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alwaysonthemend · 2 days

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Author’s Note: This fic is in response to this lovely ask and from @jakeyt and her sinfully lovely little blurb as well. I loved writing this. The way I would pay all the money in my bank account to be able to make Jake Kiszka whimper… Ah well, a girl can dream.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, smut, unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, dom!Jake & sub!reader (briefly), sub!Jake & dom!reader, overstimulation, cum play, name calling (whore, slut, etc), hickeys, biting. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.5k

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O how the mighty have fallen.

For Jake Kiszka, being a famous rockstar has its perks – money, traveling, thousands of adoring fans screaming his name, not to mention getting to do what he loves for a living surrounded by his brothers… all the things that you know Jake is thankful for. He’s told you countless times how lucky he feels, how humbled he is by the band’s success and by how much their fans support and love them.

But there’s one thing that comes with the job that Jake absolutely despises...

Paperwork.

It’s not often that he has to do it – all the contract signing and label nonsense that comes along with being famous. But whenever he does have to do it… well, it always leaves him in a sour mood.

And that’s exactly what he’s upstairs at his desk doing right now as you grow more and more bored by the second. You’d already cleaned up from the meal you’d shared a few hours before, you’d dusted, swept the floor, and re-arranged the ridiculous number of throw blankets that you and Jake have somehow managed to acquire over the years. But still… Jake is busy. So busy, in fact, that he’d declined your earlier offer of a special dessert after dinner, claiming that this paperwork just had to get done tonight.

But you’re tired of waiting.

Deciding that enough is enough, you ascend the stairs to your shared bedroom where you know Jake is currently hunched over the desk in the corner as he reads through all the musical industry jargon that’s nearly impossible to understand. You quietly enter the room, bare feet welcoming the softness of your carpeted bedroom floor as you creep up behind him.

“Still at it, huh?”

Jake startles, whipping his head around to glance at you over his shoulder before turning back around.

“Yep.” He mumbles, a fingertip tracing down the page in front of him.

“Sure is taking a while.” You walk closer to him, hovering over his shoulder to glance down at the papers in front of him.

Jake only hums in response, flipping a page over.

“Any idea when you’ll be done?” You ask, lips hovering so, so close to the sensitive skin of his neck – the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Sooner if you let me work in peace.” The words are accompanied by a huff – not quite annoyed but definitely not pleased with your interruption.

“Touchy.” You tell him, earning yourself a sharp glance from the corner of his eye.

Realizing that you’re not going to get anything from him with just words, you decide it’s time to up your game a little bit. Dropping to your knees next to his chair, you glance up at him through your lashes. The movement finally seems to draw his full attention as he swivels in his chair to look at you in confusion.

His jaw clenches as he fully takes in the position that you’ve placed yourself in. Success.

“Y/n. What are you doing?”

“Waiting patiently and quietly,” you say with a little shrug, doing your best to play innocent, “for you to be finished.”

His eyes narrow, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“Sure you are.” He says, voice a little lower and his eyes dilating. You know now that you’ve got him hook, line, and sinker. “Definitely not trying to tease me at all?”

“I’m not teasing.” You tilt your head, spreading your thighs a little bit. “Is me sitting here bothering you?”

Jake grins a little, spreading his own legs as he keeps his dark eyes fixed on you.

“Just giving me a few, very unhelpful and entirely too distracting ideas.”

Oh you’ve really got him now. You know that there’s no way in hell that he’ll go back to whatever he was working on before. His hips shift in his seat, the light gray material of his pants allowing you to see as his length begins to harden – twitching and straining beneath the fabric.

“What sort of ideas?” You ask him, heat flooding to your core at the sight of his very obvious desire.

Instead of answering, Jake reaches down and grips your jaw in his calloused hand – his thumb coming up to drag along your bottom lip. You bite back a moan as his hips shift again and his breathing catches a little, betraying just how badly he wants you.

“Thinking about your big cock in my mouth?”

The bluntness of your question clearly takes him off guard as his lips part in a barely there moan. But then his grin widens, eyes sparkling wickedly.

“Something like that.” He murmurs, chest rising and falling quickly. “You know I love it when you talk filthy.”

You nod, reaching upwards to place your hands on his knees and pushing to spread his legs wider. You scoot forward, placing yourself even closer to where you know he wants you. But you don’t move, hands staying resolutely on his knees.

“Do you want me to stop, Jakey?” You ask, already knowing his answer. “Don’t wanna distract you...”

“No.” The word is more like a growl and his grip on your jaw tightens. His hips rock forward again, as if needing relief so badly that the little friction his pants provide is better than what you’re refusing to give him. “You know good and well what I want, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” You smile up at him as you finally move to unzip his pants. He lifts his hips, allowing you to pull them fully down, leaving him in his boxers now. His cocks strains against them – his precum already leaving a dark spot on the fabric.

“Fuck.” He groans as you finally press your palm to his length, rubbing him through the fabric slowly. His cock throbs in answer and you can’t help but laugh a little at his desperation.

“Feel good?” You ask teasingly, rubbing your middle and pointer finger along his head in slow circles. The muscles in his thighs tense as he lets out a breath.

“Yeah.” You slide your hand back downwards, massaging his balls through his boxers and making him groan again. “Such a fucking tease.”

You laugh lightly, pulling your hand away from him completely and he whines a little in protest.

“I would never.” You answer, tugging his boxers down and finally setting his aching cock free. The skin is red from rubbing against the fabric and he twitches a little as the cool air hits him.

You rise up fully, bracing both hands on the tops of his thighs before sinking your mouth down around him completely.

“Oh.” He says through a moan, his right hand coming up to tangle in your hair as you swallow around him. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You rise up a little, keeping your lips wrapped around his head and suckling a little bit, closing your eyes and moaning around him. It does the trick and suddenly he’s thrusting upwards the best he can, fingers tightening in your hair as you allow him to fuck into your mouth like you know he’s been thinking about doing since you first sat down at his feet.

“Bet you’ve been waiting for this all day.” He says through clenched teeth, eyes rolling back as you moan around him again. “Just waiting to let me fuck your pretty mouth, haven’t you?”

You nod the best you can, gagging a little as the velvety head of his cock nudges the back of your throat mercilessly. Your fingers dig into his thighs as he gets a little rougher, his composure cracking completely as he nears his release. Clearly he’s been just as worked up as you’ve been these past few hours.

His groans begin to grow even louder so you pull off him with a ‘pop’ and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Y/n, fuck.” He protests, glaring down at you the way he always does when you push him too far. “I was so close.”

“I know.” You say with a shrug, backing up a little bit. You know you’re toeing the line – getting dangerously close to pushing him too far and earning yourself a delicious punishment. But you don’t want to back down. “But you have work to do.” A nod to the papers laying abandoned on the desk.

Jake growls, fisting his hands in your hair and tugging so that your head falls back, exposing your throat as he leans in close.

“Don’t,” he says darkly, lips hovering just above yours, “be a brat. Or I’ll have to punish you.”

You lean upwards as much as you can with the tight grip he has on your hair and swipe your tongue across his bottom lip and then drag it across his jaw slowly, leaving a trail of saliva smeared across his beautiful face. Jake’s nostrils flare as you pull away, fire lighting in his eyes.

Without warning, Jake stands quickly and yanks on your hair, pulling you to your feet roughly.

“Get on the fucking bed. Lose the clothes.”

You hastily rip your tank top and shorts off, tossing them to the floor before climbing onto the bed, completely bare before him. Jake yanks his own shirt off, revealing himself fully to you as well before instantly pinning you to the mattress beneath him.

“What, my dearest, sweetest, little angel,” he teases, “has gotten into you tonight, hm? Why are you being such a little slut?”

You relax your thighs on either side of him and roll your hips up into him, rubbing your slick folds against his aching cock. He groans then, his hand coming down to press heavily against your lower stomach to stop you from moving.

“Were you feeling ignored?” His tone is sickly sweet, mocking and husky as you writhe beneath him. “Is that it, baby?”

“Yes.” You answer him breathlessly. “Wanted your cock so bad.”

“Oh, yeah? Such a desperate whore that you couldn’t wait just a little bit longer for me to be done? Couldn't- fuck!”

You cut him off, scissoring your legs and throwing your bodyweight with them as you flip Jake completely into his back, You settle on top of him, straddling him and using your body to pin him for once.

“You were taking too long.” You tell him, loving the way his mouth has dropped open in complete shock at you challenging him like this. “And you talk too much.”

“You’re asking for it, angel.” He warns darkly, but the flush on his chest and the way his cock keeps twitching betrays how the roles reversing has affected him.

“Am I?” You ask, sliding your wet pussy along his length where it rests against his stomach. “I think you like this too much to do anything about it…” You place both palms on his stomach for leverage, relishing in the softness of him as you continue to slide up and down on his hard cock.

His hands come up and grip your hips harshly, his eyes fluttering shut as he guides your hips over him faster.

“Bloody hell, where has this been hiding?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Fuck, I dunno. You made me wait for too long.” You answer, struggling to get the words out thanks to the way his shaft is rubbing against your swollen clit – the feeling made even better thanks to his precum and your wetness mixing together.

“Ride me, angel.” He begs, fingers digging into your hips so harshly you know it’s gonna leave bruises. “Wanna see you bouncing on my cock.”

“Fuck.” You whine, rising up a little bit as he fists his dick, helping to guide himself into you as you slowly sink down onto him.

You both cry out loudly, the stretch of him nearly overwhelming.

“Jake.” You whimper. “Oh my God.”

“So fuckin’ tight.”

You start to bounce, tossing your hair over your shoulder and keeping your palms on his abdomen. Jake thrusts up to meet you, sweat dripping down his temples.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last long like this.” His voice sounds just as wrecked as he looks, his cock already twitching and pulsing inside you. You’re teasing from earlier has clearly done a number on him but you’re right behind him too.

With his eyes rolled back into his head and his creamy skin shiny and flushed, he looks like the picture of sin. His throat bobs, looking all too bite-able. His hair is splayed out on the pillow beneath his head like a halo — though you're entirely certain that no angel would want anything to do with you and him right now. A fallen angel then, you think to yourself, lost in the throes of pleasure.

Overcome by the sight of him beneath you like this, by the sounds of pleasure that tumble from his lips with each roll of your hips, you lean downwards and attach your mouth to the column of his throat. Then, almost without thinking, your teeth graze the sensitive skin and Jake jolts beneath you, a loud moan escaping him as you bite down — pinching his skin with your teeth. You soothe the spot with a pass of your tongue, moving downwards a little to suck a purple mark onto his skin.

"Do that again." His voice sounds so unlike himself — needy and desperate. "Mark me." It's not a request — but a whiny, broken prayer.

There's no denying him now as you graze your lips over to the other side of his neck, sucking another bruise there. You can feel his cock pulse as you do so and his breathing quickens even more.

"So pretty, Jakey."

He whimpers in answer, plush lips dropping open and tiny little grunts and moans leaving them with every thrust of his hips.

His cock feels so good inside of you, the ridges and veins brushing against your walls in a delicious drag and the blunt head hitting against your sweet spot with each rise and fall of your hips. He's driving into you recklessly, coaxing you closer and closer and closer to your release. Your thighs begin to burn but you can't stop. You won't stop.

“Jake, ‘m gonna cum! Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah. Fucking do it, angel. Oh fuck!”

Suddenly his thumb is circling your clit and then your orgasm is crashing through you. Your walls clench around him as you cry out his name – the burn in your thighs fading into nothing as you continue to ride him through your release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jake is right behind you, thrusting up helplessly as he finishes, painting your walls with his release.

As your mind finally begins to return, as the waves of pleasure dissipate at last, you’re hit with a wonderfully devilish idea. You’ve gotten away with more than you ever have before tonight and… what’s one more thing, really?

You pull off Jake, climbing off to the side of his body. His eyes are closed, his face the picture of bliss. Giving him no warning, you wrap your hand around his spent cock. Jake's body convulses, eyes snapping open as he whines. Loudly.

“Y/n!” He cries out your name as you jerk him roughly, his poor cock valiantly beginning to harden again as you work your palm over him, yours and his releases making it slick and easy. “God.”

“Give me one more, Jakey.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from him. He writhes, hands falling to his sides and fisting the sheets into his hands, fingers turning white where his rings dig into his skin.

“I can’t!” He cries out, head thrashing. “Fuck, it’s too much.”

He sounds so desperate, so broken and it sends a thrill through you. Oh how the mighty has fallen at last.

“Poor baby.” You tease. “Getting a taste of your own medicine, yeah?”

He whimpers in answer, body going taut as pleasure finally begins to overtake him again. He really is tasting his own medicine – experiencing first hand the sinful agony that he loves to inflict upon you. It’s always you.

But not tonight. No, he’s been flying too close to the sun for a long, long time and tonight he’s finally paying the price for it.

“Give me another one, baby.” You murmur, eyeing the way his hair sticks to the side of his face and his neck with sweat. “Show me how much you love me. Show me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” He says through a moan, body beginning to tremble. “Only yours. Fuck!”

“Yeah, you are. You’re mine.”

His body goes completely rigid, muscles so tense you’re almost afraid he might hurt himself.

“Holy shit! Oh God, I’m gonna- fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, baby. That’s right. Being such a good boy.”

That does it. Jake’s whole body convulses, his eyes rolling back in his head as hot cum explodes from him. He screams – a sound so beautiful and full of pleasure that you’ve never heard from him before. You work him through it, watching as he completely succumbs to it all, chanting your name the whole way through.

Finally, his body relaxes slightly and he whimpers so you let go of him and reach up to swipe his hair from his forehead. You can feel his racing heartbeat as you place your hand on his chest, hoping to try and help him settle a little. Those gorgeous eyes of his finally blink open to look at you and a tired, satiated smile spreads across his lips.

“Okay?” You ask, trying to hold back your own grin after seeing such a display from him.

“Jesus. I think so.” He shifts a little, grimacing at the feeling of his cum drying on his stomach and chest. “Sticky.” He adds with a little pout.

You roll your eyes playfully and rise to grab his boxers off the floor and wipe him clean, carefully avoiding his abused cock where it lays spent against his thigh.

“That was fucking hot.” You tell him, settling down next to him in the bed. The lights are still on but neither of you seem to have the energy to get up and turn them off quite yet.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, laughing a little, “I think my soul left my body there for a minute.”

“Would do again, then?” You ask, grinning a little at him.

He grins back.

“Oh, fuck yes. I didn’t know you had that in you… taking control like that.”

You turn on your side to face him and press a little kiss to his lips.

“Me neither.”

After a long moment of comfortable, exhausted silence you ask, suddenly a little worried, “That paperwork didn’t actually have to be done by tonight, right?”

“Fuck.”

fin

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#dee's writing #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka

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sports-on-sundays · 1 day

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lucky strike / CL16

Summary: Charles x American!female!reader - F1 comes to Sin City and you unexpectedly run into a certain someone.

Warnings: gambling, alcohol, cussing, use of pet names (A LOT), flirting, one moment of implied jealousy

Requested?: Sort of! Thank you to everyone who voted for Charles in the poll!

