait for your answer.

Instead, he loosens his hold on you, using your own body weight to impale your tight pussy on his cock, forcing your wet walls apart and breaking through the tissue lining your precious entrance.

You let out a howl and writhe in Mr Laufeyson's arms, pained moans and babbled pleading flowing from your deflating lungs.

He doesn't listen. Instead, he slams you down all the way, his tip painfully hitting the back of your tunnel before pulling out and immediately pushing back in without giving you a moment of reprieve to wrap your head around the fact that you've just painfully lost your virginity against your will.

“Oh Norns, your tight little pussy feels like heaven,” your boss groans, his breath puffing against the back of your neck as he keeps moving you up and down his cock, his hips mercilessly meeting your body's motions on every thrust.

“St-Stop- pleaaa- please..” you cry, your words chopped from the rough bouncing of your body. “H-hurts.”

“It'll get easier once you're broken in,” the man grunts, his voice strained by pleasure. “Maybe I should get my brother to help me open up this tight body. He's never been one to say no to a virgin ass.”

...

Ah, I live for cruel Loki. He's such a bastard and it's really fun to write when he's paired with a helpless little birdy. Such a manipulative fucker :D

#loki laufeyson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader #loki laufeyson oneshot #dark!loki #writing challenge #bingo challenge #the slumberparty bingo challenge

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floralegia · 5 months

Note

4, 19, 27, 29 for the writing ask game! 💜💖

EEEEE thank you!!

4. How many WIPs do you have right now?

OH GREAT SO YOU'RE COMING FOR MY HEAD RIGHT FROM THE START

Well, I counted 29 for this post, but as I noted there that doesn't include the plot bunnies chilling in my ideas doc (aka The List™) or either of the two bingo cards I currently have out, which between them have I want to say 32 prompts? So, you know. :'''')

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

There's important stuff being said, probably, but the only thought Pete's brain is capable of processing right now is this one: Oh my God, he's such a fucking DILF.

Well, okay, that's not exactly true, because as soon as that thought slides through his psyche, it butts right up against the answering one that shouts Patrick! That fucking DILF is fucking PATRICK!, and then he gets sort of stuck in that loop for a little while, until at last the DILF thing overpowers the shrieking confusion of the fact that up until a couple of minutes ago, he'd only known Patrick Stump as a sort of sweaty, scowl-y, angel-voiced teenager, and the whole thing starts over again with the urge to drool dramatically over the glasses and the beard and the fucking build of him, Jesus fucking Christ.

Suffice to say, it's been a challenging few minutes.

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

There have been a couple of notable ones in recent memory, one that I won't name because I ended up posting it on a sock account and then this one. In both cases, I was essentially scared of being harassed over the content of the fics; the unnamed fic contains a couple of noncon scenes, and obviously the linked fic is Waycest, lol. Both have been received pretty well so far (touch wood), so, I mean, I'm definitely building up confidence, I think? I very strongly believe in the idea of writing whatever and who cares what people think, but also I am very small and very frightened lol. It's a whole thing.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Random fic idea, under the cut because it's a bit long: P2 RHPS AU feat. Bandom At Large!

Due to watching the video of Patrick's performance of "I Can Make You A Man" for the 2020 RHPS charity livestream--which, oh my God, by the way--I was struck by the idea of a Rocky Horror AU. To be clear, I don't mean an AU based on the movie the Rocky Horror Picture Show, I mean an AU about the boys putting on the Rocky Horror Picture show. So really, I suppose, it's a college community theater AU of some kind, but it's focused around RHPS. Not that I've been involved in a production myself, other than at CTY, I suppose, but having done community theater generally and attended RHPS productions, I think I can make a fair attempt.

So, anyway. Pete is running the thing--whole thing is his idea, he's the director, etc. I feel like this is likely not the first year, and in fact Pete likely inherited the production from an upperclassman. But they had a lot of people graduate last year, and they're having trouble backfilling those roles, so in addition to directing he's reprising his role as Rocky. They're advertising hard for musicians, too, because Pete--being a go big or go home kind of guy--ALSO wants to perform with a live band this year and do a proper Rocky Horror Show production, rather than perform in front of the film as they've typically done. That's how Patrick gets involved: he shows up to inquire about playing in the pit, because he's always trying to pick up odd musical jobs here and there to pay for school, and in true Fall Out Boy fashion he ends up singing a little bit and Pete's like, wait, no, holy fuck, sing this, throws the book at him, Patrick sings a bit of one of Frank's lines, and that's all she wrote. They've been having a particular amount of trouble casting Frank, and Pete decides Patrick is perfect for the role, which kind of baffles everyone else, especially Patrick, but Pete's like... distractingly pretty, so against his own better judgement Patrick agrees.

Beyond that, I'm not sure what the actual, like, plot would be. I think Patrick has a passing familiarity with RHPS but definitely not intimate knowledge, so partially he has to get up to speed. Partially, too, he has to overcome his stage fright and particularly his aversion to appearing on stage in front of a bunch of strangers while wearing sexy outfits and doing a lot of slutty slutty things, so there's that, but idk if that's a "plot" per se. There's also the implication/background of the production being sort of scrappy, but I don't know that that's a "plot" either, really. Hmmm.

Well, in the meantime, other notes that I had in my head include Gabe Saporta as Brad because I think that's really funny given his everything; Joe and Andy are definitely involved, I think with Joe playing Meatloaf and Andy drumming, or maybe Andy's Meatloaf and Joe is Riff Raff???? General DCD2/bandom cast... Uhhh, Ray should definitely be in the band/pit, Hayley Williams and Gerard are Magenta and Columbia (not sure which is which--I like Gerard as a sexy maid, so maybe he's Magenta???), and then that leaves, what, the criminologist??? Oh, and Janet, obviously. Maybe Greta from the Hush Sound is Janet? Or Vicky-T, that would make a lot of sense. Frank is either in the pit or he's the stage manager or something. Or crew. He kind of has insane stage crew energy. Mikey is... there. Possibly pit as well. Possibly just hanging around and the joke is everyone's always like, Mikey what the fuck are you doing here???? and he just shrugs and the answer is that he tends to get dragged into things Gerard's involved in and this is no different, but really he's just hanging around.

