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#Perfect Storm Entertainment
eyesoftxmorrow · 1 year
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i'm not rly the type for mcyt stuff, but i think i finally managed to articulate why qsmp in particular just feels so incredibly special to me.
it's the way that the language proficiency of literally everyone involved is slowly evolving the longer they play together. the way that the english speaking players are making an effort to talk to one another in spanish and vice versa. when this thing started i remember hearing from multiple eng povs that they had to lean a lot on the google translate tab (and thats ok!), but something that really excites me is when i see those same eng ccs express how much they want to learn more about speaking spanish bc it's a way that thet can genuinely connect with their fellow players.
it's not even the fact that it's a minecraft smp; that just Happens to be the medium through which we get to watch this unfold. it's the first time, at least to my knowledge, that we're able to watch both the spanish and english-speaking communities bond over a game they love at a level as involved as this. both sides of the community are equally prominent, and more importantly, they're united in a way that i've never really observed in an online space until now. genuinely ive never seen anything like this before and its just really fascinating to see how all the players take on the challenge of building that bridge over something that once was a communication barrier for them. i love language i love cooperative gaming i love humans having fun learning new things from one another
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c6scaramouche · 1 year
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Lmaooo I teleported to chinju forest (with Wanderer as my active character, of course) and upon spawning in, got immedietaly struck by lightning
Thought that was funny as hell, honestly
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hollywoodoutbreak · 5 months
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Being a movie about a team of rowers, The Boys in the Boat obviously has several scenes and sequences that take place in the water. While that might have been a daunting task for some other directors, it didn't really faze George Clooney. Why? He said after having worked on The Perfect Storm back in 2000, he felt like he was ready for challenge the water could throw his way.
The Boys in the Boat is now playing in theaters
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hii!! could i request a snow fic where she finds out she cheats on him and voluntarily tributes and hes trying to get her back? i loved the other fics!! I NEED MORE CHEATING SNOW FICS OMGG
Don’t blame me, love made me crazy. || Young President!Coriolanus snow x district!reader
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A/n: Sorry anon I hope you’re not disappointed that I didn't fully write your request. I wanted Coryo to lowk suffer in this which is why I didn't dive into details of him getting her back. There is also one scene that is heavily inspired by a scene in the movie Priscilla! I also spent so many hours perfecting this and it was super fun!!!
Warnings: fem!reader, implied infidelity, toxic!coriolanus, manipulation, not proofread, if there's anything else pls lmk!
Wc: 1609
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Divider by @firefly-graphics
The rapid clicks echoed throughout the hallway, the sound reverberating off the 12-foot-high ceiling walls. You walk with an eager stride, each step filled with anticipation as you take the familiar route to Coriolanus' office where he spent most, if not, all of his time cooped up in due to the upcoming hunger games.
There was a heaviness in your heart. You have always been the epitome of grace and composure, a woman who played her role in the political theater with finesse, albeit your brief upbringing in district 2. However, behind closed doors, the truth unfolded, resulting in you heartbroken and most of all betrayed. You couldn't ignore the letters that would pile up weekly, the gifts, all for him, from someone by the name Lysandra.
Not bothering to knock, knowing it would provoke a reaction from him, you forcefully swung the double doors open. There sat Coriolanus Snow, seemingly unbothered at your entrance. "Is there a problem?" An icy, impersonal tone carried his words, sharp and emotionless.
Your nose flared as you felt a surge of frustration, his lack of concern and emotion fuelling your anger. Besides, you had never stormed into his office unannounced before. Surely, he would question your sudden abruptness and, visibly, your anger.
Your voice, though filled with a trembling resolve, posed the question, "Who is she?" You hold a letter between your fingers, lifting it up to show him. He lifts his head up from his papers. "And why on earth is she sending my husband gifts and-and love letters?" You stammer, throwing the piece of paper with writing and a kiss—in the form of a lipstick mark in a shade of deep red—on his desk; your façade crumbling at your feet.
Snow stares at you before a scoff leaves his lips, leaning back on his chair. "You know how the people admire me, it's likely that whoever it is, she's simply passionate about expressing her feelings to me," Coriolanus shrugs. Your eye twitches at his response. Lies.