Author's Note: Charles won out in the poll, so here you go, everybody! (Of course I HAD to use The Charles Vegas Podium Picture). Also, I listened to Lucky Strike by Maroon 5 while writing.

one in a million ; my lucky strike

Well, you thought the whole F1 thing was absolutely ridiculous. You couldn't care an ounce less about Formula 1, so you certainly weren't happy about all the complications of it coming to your city.

You would call yourself an all American girl, and you're proud of it. If any racing, NASCAR. Football is the sport with the brown ball you throw- NFL, not the white and black ball you kick. That's soccer. You have the greatest food, the greatest mix of cultures, the greatest weather. If you didn't know better, you'd say you have the greatest country, too.

You watched a Formula 1 race when you realized the whole Las Vegas Grand Prix thing was actual, and when you saw that (firstly) it was honestly pretty boring, and (secondly) the only American driver is basically the most sucky one, you decided it would be pretty hard to get into it.

You're a Vegas girl, and you're proud of it. You're actually from Los Angeles, California, but you moved to Vegas to chase your dreams and live the life you dreamed of a year ago with your boyfriend, and it was so worth it.

Now you identify yourself with Vegas even more than you do with the Los Angeles Rams, despite the fact that your boyfriend broke up with you seven months ago and left to go be a prodigal son in New York City.

You decided Vegas was perfect enough for your clever hand, and you'd continue to be a prodigal daughter right where you're at.

But now the Grand Prix is the newest thing, and you don't like it at all. All these people flooding in, like as if there's not already enough people. Just to watch some cars drive around in circles, closing up main roads? No, you're not into it.

Your girl friends all seem to think this is just the best thing, and you discuss it across the table with two of them. One says, "Honestly, the McLaren duo are the hottest."

"No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?" your other friend disagrees.

You snort in disbelief and say sarcastically, "How about neither? So you guys only care about this because the racers are hot? Give me a break."

"Well," one of your friends starts, crossing her arms across her chest, "They are hot. At first, I wasn't so sure, but, I mean, come on! Maybe we could get glimpses of them when they're in Vegas!"

"Or meet them!" your other friend pipes in.

You scoff. "Good luck with that. Aren't these guys self-focused millionaires with too much money for their own good? Probably all greedy idiots who hook up with every half-sexy girl who comes along. So if you're into that, sure, waste your time trying to meet some hot plutocrats, with the one percent chance you might get f*cked like crazy for a night before they forget about you and move back to their mansions across the world! F*ck, is race car driving even a real sport? It's f*cking driving cars. I could do that!"

Your friends don't really argue with you, because you're right. And clearly, they do only care about the hot racers, because you figure any real fan of the sport would argue with you.

Two days before the Strip is supposed to be closed up for the Grand Prix, you find yourself submerged in the vibrant energy of Wynn Las Vegas, the dazzling lights and sounds of the casino floor swirling around you. The scent of alcohol lingers in the air, a reminder of the drinks you've indulged in throughout the night.

You slip between two people to reach the roulette wheel, holding your newly bought chips, with money you've earned earlier in the night.

Bets are placed around the table over and over, as you earn more and more chips. You feel someone nudge your shoulder, and a cocky male voice comments next to you, "You're having a good night, huh?"

"Every night is a good night," you remark back, not even glancing up at the man talking with you. He seems to have some sort of accent that you can't place. Perhaps French?

Which means he's probably from Louisiana. Possibly Quebec.

Probably some rich idiot F1 fan who can afford to travel half way across the country for the Grand Prix.

You don't plan to even give him the light of day.

"Until it's not," he says as you watch the roulette wheel spin once more.

You smirk and feel his eyes on you as you collect more chips.

The game goes on, and you think he's gotten the message that you don't care to converse with him, because does shut up.

But now it's the last bet of the game. You take a sip from your glass and feel a stupid, risky streak in you.

Some idiot part of you that's drunk and wants to push her luck way too far.

You place a straight-up bet, all your chips on the number sixteen.

You can feel eyes on you, and the same man next to you from earlier says, "Are you stupid?"

You chuckle. "Possibly."

"You're going to lose all your-"

"No, I won't." You straighten your back, staring at the wheel. It's true, you've earned a lot of money throughout this game.

And honest, it is true that you're stupid.

But it's also true that for some reason, you're confident.

"So you're overconfident and risky? I like that," comments the guy next to you. "But you're going to lose all your money. All that good luck for nothing..."

"You'll see," you breathe, ignoring his little flirt. "It's going to land on sixteen."

"Sixteen, huh?" This man's hazel eyes sparkle, and something in you tells you that you've seen this guy's brown locks, bright dimples, and perfect stubble before.

You've seen him somewhere. Recently. Like some guy you could haven't been drunk with, but the memory is fuzzy.

But you weren't drunk with him.

Despite being sure you've seen this guy before, you're also sure you've never met him before, either.

"Yeah," you nod, looking away, staring as the roulette wheel begins spinning. "It's my lucky number."

You're not looking at him, but you can feel him grin next to you. "Your lucky number, huh? Just so happens, it's mine, too."

You snort, rolling your eyes. "Is that some lame attempt of a flirt?"

"No. It really is my lucky number." By his tone, you can tell that grin has downgraded to a smirk. "But if you'd like to see a lame attempt of a flirt, that's an option, too..." His voice lowers as you feel his arm snake around you, and his hand land on your waist.

You gently shove it off as the wheel begins to slow. You hold your breath, watching, this stupid French boy no longer even a fraction of your concerns. All focus is on your slight potential lucky strike.

And then the world stops as the wheel stops, too.

On sixteen.

And then it all comes flooding back. "Oh my God!" you squeal stupidly, covering your mouth as there's rounds of, "You've got to be kidding me," "No way," "It's impossible!" and "How lucky is this girl?"

You feel surges of shock and pride as you collect all your money. Once you've received it, after such luck, and earning a fortune, you decide you're going to have a drink. Or more than just one.

But when you turn, there's that guy again.

"What's up?" you ask, the grin on your face impossible to wipe off.

"How did you know it was going to stop on sixteen?" he questions, and he looks a little more handsome than he did before as this time he succeeds in taking your waist.

"Are you trying to pick my pocket?" you question warily, though, shoving his hand away.

"Not at all," he chuckles, "But you're a smart girl, aren't you? And I think I might be a lucky boy. Come on- I'll buy you a drink."

You snort. "No way, pretty boy! I can buy my own drink, after what just happened! How cocky are you?"

"Call me cocky, or call me rich, but either way, you're too sexy to have to pay for your own drink."

You scoff at this, but figure that you can't really let down an offer of free stuff. You'll be the first to admit you're greedy. Once of the biggest reasons why you gamble is because you want money- duh- and as much of it as you can get.

So soon, you're sitting at a table with this random guy, looking into his eyes, holding your drink in your hand. After barely a moment of hesitation, your curiosity finally gets to you, and you ask, "Who are you, anyway? I could have sworn I've seen you somewhere recently."

He gets a smug look on his face, which you don't like, before he says, "You really don't know?"

Your nose crinkles up in confusion, and for a second you feel ultra worried. Is this someone that I've met, that I should remember? Am I a terrible person for not knowing who this is...?

But then he says simply, "My first name is Charles. Charles Leclerc."

You stare at the taller individual, knowing you've heard that name, trying desperately to wrack your brain of it.

And then, suddenly, it hits you.

Loudly, in your head, in your friend's voice, in the exact tone she said it, 'No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?'

"Wait-!" you say in shock. You can see the satisfaction on the man's face, Charles, as you realize. "So, you're one of those F1 racers? Like, you race for the Ferrari team?"

He snorts and nods. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize me right away. Do you live here in Vegas?"

"Yeah," you say simply, taking a sip of your drink.

"So I take it you hate Formula 1, then? Because how else are you living in Vegas right now and don't know my name, or recognize my face?"

"You sound awfully prideful."

Suddenly, he smirks, and drags his finger across your jawline, pulling your face to look up at him in the process. "Maybe so. But clearly you're not so much better yourself, Miss Bet It All On Sixteen."

You cock an eyebrow at him and return his smirk with a challenging grin. "Sure, but I was right. I won what I wanted."

"Hmm... Well, what if I'm about to win what I want?"

"Oh, yeah? And what is it that you want?"

He leans in closer, so you can feel his hot breath tickle your ear as he utters simply, "You, baby."

You smirk. "We just met, buddy. I'm not that stupid."

"I think you're just playing hard to get."

"Or maybe it's just hard for you to get me," you counter.

"Well, I like your spunk. And your good luck. I think I might need a little bit more of that." He leans away a bit, and comments, "And I think I foresee a little bit more of luck in your future."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he smirks, leaning in closer. In barely any second, his lips meet yours, and though you know you should, there's no way you're pulling away now. He wraps his arm around you, urging you to lean into the kiss. You melt, letting him.

You don't know what it is.

But in this moment, you gently let your lips part, inviting his tongue to slip in between your lips, allowing yourself to, yes, make out with basically a stranger.

It wouldn't be the first time, but it also isn't something you do for fun whenever you feel.

When you finally force yourself to pull away, the first thing you breathe is, "How did you do that?"

He grins, and is clearly red in the face. But there's a look of shock on his face, too. As if his flirty cover was just confidence, and not because he gets tons of girls like this...?

Or maybe you're just reading too much into his expression.

Either way, he responds with, stroking your cheek, "No idea. Maybe I just have a way with you?"

You roll your eyes as you check your purse. No, he didn't pickpocket. He meant to kiss you. You stand up and say simply, "Well, I better get going n-"

"Sorry, what?" he suddenly snatches your arm back, pulling you back down to sit again with a surprised chuckle. "You just met a famous millionaire race car driver who bought you a drink after you won big money in roulette, let him make out with you, loved it, and now you're just going to casually walk off?"

You grin. "What? Do you think I was impressed by you? Think again, honey. Just because you drive cars fast and make ridiculous amounts of stupid money for it, and that you're insanely handsome- none of that means I'm any more impressed with you than I am with any other guys I meet on my night outs."

"Hm," he raises an eyebrow, and says, "What if you could get more from me, missy? Clearly, you're out for yourself and will do anything for a good deal. And you're f*cking sexy about it, too. So what if I had something else to offer you?"

You let yourself sit down at this, looking at him expectantly.

He smirks, clearly loving that he's 'won you over,' before saying simply, "Would like a free pass to the whole weekend, and a pass for the paddock?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, and your eyes widen. "I- what?"

His smirk grows even bigger. "You heard me."

You inhale sharply, but cross your arms across your chest and come out sharply saying, "Unfortunately for you, I couldn't care less about Formula 1. In fact, I'm starting to dislike it a lot. But thanks for the offer."

His jaw drops, and his eyes practically pops out of his head, which gets a chuckle from you. For a moment, he's actually speechless, before he finally gets out, "Are you aware of the offer you just refused?"

You raise an eyebrow, not able to keep the cheeky grin off your face. "Probably not, but that's okay. Why, anyways, would you give a stranger such an opportunity in the first place? You probably have ulterior motives, and I think I can pretty much guess what they are, mister. You don't even know my name yet."

"Oh, God, you're right," he laughs, taking another sip of his drink. "Well, what's your name, princess?"

You roll your eyes, and tell him.

He grins. "It's been wonderful meeting you." He digs in the pocket of his light blue jeans, and pulls out a pen and a restaurant receipt. "I know you think you'll be able to forget me so easily, princess," he starts, scribbling something on the receipt, "but trust me- you'll be wanting this." He takes your hand and presses the receipt into it, before standing up just like that, and saying with a wave as he turns to walk off, "I'll talk to you later, angel."

You look down at the receipt to see a phone number scribbled on it in chicken scratch. But the numbers are clear. And though you walk out that night rolling your eyes at this Charles's boldness and cockiness, with an abundance of money you've earned that's a lot more worth the stupid grease-stained receipt, the moment you get back to your apartment, the first thing you intend to is putting that stupid number into your phone.

"This is stupid," you comment as you slide into the backseat, next to Charles.

He just rolls his eyes. "You won't be saying that by the end of this experience. Besides, you were the one who decided to text me, like I said you would. You were just playing hard to get."

You scoff. "Oh, shut up."

"You look lovely, by the way," he comments in a lower voice. "I like that skirt." You look down at yourself. You're wearing a matching crop top shirt and short skirt, your sunglasses holding your hair back away from your face, and brown sandals.

"Thanks," you snort, crossing your arms and looking out the window, turning your gaze away from the Monégasque driver. (Yes, you did, despite yourself, look him up last night, just to know who the heck this guy even is.)

(You also were sure to look up his salary.)

(Ridiculous.)

(But also intriguing.)

Soon enough, before you know it, you're walking alongside him, about to enter the 'paddock.'

Makes it sound like a bunch of horses racing.

But when you're there, surrounded by it, in the moment, you don't think rude comments like that.

You stop, taking in the high life atmosphere. The revving car noises, the lights of The Strip on the 'racetrack,' the crowds, the music, the richness, and the challenge.

Your breathing falters, and your heart beat quickens as your hand involuntarily finds Charles's wrist and grips it as you gasp, "It's... extraordinary."

You glance to Charles's face to see him softly grinning. His hand slips down to hold yours as he comments, "You seemed like the type of girl to love it."

Your smile widens. "I've been here so many times. On The Strip. But... it's not the same. How did they do it?"

He begins walking, pulling you along by your hand as you look around. "That's just Formula 1 for you. There's nothing in the world quite like it, Y/n."

He leads you by the hand toward the Ferrari garage. Once you're there, he says, "Want to meet my teammate, Carlos?"

"Don't know who Carlos is, but sure..." you say vaguely, taking in the large piece of machinery- the Formula 1 car- in front of you.

He chuckles. "You're f*cking adorable," he murmurs, before leading you away to see Carlos.

He's a well-built man with fluffy dark hair, tan skin, big brown cow eyes, and stubble. Pretty much looks like exactly how you'd imagine a Formula 1 driver to look.

He nods respectfully. "Hey, Charles," he says, and shakes your hand with a friendly wink. "This your new girlfriend?"

You look up to see Charles smirk. "Not yet."

One of Carlos's thick, dark eyebrows cocks up, and the suggestion of an amused smirk travels on his lips for a second. "Ah, I see."

"Charles!" you snap, your eyebrows scrunches together. "Not ever."

"Well, we'll see about that. So far, I've been the right one, now, princess, haven't I?"

"Pfft. I was right about sixteen, wasn't I?"

He rolls his eyes as Carlos says with a chuckle, "Well, it will sure be interesting to see how this plays out," before moving on with his life.

Charles takes the time to show you around, and halfway through the tour, you blurt suddenly, "So, this is all the Italian team and stuff. Isn't there an American team?"

"Hmmm," Charles snorts as his eyebrows travel farther up and he fights off a seemingly somewhat mocking smirk. "There is."

"Why don't you show me them? Don't they have an American driver? Like, Carlos is Italian, right? Isn't it protocol or somethin'? Anyway, isn't it called Williams, the American team, or something? Some guy named Logan something that's an American racer on there-"

At this, Charles can't seem to hold it together anymore, and doubles over laughing, essentially, at you.