#ask game #LOVE YOU HAN

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 1 year

Note

Here's a bingo card full of great Klaine fics:

Debut: Days by AllyThePotato

Page Turner: Come Alive by delires

Need Tissues: Stick Season by Blurglesmurfklaine

Unusual Occupation: Witch Wanted by RockItMan

Wild Card: Running in Circles, Coming up Tails by izwordsoup

Summer: Swing, Swing by quizasvivamos

Challenge: Ebb and Flow by maanorchidee

Laugh: these inconvenient fireworks by redheadgleek

Trope I don't normally read: Out of Eden (and the whole 'verse) by wowbright

Thanks for your Bingo card! HERE is the collection (125 fics and counting!) and here is the info for the 2023 Klaine Bingo! ~Lynne

1) Days by AllyThePotato

Blaine lives in San Fransisco, Kurt lives in Lima. They've never met in person, but befriend one another and talk over the phone. They make plans to live in NYC together, but will everything go as planned?

2) Come Alive by delires

1960s NYC: Newly-wed junior advertising exec Blaine Anderson finds a missing piece to his puzzle in the back room of a Manhattan bar. Mad Men era AU.

3) Stick Season by @blurglesmurfklaine

After Finn dies, Kurt leaves everything he knows behind without a trace. His hometown, his family, his boyfriend. When his dad has a medical scare, he returns to Lima, one year after breaking Blaine’s heart with no explanation.

4) Witch Wanted by @rockitmans

Blaine is cursed to not touch anyone, Kurt is the grumpy neighborhood witch. They each have something the other other needs (the thing is love)

5) Running in Circles, Coming up Tails by izwordsoup

Kurt and Adam are married with a seven-year-old daughter, Ellie. "Happily married" is another question. Ellie takes piano lessons from none other than Blaine Anderson, who also happens to be a good friend of Kurt's since college. What happens to them when Adam goes to England to star in a West End musical, leaving Kurt and Ellie in New York? What happens when Blaine becomes a more frequently-seen figure in Kurt and Ellie's lives due to Ellie's piano schedule?

6) Swing Swing by quizasvivamos

The Skanks, Kurt and Quinn, are a thing. Blaine, a bit of a bad boy, is dating that goth girl, Tina. The four best friends are fully immersed in the Emo/Scene subculture, the kids everyone at school calls emo or just plain freaks. As close-knit as a friend group can get, the couples share a lot in common: their love of choir and band, tastes in music and art, partying, going to shows and concerts, getting wasted, and—oh, yeah—each other's partners. They swap sometimes. Because it's cool, and it's hot. Besides, it's just for fun. Then, in the summer before their senior year, they take a life-altering road trip to Cleveland for Warped Tour 2005.

7) Ebb & Flow by maanorchidee

Blaine Anderson is yet another anonymous New Yorker who's trying to get a job in the entertainment industry. His days are filled with auditions, bleak subway rides, piano lessons, and complaining about his annoying next-door-neighbour. But Blaine has a secret that he cannot share with his other friends: he dreams of playing competitive Splatoon 2. He already has a hard time justifying this music degree, so he doesn't need to add an interest in eSports to that. That's why the only person who knows about this, is yet another stranger on the internet named Kurt. The two met in an LGBT Splatoon 2 Discord and became fast friends. Little do they know that they also know each other offline.

8) These Inconvenient Fireworks by redheadgleek

After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for the dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

9) Out of Eden by @wowbright

As a gay Mormon, Kurt Hummel has decided to go the rest of his life without falling in love. But toward the end of his two years as a missionary in Germany, Elder Anderson moves into his apartment—and Kurt's best-laid plans fall apart.

#2023 Klaine Bingo #Klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #glee fanfiction

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nothinggathers · 11 months

Text

Final Chapter of my Hankcon Bingo prompt fic, featuring fucking.

My thanks to the @hankcon-bingo mods for the event, it's been a blast.

Square: A3 Friends to Lovers

Title: Only Fools Rush In

Rating: Explicit (for future chapter)

Word Count: 17544

Ship(s): Hank Anderson/Connor

Warnings: N/A

Additional Tags: Crack treated seriously, totally platonic date, will they/won't they, of course they will

Summary:

It's been eight months since the revolution, and the work continues on securing android rights across America. Things in Detroit are starting to get back to normal, for a given definition of normal... And Hank and Connor have still not hooked up, despite Tina's insistence that they will.

“So,” Hank stumbled, feeling like he was twenty one again and awkwardly speaking to a girl he liked, “you wanna come back to my place?” Connor's inscrutable smile rose with his eyes as he looked sidelong at Hank. “We can watch a film?” Hank's hand went to his hair, combing it back self consciously.

“Sure,” Connor replied, as if the whole situation wasn't weird to him. He didn't have a heart to be sent fluttering like Hank's was. He didn't have a bellyful of stupidly expensive food churning away inside him.

“Look, I--” Hank began, and stopped himself. He didn't know what Connor wanted out of this, but asking him felt too brazen. “Did you have a good time?” he asked, as the auto-taxi pulled up and its door opened for them.

Connor leaned in, his hand settling around Hank's upper arm in a deceptively gentle grip. For one heartstopping moment Hank thought Connor was going to kiss him. He stopped with his mouth turned towards Hank's ear, his voice low and intimate as he said, “Yes, Hank, the company was everything I hoped for.”

In the next stilted breath Connor had slipped away, folding himself into the taxi. Hank's brain valiantly tried to send messages to the rest of his body and process what had just happened.