"Really? Well, Lysandra is ever so passionate about expressing her undying love for you," You recite the words from her letter as you watch a subtle glint of knowing in his eyes, "She's the only one who has described her so-called affection for you so intimately!"
As you question your husband's loyalty, an unsettling quiet settles around him. His eyes, cold and calculating, hold yours without a trace of vulnerability. The absence of words from his lips becomes a formidable response, leaving an ominous uncertainty lingering in the air.
His office echoed with a tense hush, broken only by a subtle tapping of his fingers against the armrest in a rhythmic patter. "For god's sake, Coryo. Say something! Who is she?" The slip of his nickname makes you swallow.
"I won't entertain your accusation. She's merely an admirer, nothing more! Have you finished exhausting yourself with this matter, wife?" Coriolanus seethes, abruptly standing up as he gathers his papers, opens his drawer, shoves them in, and slams it shut with such force that you swore you felt it in your bones.
"Is there something your hiding from me?" There was a tense silence that followed your question, Snow's features contorted with a mix of frustration and defiance. Avoiding eye contact, he clenched his jaw and emitted a sharp exhale. The air was thick with unspoke tension, revealing an anger that simmered beneath the surface.
"I have nothing to hide from you," He says calmly but you knew damn well there was anything but calmness within him. Annoyed and frustrated at the lack of information, you open your mouth again.
'"Throughout our entire marriage, I have done nothing but showed you how grateful I am that you chose me to marry, a district girl. You helped me build a reputation here in the capitol so that I would finally be respected, and now, I ask just one simple thing of you," As you speak your voice wavers slightly, revealing the depth of emotion behind your words. "Who is she to you?"
In mere seconds, Coriolanus storms past you, a blur of motion, leaving you momentarily bewildered as you blink, only to find yourself in the same spot. "Coriolanus!" You yell, spinning around as you follow him. "I've just had about enough of you for today y/n," He spat as he briskly walked up stairs, you following him. Servants who were around hurriedly walk pass, heads down.
He steps into your shared private chamber, adorned with decadent furnishings and overlooking the Capitol. He walks a couple steps before he just stops. His breath came in heavy, rhythmic waves, his chest rising and falling with urgency, leaving you standing frozen at the entrance.
"You know, I think you should go see your family for a little while," He turns around as you felt your heart drop. "What?" Your voice echoed with a helpless tone. "You heard me, I think your family has been missing you in the districts, go pay them a visit. Tell them how grateful you have been that I chose you as the First Lady of Panem, hm?"
He takes purposeful strides to the next room, filled from top to bottom with expensive, lavish pieces of clothing befitting both him and you. Coriolanus then pulls out a travelling trunk. The thought of you going back to district 2 sent shivers up your spine. You knew that everyone there now thinks of you as a traitor.
"What- No- Coryo, I'm not going-" Coriolanus cuts you off with a yell, tears forming in your eyes, "I think you should! Matter of fact, I'll help you start packing." A loud noise comes from the trunk making contact with the floor making you jump, a sob leaving your lips. The trunk opening as he starts aggressively pulling your clothes from the black velvety hangers, tossing them into the trunk.
"Coryo- please. Don't make me go back there," You fall to you knees in front of the trunk as your shaky hands remove the pieces of clothing from it. "Yeah, well I think a few months in the districts, away from your lavish life here, will make you realise how easy it is that I can send you back there." He forcefully takes your chin in between his thumb and index as your glassy eyes stare back at his icy, raging, blue eyes.
"Please, please don't send me back there-" Your beg becomes interrupted as he drops his grip on you and yells out the door, "Simon! Get the train ready now for Y/n to go back home!" He calls out to his assistant who answers out a "Of course Mr. President," You let out another sob as you rest your head on the pile of clothing.
Coriolanus glances over his shoulder, his breaths lingering in the air, he could hear your quiet pleas. There's a yearning within him, a desire to approach you and envelop you in a reassuring hug, to tell your that everything is alright and that forgives you. Yet, and unyielding pride restrains him, holding him back from acknowledging that what he was doing was wrong.