"What?!" you demand indignantly.

"You really are clueless!"

"I-"

"Alright, alright, Y/n. Haas is the American team. They don't have an American driver- German and Danish. No, Carlos is not Italian; he's from Spain. Williams is British, and yes, Logan Sargeant races for Williams, and he is American. About the only thing you got right."

You roll your eyes with a shrug. "I told you I don't give a damn about this stupid sport."

"Whatever you say, Miss Starry Eyes."

So, first Charles takes you to Haas, where you learn, surprisingly, that not all the racers are young hotshots like Charles and Carlos at least seem to be. They're friendly enough there, but really don't care much to give you any of their time, so then Charles suggests to go to the Williams garage and see if there's Logan to bother. You agree to that, so soon, you're entering Williams.

As soon as you see Logan, you know he's the American. You can see it in his stance. You can see it in his golden blond slightly sweeped hair, gray blue eyes, and strong jawline. "That's Logan, isn't it?"

"How'd you know?"

You shrug, breaking off from Charles to Logan. "Hey! You're the only American 'round here?!" you ask with a friendly grin.

"Huh?" he asks, looking up, in the most United States of America way. "Oh, hi," he says in what you perceive as dumbly, with a friendly smile. Ah, that's more like it. None of these posh Monacan boys and hot Spanish men- this guy is just like home sweet home!

You can practically hear the eagles cawing over the Rocky Mountains!

"You're Logan Sargeant?"

He nods. "I am. And you are...?"

"Just some Vegas girl dragged here by Charles."

"Ah... so you know him?"

"Well, now, unfortunately, yes."

His eyebrows furrow, but he chuckles at the same time. Though this guy isn't nearly as handsome or charming as Charles, there's something about him you like a bit more-

Suddenly, a hand is on your waist, and hot breath says in your ear, "Got to be getting back to Ferrari now. Come on with me?"

You blush and nod. "Right, Charles."

You have no idea what to think of him.

"Podium?! Uh- is a podium good?!" you ask, eyes wide as Charles brings it home in second.

"Yeah, yeah, it's good!" some guy you don't know wearing red near you says.

"Oh- Alright, well- That's good, I suppose!" you respond a little manically.

As soon as Charles as the chance, he finds you. He still has champagne on his race suit and his face is glistening with sweat, and there's no way you can deny it- he's sexy. When he reaches you, he wraps his arms around you, and his stunning eyes seem to burn into you. He can't fight the grin off his face as he says lowly, "Get why my lucky number is sixteen, baby girl?"

"Ah, stop with that," you snap, your voice cracking. You don't know, but this seems- all this seems-

Way too important.

You reach up to touch the number sixteen on his hat, before taking it off his head and slipping it on your own, backwards, on impulse.

He grins. "You can keep it. Not like you'll need a keepsake. You won't forget me."

You bite your lip, giving a quick nod, still studying his handsome face. Your eyes linger on his light pink lips, which arch into a perfect cupid's bow, as you murmur absently, "You seem pretty confident about that, huh?"

"Of course I do. Looks like you might be my little good luck charm, hm? Can't be letting you run away from me, can I?"

"Hm. Well, we'll see about that."

"Still playing hard to get?"

"Not playing. I just am hard to get."

"Whatever you say, darling," he comments with a shrug, walking off.

The French accent is pretty sexy.

Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see are the big earnest eyes of Charles Leclerc, staring back into your eyes. "Morning sunsh-"

Your immediate reaction is to scream and promptly slap him across his pretty face.

He grunts as his hand flies to his cheek to cover it up, and he says, "Hey, hey, calm down!"

But your eyes scan the room. It's clearly a hotel room. There's only one bed: the one you and Charles are laying in right at this moment. You're wearing a large black T-shirt and big blue gym shorts very tightly tied to fit your waist. Charles is dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans with a white T-shirt underneath, his regular jewelry, and white sneakers. So clearly, he's already showered and gotten dressed. He smells like his rich cologne, and his hair is all washed and fluffy and clean. If you weren't in a slight panic right now, you'd have wondered if you could touch his hair and feel how soft it is.

But!

As you're about to gasp out questions, Charles sits up and gently sets his hand on top of yours. You become aware of the pounding in your head as you bite your lip nervously. Charles looks at you earnestly, and says calmly, "Hey, you don't have to worry. It's okay."

"What happened?" you exhale.

"Nothing," he soothes. "We went out. You got more drunk than any of us though you should. I didn't know where you lived, so I took you to my hotel room. Gave you clothes to change into, and we went to sleep. Nothing more."

You swallow an anxious lump in your throat. "How do I know I can trust you? Please, just be honest with me. I won't be mad. You didn't know any bet-"

"I didn't do anything. We didn't do anything. Okay?" he leans in closer, and reaches to cup your cheeks in his hands. "'Kay? Can you just trust me?"

You bite your lip, but slowly nod. "I suppose that's the only thing I can do."

Over six months later, you stand on the boat, staring out at the Mediterranean Sea, smelling the salty breeze in the air, feeling content, wearing a loose button down, light blue jean shorts with a brown belt, your slew of bracelets, white sneakers, and a headband holding back your hair.

Suddenly, Charles is up next to you. "Hey, princess." For months, you've had what you stubbornly call a 'situationship,' whilst Charles calls you his girlfriend.

Because you love Vegas more than you love Charles (or at least that's what you like to say), you refused to leave when Charles did. You like taking risks. Just not the 'travelling halfway across the world for a hot guy' kind of risks.

But you stayed in touch. Charles made sure of that.

Well, he meant it when he said he'd make sure you'll never forget him.

But then Formula 1 came back to the States, to Miami, and you knew you'd have to make the trip. The flirty comments and romantic tension thick enough to cut ensued as soon as you and Charles set eyes upon each other, like as if it hadn't been six months or so since you'd last seen each other last.

It just felt like-

Somehow fate is involved.

Well, when Charles invited you to the Monaco Grand Prix, that was an offer you felt you couldn't let down.

And, boy, was that the best descision of your life.

To see Charles win his home race like that, and to be there? Just thinking about it now gives you goosebumps. Charles had wrapped his arms around you after the race, his eyes a little damp, and you felt something more.

Like he really cared.

If you didn't know better, you'd say it was like he really loved.

Loved you.

But, no. Of course not. That can't be.

Can it?

Well, all night you partied. You were in on the fun. You also made sure to pay a visit to the Monte Carlo casino, as you obviously must.

You had amazing luck, once again.

On this thought, as you feel Charles approaching from behind you, you comment into the wind, "You know, I'm starting to think you're my lucky charm, honey."

He chuckles, coming up next to you. "Oh, yeah? That's what I said six months ago when I first met you, you know. I've been starting to think the same thing about you."

You snort. "Maybe so, Monaco race winner."

He smirks, and you can feel the pure joy radiating off him. He slips his hand into yours as he murmurs, "I was so lucky to meet you."

I smirk. "I am pretty awesome."

He rolls his eyes, but squeezes your hand. "So, do you like it here in Monaco?"

You nod vigorously. "Gosh, Charles, it's amazing."

"Better than Vegas?"

"Well- I don't know if anything is better than Vegas..."

He leans in closer and speaks lower. "Well, would Monaco be better if your good luck charm just so happens to reside here?"

"Hm..." you smirk, flushing a bit. "I'd have to think about that, prince."

"Yeah," he nod, his tone softer. "Why don't you."

There's some silence, as you watch the sun begin to set, reflecting off the sparkling water.

Charles leans even closer to you, his hands gliding around your waist, pulling you towards him. He leans down, gazing deeply into your eyes. Then that stupid flirty grin appears on his face again. "F*cking gorgeous you are, one in a million. I struck lucky with you. My lucky strike."

He closes the distance between you, his soft lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. The heat of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine, igniting a spark between you as your tongues dance together in a sensual embrace. Connected.

Maybe it's not fate.

But it is most certainly luck.

And in this moment, with the lips of the winner of Monaco sucking on yours, you feel like the one who struck it lucky.

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purple-babygirl · 2 days

Text

fallen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x guardian angel!f!reader

Word count: 1,395

Summary: Steve thought Bucky falling out of that freight train was partially his fault. What if there was another unseen side to the story?

Warnings: angst, crying, mentions of violence including being captured by the war enemy, torture, blood, angel wings snapping, imprisonment, cryo freezing, suffering and nightmares.

A/N: i don't know what i'm doing. I'm sad. i don't even know how I'm gonna continue this story. i have nothing prepared for it. again, I'm just sad. i love you tho.

Guardian angels, beings as old as time. They exist and protect without getting bored or fed up. They are there even if people have created too many wars until they have stopped believing in them and in gods altogether.

She was the same, and although she wouldn’t know, she was a piece of art. Lilac hair and eyes, skin softer than silk and a voice so sweet it could melt mountains.

She had no name or age. She had a number. Angel number 11 was who she was. She had no family or friends.

But she had a human.

He was assigned to her and she was made for him. Her only purpose as a creature of the light was to look out for him and keep him safe.

What she wasn’t supposed to do though, was fall in love with him.

Unlike her, he had a name. He was James Buchanan Barnes. This handsome, brave, young man who got enlisted and was about to go fight for his country. He was so kind, so charming and so so far away.

She was very worried, her angelic heart only ever knowing these feelings for him, yet confident in her powers. She would never let anything bad happen to James, or Bucky as he liked to be called.

War or not, she had his back. He could walk through fire and she would get him out of there unharmed.

Sadly, all of her planning was burnt to ashes when her ‘superiors’ found out about her latent feelings for the human she was assigned to guard since birth.

It has never happened before. Or at least that was what they had said.

It was all the same with each and every one of them. They get assigned to a baby human, be it male or female, they look after the human all their life until they no longer have one and then they move on to another human.

No angel has ever broken the rules, let alone to this extent.

Why did she think she was going to get away with this? Why did she think she was any different? Who did she think she was trying to carelessly cross the clear boundaries?

The night they were sure she had those forbidden feelings for a lesser being, she was chained and temporarily deprived of her powers, and Bucky was captured by the enemy.

They left her alone to wallow in the dark and cry in worry about her beloved, wishing she was strong enough to get out of her shackles and go be with him in this time of war; in his time of need.

When they kept her there for days to give her a chance to have a ‘change of heart’, Bucky was experimented on and tortured by Hydra.

And when she begged, swearing on all things holy that she was past her silly feelings for him and was ready to go back to serving her part and her part alone, Steve had found Bucky and brought him back with him.

She saw the bruises on his face, the dried blood down his ears and she cried and cried until her eyes were out of diamonds.

She blamed herself for being sloppy with her feelings. She had to be careful if she wanted to stay by Bucky’s side. She had to step on her heart and suppress her emotions if she wanted to keep protecting the man she was in love with.

The way she was unknowingly being monitored, however, ruined everything for her and ended her life as she once knew it forever.

Bucky was being the good friend that he was, going with Steve to fight again, looking more courageous and more handsome than any human ever has.

She was so proud of him and her smile wasn’t missable.

They noticed the focus on her face as she made sure the rope Bucky used to descend on the back of the train held up. They noticed her angel heart and how its beats accelerated with every bullet she dodged for him.

They noticed and they had to stop it.

“You lied,” they said, coming prepared with stronger chains to lock her in.

“He needs me. Please let me be with him,” she begged instead of finding a way to defend herself.

They didn’t care, hands already on her wings and others on her neck.

“It’s over. He’s on his own from now on and it’s your fault.”

They were punishing Bucky for her mistake. He was going to get hurt and it was all because of her stupidity.

“Please, no!”

They didn’t hear her pleas or her cries, or pity her heart-wrenching screams as they snapped both of her wings off her back at once.

The second she fell to her knees, bloodied and broken, Bucky fell off the train, her last sight of him being him trying to reach for Steve’s hand and failing.

“You’re gonna be in there for at least 80 years, better try to forget because when you’re out, he might be gone.” They advised with little sympathy as they threw her inside the dark cave-like cell.

If this was heaven, what was hell supposed to be like? She can’t be feeling her heart get crushed over and over like that in the one place that was supposed to be void of such bitter feelings, could she?

She cried and cried, day and night. The bright lilac of her pupils turning dim and dull.

Has she just caused Bucky’s death? Did she just kill the one man she was created to protect? The one man that had gotten her heart to beat?

Screaming until she couldn’t breathe, she mourned the man she has known and loved all her life.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not her wings or her imprisonment. Nothing made sense without Bucky. Her life didn’t make sense without Bucky’s.

They let him die. They let her watch him die. Her heart ached with the memory for nights on end even though she could still feel their bond as if Bucky was still there. It was weaker, but it was present.

She became quieter as the years passed, no longer singing or screaming or even talking. The heavens didn’t miss her though, but James sure did. They had too many of her kind, but James only had her. Such thoughts would attack her every night year after year until she would cry herself to exhaustion every night, eventually losing sense of time.

20 years later, she started having nightmares. Terrible, horrendous dreams of her long-missed beloved hurting others.

Her once gentlemanly, well-mannered, kind man was now ending lives in cold blood in her nightmares.

James looked different. His hair was longer, his face grimmer, his eyes darker and his left arm shinier. His warm gaze was replaced by a dead one she never knew.

Had she not known him with her heart before her eyes, she might have not recognized him.

She knew it was her James. She could feel him. She could never forget him even if she wanted to.

Their bond felt strained, weighed down and suffocated. She had no idea what that meant. She thought she was turning crazy, her mind conjuring up an evil version of James to make her fear him or hatr him or leave her memories of him behind for good.

But she would never. Let her turn crazy, she was still going to be in love with James until her last breath no matter what.

Another 50 years and her nightmares have been recurring visions that she was used to, and even waited for.

Any glimpse of James was welcome even if he was acting nothing like the James she had known and loved.

The hardest visions where the ones where she saw him get hurt, his pained screams pulling her heart out and shattering it.

It all felt so real and that made her hate it all more.

It took her a while but she eventually figured out that James was still alive. She didn’t understand how he didn’t age until the cryo-chamber visions came on. Her heart ached for him, bled and sobbed inside her chest for the man who was suffering because she couldn’t be there to protect him; because she let both herself and him fall.

Tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions @serendipitouslife90 @sebastians-love @leelee1234love @tiedyedghoulette @saint-marvel @helenaellie @onceithough @raynelbabe @a-very-fictional-girl @justabeluga @lindababe69 @sapphirebarnes

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brucewaynehater101 · 10 hours

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Hello again I have an idea that might–i guess– interest you so here we go :))

I have this idea where Tim has a scythe in his Bō staff and everyone is just confused and concerned because he is starting to look like a grim reaper. Also the weapon + his fighting style is like a character named Arlecchino from genshin impact (if you play it), so he can do some cool poses and when he fights everyone sees that his fighting style look dangerous but elegant as he dances with his scythe while humming a tune which makes any rouges or enemies off guard by his calm demeanor (but they won't lie that Tim looks absolutely stunning with his staff/scythe that has some sort of black magic in it, idk).