#my fic #my writing #dbh #dbh fic #hankcon #friends to lovers

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coridallasmultipass · 4 days

Note

rosedave for the fucked up ship bingo

Omg, they actually get a bingo for me!!

I was filling it out and skipped 'pool of blood' because I was gonna go back to use a redder colour, and then I finished going through the first pass and was like, 'Oh no, there's no bingo!' Except I read it again and remembered, oh right, forgot the red.

But yeah, awwww! Dave/Rose was baby's first Homestuck ship lol. Like day 1 of reading it I was like, 'they need to date, now!' (Before I even got to all the ectobiological implications, but by that point, it kinda just added to it because of the way they interact.) ((Playing with them like dolls/psychological torture.))

About the t4t one, just a personal comment, I have a whole like, story outline set up where Dave and Rose both being trans plays a role for Bro and Mom (both also trans) to talk (argue, over the phone) about Sburb and stuff. I just reread my outline and hfffff really wanna clean that up. (It's more of a Bro thing tho, so I won't get into that here.) But yeah, Dave and Rose are both queer too, which is always nice.

And 'divorced' is probably more like the Alpha versions, but I feel like that counts, too, since we didn't get to meet them directly in the comic. For the alphas, they seem like the type to be in and out of a relationship with each other all the time, always making headlines like 'Strider and Lalonde spotted holding hands at local cafe! Did their breakup last?' Or like completely mundane shit like that. While they're both intoxicated, D will initiate a breakup over some trivial argument, and then come crawling back to R begging her to come back the next morning. He has the divorce lawyer on speed dial, but both the lawyer and R know the divorce isn't going anywhere, and to just let D blow off steam with legal threats as usual. Idk. I could talk for days ab the alphas, but it's gonna be a lot of like, my ideas of them, rather than what we see in canon, so I'll just leave it at that for now.

Man, tho, that bingo line. So true.

They're terrible for each other in that they were made for each other - each of their fucked up shapes fits the other. I especially love how Dave seeks out Rose to make her pry the information out of him that he's too embarrassed to say flat out, or even when he is actually opening up. He knows Rose is going to tease him, and yet he seeks that out anyway. All of their interactions are just pure gold.

They DO die in a pool of blood together (alphas, but also when betas go godtier just without the blood I guess).

Incredibly mixed feelings!! I shipped this before I got to the related part and had to reconcile with that lol. I mean it wasn't that hard though, since you're basically spoonfed this ship (whether familial, platonic, or romantic/etc) with how Dave is the butt of all the Freudian and incest jokes, but also how comfortable they are with being themselves around each other. Teasing example that I love:

And WHERE is the content?! Fr, where? Whenever I DO see content of them tho, it's really great, so credit where credit is due, there IS content, I just don't happen across it as often as I'd like to.

Speaking of content, I'm gonna include two of my faves, bc 'thinking about them always and forever' lol. SUGGESTIVE stuff as follows:

I'm always thinking about that one fan art of Dave and Rose on the bed (adult only: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/737296482257043456 ) or the one where they're on a wall niche (also adult only: https://coridallasmultipass.tumblr.com/post/739893243737702400/have-you-ever-drawn-any-rosedave-i-love-those ). [Ugh are the links adding?? Just gonna put them down as text, and hope it inserts.]

So yeah. Man, this post got long, sorry about that.

#also sowwy it took me a while to post lol i typed most of it out as soon as i got the ask and then promptly passed out #and then yesterday i had things to do all day so i didnt get around to it but. here it all is!#anonymous #asked #homestuck #daverose #rosedave #dersecest #long post #Cori.exe #Post.exe #truly sorry if the links dont add properly i wrestled with them for like 10 minutes and then realized i needed tonpass put #*out #so im just adding the link to the text of the link so if it doesnt hyperlink at least it can be copied #idk if tumblrs gonna show where i tried adding the links previously. who knows. idk how this post got so messed up while typing it #...and now it looks perfectly normal while editing the draft so idk what parts of it saved and what didnt #also fingers crossed this posts in one go i dont wanna retype it if my internet craps out so now i gotta screenshot all of the text ughhh #posting attempt: 1. lets go!#edit: yeah i cant manage to get the links to hyperlink while on mobile its just not saving. apologies

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negative-speedforce · 11 months

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writing challenge from my bad things happen bingo card: try to get one full bingo (any line of your choice, 4 corners also counts) with one ficlet :)

CW: A WHOLE LOT OF REALLY DARK, FUCKED UP SHIT. See Bingo above for deets, some of it is just mentioned/implied, but it's all here.

With: My OC Director Lydia Hawke

Director Hawke checked her reflection, smiling at the face that greeted her in the mirror. Greying blonde hair, perfectly slicked back without a hair out of place, sharp grey eyes, and sharp, angular features that managed to not quite look her full age of 55.

She checked the camera feed from her office, making sure it was on a loop of her at her desk, checking emails, before she quickly enveloped herself in shadows, pulling herself through the Nether until she was spat out on the detention level of Project Syncope's facility.

"Director Hawke- ma'am." The guard saluted, a middle-aged man who was little more than a glorified mall cop. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"I'm here to see Inmate 351. Beatrix Grey." Director Hawke. "I may need to facilitate a transfer for her."

"Of course, ma'am." The guard replied. "I just need your fingerprint and iris scans, then we can let you through."

Director Hawke nodded, pressing her thumb to the electronic pad while staring into the iris scanner above.

"You're all clear." The guard said, pushing a button on the wall next to him, which made the door unlock and swing open.

Director Hawke walked down the hall, pristine stiletto boots clicking against the concrete floor until she reached the cell, where the girl she was searching for sat.

Inmate 351, formerly known as Central City high school student Beatrix Leanne Grey, sat in her cell, staring at the wall. Her hair, which had been little more than few short curls in neon blue, had grown out in the four months that she had been detained there, a natural light brown almost reaching her shoulders.