With one final look, he turns around, leaving you in a crying mess. Coriolanus was going to send you back to district 2 until the hunger games finished, then, he would come get you and hope that your time there made you ponder your actions, although he knew they were quite reasonable.
Your allegiance to your husband shattered when you were forced onto the train, Coriolanus stood a couple metres away from you as you squirm in the peacekeeper's grips. As you made your way back to a place you once called home, a quiet determination settled within you as you hatched a plan that would not only expose Coriolanus' betrayal, but also allow you to reclaim a piece of your shattered identity.
~
As the Reaping day approached, you made a choice that sent shockwaves through the carefully orchestrated world of Panem. With a steady hand, you inscribed your own name on a slip of paper and placed it in the glass ball, committing yourself to the Hunger Games.
On the day of the Reaping, the Capitol Square buzzed with anticipation, the districts, not so much. Coriolanus, very much unaware of his wife's hidden actions, stood in front of the dignitaries on the stage.
The customary ceremony began, the escort pulls a slip pf paper from the glass ball, announcing the male tribute who would face the Capitol's twisted version of justice.
As the tension mounted, the escort unfolded a slip of paper and read aloud, "Y/n Snow." A gasp rippled through the crowd, and Coriolanus's face contorted with disbelief. Time seemed to free as he processed the shock of seeing his wife's name called out. Surely there was a mistake.
The realisation hit him like a sledgehammer, and anger boiled within him, mixing with the shock and confusion as the crowd erupted in whispers. A woman of Capitol elegance was now standing among the district 2 residents.
You weave through the rows of people, maintaining a stoic expression. As you step up on the stage, your eyes land on the camera a couple feet away from you where you know Snow was watching back in the Capitol.
Coriolanus stared at your face and in that moment, he saw the resolve and defiance that had replaced the hurt in your eyes. The Capitol, known for its love of spectacle, witnessed an unprecedented turn of events. Coriolanus Snow, the powerful President, was rendered speechless as his own actions came back to haunt him in the cruelest twist of fate.
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pigeonpeach · 4 months
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Genshin men as cats!
Prompt: the genshin men are temporarily turned into cats for one day and you as their lover must take care of them and make sure they stay safe
A/n: idk what happened but apparently half of the post got deleted? I’ll have to rewrite it later ;(
Ayato
Oh he’s not happy. He’s probably a shorthaired white cat in terms of appearance. But he is quite annoyed with this predicament. No one is allowed to tell anyone that the Yashiro Commissioner is suddenly a cat. But being a cat is nice. He can lounge and nap all day. He’s probably demanding of attention though. He simply must have your eyes on him. He adores being brushes so lovingly too. Maybe he should have you brush his hair when he’s back to normal.
Al Haitham
Virtually no change. He may still try to read though he won’t be able to turn the pages as easily. He doesn’t mind a few pats but he mostly prefers to be left alone in the nice warm sun to nap the day away. He’s definitely a grey tabby.
Kaveh
He is so distraught! He meows a storm in fustration as he finds he is completely incapable of finishing his projects! You simply must take care of him! You need to have him strapped in like a baby carrier on your chest because he’s just so clingy. He needs constant reassurance and attention. He’s so needy but so cute. Probably a cute little cream colored kitty.
Kaeya
He is also probably a bit annoyed. While yes he gets a complete day off, he can’t do much as a cat. So he’ll probably try to find some entertainment if you don’t keep him thoroughly entertained. He will find a way to sneak out and go play with Klee or annoy Diluc if you don’t keep him in your grasp at all times.
Neuvillette
He is very confused but also curious. On one hand this form is verrrry different than he’s ever had before but its also very beneficial to him. People are far less intimidated and strangely he enjoys being coddled and pet more than he would. Of course miss Furina is teasing the crap out of him but he doesn’t really care. Sitting on your lap, small and warm. Its such a unique experience he will probably never have again.
Wriothesley
Once the dust settles he’s quite relaxed. This is temporary so might as well enjoy it. Sigewinnie has become very attached to him as she constantly makes sure he’s okay. But in particular he loves being held by you. He’s used to being the big strong man who lifts you all the time etc etc. its nice actually being the reverse here. He gets fed special fish from the cafeteria and gets to spend his day in your arms! The perfect break for him! He’s almost sad it’s temporary but he knows he can’t stay like this forever.