Anyway— getting sidetracked, when Tim got asked by the Bats how he got it and he just said "I make this weapon all by myself without anyone helping me, so if you wanted this baby? Make it by yourself" he huffs while turning away with a proud look.

Also I think the JL will have these shocked faces as they look towards batman to gain some answers of how RR has a scythe and he just said "he was bored so he makes it by himself." And just like that every JL member started calling Tim "Reaper", which for Tim is weird and too dark.

But anywaysss, the YJ also have the same exact expression as the JL but they quickly brush it off and let Tim do his "Grim reaper" things. And they also would sometimes brag about their friend, Tim, that they have a cool leader who is graceful, amazing, sometimes annoying, smart— and yadda yadda, bcs who wouldn't want to brag that they have a fuckin Reaper as a Leader.

Idk if Tim actually has powers that actually take people's souls but the imagination is there :33

Ooh!!!! A retractable scythe in his Bō staff?

Okay! I treasure when the Bats have cryptic/eldritch rumors about them that they purposefully feed into.

Tim would make his humming into a warning when he's not actively fighting. For the situations that require it, he would throw his voice around the room as his hum rang out. Some goons, upon hearing the noise and knowing the rumors about the "reaper," would lay down their weapons, put their hands up, and slowly walk away. Whatever they are getting paid is not worth the chance of him taking their soul.

I'm not sure what ideas you had for the timeline of when he added the scythe. One route is that, after he trained with Shiva, Tim quickly stumbles upon this option (particularly if it's an added lesson from Shiva).

Here's what I'm thinking instead:

Red Robin was surrounded by assassins all alone until he befriended three of them. He already was breaking a ton of rules and crossing lines for his cause. Yet, he refrained from any that Bruce wouldn't forgive. There's always another option. Tim can figure out how to save the day without resorting to violence.

Under a blanket of stars as the sand shifted beneath his knees, Tim couldn't help but desire a blade. His staff, while it could be deadly, proved ineffective in his weakened state. There wasn't a way he could defeat his opponent. Tim was doomed to die and drag Pru down with him.

He was lucky to regain consciousness long enough to drag them to help, but Tim didn't like resorting to luck. He utilized plans and contingencies, not the whims of the universe. Life is unpredictable, but Tim could at least pretend he was prepared.

So, with LoA knowledge at his disposal, the teen learned how to sharpen his weapon. Tim crafted a tool that could easily kill. Upon its completion, he felt a small sense of that safety he had lacked since he was fourteen.

As fitting to a person so surrounded by death (his mom, dad, Darla, Bart, Kon, Z, Owens, Bruce), Tim fastened a scythe blade to his Bō staff.

When he returned, Gotham, the JL, and YJ learned of the "reaper." Tim is glad his friends accepted him readily.

Later, when Tim has settled into his new forms and fighting styles, he'll sneak on over to Drake Manor. In a basement filed with tomes, research papers, artifacts, and notes, the teen with etch symbols and words into the metal. It's another tool and hail mary he hopes to never use.

He's learned his lessons about instilling limits for the sake of others.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au

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thecapricunt1616 · 2 days

Text

Gardenia (c.b. one-shot)

♡ O/S Inspo: Promoting peace/repelling strife, protection from outside influences. Carry or wear to attract love or friendship. Burn with other healing herbs to bring peace and comfort to one who is ailing. Use dried flowers in healing incenses and mixtures. Scatter around a room to bring peaceful vibrations. ♡ Summary: You & Carmy meet at the thrift store you work, He takes you out for a cute date!! ♡ W/C: 2.0K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/27/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello! Happy day 2/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡ Here ♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! This request is based on ♡ This ♡ adorable ask from my beautiful little cow, @aestheticaltcow - I love you OOMF! You always are liking / reblogging & supporting my work. I love you to the moon! Thank you for all your support, I hope this is what you were thinking & that you enjoy!!! ♡ Warnings for BTC: None really! Fluff, Fem reader, No use of y/n (Reader goes by 'Bunny'), No use of physical descrip (pics are just vibes!) , Not very edited, Usual TB trigger warnings

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You were a manager at a thrift store on the north side of Chicago. Your job was fairly boring, sorting clothes and pricing them, as well as tagging them and putting them away. Helping train new employees, working opening and closing shifts. That was until the Blondie with the piercing blue eyes and the oh so sexy nose started coming in every Sunday morning, usually right after you opened.

He’d be holding a black coffee, from the coffee shop right across the way, and always head over to the men’s denim section. This was the fifth Sunday in a row he’d come in, and you couldn’t help but realize the way he checked you out whenever you checked him out, literally - and he had caught your eye so hard you looked at the credit card receipt to see his name.

You couldn’t find him on Instagram, or Facebook - so you figured either he was a super sexy serial killer, or goes by something else online - because who the fuck doesn’t have social media even to lurk?!

But even with his incessant staring he for sure didn’t realize you noticed, and his clockwork of coming in when you specifically were on Sundays - he still hadn’t asked you out. You figured he was shy- well knew it because any time you tried to strike up conversation with him the guy would go pink as a pig and giggle nervously. So you were going to give him an in.

“Hey there!” You said as you approached the isle, jeans in hand. When these had come in, they immediately caught your eye. 32 34’s. His size, vintage Levi’s - they looked to be about mid to late 80s by the patch and the wear - right up his alley for what he came in for.

His head popped up, brows raising slightly “morning” he replied, large hand wrapped nearly all the way around his iced coffee. God- he was so pretty up close.

“Good morning! So- not to be a freak but, these came in a few days ago, and I was thinkin’ T’myself ‘hey! I know a guy who comes in for 32 34 Levi’s every Sunday! I’ll see if he’s interested’ “ you giggle a bit, holding them out.

“You- wow those actually look sick” he took them, setting his coffee on the top rack and holding them out to see them. “Shit these are perfect. Thank you- really uh…sorry I never asked your name?” His cheeks were on fire. It was really cute though how flustered he got, he folded them, holding them over the inside of his arm and grabbing his cup again.

“Oh! Everyone calls me Bunny! Childhood thing. Can’t remember last time used my real name” you giggled a bit “and you are?” You extend your hand to him to shake.

He takes your hand with his tattooed one, shaking it gently. His hands were calloused, scarred, big, could probably reach spots inside of you that you could n- focus!

“But yeah so that’s uh cool. Never met another animal named person” he chuckled a bit, and you realized that you didn’t hear anything he said. But you couldn’t just say oh! Could you repeat I totally blacked out thinking about your fingers in my pussy! So you settled for a

“Totally! It’s the cool kids club for real. Anyway, nice to meet you Carmen” you nod

“Oh- shit sorry I didn’t - you can call me Carmy I - I prefer it actually” he said and you wanted to smack yourself

“I’m sorry- uh, Carmy. I’ll let you get back to it” you said and he looked like he wanted to say something else so you stayed for a moment, looking at eachother.

“Ok so - I know you’re working and I- I respect that so tell me to go fuck myself and I will absolutely never come back but uh- would you maybe… like- wanna go out f’coffee? Sometime? Like - like I said I totally get it if-“

“I’d love to. Gimme a time and place and I’m there” you smiled and he looked a little…suprised?

“Tomorrow? Place cross the street? Is 9:30 too early?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Sounds perfect, it’s a date”

9:30 am the following morning couldn’t come fast enough. That shift seemed to draaag after he’d left. As soon as you got up, you jumped in the shower, shaving every bit you had before slathering on your favorite smelling lotion.

You decided to wear your hair naturally, so you blew it out and didn’t use any other heat on it. Your makeup was light, and you picked a not too dressy but not too casual outfit to go with it. You felt pretty, and you knew for a fact you looked even better.

You spritz on a bit of your favorite perfume before heading out the door, a happy pep in your step at this mornings activities. You got to the coffee shop right on time, and see Carmy looking at his phone, sunglasses that were usually used as a headband in the store to keep his messy blonde curls from in front of his eyes were perched atop his nose.

“Feels weird seein’ you on a Monday” you teased, gently touching his muscular arm and giving it a friendly squeeze. He looked up and smiled a bit

“Right? Feels weird bein here on a Monday. Sundays’re my errand days” he joked back “it’s good t’see you, Bunny.” He said and you nodded

“You too! I’m ready for my morning caffeine not sure about you” you said and he grabbed the door for you

“ absolutely, after you” he pushed his sunglasses up how he usually did, following in behind you.

“Why thank you Carmy, how gentlemanly” you head up to the line with him.

“Of course- gotta do this thing right eh’?” He looked up at the board with a small smile.

“Don’t indulge me, Carmy, you’re getting a black coffee” you teased knowing that was all he drank, at least from what you saw at the store when he came in.

He chuckled, looking over at you “am I? How’d you know I wasn’t feelin’ brave t’day, huh?” He chides with a grin

“Ohh so brave what a big brave boy mixing up your coffee order huh?” You mused, stepping up to the counter

“Good morning! What can we get started for you today?” The barista asked and Carmy extended his hand to let you know you could go first

“Oh! Thanks, uhh ok soo- hmmm…” you look at the board for a few moments. “A large lavender iced matcha please and a blueberry scone.” You said and they nodded,

“And for you sir? Sorry will this be together?” They ask

“Yes- I’ll have what she’s having and that’s it.” Carmy took his card out, holding it over the reader and it beeps, accepting his payment.

“Alright! Thank you, you can wait at the end there it’ll be right out” they said and you look over, smiling bright. That was especially nice, for you at least. The last time you went out with a guy, he expected you to pay for you both. So, to say the least it felt nice to be taken care of, even if it was just a stupid little coffee.

You walked to the end of the counter, standing side by side as you wait “thank you. That was very polite of you” you told him, and his cheeks go that delicious adorable shade of pink that trickles down his neck and he shrugs a bit

“S’nothin. So uh- how long you been workin’ at the thrift?” He asked, grabbing a few napkins and straws for when your drinks came out. You watched his tattooed hands, your stomach doing those flips and rushes of heat flooding your core

“Oh- yeah uh..3 years? Ish? I realized I never asked, what do you do f’r work?” You asked, playing with the sleeve of your shirt with your fingers that never stopped moving. He seemed the same, rolling paper covered straws between his fingers or constantly tapping on his coffee cup in a random rhythm.

“Oh- shit yeah sorry I’m a chef. Sorry I never said anything but uh- yeah. The beef, well, the bear were kinda in the middle of renovating right now and changing our look.” He said and your mouth falls

“The beef?! Holy shit! Been goin there f’years!! Since I came back to Chicago!! Fire sandwiches. So you’re sayin’ no more beef sandwiches?! Dude I didn’t even get one before I found out you were closin’!” You said and the barista came over, setting your bags and drinks in front of you

“Have a great one guys!” They said and headed back to their station. We thanked them and headed back outside where there was little tables and chairs you could sit, and of course his sunglasses were right back over his eyes as soon as we got outside.

“What if I told you- I could make you one an’ bring it to you whenever you want?” He set down the bags of scones he’d carried for you, one in front of both of you before handing you a straw for your drink.

“I’d say you’re an angel sent from god, because those sandwiches are somethin else” you took the scone out of the bag and had a bite, moaning softly at the taste and sitting back “ugh fuck I love scones” you said and he chuckled a bit, having a bite of his own.

“These uh- actually are more muffin by recipe. Scones would be way dryer, but these sell better in the states” he took another bite. You hum, mixing up your drink before having a sip.

“Oh yeah? Hit me with another chef fact mister brave is this real matcha or whatever or the fake shit?” You hummed. It all tasted the same to you, but you wondered if he’d really have an answer.

“Mm” he hummed and opened his straw, mixing it before taking a sip. He scrunched his nose a bit “fake, and the lavender is fake which- I mean is kind of pitiful because lavander syrup is easy as fuck to make and not even expensive” he said and mixed it up even more, hoping that helped the flavor and had another hip, shivering slightly at the sugar which made you laugh.

“You like that?” He asked and you laughed, the kind of laugh that made your eyes crinkle just by the pure look of icky written on his features.

“You make fun of a girl for her morning beverage choices on a first date?” You asked and he put his hands up in defense

“Woah. Woah I said hang out i didn’t say date” he teased, causing you to laugh even more

“Am I seeing right now why you’re single?” You joked and he caught the giggles this time, and you wish you could see the way his eyes crinkled up beneath his sunglasses.

The rest of the meal was spent laughing, and making pleasant conversation. You spoke about where you were both from, what schools you went to, you’d learned apparently he studied abroad for being a chef which was crazy because you didn’t even know people studied abroad for simply making food but you guessed it was pretty serious by the way that he spoke about it.

Apparently the beef had been in his family and was handed down to him recently, so he decided to do something different with it and revamp the whole thing into the bear that would be opening in 2 months. You’d say there talking for about 2 hours, until he got a call about said restaurant and had to head out.

“Really, Bunny. This was…really great. I haven’t been able to like- it doesn’t matter. But…thank you, we should do this again if you’re down” he said and you smiled.

“How ‘bout next Sunday, but before the store opens - 7:30 too early for you?” you repeated his words playfully from when he asked you out.

“Nothin w' you is too early f’me, y'got y’self a date”

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longwuzhere · 1 day

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My Adventures with Superman Season 2 Easter Eggs

Welcome back everyone! Here we are season 2 of My Adventures with Superman! What a fantastic first two episodes and as usual they're full of fun Easter eggs which I will point out and explain to those who aren't familiar so you can be in the know with the comics book readers! My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

Spoilers if you haven't seen the episode

Starting things off MAwS's Season 2 episode 1 title is a reference to Shakesspeare's Hamlet where Hamlet is speaking to Horatio and says this line about how you gotta see it to believe it essentially. In my opinion in terms of the show I read it as we and the MAwS cast are gonna be seeing a lot of wilder things in space and on Earth.

After the title we see Jimmy flaunting his wealth around giving the Daily Planet employees Valentines day cards after selling his social media site Flamebird to the Planet. Clark gets one and talks about his planned date with Lois and Cat Grant interrupts him saying that date is such a bore. I explained Flamebird here and talked about Cat Grant here.

After, Perry White enters the scene complaining how Vicki Vale of the Gotham Gazette is always one step ahead of the Planet reporting on huge news. I talked about Vicki Vale here.

Lois, after waking up from a nap, mentions to Perry about a weird meteorite that landed in the Antarctic. She names drops her STAR Labs friend Hank. Later when the gang meet we learn that he's married. From those clues we can conclude this is Hank Henshaw.

Hank Henshaw in the comics makes his first appearance as an astronaut in Adventures of Superman #465 (1990) [W&P: Dan Jurgens, I: Art Thibert, C: Glenn Whitmore L: Albert DeGuzman]. He and his crew meet their unfortunate fates in the next issue as each crew member is hit with radiation in space causing their bodies to change. One member is turned to stone and gravel and bits from the wreckage of the ship when it crashed back to Earth, another's body turns to radiation, Terri, Hank's wife later learns that her body is phasing into a different dimension. She's saved but Hank 's body later decays rapidly. Doesn't all this sound Fantastically Four-miliar?