Her story was similar to many of the others that Director Hawke had funneled out into her... personal project. A poor, struggling foster kid, goes to a store and steals over two hundred dollars of food for herself and her siblings. The cops try to take her in, and her previously unknown abilities kick in, with Beatrix's unique take on this perverted magic being the ability to do what was colloquially known as bloodbending, manipulating a person's body by controlling their blood.

"I told you, I didn't mean to kill those cops." The prisoner said, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"I'm not here to interrogate you." Director Hawke replied. "I know you didn't have control of your... rather extensive abilities."

"Are you here to help me?" The sixteen-year-old looked up, eyes wide with fear.

"I am." Director Hawke lied expertly, smiling softly at the scared young girl. "We're gonna bring you somewhere else, somewhere here you can be with others like you, and we can learn more about your powers."

"I... I don't want to hurt anyone." Beatrix hugged her knees a little tighter.

"You won't." Director Hawke held up a pair of power-dampening cuffs.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?"

Director Hawke smiled. Oh, this would be so easy. She summoned a small ball of her signature glowing purple magic, pressing it against the glass so it floated over to Beatrix and exploded above her into a shower of sparkles. "See? I'm like you. Me and my friends help people like you, metahumans who get on the wrong side of the law. We can help reunite you with your siblings, or we can smuggle you across the border into Mexico or Canada."

"I- I want to see my siblings again." Beatrix looked up, hope practically written on her naive, idealistic young face.

"Then you will." Director Hawke said. "Come with me."

She pressed a button on the wall, and the force field separating her from Beatrix fell. Beatrix stood up, walking towards Hawke.

"You'll have to wear these, for now." Director Hawke clicked the cuffs around Beatrix's wrists, cutting her off from her powers. "Just a precaution, so they don't know we're smuggling you out."

"Okay." Beatrix nodded bravely, following Director Hawke out. They passed the guard easily, then got into the elevator that would lead Beatrix to what she believed to be freedom. Foolish, naive deviant. Soon, she would learn her lesson, for desecrating the magics that the Hawke family had practiced for generations.

Once they entered the elevator, Director Hawke shadow-traveled, dragging Beatrix with her, to a parking garage far from the facility.

"Pietro, now!" Director Hawke shoved Beatrix to the man, who put a black bag over the girl's head, then pulled a baton from his belt, repeatedly beating her over the head until she collapsed.

"Put her in the van. Take her to the facility. I'll meet you there."

After mind-wiping the guard and forging a record of Beatrix's death, Director Hawke again transported herself offsite, this time to a mysterious underground lab, which was on the grounds of a condemned, abandoned hospital.

"Lydia Hawke." Pietro grinned, greeting her. "Good to see you. And what kind of surprise have you brought us this time?"

"Can it, Pietro. Your whole 'mad scientist' schtick isn't funny, and it never will be."

Pietro drooped. "Seriously though. What's her deal? I thought we usually don't bring in kids."

"We don't. She's a ward of the state. No family, except for two younger siblings, both under the age of ten." Director Hawke examined her nails. "No one's coming for her. And the best part? She's one of those- what do you stupid kids call them- oh, right. She's a Bloodbender."

"That's going to bring us a fortune." Pietro smiled, mind occupied with stacks of cash.

"I know. She's perfect." Director Hawke. "Where is she?"

"Room 63." Pietro replied. "Follow me."

Pietro led her down the hall, to a completely dark room. From outside, Hawke could hear thrashing, and screaming.

"Where am I? Somebody help me! Please, I want to go home!" Beatrix sobbed from inside. "I just want to go home!"

"Is she still dampened?" Director Hawke raised an eyebrow. Pietro nodded.

"Doc's already in there. He's in the other room, setting everything up."

Director Hawke opened the door, turning on the light. Beatrix winced, pupils contracting from the sudden influx of light.

"You! You brought me here! Why?"

Director Hawke smiled. "You and your kind are an affront to magic. My kind has to work for our abilities, while you were handed them on a silver platter. Do you understand how insulting that is? That we toil constantly to hone our skills, while yours were granted by a single man with too much hubris? We'll be glad when you're dead. Until then? You're going to be our little cash cow."

"What do you mean?" Beatrix asked hesitantly.

"It's simple- your DNA." Director Hawke replied. "We're going to find what makes you tick, rip it out, and sell it to the masses."

"Please... I just want to see my siblings again. I don't want to be here. Please." Beatrix pleaded.

Director Hawke cocked her head. "No. And don't think I don't know about your siblings. Eloise Gray, age six, and Brennan Gray, age four. If you want being impoverished to be their biggest worry, you'll do exactly what I say."

"Please- don't hurt them." Beatrix implored.

"If you try to escape, or hurt anyone here, accidentally or on purpose, there will be hell to pay, and they will pay it." Hawke pushed Beatrix's chin up, "Do you understand?"

Beatrix nodded. "I understand."

"Doctor." Hawke beckoned to the man standing in the doorway. "Are you ready?"

"I am." He held a tray with three syringes, walking over to Beatrix. "This first one will stimulate your pain receptors, in order to create an adrenaline response. The second one will help to make your DNA more malleable, so we can make more changes in the future. The third is a pheromonal lock, so you'll be unable to commit any violence against anyone in this facility."

"Please..." Beatrix looked up at the doctor, eyes pleading for mercy, but none was to be found. The doctor pressed the first needle to her arm, plunging the serum into her veins.

Almost immediately, Beatrix began screaming, thrashing against her restraints as her veins became tainted with the doctor's serum, turning a deep black color.

"Don't worry." The doctor said, taking a few steps back to observe his subject. "It will only get worse from here."

#cw medical torture #oc shit #revan writes #vexic :D #director lydia hawke

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almarnatiaam · 9 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @evelinessa! Thank you Eve!

1. How many works do you have on A03?

Technically 10, but 5 of them are part of the Ace Attorney Holiday Exchange and won't be on my profile for a bit over a week.

2. What's your total A03 word count?

126,004 - which is insane if taking into account that I only started posting my own work in July this year...