Childe
Oh he’s mad! Even when it’s confirmed to be temporary, he is annoyed! How can he improve his fighting skills if he’s a kitty! Sure he’s a adorable little kitty of course but he looks like a baby! Oh his ego is in shatters. It’s unfortunate too because it wasn’t even around his family so he could play with his little brother at least. He’s practically quarantined to keep him safe. He can’t go on kitty adventures. Therefore YOU must make it up to him. He spends his time sulking and trying to play with anything he can. Dangling uniform piece? New toy! Someone’s foot? New toy! He bites! He meows! He hardly naps. He does love cuddling with you though. Still he’s a ball of energy and he cannot simply sit still for long! No doubt will his office be trashed. You’re making him clean it up once he’s back.
Thoma
Stressed! So stressed! He has so many chores! He cannot hold a broom with two paws! You have to make arrangements for him to have the day off which was hard because everyone was upset by his sudden cancellation. Even so he tries to help. He tries to drag the broom but it doesn’t do anything unfortunately. Oh he feels so useless. You must pamper him. Lavish him with kisses and gentle praise. Call him the cutest little kitty in the world! Oh he’s such a affectionate boy too. He acts like a cat with separation anxiety almost. He cannot sleep if you’re not there with him. Therefore you end up spending the day with him, trying to dissuade him from trying to clean a mess and just making it worse, distracting him with a warm blanket and pets.
Zhongli
He probably did so on purpose actually. Perhaps he was a bit bored and decided to spend the day exploring Liyue from a different perspective. It was quite fun for him actually. He watched as people came over to pet him. Unfortunately they also tried to feed him seafood which wasn’t too good. But after the long day he returned home to see you panicked as to where he could be. He decided to come on over to you, still in his cat form, and distract you. It worked as he helped you relax.
You werent too amused when you found out that cat that broke in was him.
Pantalone
He is quite annoyed. Angry in a more agitated way. Don’t mess up his fur! Pet him properly! Don’t ignore him now! He is a demanding little feline. He is not content unless you are entirely focused on him. He even wants you to break up the fish ro serve to him. He isn’t going to eat like a animal! Oh but he is such s cute kitty. Entirely black with big expressive yellow eyes. Oh you can’t help but comply and spoil him a little more! And he has such lovely fur! He does like hearing your gentle praises as you pet him. He never knew how lovely it felt to be small, sleeping on a nice warm lap, being gently brushed, and told sweet little compliments. He may actually want to do this again sometime.
Diluc
Biggest drama king! How can he protect you or Mondstadt like this! Therefore you cannot leave his sight or he’s convinced you will immediately die. You must stay with him so he can protect you? He is a very warm kitty though so it feels nice to snuggle with him. His fur is a bit messy so you’ll have to brush it. Despite him trying to stay vigilant he ends up falling asleep quickly.
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loveinhawkins · 1 year
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Barely ten minutes into the hike from Skull Rock to Lover’s Lake, Dustin heaves a sigh like he’s the most long suffering person in the world to ever exist. Steve rolls his eyes.
“Jesus Christ, Henderson, what?”
“I’m bored.”
“God, you’re such a whiner. No, you—you’re like a little kid on a road trip, like, are we there yet?”
Behind them, Max and Lucas snort in almost perfect unison.
Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Eddie’s lips twitch into the faint semblance of a smile. It’s very quick, blink and you miss it, before he turns sombre again, looking down at the forest floor. Steve can’t blame the guy; he can’t imagine that he has all that much to smile about.
“I just meant,” Dustin says, “that we could use some entertainment.” He jerks his head meaningfully at Eddie—who thankfully still has his head down so he can’t witness this tremendous lack of subtlety—and mouths, You know, a distraction.
“And I’m the entertainment guy,” Steve says flatly.
“Well, we’ve gotta keep you around for some reason,” Lucas pipes up.
Steve turns around, walks backwards so he can point warningly at him. “Thin ice, Sinclair.”