Hank Henshaw would later return in the Reign of the Supermen storyline as Cyborg Superman after Clark's death at the hands of Doomsday in Adventures of Superman #500 (1993) [W&P: Dan Jurgens, I: Doug Hazelwood, C: Glenn Whitmore, L: John Costanza]. How Hank returned and got this wild mechanical Superman body I wont say but I do recommend reading Adventures of Superman #466-468, the Death of Superman, A World Without Superman, and the Reign of the Supermen story arcs to find out. Will this also happen to Hank in MAwS? Who knows? Only time will tell

Lois name drops the DC universe's most famous laboratory and research center, S.T.A.R. Labs. You may have first heard about it from the CW DC shows. S.T.A.R Labs conducts a variety of experiments from space travel to technology and they usually are the superheroes' go-to when it comes to lab analysis. The research center makes it's first appearance in Superman #246 (1971) [W: Len Wein, P: Curt Swan, I: Murphy Anderson] where Superman scoops up some plankton and algae for them in the panel.

Jimmy in the scene before they meet Hank name drops Amazo Tech. I talked more about the company and the former CEO here.

As the MawS trio go to Antartica to check out the meteorite, which turns out to be a Kryptonian spaceship, Clark has another meeting with his father who tells him "oh yeah you have a cousin that my brother Zor-El launched to space to be safe cuz of the Kryptonian bullshittery we did" (I'll explain that later). Anyways Kara!

Kara Zor-El makes her first appearance in Action Comics #252 (1959) [Cover Art by Curt Swan and Al Plastino] where like her cousin was sent to space in a rocket ship to save herself after her part of Krypton was miraculously remained intact but meteors destroyed the lead shielding that Zor-El made to protect his people from the Kryptonite that was still present on their part of Krypton. Zor-El and his wife, Alura In-Zee, (she gets named much later) also made their first appearances in the same comic as Supergirl's debut. Kara has died in Crisis on Infinite Earths, had others taken up that mantle until her reappearance in Superman/Batman #8 (2004), and since then has made a name for herself in the pop culture zeitgeist with her appearances in the DCAU, my first introduction to her, the animated movies, her CW show, and in the movies! I highly recommend checking out Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow. Its got a killer story by Tom King and BEAUTIFUL ART by Bilquis Evely and Mat Lopes!

Jor-El tells Clark about the Kryptonians getting their ass handed to them by lasers going in sharp angles you know "oh shit you do not fuck with Darkseid!"

Darkseid, created by the legendary comic artist Jack Kirby, is the ultimate evil in the DC universe and makes his first appearance in the comics in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #134 (1970) [W&P: Jack Kirby, I: Vince Coletta]. Darkseid is everything that Jack Kirby hated about fascism rolled into one character. He's after the Anti-Life Equation, the ultimate formula that will break all of free will and force everyone to bow down to Darkseid's will. He's often seen fighting the New Gods, Justice League, or even Superman solo. The angled laser comes from Darkseid's Omega Beams where he shoots it out from his eyes and they will follow you until it hits their target bending around anything and anyone to get to you as seen here in this cover of Justice League #23.1: Darkseid (2013) by Ivan Reis, Joe Prado, and Alex Sinclair):

Based on that tiny bit of teasing in that scene I cant wait for the MAwS crew introduce him. Also shout out to the them for including the little Kirby crackles when the Kryptonian's got vaporized that was a nice bit of detail to honor Jack Kirby's most famous drawing technique!

As Jor-El and Clark have some catching up to do, Lois and Jimmy are attack by the robots in the ship and you might recognize the symbol on them as the symbol of Brainiac. I talked more about him here also that one Kryptonian from the finale of season 1 shows up again at the end of the episode. No confirmation on if its Zod or not but there is a good chance its Zod imo at least.

As our heroes encounter Task Force X (I talked more about them and Amanda Waller here), Amanda Waller is talking to one of her new super soldiers, Damage who we see can grow into a hulking size. This is a reference to...

Ethan Avery, aka Damage from the New Age of Heroes initiative from DC post-Dark Nights Metal where his first appearance was in Dark Nights Metal: The Casting #1 (2017). Ethan was a former soldier in the US Army who volunteered for the Damage program and was given the serum to turn him into the giant Hulk pastiche we see here on the textless cover of Damage #7 (2018) by Tony S. Daniel, Danny Miki, and Tomeu Morey. As Damage, Ethan was not able to control his actions for one hour and would go on a rampage against militant groups for US Army missions. Here in MAwS, we can see some of Damage's comic design be invoked in the cartoon with the giant hulking body MAwS has, the dark arms, and pants. very subtle but it works.

As the chaos from the fight subsides, we see the former spaceship transform itself and the surrounding ice into this crystalline superstructure and what famous isolated fortress looking building in the Antarctic in Superman lore does that bring to mind? THE FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE!

The Fortress of Solitude that pop culture knows made its first appearance in Action Comics #241 (1958) [Cover art by Curt Swan and Stan Kaye]. Superman in the Golden Age had a "Secret Sanctuary" in the outskirts of Metropolis on a mountain top in Superman #17 (1942), but it wasn't until the 1950s where the Fortress of Solitude was relocated to the Arctic which is shown here. The location gets changed again to the Antarctic post-Crisis on Infinite Earths. Superman would have other Fortresses of Solitude in other locations like the Bermuda Triangle, which is the latest or the Arctic again. Superman would usually keep things pertaining to his Kryptonian culture in the fortress like the Phantom Zone Projector or the bottled city of Kandor. Based on what we're seeing in MAwS it seems like they'll be setting this up as a new place for Clark to get in touch with his Kryptonian heritage.

What a fun first episode! Can't wait to see what the future episodes will have! So excited to return to My Adventures with Superman! My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here and if you missed it my Season 1 Easter eggs list is here

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anxresi · 18 hours

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I Beg To Differ.

Okay, now just because I'm about to embark on an epic rant does NOT mean I think anything bad about you as a person, OP. It's just on this one teensie-weensie most minor of points, I happen to think you're 100% wrong. Just thought I'd clarify that, so no offense intended. Anyway, on with the show...

Nah, they did us SO dirty with Chloe. I hear your above argument a lot, and it WOULD be a fair point… if it wasn't for the fact that there are SO many clear signs this wasn't what was intended from the beginning that it makes your reasoning completely null and void. Chloe's 'arc' was the most blatant case of in-show character assassination I've ever had the displeasure of witnessing, and I'm about to explain why. Read on! (If you want to, that is.... no pressure).

They strung us along for at least three seasons with various hints about her 'traumatic past', her problems with her often absent mother (which Marinette didn't help by encouraging them to bond because 'they're both such awful people'), showed her genuinely apologizing to her victims, protecting Sabrina from akumatization and having times when she treated her as a real friend, sacrificing herself to save the day occasionally, hugging Miss Bustier in a moment of genuine emotion, telling Ladybug how 'useless' she felt in a teary rooftop encounter, saving lives both as a superhero and a civilian (check back if you don't believe me), giving Adrien a moving speech on his phone about how 'she'd always be there for him', sharing a really close bond with her father, telling her butler Jean it was time she started doing things for herself, loving Mr Cuddly, adoring Pollen… I could go on. Not the best person in the world, true.... but a promising start. Green shoots, and all that. Her name literally means that.

S4 simply forgot any of this happened, and literally pushed her burgeoning development off a cliff with Sisyphu's boulder tied to it's big toe. There was NO build-up, NO foreshadowing, NO precedent for Chloe suddenly becoming a one-dimensional total-sociopath irredeemable-monster AT ALL, they simply made her that way on a whim. They had her start acting like a complete psycho for the evilz, made her the most stupid person in the show BY FAR, severed ALL of her few close relationships, wrote AN ENTIRE FLASHBACK EPISODE in incrimate her newfound nastiness even more and 'punished' her by sending her off exiled on a plane in tears with her abusive mother to… what else? Get abused, of course. GREAT MESSAGE TO ALL THE VULNERABLE TEENAGE GIRLS OUT THERE. (I won't even get into how utterly useless and blandly boring her 'replacement' of a plot device Mary S... oops, I mean Zoe is).

And we're supposed to believe the former corrupt mayor Andre, the terrorist Gabriel Agreste and Thomas Astruc (you know him) are the GOOD guys here? Well, I'd like to tell you what I'd like to do to them… but for fear of censorship, I'd better withhold that particular information for now.

The upshot of it is… if Chloe had been bad from the beginning and terrible at the end, I'd have accepted it. Heck, if her so-called damnation arc was even halfway well written and gave us an accurate and compelling look at the moral descent a person who's capable of redemption could take to the light but ultimately chose to stay on the Dark Side, this would've been highly disappointing to me but fine from a storytelling perspective.

But they didn't give us anything like that, did they? It was just… 'pretend the last three seasons never happened, develop amnesia, hit yourself repeatedly on the head with a shovel… we don't care. Just accept this is the NEW Chloe without question despite past evidence, because you won't be getting any answers. Now let's go back to what we're REALLY here for… Marichat, Ladynoire, Adrinette and that other stupid ship name. SWOON!'

Thanks, but no thanks. Did I ever tell you how much I HATE this stupid show? Apologies if I didn't make that clear enough.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ladybug #chloe bourgeois #ml salt #zag #ml #disney #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir

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hogwartslegacyreactions2 · 17 hours

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Hey there! I know I know, I just asked you for a request*, but this idea hits so hart today >.< My request number two: Reaction of Students and Professors if - how in Merlins name could this happen?! - some photographs from MC as a baby/toddler/child circulate around Hogwarts....some really cute and really embarrassing pictures from their first years. Awww! I would love it, I'm giggling alone in my dark room at the moment... Your blog is beautiful and I hope so is your evening! *I still request it, but just if you like^^

A/N: this is hilarious! Lmao

HLC REACT TO MC'S BABY PICTURES

A spell mishap and Peeves interference had MC frantically running all over Hogwarts trying to collect the photos but they just kept multiplying and flying away.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He entirely entertained watching MC run around like a chicken with its head cut off to collect all the photos. He doesn't really understand what they're freaking out about anyway, they're cute pictures. Especially the one where MC wears a pair of trousers on their head.

OMINIS GAUNT: To him the whole thing sounds like someone left a door open and a bunch of leaves were blowing around inside. It's only through the surrounding students that he determines that they were photographs of an embarrassing nature. Heh, He's glad it's not him.

ANNE SALLOW: She stows one away. One of MC proudly holding a bored looking cat like a teddy bear. It was too cute to let it fly away. She'll give it back eventually.

IMELDA REYES: She laughs at MC expense and walks away. This is their problem to solve, she has flying to do.

NATSAI ONAI: She's running around with MC trying to collect the photos. She can't help but stop every once in awhile to admire a good one, though. MC was a really cute baby.

GARRETH WEASLEY: He was eating lunch when one smacks him in the face. He looks at it, chuckles and then goes back to eating. He holds it up for MC to snatch when they come barreling through the Great Hall.

LEANDER PREWETT: He casually goes through the photos that fly to him and he admires them. Not just how cute and funny some of them were but seeing where and how MC grew up. Photos tell a story and he was very interested in it.

AMIT THAKKAR: He tries to help with summoning spells. He collects a few at a time but the photos are multiplying faster than they can catch. They're jinxed!

EVERETT CLOPTON: He's sneaking away from the situation. He was practicing the duplication jinx and accidentally hit MC's photo album. He doesn't even remember why they had it with them. Just that Peeves showed up after the photos burst from the book.