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mainly Ace Attorney, but there is also one lonely Metroid translation.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Beyond Duty (nsfw)

Turnabout Labyrinth

A King's Heart (nsfw)

The many lives of Larry Butz (Kill-a-character-Bingo)

Cyanid (German translation of Cyanide by @sablegear0)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Since I don't have all that many comments yet, I reply to them all, because they always make my day. Also I know from a readers pov, that there's nothing greater than an author replying to a comment. So I try my best.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That has to be The many lives of Larry Butz. It is for the Kill-a-character-Bingo after all and is so far the only one with an unhappy ending. Even though the personification of Death makes it a bit humorous.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

That I cannot say yet, but if I don't forget, I'll add it in a few days once the creators for the exchange are revealed.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully not so far.

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. Most of the time it's porn with a lot of plot. Because that's what I also prefer to read. Just a regular (good) story, where the sex is also narrated and not fading to black.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I write a lot of AUs, no downright crossovers so far. You maybe could count The many lives of Larry Butz as a crossover, since the Death there is heavily inspired by the Discworld Death, but since it is the AA universe, it's not really the same Death, even if he talks in all caps as well.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I translated my favourite Metroid fic into German. Sadly I never finished, because I was bitten by the Ace Attorney bug and didn't have any braincells left for Metroid. But there are still quite a few chapters for part 2 sitting on my computer, so maybe, if we get a new metroid game, I'll be inspired to finish it.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, A King's Heart is a collaboration with @voidify333.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

It's the wrong question really, but the ship that I'm writing most for right now is of course Narumitsu/Mistunaru.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Uh... so far I am hoping to finish all my WIPs. At least all wips that are already partly posted to AO3. There may be some sitting on my computer, that will never see the light of day though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hm... I'm good at every day fluff. Little everyday scenes where the characters enjoy life and each other. Funnily enough I am also good at getting my characters into awful situations, provided I know that they will resolve themselves and have a happy or at least hopeful ending after all the drama.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing a villain's pov. I tried. I gave up. I can write a villain, but only from the pov of other characters.

I also struggle with getting a coherent story together, if I don't have a good concept for the whole thing from the start.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

No problem, as long as it's German. :D Thankfully that's actually helpful in Ace Attorney.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First fandom I actually wrote something down for is probably Metroid. The first work that I told stories for is probably Sir Walter Scotts Ivanhoe, when I was a little kid. I've told stories since I learnt to talk, I only very recently started to have the confidence to write them down and share them.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Since I cannot yet tell you about that one fluffy fic yet, I'll have to go with Beyond Duty.

Tagging: @voidify333, @sablegear0, @azalawa-scroggs

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writing #ask game

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a-lonely-dunedain · 2 years

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11, 12, 17, 34?

"11. If you could have one npc as a companion to run around with you, who would it be? would it be the same for all your characters?"

my blorbo my guy my friendo Corunir!!! I get so SAD every time the quests make me leave him, so I'm taking him with me <3! if I can have different NPC buddies on different characters, I would probably use this feature to save some NPCs from their fates. one takes Candaith, another Lorniel- tho it would make some quest dialogue a bit funny if these choices don't change the plot. (Golodir: "I wish we hadn't lost Lorniel..." Companion!Lorniel: "father I'm right here." Golodir: "sometimes I can still hear her voice..." Companion!Lorniel: "quit telling people I'm dead!"). so yeah, Ethedis and probably a few other character would have Corunir (bc not all my alts have personalities and backstories so I'd just use them to replay content with him), I think Leagriel might have Elrohir, for Blorbo (yes, from your shows!) it's a toss-up between Bingo Boffin and Tubi Thickfist (that guy who has one quest in Moria and I LOVE his name. you can get a glove item from him called "thickfist's thickfists"), oh and Lothrandon gets to hang out with his son, obviously.

"17. Were there any plot twists that really got you somehow?"

*points at Black Book of Mordor Epilogue* does it count if I already knew what the ending was before the story started, but I was just shook by how we got there? bc uh, I'm gonna say I was NOT ready for the wanderer's backstory. oh yeah and *gestures vaguely at Mordirith* him too! and on a related note: shockingly enough the Falcon Clan thing didn't really surprise me? I mean the aftermath did, like we lost A LOT more than I expected there, but the betrayal itself didn't come totally outta left field for me. Tur Morva was always a little off y'know? like how the area was always layered, the stable master and LI vendors are all located at a camp far outside the city, and the whole thing was instanced off. as I was questing there I just had this sneaking suspicion of "huh, this place will probably be full of hostile mobs at some point, that would explain why it's so empty. something really bad is about to happen!" and like, yeah. it did.

it's the same thing with how you know an early game NPC has a good chance of dying or not depending of weather or not there's a door separating them from the overworld. I.E Toradan's room in the Mad Badger means he'll likely die bc the game can just lock you out of that room. meanwhile Candaith is totally safe at his camp in the overworld because at the time the devs didn't have the ability to make NPCs disappear after you finish a quest (I mean clearly that's no longer the case, but you can still see evidence of how it used to be)

"12. Do you have any particular playstyle(s)? (solo vs group play, landscape questing, pvmp, roleplay, etc.)"

well I mostly do solo landscape questing, it is generally what I prefer, but also because I'm far too shy to join groups lol. I'd love to do more group content but the only groups I know are raiding groups and I'm worried about embarrassing myself in front of them ^^; (I do know how to play yellow LM fairly well tho) same goes for roleplaying, I've done some before and it's been really fun but once again I'm Too Shy to join in or start my own groups (like take my shyness about doing group content and make it x1000)

"34. Do you have any wishlist things you would like to see added some day?"

*inhales*

Dwarf Loremasters.