POPPY SWEETING: She just watches the chaos. She's sure jobberknolls hopped up on accelerant potion would be easy to collect. She does see a few photos that settle near her. MC eating cereal out of an expensive looking vase is her favorite.

~~~

ELEAZAR FIG: "Peeves! Stop this at once!" Peeves drops the pile of duplicating photos and flies off with a cackle. He nullified the jinx and helped MC clean up. He sees a few photos and smiles to himself. He'd have to ask if he could see them proper some day.

MATILDA WEASLEY: "Aresto Momentum!" With a powerful wave a magic, all the photos stopped dead in their tracks. She looks at MC with slight disappointment. One spell could have fixed all this instead of panicking. "Clean up this mess, I'll handle Peeves." She storms after the poltergeist.

CHIYO KOGAWA: "Well, that's unfortunate." She finds one photo of MC drinking water from a puddle next to the family dog. "Kids..." She chuckles and hands the photo to MC when they run past.

AESOP SHARP: He's mid sip of morning tea when he walks in on the situation. Peeves has done worse. He turns around and walks away from the pandemonium.

ABRAHAM RONEN: He laughs as he joins MC in the chase. "This is fun!" He exclaims like it's just one big game. He will adore MC's pictures, they'll have a hard time getting them away from him without explaining them.

MIRABEL GARLICK: "Peeves! You absolute scoundrel! Stop tormenting the students!" She shoos away the poltergeist and helps MC collect the photos and cancel the jinx. She checks if MC is actually alright. These photos may be embarrassing but they are more than that. They're precious memories.

MUDIWA ONAI: With a wave of her hand, all the photos come to her. She gives Peeves a stern look, which he returns with a loud raspberry, and she hands the photos back to MC. "You should be more careful with these. They may be embarrassing moments now but they are wonderful memories to hold on to. Would you like to see Natty's?" She chuckles.

DINAH HECAT: She sighs and wordlessly waves her wand at Peeves. He stops, drops the photos, and dives through the floor in hast. No one knows what she did but she is one of the few people at Hogwarts Peeves is actually afraid of.

CUTHBERT BINNS: He watches Peeves fly by. He sinks through the floor to the dungeons and finds the Bloody Baron. "He's at it again." The Baron zooms off to do unspeakable things to Peeves.

SATYAVATI SHAH: She quietly collects a few photos after Peeves had his fun and gives them back to MC without a word.

PHINEAS NIGELLUS BLACK: He's just annoyed by the interruption of his day. The poltergeist, the students, they're all so annoying.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy reactions #hogwarts legacy professors #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #anne sallow #imelda reyes #natsai onai #garreth weasley #leander prewett #amit thakkar #everett clopton #poppy sweeting

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dolimiu · 8 hours

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ATTACHED AT THE HIP !

katsuki bakugo × fmr 𝞋𝞎 synopsis ; someone as rough around the edges as bakugo makes it hard to believe that there's more to him than just a loud and vulgar mouth. however, whenever you come into the picture, he tends to ease up a bit. ── ❪ fluff childhood bsfs pre war arc 0.7k mutual pining, cw none ❫

soft is not a word anyone would use to describe katsuki bakugo. in fact, if someone tried to call him that, they'd be met with a vulgar insult — one that would likely make them gasp.

he hates nicknames (which is ironic, since he rarely calls anyone by their real name), despises people who get in his way or talk too much, and also those who talk too little. he loathes unwarranted smiles, excessive selflessness, and countless other things. bakugo hates a lot; that's no secret. in fact, he might hate people who pretend to be perfect the most. katsuki bakugo is rough in all aspects. he's extremely athletic and smart, with an abrasive and improvement-hungry personality that is loud and unyielding. he doesn't need anyone in his life to set him apart or help him on his journey to the top.

however, you're different. not in a way that he needs you, but you might be the only person he wants with him. people cock their heads in surprise when they see you two together, wondering how anyone could manage a conversation with bakugo without being screamed at. whispers circulate about the two of you. "they must be dating," denki whispers to mina, who nods quickly in agreement. the yellow-haired teen leans on mina's desk, side-glancing at the unlikely pair. "i mean," he continues, "he gets pissed if i so much as glance at him the wrong way. but look!" his finger points across the room to you, standing in front of bakugo's desk, smiling and chatting during the break. the craziest part might be that bakugo isn't even glaring at you; he's just listening with a straight face — something not even kirishima has experienced.

"i think they're talking about us again," you say, feeling slightly dejected about the not-so-subtle stares from mina and denki. they were wrong, though. you and bakugo aren't dating — just old childhood friends who have grown and gotten stronger together. you watched bakugo pull himself out of his ego and mature, while he watched you solidify your resolve and overcome obstacles.

"eh, let 'em… annoying ass extras," katsuki grumbles, his regular hardened glare returning as he glances at the gossipers. you chuckle at your best friend's response, watching as his eyes soften once they land back on you.

you smile at him. "wanna go grab lunch, katsu?"

katsuki groans quietly as he stands up. "yeah, sure." you follow him out of the classroom, walking down the hallway in silence. you let yourself mull over the whispers of "dating" and your names in the same sentence. on one hand, it was crazy. both of you have your own goals and ambitions, with no time to waste on love. you are strong, driven to grow even more powerful to save others. romance has no place in a hero's life.

and yet… a part of you aches. maybe it's the hopeless romantic in you or just wishful thinking, but being with katsuki makes your face feel hot. the thought of not being there for him as more than a friend stings, your stomach twisting in knots at the idea.

"hey, whatcha thinkin' about?" katsuki's raised eyebrow and intense crimson eyes bore into you. "better not be somethin' stupid again," he says as you line up for food.

you panic slightly; katsuki has a knack for picking your brain better than you'd like. "oh, it's nothing! just thinking about how a lot has happened lately." you gulp, glancing at the menu. "sounds delicious! i can't wait to eat!" you laugh, hoping he won't notice it's fake.

"but it's your least favorite food," katsuki's eyebrows furrow. "you spit it out once in fifth grade and complained the rest of the afternoon about how it 'ruined your day.'" your mouth goes dry, mind blank. "i don't know what you're thinkin', but," he pokes you between the eyebrows, "everything's gonna be fine, 'kay? so don't go thinkin' you're all alone and shit — 'cause i'm always right by ya, idiot." his eyes drift away. "now let's go grab somethin' else. don't wanna hear ya complain later."

butterflies rampage in your stomach. are childhood best friends supposed to make you feel this way? the way katsuki bakugo does as he grabs your wrist and leads you down the hallway? your other childhood friend izuku doesn't, so maybe this is different. maybe the way you feel is different. or maybe, you two were just born to be attached at the hip.

#⠀𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟　♡︎　𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎡⠀#bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fluff #mha imagines #my hero academia x reader #bakugo comfort #mha comfort #bakugo x you #katsuki x you #mha x you #bakugo fluff

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anonymousewrites · 23 hours

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Logos and Pathos (AOS Edition) Chapter Three

AOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Three: After the Academy

Summary: (Y/N) and Spock have become friends and run a simulation for a very strange cadet, Cadet Kirk.

“Cadet Kirk is trying the Kobayashi Maru again?” said (Y/N), walking towards the testing observation room with Spock. “This is the third time.”

A few years had passed since their first meeting. Spock and (Y/N) had, surprisingly, become friends. Well, it had been a surprise to everyone else, but to them, it made perfect sense. (Y/N) could sense emotions, yes, but they were very logical and intelligent. Spock respected that. And because Spock saw beyond the labels others had put on them, (Y/N) respected him. The two were known for working very well together and being an efficient, effective team.

“It appears so,” said Spock. “He still has not understood the true test of the program.”

(Y/N) sighed and shook their head. “He gets frustrated, not scared. He has the intelligence and resourcefulness to do well—after all, he started a year after Uhura but caught up—but this is the one thing he hasn’t understood yet.”

Spock nodded in agreement. “Perhaps a third loss will teach him the psychological lesson.”

“Well, psychologically speaking, I have to admit, he’s tenacious,” said (Y/N). “Not a terrible quality.”

“We shall see what other qualities he displays this time,” said Spock.

“We are receiving a distress signal from the U.S.S. Kobayashi Maru,” said Uhura, voice bored with the redundant situation she’d been put in since Kirk wanted to try the test for the third time. “This ship has lost power and is stranded. Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them.”

“ ‘Starfleet Command has ordered us to rescue them, Captain,’ ” said Kirk from his place on the fake bridge.

“I believe the human word for this bravado is ‘cocky,’ ” said Spock from behind the observation glass.

“That would be the common vernacular,” agreed (Y/N). “And his emotions confirm it.” They cocked their head. “Strange, though. He doesn’t seem worried about the results of this test at all.”

“Could it be he’s desensitized to failure now?” said Spock, considering the options.

“His had less anxiety the second time he took the test, just more frustration,” said (Y/N). “But he has absolutely none now. That doesn’t seem likely. He should still have some worry about failing.”

“Hm.” Spock laced his fingers and gazed at the test as it continued. “Let me know if his feelings change.”

“Do you think he’s up to something?” asked (Y/N).

“I do not jump to conclusions. I need more facts to make any educated hypotheses,” said Spock.

“You’re making a guess,” said (Y/N).

“No, it’s an educated hypothesis,” said Spock.

(Y/N)’s smiled in amusement and shook their head.

“Two Klingon vessels have entered the neutral zone and are locking weapons on us,” said Bones—real name Leonard McCoy—another cadet in his final year and a friend of Kirk.

“That’s okay,” said Kirk confidently.

“That’s okay?” repeated Bones incredulously.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” said Kirk, leaning back in his chair.

“Did he say, ‘don’t worry about it?’ ” said another test operator.

“Is he not taking the simulation seriously?” said a third.

“He’s…amused,” said (Y/N), blinking. “And happy.” They crossed their arms. “Put that together, and he’s gloating.”

“Gloating?” repeated Spock, furrowing his brow ever-so-slightly.

(Y/N) and Spock had the same thought. What could Kirk be gloating about?

“Three more Klingon warbirds decloaking and targeting out ship.” Bones looked back at Kirk and sarcastically added, “I don’t suppose this is a problem, either.”

“They’re firing, Captain,” warned another cadet.

“Alert medical Bay to prepare to receive all crew members from the damaged ship,” said Kirk, calm and nonchalant as ever.

“And do you expect us to rescue them when we’re surrounded by Klingons, ‘Captain?’ ” pointed out Uhura.

Kirk just spun around in his chair. “Alert Medical.”

“Our ship is being hit. Shields at sixty percent,” warned Bones.

“I understand,” said Kirk.

“Well, should we, I don’t know, fire back?” said Bones.

“No,” said Kirk, pulling out an apple and taking a bite.

“Of course not,” muttered Bones.

The lights on all the displays flickered. (Y/N) frowned. That wasn’t in the program. Spock had it running smoothly. Any glitches were when he improved it and tested it himself. For cadets, it was efficient and timed to perfection.

“What is this? What’s going on?” wondered the confused test operators.

“Spock, is this a new part of the test? Equipment failure?” said (Y/N).

“I would have informed you beforehand. You know that,” said Spock.

“I do,” said (Y/N). “But then that leaves us the question…what is going on?”

The computers came back on, and the cadets looked around in confusion before focusing on the readouts (Uhura was the first to concentrate, which (Y/N) noticed proudly).

“Arm photons. Prepare to fire on the Klingon warbirds,” said Kirk.

“Yes, sir,” said a cadet.

“Jim, their shields are still up,” said Bones.

Kirk took a bite of his apple. “Are they?” His amusement grew.

Bones turned to look at his readout, and his face fell into an expression of shock. “No, they’re not.”

“Fire on all enemy ships,” ordered Kirk cheerfully. “One photon each should do. Let’s not waste ammunition.”

“Target locked and acquired on all warbirds. Firing,” said another cadet.

On the displays, the Klingon warbirds exploded as they were hit by photons. Kirk mimed pistols as he chewed his apple.

“All ships destroyed, Captain,” said Uhura in a mix of being impressed, frustrated, and shocked.

Kirk stood up. “So, we have managed to eliminate all enemy ships, no one onboard was injured, and the successful rescue of the Kobyashi Maru crew is underway.” He took another bite of apple and looked at the test operators smugly.

“How the hell did that kid beat your test?” said an operator, turning to question the programmer himself.

“I do not know,” said Spock.

(Y/N) didn’t need to sense his emotions to know he was frustrated. Spock didn’t like not knowing.

“It isn’t possible to beat your test. It’s designed to demonstrate failure,” said (Y/N).

“And yet Cadet Kirk did,” said Spock. “I don’t believe there is a flaw in the current program, but I must investigate every possibility.” He was running through the code as they spoke. “There.” He tapped on the code. “A subroutine. Recently installed.”

“I suspect—hypothesize—it was by Kirk,” said (Y/N). “He wasn’t surprised by the change in the test and wasn’t worried beforehand. That suggests he knew about it.” They crossed their arms. “It was clever, but it’s cheating.”

“Indeed,” said Spock, nodding.

Between his discovery of the subroutine and (Y/N)’s deductions—which made logical sense even from their empathic observations—they had all the evidence they needed to convene a hearing. Spock was fortunate to have (Y/N) as his partner in his work. Their skill and hard work made everything easier. Better.

“We should go and submit our claim, then,” said (Y/N), turning to leave.

“(L/N),” said Spock. “Thank you for your assistance. You did not need to stay after the test while I examined the code, but you helped my conclusions with your observations.”

“Of course, Spock,” said (Y/N), smiling. Their chest warmed at Spock’s thanks. “You’re my friend. I wanted to support you since people were doubting your work. Wrongfully, but still.”

“Your support was appreciated,” said Spock, nodding.

“It was no problem,” said (Y/N), smiling. “But Spock, come on, I’ve told you to call me ‘(Y/N).’ ”

“It isn’t formal,” said Spock.

“We’re friends,” said (Y/N). “That isn’t formal.” They grinned and started the walk out of the room.

Spock paused a moment before following. There was nothing to argue there. Spock and (Y/N) were friends.

“This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter,” said the head of the disciplinary committee, still Barnett.

This time, everyone had been called to the hearing, likely because this situation was much more egregious for the academy as a whole. Cheating was unacceptable. Cadets whispered to one another, but the murmurs quieted as the head of the committee spoke. (Y/N) sat beside Spock, reading for the hearing to begin.

“James T. Kirk, step forward,” said Barnett.

All heads went to the cadet in question, whose face fell. Kirk stood and walked down to face the committee like (Y/N) had years ago.

“Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to this council suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to Regulation 17.43 of the Starfleet code,” continued Barnett. “Is there anything you care to say before you begin, sir?”

“Yes, I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly,” said Kirk.

The head of committee looked at (Y/N) and Spock and nodded to them. They rose, and (Y/N) felt the ripple of surprise from those that knew of (Y/N) and Spock.

“Step forward,” said Barnett.

Spock and (Y/N) headed down to the other podium at the center of the hearing room.

“This is Commander Spock and Lieutenant Commander (L/N). They are two of our most distinguished graduates,” explained Barnett. “Commander Spock has programmed the Kobayashi Maru exam for the last four years. Lieutenant (L/N) currently works with psychics in the Academy.” He looked at Spock and (Y/N). “State your case.”

“Cadet Kirk, you somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine in the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test,” said Spock.

“You are undoubtedly the culprit since you requested the third test and had no surprise when the test changed. You knew it was coming from the beginning,” said (Y/N). “No nerves, no surprise.”

“Your point being?” said Kirk.

“In academic vernacular, you cheated,” said Barnett.

Kirk didn’t back down from the sharp down. “Let me ask you something I think we all know the answer to: the test itself is a cheat, isn’t it? I mean, you programmed it to be unwinnable.”

“Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario,” said Spock.

“I don’t believe in no win scenarios,” said Kirk firmly.

“Then not only did you violate the rules, but you failed to understand the principal lesson,” said Spock.

What a repartee, thought (Y/N).

“Please, enlighten me,” said Kirk.

“You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk, a captain cannot cheat death,” said Spock. The reference to Kirk’s father was clear.

Kirk swallowed, and (Y/N) felt the pressure of profound grief wave over them.

“I of all people?” he said.

“Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?” said Spock.

Spock, that was a low blow, thought (Y/N), giving him a look.

Spock noticed it and avoided their gaze. He never liked when they were upset at him.

“I don’t think you like the fact that I beat your test,” said Kirk, his sadness sharpening to anger.

“Cadet Kirk,” said (Y/N). “You didn’t beat the test. You failed to learn its lesson. Three times now. It’s not about beating it or failing it.”

“What is it about then?” said Kirk.

“Fear,” said (Y/N) simply. “A captain must learn to face fear and handle themself accordingly. You have to learn to control yourself, your ship, and your crew even when afraid.”

Silence fell over the room as Kirk processed those words.

“Excuse me, sir,” said an officer, walking in from outside the chamber. He broke the quiet tension. He walked up with a report to Barnett.

Worry clouded his aura, and (Y/N) frowned. Barnett’s emotions changed to concern and confusion, and (Y/N) tensed. Something was going on.

“We have received a distress call from Vulcan,” said Barnett.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and Spock straightened. His expression didn’t change, but they had known him long enough to see he was concerned. It was his home.