I cannot even begin to describe how much it Baffles me that Hobbit LMs of all things got added and NOT dwarf LMs. I care about this a very abnormal amount and I won't even try to hide it. but if I try to speak at length about it I will rant for paragraphs so we're not going to do that today <3 just know that I will forever be bothered by the lack of dwarf LMs in this game til my dying day.

#thank you friend!#lotro #lotro spoilers #ask games

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deafearsdiary · 1 year

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Unrealistic Mannerisms (continued)

What do you do? You bring it up to your mom, your best friend, anybody that you think has good judgement, and they all tell you the same thing. They tell you to stop being stupid. They tell you that this girl obviously makes you happy, why would you give that up? They tell you people don't usually get a second chance at love like this, so don't be stupid and lose her again. And the ones that really know you, and want what's best for you tell you to give up all of that other stuff. Become a man she can trust. Someone she can count on and want to be with forever. She won't be with a man that makes her sad all the time, or treats her in any way that she doesn't deserve. Give up the man that isn't good enough for her and become the one you know she wants and needs. And you know all of this, you've always known. You're still scared though. So, even after all of the advice, you still don't make your move.

Only this time it literally feels like the clock is ticking. Like if you don't lock her down properly and right now, all will be lost. Naturally, all of the bad thoughts start to flood. What if this goes wrong? What if what you have right now is better? You're already comfortable, do want to possibly ruin that? But do you want to be happy or comfortable? Happy, definitely happy. You start to get over your nerves and think of a way to ask her. Do you call? Text? Show up at her house? Do something romantic that you know she'll love? Bingo. So you send flowers to her house. Roses because they are romantic, and coincidentally, her favorite. Eleven real ones and one fake one, a dozen in total. On the card that comes with it you write, " I promise to love you until the last rose dies." You think this gesture should do it. There's no way she can mistake this gesture for something else. But knowing her, these flowers won't be enough to have and keep her. Not by a long shot.

After a while she thanks you for the flowers. She tells you she loves you so much and that you mean so much to her. And then radio silence. You probably didn't respond in the way she wanted. The flowers were a nice gesture, but you can't keep on expecting her to finish the job for you. You want it to be easy. For her to just get you, but that's not who she is. She needs to hear it. She needs you to prove it. Which means, if you want a lifetime of happiness with her, you're going to have to prove it to her over and over again. And for a change, you don't mind that. The feeling of being scared to death of that is gone. This time, you're sure that you want to be the guy that shows up for her everyday. That reminds her of her beauty and brains. You want to be the one to know exactly how to make her feel better when she's sad. You want to be the one she laughs with when she's so sleepy that she can barely keep her eyes open. You want to see and memorize every side of her. You want to be the one to take the weight off her shoulders after a long day. You want to be the only one that experiences her body in every way possible. You have to be. Because you know she's worth it. And if you're that person for her, then she'll be that person for you. Because that's who she is. That's the amazing woman you fell in love with. So you do it. And you do it in a way that you know she won't be able to deny.

So you go to her. You show up at her house, and you ask her to come outside. She's happy to see you, of course she is. And even more so because it was a pleasant surprise, and she loves surprises. The whole time you're talking to her, your stomach is in knots. You're scared that even after all of this she'll reject you. That she'll tell you that you're so sweet for this, but you're also too late, again. But you push those thoughts aside, and focus on her. On the reason you came. While she's talking you can't help but think of how beautiful she is. There's no way you can live without her. And then finally, after you feel like enough time has passed, and if you wait any longer you'll throw up, you tell her you have something to tell her. She looks at you with those big beautiful eyes, and she looks hopeful. Like she's silently praying that you finally came to confess your love. And you can't let her down. You start off nervously, and can barely look her in the eye at first, but you can't screw up this monologue. You can't even let her think for even half a second that you aren't for real this time. And then you say, "Listen. You remember when we first met? It was so casual, and I honestly wasn't expecting to meet you. Or to like you as much as I did. But you became somebody that I couldn't not have in my life. I know that you probably think I don't care abut you, cause that's what I show sometimes. But it's not true. I honestly don't think I've ever cared about another woman more than I care about you. I can't help it. You do it to me. It's everything about you. You're so smart and funny and sexy. You get me so well, and everything is so easy like it's supposed to be that way. When you tried to be with me before, I know I really screwed that up, but it wasn't because I didn't love you or want to. I was scared. That we might've been going too fast, or making a mistake. But that was my fault. I take full responsibility for us not working out before. Because I was wrong. Even with me being scared, I was still happier then than when I let you get away and you weren't in my life at all. I never thought I'd fall in love with you, but I'm so happy I did. Because you turned out to be exactly what I was missing, that I didn't even know I needed. I love you so much, baby. I do. And I don't mind proving it, I'll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you if that means you'll stay with me" You lean in for a kiss and you can feel her put her all into that kiss. You can't believe you just proclaimed your love like that, but it was honestly easier than you thought. So you continue with confidence. "I want to be your man. For real. I can't lose you again. Do you think that's something you want?" She tells exactly what you want to hear, and you feel a type of happiness you haven't felt in God knows how long.

After you leave her, thoughts flood your mind. You know that love is never easy, and being committed to her won't always be cupcakes and rainbows. It won't always feel the way you felt when she accepted your love. You know there are ways to go before you get to have the life together that you've been wanting. But you don't care. You're going to do whatever you need to to make this life of love work with her. And it'll be easier than you think. You know you'll do anything to keep her with you. To make sure that at the end of every day you two choose each other. And by the end of that night, you find yourself thinking about the type of house you guys would like. You guess her type of style, and what she'd probably want based off tings she's told you before. You start thinking about coming home to her after a long day of work. Cooking for each other. Sleeping and showering together. How amazing you guys' morning and late night sex will be. Being snowed in together and unexpected romantic nights when a powerful thunderstorm shut downs the power. You think about taking trips with her, going to places like the museum or zoo. Bringing her to meet your family, and everyone having no choice but to lover her. You think about your mom telling you that you chose a solid one, and you're so happy that your mom is overjoyed with her daughter in law. You think about how people tell you guys that y'all look good together. That happiness looks good on you.