“With our primary fleet engaged in the Laurentian system, I hereby report all cadets to report to Hangar One immediately,” said Barnett. He stood. “Dismissed.”

Everyone followed suit and rushed towards Hangar One. Spock was the first one to begin moving, and (Y/N) hurried after him.

“Are you alright?” they asked.

“I must ensure my assigned ship is well-staffed for the trip to Vulcan,” said Spock. “Then I—we—can handle the distress call.”

(Y/N) nodded. He was focusing on the issue at hand. That was Spock’s way of dealing with problems.

“Whatever ship I’m on, I’ll do the same. We’ll be able to face this,” said (Y/N) assuredly.

“You’ll be on the Enterprise as well,” said Spock. “You’re efficient and skilled. You’ll be needed.” And if (Y/N) was with him, if there was trouble, he could keep an eye on them. He didn’t want them to be put in harm’s way where he couldn’t help them.

“And I’ll do my best,” said (Y/N), smiling at Spock. “I can help with staffing so it’s not all on your shoulders.”

Spock nodded. He was glad (Y/N) always concentrated on the tasks at hand. They were an excellent officer. “You handle communications and command. I’ll handle medical staff and science officers.”

“Spock,” said (Y/N), pausing. He stopped, and (Y/N) touched his arm gently, supportively. “Whatever’s happening, I’m with you, alright? I’m here to help.”

Spock looked at their hand. There was a subtle warmth from their hand on his arm, and although he knew they would never use their abilities on him without permission, he felt calmer knowing they were there.

He nodded. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) smiled. “Of course, Spock.”

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#logos and pathos #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #commander spock #star trek spock #mister spock #spock x reader #spock #mr spock #star trek #star trek x reader #star trek aos x reader #star trek aos #star trek alternate original series #aos spock #aos spock x reader

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indigosunsetao3 · 2 days

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for the GIF ask game! you can pick any character you see fit !

I just want you to know that watching men drive stick shift is in my top eight (dating myself here) of favorite things. So thank you for this.

Drinks and dinner were always a good time, even if you regretted agreeing to go when the day arrived. You knew you needed some time out of the house after being in the monotonous routine of work, home, a quick dinner and trashy television before bed for the past month. That's what happened when John was deployed, a stagnant routine counting down the days until his return. You were used to it after all this time but you could feel the melancholy sinking in, the rainy season not helping either.

You had sent John a quick message, not sure if he'd even get it, that you were going out with friends. Sometimes he could have his phone, others it was radio silent for days. It had been a stint of silence for about a week this time so you weren't expecting an answer. But as you applied your lipstick a message came back asking where you were going.

It was a surprise and you grin telling him about the plans for some sort of bar crawl. One of the girls in the group was newly single so it was an attempt to cheer her up and maybe find a bloke to take her home. All in good fun. After sending John a picture of your outfit you head out to meet your friend that was picking you up.

Despite being with your friends you keep your phone glued to your hand, texting John any moment you could. After being silent for so long you weren't about to pass up some time just talking. You send him pictures of what you are up to, what drinks you were having, laugh about a guy attempting (and failing) to chat up your single friends.

John answers each one without fail, even going as far as sending you a picture of his current company. Soap passed out on his bunk with his arm hanging off the edge and mouth wide open snoring. A scene you have seen multiple times before but still made you laugh anyway.

After a bit of silence, thinking he may have finally fallen asleep, another message comes through.

Where are you headed now? That little club off Lisle street with the weird name. They want to walk because parking is atrocious. My feet are on fire, shouldn't have worn heels. I'm about to tell them to go without me. Go on. Don't want them to hound you for being an old maid. But I am an old maid.

You grin and stick your phone back into your purse before making the long trek to the next place. It's drizzling and you are lamenting the idea of having to walk all the way back to the car when you were done. It was already past midnight and your warm bed was calling to you. But you smile and continue on with the group, telling yourself it's just one night.

Staking out one of the only tables left you tell the rest of the group you'll hold the spot while they all go to dance. Your feet can't take one more step. And while you're contemplating how rude it would be to just take your shoes off and hide your feet under the table for a bit a waiter walks over with a drink you haven't ordered.

"Oh, no I think you've got the wrong table," you answer with a grin, stretching back up from where you were about to undo your heel straps; you had decided to just risk it and give your feet a five minute break.

"Are you sure?" The waiter asks as they turn to look over at the bar before back to you, "he was insistent to send it to you. Said he knew you and seemed genuine."

You look at the drink the waiter has set down. It was certainly your drink, your favorite drink as a matter of fact, down to the extra cherry and no orange garnish. Who on Earth had sent that? Your friends were still on the dance floor. You sweep your eyes back over to the bar to the man the waiter is looking toward and you spot him.

John is standing at the bar.

He's leaning oh so casually against the woodtop with his hip, as if he had been there for hours. He's grinning at you knowingly as his eyes bore into yours, swirling his own plain whiskey on ice as he does.

He looks delicious standing there. Freshly trimmed beard and a haircut from what you can see. His skin a little tanner than when he had left, having spent time out in the sun on this deployment. But that's not what really catches your eye. It's the clothes. He knows exactly what he's doing wearing a crisp white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms and the top button undone; just as you liked. A large watch, one you had gifted him, sitting perfectly on his left wrist to match the gleaming wedding band.

"Ma'am?" The waiter asks a bit uncertain as they stood there watching the stare down. "Do you need me to-"

"It's mine," you answer suddenly, swiping the drink and taking a sip, "no worries." You don't look at them as you slip from the seat and wince only slightly at the pain in your feet. You know, vaguely, that it's rude to just ignore the waiter like this but you can't help it. John's eyes keep your focus completely locked on him and you move across the bar without hesitation to him. Your job of holding the table for your friends long forgotten.

"When did you get here?" You ask as you walk up to the small space John had left for you at the bar. "You should have told me you were coming back! I would have stayed home," you babble setting your drink down before grabbing at him.

"I wanted to surprise you," John answers simply as he sets his drink down and reaches out his hand to grab you gently by the upper arm to pull you closer. You can smell his soap and cologne as he tugs you close and you grin as his other hand tilts your head up to look at him better, holding your face lightly as he does. "And I didn't want you having to walk all the way back to the car in those dangerously high heels." He smirks.

"Well, it worked," you breathe out as you watch him before pushing up the few centimeters left on your toes to kiss him. You can taste the cigar he had smoked on the way to the bar, as well as the tang of whiskey on his lips.

You don't care if it's indecent as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him that much closer, sighing into his mouth as his hands find your sides to hold you. His fingers are gentle in their hold, but you can feel the possessive air he gives off as his thumbs pass over your hipbones.

"Your friends are looking for you," John says after a second as you pull away deciding to not give the bar a whole show, though you know John could care less. He would let the whole world see just how you belonged to him if you told him to.

Turning your head around a bit, hands never leaving John's neck, you spot them at the vacated table looking around. You grin a bit, leaning your cheek on John's chest as he raises a single hand up to wave and catch your best friends attention when she spots him. The look of shock on her face was comical but she just nods and grabs one of your more drunk friends dragging them back from coming over to say hello. She knows exactly where this is going and being the best wingwoman she wasn't going to let anything interfere.

"Take me home?"

"Whatever you want love. We can stay with your friends if you'd like," John says. You know he's just being polite, considerate, giving that offer because he already knows your answer.

"I'd rather be with you," you answer reaching out to grab the drink he had ordered for you and down it in a few sips.

He chuckles in response finishing his own whiskey before setting down a fifty pound note from his wallet. Scooping up his suit jacket he sets it on your shoulders before digging his keys of his pocket and leading you outside. He had brought his sporty little car, the one that sat in the garage and only came out for weekend drives or fancy dinners.

As soon as he helps you in you lean down and wrench off your heels, sighing a bit in relief as he climbs in on his side. He grins at you as he starts the car before throwing it into reverse. His hand comes up on the headrest behind you, his fingers caressing the back of your neck, as he backs out of the spot.

You grin a bit watching him drive. How he manipulates the wheel casually one handed as the other shifts each gear. You know he knows exactly what he's doing to you as he drives like this. How he smirks at you when he catches you blatantly watching him and laughs along with you as he finds a long open stretch of road and pushes the gas pedal to the floor quickly shifting through each gear.

"Sweetheart, you keep looking at me like that we aren't making it home," he says after a moment as he brings the car back down to legal limits.

“Maybe I don’t want to make it home," you state as you reach over and grab his hand. It had been a few years since you rode him in the drivers seat and you found yourself suddenly wanting to do just that.

He laces his fingers with yours and doesn't let go as he shifts again, letting you help him. Suddenly his eyes dart to the rearview mirror to check for cars before he abruptly changes lanes.

John bypasses the turn that would keep leading you home and instead takes a road that twists and turns down the countryside. He’s looking for the perfect spot that has no lights so no one can see you as he pins you between him and the steering wheel.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #captain price x reader #captain price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #the gift of gifs #answered asks #ask game #send me asks

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devils-little-sista · 2 days

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This is just me kinda projecting my sleeping habits onto Nico don’t mind me

Nico goes through a cycle of three different periods where he doesn’t sleep at all for a while and then he sleeps 24/7 for a while and then it kinda evens out but it’s backwards like he sleeps for most of the day and is awake all night and if he has things to do during those days he will take naps in between doing things. And the cycle rinses and repeats.

Sometimes there are triggers for these insomnia and depression nap episodes and sometimes Nico has no idea what the trigger was and he thinks maybe it just happens naturally sometimes.

I think it started when he came to camp halfblood in the titans curse. The question is: I’m not sure if it started with full on insomnia or his circadian rythum going topsey turvey. He mention somewhere in TTC that he doesn’t sleep well at camp. Could mean insomnia or turning nocturnal. The trigger was the big change in his life of being a demigod and crushing on Percy and Bianca leaving him and dying. Has an insomnia episode right after he runs away for sure the trigger being Bianca dying.

And in the battle of the labyrinth I think he’s mostly having a big long insomnia episode. Except for that one time he was chillin at that ranch house with the older son of Ares what was his name *reads writing on hand* Eurytion. And Nico came out the house with a giant robe on that was the only time he had slept in battle of the labyrinth he probably slept for like 2 days straight depression nap and then went right back into an insomnia episode. The trigger for this episode: Minos and trying to bring Bianca back and the labyrinth and Minos driving him a little insane

And then in the last Olympian I think he started out going through that backwards circadian rhythm cycle. He’s mostly sleeping during the day and up all night. But he’s got stuff to do during the day now he’s gotta help Percy get the Styx curse in the underworld. He’s very tired throughout the whole visiting May Castellan ordeal. And after the underworld incident he just kinda has to force himself into an insomnia episode so that he can convince Hades and Persephone and Demeter to fight in battle of manhattan.

And for the weeks after where he stays at camp he just takes little cat naps during the day and up all night. Despite him actually trying his hardest to sleep at night and be normal it just doesn’t work he eventually gives up

And then in son of Neptune he’s definitely in the midst of an insomnia episode. Just the way he acts throughout this book is borderline manic (maybe actually manic). He doesn’t sleep at all in Tartarus. When they put him in the jar he has to force himself into depression nap even tho him and his body want sleep deprived manic insomnia episode.

When he gets out of the jar on the Argo 2 I think he has a lot of insomnia he’s very scared to sleep for many reasons. Nightmares and giants and goddesses wanting to send dream messages to him. He wants to ignore them like they’re not there like they’re an annoying email. But he’s not as manic during this episode if he is he doesn’t show it. He’s got no energy for mania. He just barely keeps himself awake for a several days and eventually passes out. For 2-4 days. He wants to lay in the med bay cot he slept in forever he never wants to get up. But eventually he makes himself get up so as not to concern Hazel. Forced himself into another insomnia episode after another.

Then in blood of Olympus he’s wanting to sleep forever but has to force himself awake for this quest. But then right after BoO he spirals on insomnia. Stays up for about 6 and a half days total. There was a lot going on those days and Nico wanted to be awake and aware of everything happening. Collapsed on the 7th morning after Gea is defeated. Sleeps for several days. Only gets up because he got bored and wanted to hang out with Jason.

And I don’t know what comes after that. I don’t remember much of Nico in ToA so idk man. I think this is the end of the line for me now. I’m going to sleep now good night guys.

Oh wait no I forgot about the sword of hades short story. I thinks he was in insomnia episode. Because it happens in the middle of the day and Nico said he had been at a graveyard in New Jersey before Persephone shadow summoned him. And he seems very awake throughout that whole ordeal. And I think after he had a long sleep.

#Nico di Angelo #Nico di Angelo insomnia #Nico di Angelo sleep #Nico di Angelo sleep problems #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #PJO #Heroes of Olympus #HoO #The Titans Curse #The Battle of the Labyrinth #The Last Olympian #the sword of hades #the demigod diaries #the demigod diaries: the sword of hades #The Son of Neptune #The Mark of Athena #The House of Hades #The Blood of Olympus

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tyrantisterror · 2 days

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Top ten favorite Orcs? Either specific characters or a given setting’s take on the species as a whole.

I'm not sure I have enough strong feelings about Orcs to really make an interesting list of ten, but what the hell I'll try.

Tolkien's orcs - not just LOTR orcs, but specifically orcs as written by J.R.R. Tolkien - are pretty high up there for me. I've probably mentioned this more than enough on this blog, but I'm still moved by the moment in The Lord of the Rings where we get this conversation between two orcs when their bosses aren't around, where both of them commiserate with each other about how shitty being drafted into Sauron's war is, how they long to go back to their simpler life as mountain bandits, and how, maybe, if they could find a way to escape being caught by their superiors, they could run off and find someplace far from the war to settle down together. Their names are Shagrat and Gorbag, and later in the book one of the heroes finds them among a pile of dead orcs, their dream of a simpler life tragically unfulfilled. I bring this up because, for all the flak Tolkien's cosmology gets for codifying the fantasy trope of "Always Chaotic Evil" races, there's a lot more moral complexity to his "evil" races than most people think. The orcs we meet in his stories are universally pretty nasty people - even Gorbag and Shagrat can't conceive of a simple life that doesn't involve killing people for their valuables - but it's very clear this is a result of the culture they are living in, which, if you get nerdy and read up on the Lore (TM), is one that has been specifically designed by the Middle Earth equivalent of Satan to turn all living things in it into tools of warfare - a world that exists solely to serve as a vast machine of industrialized conquest and mass murder. And it makes them miserable. Orcs don't like living this way, even though it's the only way they know how to live. They are at once victim and villain, and that's explicitly the canon way to look at them in the text. So it kind of sucks that their reputation in pop culture - and how they're presented in most adaptations, including good ol' PJ's film trilogy - is as one-dimensional evil henchmen, because they do have more going on than that in the books themselves, and it enriches the themes of the story when those dimensions are included.

The orcs in Rune Factory are probably my favorite from a design standpoint. I'm kind of neutral at best with the standard "green skinned humans with optional tusks" look of most orcs. There's nothing wrong with it, but it doesn't thrill me either, existing in the same nebulous space as, like, traditional fantasy elves, dwarves, and hobbit expies - I understand why they're classics, but they feel kind of boring when you've got other options on the table. So seeing these guys when I booted up my first Rune Factory game was a revelation - finally, orcs that look INTERESTING! And they're so cute, these gnarly little Jim Hensen/Brian Froud style pig people. And they'll help you water your plants! A+ Tier orcs as far as I'm concerned.

Dungeon Meshi found a good middle ground between "gnarly boar people" and "humans with tusks" that I really like, and while the orcs aren't given a whole lot of focus, what world building we do get about them is pretty great, taking a lot of the classic orc tropes and giving them that Ryoko Kui caliber thought and detail that makes them so wonderful.