All of a sudden you're a family man, and stuck to this woman like glue. And you prefer it. You prefer that to the lonesome, mediocre life you live now. Finally, the thought of a wedding band on your finger doesn't seem so scary anymore.

#thoughts #diary #love #romantic #story #in love #relationship

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Files

Yelena Belova x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: fighting, violence, guns

Author’s Note: I know in the comics Yelena is ace so I wanted to make this sorta like it could go romantic or friendship, depending on what people saw her as. I hope you enjoy!

Requested: by anon, Could I request a Yelena Belova x Reader where the reader is a medievalist and works at a library in the rare books section. Yelena is on some kind of mission that requires her to get ahold of one of the books under Reader's care and she tries to break in and steal the book, but Reader won't go down without a fight? Kind of a lovers-at-first-fight? Reader then comes to learn why Yelena was trying to steal the book and agrees to help her on the rest of her mission. I'm realizing this sounds a bit like National Treasure lololol. Ty!!!!

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Yelena saw you from the window. She had her head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing in on the shelves of books under your care. She had been told that only one woman took care of all the important books. That was easy enough. There were no guards outside to watch her in the window, no other people to block her entrance.

Yelena just needed that book. It would help her in her trailing of Hawkeye aka Clint Barton. She could learn his skill before ever meeting him and take him out easily. But you guarded all the information on him, among other things.

You were dusting off a book and putting it into a shelf. Yelena was slightly annoyed they weren’t digitalizing all of this information. She could have hacked in easily and gotten it without all the hassle of a fight. Perhaps that was the whole reason they hadn’t changed it all to a computer. To make it harder to access.

You turned the corner and Yelena opened up the window slowly and silently. At this rate she would likely be able to slip in and out without you noticing at all.

So much for the protective guard.

She was light on her feet as she walked into the stacks, thankful for the cover that they gave. Yelena let out a light shiver. It was much warmer here than it was outside. The temperature was going to dip to the low 20s in the night. She would have to be out by then if she didn’t want to freeze.

Her fingers brushed the spines of the books and files.

Barton. Bingo.

There was a gun click behind her head. Her eyes turned to the side, pausing. She let out a light sigh and ducked her head, kicking the gun out of your hand. You fought back easily, matching her skill level. You weren’t anywhere near a widow but you weren’t all that bad either.

There was a good solid three minutes of grunting and skin bluntly hitting skin. You fell to the ground, Yelena’s gun pointed at you.

“You’re all the protection these files have?” she asked, blowing a loose piece of blonde hair out of her face. You put your hands underneath you, looking up at her.

“No one tries to take these,” you admitted. “They can find similar things online.” “Well I love a good ol 'hassle,” Yelena muttered, a slight accent in her voice. You nodded, sitting up, arms raised. She let you stand. She turned her head and you didn’t make a move. She slid out the Barton file and put it under her arm. “Why are you letting me take this?” “I’m not letting you take it.”

“You are.”

She put her gun down, curiously. You stared at each other for a moment, lips pursed.

“I’m not.”

“Do you have a problem with Mister Barton too?”

“You’re holding a gun on me.”

“Well I was holding a gun on you. I am not anymore. You put up a good fight, you might have even been able to knock me out if you tried hard enough.” You pursed your lips and relaxed a bit. It didn’t look like she was going to throw hands with you right about now.

“I think you can take it even if I tried. I put up my fight.” “I like that. Grit.” She extended her hand. You shook it hesitantly. “So now be honest. Do you have a problem with Clint Barton?” “I don’t know any of the people I keep books or files on. They shoved the files in here with all the important history books.” You gestured to the actual thick books on the shelves. Yelena hadn’t even noticed them, she had been so preoccupied with the files.

“So you don’t even care about these,” she said, waving around the thick folder in the air.

“It’s still my responsibility. It just isn’t what I was hired for.”

“Well they should have hired more help.” She holstered her gun. “You mind if I go through the front door?”

“Yes, actually. Can’t let them know I gave in,” you muttered. She watched you for a moment more and the two of you walked back to the open window. Yelena put her leg over the window sill onto the fire escape. “Are you sure you can’t help me with this?”

Yelena met your eyes.

“I don’t know about the files.”

“But you have access. Come on, aren’t you curious?”

“I’ve read them.”

“So you do know.”

“Only the bare minimum.”

“Help me.” She put her hand out. “Yelena.”

“Y/N.” You shook her hand.

“I can’t leave this place.”

“Then be here when I come back.” You narrowed your eyes and let out a sigh through your parted lips.

“Yelena-”

“You know you want to.” “Okay fine. Fine.” She smiled and waved the file in front of you.

“I’ll see you again soon then.” She slipped out the window and was gone. You couldn’t help but wonder what the hell you had just gotten into.

Marvel Tag List: @dpaccione, @demonchick1, @karasong, @elisaa-shelby, @lov3vivian, @russian-soft-bitch, @alexxavicry, @valentina-luvs-u

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova imagines

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glitterge1pen · 4 years

Text

You Only Water Plants With Cool Water

Rukawa Kaede x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 1,435

reader is a painter

Rukawa and you both had practice. Studio sessions, gym time, he needed to go to the store for new basketball shoes, you needed new paper or canvas. He knew when you had had a bad day. When every stroke of pigment was wrong, when you had to change water too many times. You knew when he had messed up his scoring percentages, or when he’d landed a shot not to his liking.

You also had good days though. Ones where you would be electrified, dragging Rukawa to the tiny bedroom studio in the apartment, excited to show him a new piece. He tried to be subtle about sharing his smaller successes with you. Quietly asking to go on a walk to the park on weekend mornings, picking up a basketball before heading out the door.

While Rukawa couldn't exactly understand painting, or art, he did understand you. He saw how hard you worked, the same as him. You too were striving for something. So he lets you ramble on about new art books you had bought, different painters you admired, ones you hated, an art supplies store you wanted to try your luck at. This was also how you understood him. You saw how at home Rukawa watched all the NBA games, kept tabs on different players.

The two of your respective passions consumed lots of your life. Which is why he didn't mind when you had the door to the studio closed when he got home from the gym. You didn't bother him when he was watching a game. He would sleep on the small couch you had tucked in the corner of the studio, the radio giving a play by play of some game. Legs hanging off the arm rest, simply enjoying being in your presence. Some days you would go to his practices, half watching, half sketching out ideas for a new chunk of canvas. This was one of those days.

Looking up from your lap you see that practice is almost over. You set aside your work to focus on Rukawa completely. He really is something else on the court. Brash, aggressive, and still sly. Those parts of Rukawa were the same. The part of him that bluntly told you while out shopping what did look ugly, that way you swore he moved stuff around in the fridge to mess with you, or how he shoulder checked people a little too often. When he was playing basketball it was like the various gears and screws that made up Rukawa were perfectly made to play, like it was the only that life made sense to him. It added something to his outward psyche, a fire of energy that exuded from every pore.

You watch as the team starts to wind down. Shooting from various points on the court, running sprints from one side to the other, to end practice there was a complicated passing drill that you couldn't follow. You were prepared to leave, grab some take out on the way home, but when Rukawa came over to you he flopped onto the bleachers.

“Hey! Come on you can't sleep here”

With a sweat towel covering his face he mumbles,

“I can sleep anywhere, just give me a couple minutes”

But you know with Rukawa that a couple minutes can range from thirty minutes to hours. You pull on his arm trying to get him up, his eyes are stubbornly closed though. You poke, you blow air on his nose, you ruffle his hair and pull on his clothes. When that doesn't work you try threats.

“I won't pay for dinner”

“I was going to pay”

He says, words muffled by the towel. Exasperated you sit back onto the cold bleachers. You reach into a plastic bag you have settled down by your feet. It's from the craft store, new paint, new brushes, you had stopped there on the way to see Rukawa. Cautiously you pull out some paint and let it rest against Rukawa's skin.

“If you don't get up, I’m gonna paint you”

“I dont care”

“Really?”

“Why would I care?”

Before you two had been playful, teasing, but when he asks that he is genuine. Like he couldn't possibly comprehend why that would bother anyone. He has one eye open now, peaking at you, seeing that you are considering it now.

“I don't care, go ahead, just let me sleep”

At first you're still a little apprehensive. You are slow to fill up one of the paper cups from the players bench with the water fountain. You use the colors little by little. Mixing them in the palm of your non dominant hand. You start with his arm. The paint moves differently on his sweat tinted skin and you have to adjust.

Rukawa floats in and out of sleep. Lazily watching your concentrated expression move expertly over him. He likes the way the brushes feel, the cool of the paint. He notes that you're holding his hand differently, it's deliberate, your fingers not laced with his but clasping onto him. You do this so you can twist his arm this way and that. He can see blues and greens mixed onto your own skin in puddles. Then he’s back asleep.

You are no longer paying attention to Rukawa, or the dance group that came to use the gym for practice. You like working here. The gym lights are bright, the AC blasting cold air. You were originally only going to do something small. But now Rukawa's entire right arm has been consumed by paint. You are putting the last few strokes of detail on his arm knowing that you aren't done yet. You are afraid to dab at the paint to see if its dry, you blow on it and Rukawa gives a small smile at the sensation.

You pull the towel off of Rukawa’s head and lay it over his chest, placing his arm there too. You grab your bag of supplies and move to the row of bleachers below Rukawa. His left leg your new target. This is harder for Rukawa to sit through at first. The bristles of the brush more ticklish, but it is soon calming once again. He wants to see what you’ve painted on his arm but his eyes are still so heavy, he so tired.

“Wow you're really good!”

“Thanks! He’s a pretty good canvas!”

Rukawa wakes at the sound of your voice.

“Oh sorry I didn't mean to wake you!”

It must be one of the girls from that dance team he decides.

“It’s okay he sleeps plenty”

You tell the girl, she laughs a little before waving herself away. You're packing up your things, swirling brushes into the cup of water, twisting paint tubes closed. Finally feeling satisfied with his nap, Rukawa slowly gets up. Used to sleeping wherever he pleases the dull ache from the bleachers doesn't bother him much. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sees it.

You've painted a river. From his right shoulder to his left ankle is a river. Patches of grass and flowers growing along parts of it, stones, clouds, waterfalls, waves of water. It’s dynamic, twisting over the grooves of his muscles. You are surprised at how gentle his fingers move along the outline of the water, tracing it down his whole arm. In between his knuckles the water fades off his hand in droplets. The red flowers a bold contrast to the cool colors of the water. Fish leaping in and out of the water, some not even breaking the blue surface of paint, shadows of warm color beneath the water.

“You like it?”

You ask, he only nods, still admiring your work. You get him off the bleachers, once standing the daze he was in wears off. He grabs his duffle bag and the two of you head out. The night air is refreshing, the sky dark blue but bright like how it is in the summer. The street is still buzzing from the dusk. People on the way home from work, light traffic in the street, store and street lights flickering in the newness of the night.

“I’m sorry”

“Huh?”

You don't know what Rukawa could possibly be apologizing for.

“I’m gonna have to take a shower and the paint will wash off”

“That’s okay I knew that when I did it”

Rukawa seems discontent with this answer but you aren't sure how to help ease him. At the next block Rukawa turns the wrong way.

“Where are you going the-”

“Walgreens”

“What?”

“They have disposable cameras at Walgreens.”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

A/N: If someone made a bingo chart of my writing Walgreens would be on it. Will post this on ao3 later today :) Also no :) I did not :) edit this :)

#kaede rukawa #slam dunk #slam dunk x reader #Kaede Rukawa x reader #gender neutral reader #painter au

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