What else... well, ok, my brain still categorizes these guys as "goblins" rather than "orcs," but since the two are more or less synonymized in both Tolkien and the Rankin Bass adaptations of his work, I guess I can include them. They're one of my favorite designs for goblins of all time, and since I generally like goblins more than orcs, I guess this makes them my favorite orc design by default? I just love them, nasty little toad people.

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The 1980 Return of the King movie in particular is one of the few adaptations that keeps Tolkien's sympathy for the orcs in tact, with Frodo even having a dream sequence about living in a world where his run in with orcs is fully pleasant, each of them waving at each other as they cross paths, content to share a beautiful world together.

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And while it adapts the parts of the text that take place after the deaths of poor Shagrat and Gorbag, it still manages to work in a moment where the orcs lament their lot in life by way of the infamous "Where There's a Whip There's a Way" song written just for the film. I know this song is generally viewed as "bad" and corny and whatever, fuck that, I unironically love it. It's my wakeup alarm for workdays. I am these orcs five days out of the week.

What else...

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So, like, kind of a cheat I suppose, but the Darkspawn in Dragon Age take a lot of cues from Tolkien's take on orcs, right down to seeming like they're just always chaotic evil at first glance, and also being the product of Supernatural Crimes Against Nature by semi-divine powers. And indeed, in Dragon Age Origins you're basically given no reason to view them as anything but evil obstacles to destroy, especially when you learn the body-horror involved in how they reproduce (it's more in the vein of Slither than Goblin Slayer, for those unaware - grotesque but, thankfully, not in that way).

But the big ol' DLC for the same game, called Dragon Age Awakening, throws a big monkey wrench in that view of them. We meet Darkspawn who are capable of speech - ones that have been broken free of the evil hivemind their species is ruled by, and, like freed borg drones, are now at a loss of what to do with themselves. They are, like Tolkien's orcs before them, a people who were made for war and violence, and yet still crave something more than that when given the chance to think about it. It's something that hasn't been followed up on much since, sadly, but it's a damn cool take.

What else...

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I'm probably the only person who still remembers this movie, especially with any fondness, but I liked the orcs in the Warcraft movie directed by David Bowie's son. They were given a lot of nuance and I honestly think their parts of the film were by the far the best. Actually I remember liking that movie a lot despite some of its pacing issues, I should revisit it.

Ok that's not ten takes but I feel like there are at least 10 designs on display here so I'm calling this done.

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scarasimplysimping · 2 days

Text

All In

Part 1 (might be two parts idk)

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Summary: A bet is placed to see if you can get the Summa Cum Laude to fall in love with you. (Scaramouche x Reader) (College au)

Contains: Idk. So it's one of those love stories where there's a bet. Hu Tao and Childe are kind of assholes for the sake of this fic, I am SORRY. Reader is also kind of an ass. Ooc. Some plot holes because I don't go to college or drink or smoke. Just roll with it.

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

2,822 words 15,518 characters

What a stuck-up prick.

That's what you thought of him anyway. He was *the* Summa Cum Laude of your year. He was snobby, self-centered, friendless, and to top it all off, he just so happened to be your partner for your big thesis.

It was not by choice but he had no partner because people were afraid of him and you had no partner because well... people hated you. It wasn't a project that could be done individually either, lest you wanted to die before you graduate.

"He's such a bore." You complain to your friends on the lunch table, Hu Tao, Childe, and Xiao. "I tried to make plans with him, really. I asked if he was free, and you know what he said?" You slammed your hands on the table for dramatic effect.

Hu Tao leaned in closer, strands of her hair falling onto the table, and alarmingly close to Xiao's food, making him scowl as he moved his tray.

"He said," you began, putting up a silly impression of him with a snobby expression. "I don't need bottom feeders like you dragging down my work. I'll handle everything. Pay me if you want."

Childe snorted. Hu Tao doubled over in laughter, mainly because you're impression was so on point.

"God, what a freak." Hu Tao mused as she wiped her tears from her face, she never passed on the opportunity to talk shit about someone she didn't like. Childe agreed with her but he was partly not paying attention. He jabbed his fork into Xiao's food.

"Fucker." Xiao muttered under his breath.

Your silly clique was a ragtag bunch of misfits in their own ways. Hu Tao was your childhood friend who always had something vindictive to say or some storm to stir up. She lived for the drama.

Childe started tagging along around highschool. He was a charming, silver-tongued ginger ball of sunshine, he started developing a negative reputation over time as as somewhat of a satyr, though.

Xiao was above all the petty and immature antics whichever one of you had the gall to cook up. In all honesty, he was only there because his older brother, Zhongli had asked Childe to help him settle in to the college life. Childe owed the man a favor so he dragged the poor emo wherever you guys went and you kind of just got used to his company.

Then there was you, there was one thing that set you far apart from them all.

Money.

They were filthy rich and you, an independent college student, had not a penny to your name after you decided to up and leave your family to follow Hu Tao to college. You didn't really have to work though, your friends pretty much covered most of your college expense as casually as a friend would by you lunch.

"I know I can't really help him, I mean, my grades are dogshit right now but like I don't know how to pay him either," You said, burying your face into your palms.

Childe scoffed. "I don't even think he means it. Plus, it's nothing to worry about. We've got you covered if that greedy little nerd actually demands shit from you."

"Yeah, just let him do everything by himself," He continued "Watch him or something, in case your professor wants updates.."

A small smirk formed upon his lips. "I bet he's not that hard to watch anyway."

You playfully punched him on the shoulder "Gross!"

"You gotta admit he is kinda cute," Hu Tao chided in. "Right, Xiao?"

Xiao shrugged, far too focused on actually having lunch.

Childe snaked an arm over you. "Tell you what, (Y/N). If you can somehow bed the prudish bastard before the end of this semester, I'll fork over some money for this month's rent."

"Hu Tao pays rent."

"I'll fork over some money for anything you want."

"Hmm... I want VIP tickets to La Signora's concert."

"Done~"

"Oh my archons! Like actually?" Hu Tao couldn't tell if you both were serious. "(Y/N), your charm is above average but I don't even know if you can pull this one off."

You roll your eyes." Have faith in me. I bet he's easy."

Hu Tao leans back thoughtfully, a mischievous smirk playing on her face. "Alright, (Y/N). If you manage to pull this off I'll give you a grand.

You gape at her. "Seriously?

"Absolutely."

You know were only entertaining the idea because they had no actual faith you'd pull it off, but to you. This was easy money.

You slowly turn to the brooding emo on the table. "What about you, Xiao?"

His eyes narrowed at you. "What about me?"

"You gonna offer anything?"

He scoffs, groaning internally and being the only one with a moral compass. "Only an asshole would find bets such as these any type of fun."

Childe flicks his wrist dismissevly. "We are assholes."

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

It was hard enough convincing Scaramouche to work on the project and your (and Hu Tao's) place but now you had to deal with the emanating silence from you both. You've barely ever talked to him but the tension in your room could be cut with a knife, or maybe that was just your imagination.

He was sitting cross legged on your bed, typing away at his laptop with several papers surrounding him. You were sat across from him in the same position, nursing a cigarette in between your fingers.

"Do you want something to eat?" You finally break the silence.

He doesn't look up from the screen as he responds. "What do you have?"

You look to the ceiling, trying to recall what you and Hu Tao had last shoved into the fridge. "Uh... Pesto... Pizza... Dumplings. Probably some leftover vegetables."

"Bring me them all." Talk about shame.

"Alright." You say, putting out the cigarette on your nightstand. You couldn't help but notice the tiny scowl on Scaramouche's face as he glanced at the ashtray.

You come back balancing a bowl of pesto, a bowl of dumplings, and a bowl of salad on a box of pizza. Scaramouche pats on the side of your bed, indicating for you to drop the offerings there.

You light another cigarette as you take your previous seat in front of him.

"The weather is pretty nice today.." A sad attempt at conversation on your end.

Silence

"So... Childe's hosting a party tomorrow night, would you like to come?" You try once more.

Scaramouche still doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look up from the screen.

You blow a puff of smoke on his face. He coughs a bit before glaring at you with cold judging eyes. At least he was actually looking at you now. "I have no time to indulge in that crap."

"You have plenty of time. That thesis isn't due for another month."

"Well not exactly, since I'll be doing the work for both of us."

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"I have a problem with people like you." He glowers.

"People like me?" You raise your eyebrows.

"People who just have everything spoon fed to them by luck or by birthright and take that as a reason to slack off for the rest of their life since everything just magically works out for them." Scaramouche wasn't wrong, you really fucked around and never found out but still, what right did he have to judge you?

"Didn't know you knew me so well." You say, blowing out another puff of smoke but this time it's to the side.

Scaramouche opens his mouth to respond, then closes it once more. You had a point. It was hypocritical of him to listen to judge you based on gossip.

Finally, he speaks after a few minutes of silence.

"I was out of line." It's an apology although he doesn't outright apologize.

"Yeah." You decide to take advantage of his momentary guilt as you inquire about what he's working on. "So, do you mind telling me what you're doing?"

"Well, I'm looking online for research papers related to the topic were studying. I'm taking snippets I find interesting and I'll save them for later to expand on them in our thesis."

Scaramouche speaks a bit more but you're hardly listening. You take this time to really observe his physical appearance. Hu Tao was right; the man was cute. His eyes, his mouth, his lips. If you took a meat cleaver to the center of his skull, you'd have matching halves.

Even his hair looked softer than unicorn fur.

"(Y/N)?" He snaps you out, a displeased expression creeps upon his face upon noticing that you aren't even paying attention.

"Your hair looks softer than unicorn fur," you blurt out.

His eyes widen slightly, and you could've sworn he turned a shade pink before he feigned a disgusted look to save his dignity. "What the hell?"

You caught on immediately. There it was. Scaramouche had a weakness. The Summa Cum Laude, the bridge troll with a big brain and purple hair (as Hu Tao once described him) is someone who gets easily flustered .

"You're kind of cute." You push on.

"Shut the fuck up." His head lowers, he dares not look into your eyes.

"Come to Childe's party with me?" You ask once more.

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Scaramouche hated you. He hated your face and your voice and your personality. He hated every single atom you were made up of, but most of all he hated the way you were able to persuade him to come to this stupid party. And for what? Just because you were the first person to ever call him cute? He'd curse you and all your descendants to come.

Childe's party was just a gathering of drunks and trouble makers. His house was practically a mansion that could fit 60% of the university's student population.

He hated the blaring lights and unbelievably loud, repetitive, and distasteful music.

"I hate this!" He has to shout for you to hear.

"I know!"

"I'm going home!"

"You can't! You're my ride home!"

"We walked here, dumbass!" Scaramouche wanted to leave you truly he did but something, wasn't letting him. His moral compass or his growing fondness of you?

Childe finds you, placing an arm around your shoulder. "Hey!" He hands you a shot glass which you graciously accept and down in a couple of seconds, much to Scaramouche's dismay.

Childe pays no attention to your companion until he does a double take and realize it's Scaramouche.

"Holy shit! Is that Scara!?" Childe grins hazily. He was drunk drunk.

Scaramouche does not respond. He is frowning while Childe handed you half a bottle of gin.

You drink it within a couple minutes as you chat with Childe.

Scaramouche stands there, awkward, cranky, and out of place as the only person he's aquatinted with in this party is getting absolutely inebriated.

At some point you don't know when or from where but you get your hands on another shot glass.

"You're not drinking that," Scaramouche states firmly.

"I am." You bring the cup to your lips but Scaramouche is faster, he snatches it from you and lets it fall to the ground.

"What gives!?"

"I'm not carrying your drunk ass home just because you drank away the capability to walk!" He shouts at you.

People are staring now. Is it because of the commotion or because Scaramouche was the last person anyone would expect to see at a party?

Scaramouche didn't like the staring or the attention. "I'm going fucking home." He says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you past the crowd. "So are you."

Childe is left there, impressed. He takes out his cellphone.

To: Hu Tao

She's actually gonna pull it off. Wtf

From: Childe

You stumble and trip as Scaramouche drags you through the night. It was a miracle you could keep up. (It wasn't, he slowed his pace on purpose to match yours but it still wasn't slow enough for your drunken ass.)

"Scara, slow dooown~"

He ignores you until he feels you slip from his grasp, landing with a thud. "What the fuck is wrong with you!? Do you not have the smarts to walk!?" The boy scolds.

You decide to rest your knees a bit as you stay on the ground.

You hear him sigh sharply before crouching in front of you. "Get on."

"What? Like piggyback style?"

"Yes, damnit just get on." His face wasn't facing you and it was dark. Scaramouche was eternally grateful to the archons that you couldn't see the way his ears reddened.

He carries you like that until you're at the front door of your place. Scaramouche gently drops you off. Miraculously not panting. (He wasn't that athletic.)

"Can I trust you enough to tuck yourself in?" The boy asks, his tone was calm this time.

You nod in response.

"Alright." Scaramouche turns his heel to leave.

"Scaramouche." You call out.

He turns back to you, a little too quickly.

You try to take a step towards him except you "accidentally" trip on air and crash onto his chest. He barely moves an inch but his hands instinctively wrap around you. You can see the exact moment he scrunches his nose as well as the moment before that where his cheeks flush.

You'll blame this on alcohol later. You'll also blame alcohol for when you pulled his collar to place a quick peck on his lips.

This was the night Scaramouche nearly passed away.

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Scara paced around his room. What the fuck was that? Why the fuck would you do that? His heart still raced as fast as it did when you kissed him.

He replayed the kiss over and over in his mind. Why? Just why? He mussed his hair in frustration as he plopped himself on the bed. If Scaramouche focused enough, he could still feel their lips on his, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

Why had a drunken asshole decided to take his first kiss? Why was he reacting so weirdly?

And why did he just tuck tail speed walk away right after it happened without saying shit about it?

(Y/N) will probably tell their friends. They'll gossip and laugh at how the smartest person in their program was turned into a blushing, sputtering mess at the mere kiss of some drunk. Some overly confident, obnoxious, attractive drunk who's lips were soft as velvet.

The thought has him reeling. Rolling to the side, Scaramouche pulled a pillow over his head and groaned into it.

"I'm done guessing. What's wrong with you?" His inner monologue was broken by his cyan haired roommate.

"Nothing. Fuck off, Dottore." His words still muffled by the pillow.

"All your ceaseless brooding is keeping me distracted. I suggest you stop whining if you don't want me to give you more reasons to whine."

Silence.

That came out wrong, but it got Scaramouche to shut up so who would complain?

(⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

It was a crush. That's what Dottore had said to him. It made jackshit sense though. Why would he like you? You were just someone he perceived as a slacker. It's possibly because you were the only one who ever showed interest in him. He'll probably get over it when he finds someone else to adore, but he couldn't.

Scaramouche was once again working on the thesis, on your bed. He didn't bring up the kiss. Maybe you'd forgotten about it? A small part of him hoped that you didn't though.

Finally, he decides to speak up. "I demand compensation."

You shoot him a confused look.

"What? Don't you remember?" Scaramouche scowls.

"You kissed me..."

"Did I?" You feign innocence.

"Do not make me repeat myself." He orders. "That was my first kiss. I demand some kind of compensation." His cheeks were heating up as it became harder and harder for him to look you in the eyes.

"Oh?" You bring your index finger below your lips in an expression of mock thoughtfulness.

Scaramouche's scowl deepens at your mocking finger below your lips. "Do not toy with me," he warns. "You took something and I want fair repayment."

You chuckle, enjoying his ruffled feathers. " And what is a first kiss worth these days?" Leaning back on your hands, you look him over appraisingly. "I'm not convinced it was really your first. You seemed to know what you were doing..."

His cheeks redden as he scrunches his nose at your audacity. "You're insufferable."

"And yet you enjoyed kissing me." You smirk. "Perhaps you even want more?"

Scaramouche's embarrassment only grows at your bold insinuation. "You presume too much, fool," he bites back, though his resolve seems weakened.

You shrug. "Suit yourself. I was just about to offer a date."

He narrows his eyes at you, as if trying to ascertain if this is some sort of trick. "A date?"

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi

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