But it’s all for show, and he keeps walking backwards, pretends to trip on a tree root and narrowly avoid a pratfall. Max actually giggles at that, which is a victory in and of itself, but Eddie’s looking down at his feet.
Hmm.
“If I wanted slapstick, I would’ve called Charlie Chaplin,” Dustin says.
“He’s dead,” Max points out.
Dustin quickly draws a hand over his neck, Cut it out. Which—yeah, that’s fair. Don’t want the conversation straying into stuff that’s too close to… everything.
“So you want education instead?” Steve says. “I think I can remember how to identify, like, some trees and shit from—”
“Forget Lover’s Lake,” Dustin says, “I’m walking you straight into a retirement home.”
Steve opens his mouth, ready to play up his outrage, and then he hears a very soft chuckle from the side. Eddie.
Steve catches Dustin’s eye, winks briefly in reassurance. Nice work.
“Oh, sorry, is that not entertaining enough for you?” Steve turns so he’s front facing again, kicking a few stray twigs as he thinks. “Uh… ooh, did I tell you about the affair? At work?”
“Someone’s having an affair at Family Video?” Lucas says, sounding disgusted.
Max cackles. “The scandal! At a family establishment, no less.”
Dustin points at her. “See, this is why you should play D&D!” he says, annoyingly sing-song. “You’ve got a flair for words.”
“How about I stick my flair right up your—”
“Uh, okay,” Eddie interrupts suddenly. “I need details.”
Aha, Steve thinks, smug. Got you.
“Fire away, Munson.”
“Did someone, like, confess to you while you were ringing them up?”
Steve scoffs. “No, it was—” He cups his mouth, calls, “Hey, Rob?”
Up ahead, Robin and Nancy turn.
“What?”
“The affair shift.”
“Oh!” Robin whacks Nancy on the arm in her enthusiasm. “This is such a good one. Okay, so am I gonna be her or—?”
“No!” Steve says. “You’ve gotta be me, you can’t do her voice right.”
“Ugh, fine, fine. Wait, I need to get into character.”
Robin makes a show of ruffling her hair, and Steve doesn’t even roll his eyes, can only grin as he hears Eddie cough a much stronger laugh into his elbow.
“Nance, count us in,” Robin says.
Nancy looks a mixture of surprised and amused. It only takes a moment of hesitance before she mimes holding a slate, mouths counting down. “Action!”
And they’re off.
It’s probably so stupid, Steve thinks, to be this loud right now, but he can’t bring himself to care—not when he can hear raucous laughter from all directions: Robin captures his flustered, wide-eyed look, while he dramatically re-enacts a woman storming into the store, demanding to see her husband’s account.
And he thinks Eddie actually laughs the loudest when he gets to the reveal: that said account was full of romantic movies the married couple had never seen together.
“Not one,” Steve echoes—and not to brag, but with this delivery? Juilliard, eat your heart out. “Not. One!”
The kids dissolve into more giggles; Robin fights to stay in character as Nancy jokingly calls, “And, scene!”
And Eddie throws back his head, and laughs and laughs.
Happiness is a good look on him, Steve thinks.
They all quieten eventually, but a lightness in mood still remains, as the kids huddle off together—“Hey, shitheads, not too far!” Steve says, far from the first time—and Eddie sidles up, fleetingly knocks their shoulders together.
“Steve Harrington. Who would’ve thought it, huh?”
“Thought what?”
Steve glances over at him, suddenly struck by the fact that the sun will go down soon; and he doesn’t really need to know what Mordor is to know that he’d rather not get there. That he’d rather freeze time, so they could all just walk in the woods forever.
Eddie shrugs. “You’re a good storyteller.” His eyes are soft, like that isn’t all that he’s saying. Like he’s saying Thank you.
Steve shrugs back. “I’m a man of many talents,” he says.
Eddie chuckles, and this time his smile doesn’t fade away.
Steve allows himself a moment or two to admire the scenery, and if that means looking less at the way the sun still shines through the gaps in the branches, and more the way that it illuminates Eddie’s lingering smile, well…
Well, so what?
Right now, we’re happy, Steve finds himself thinking.
They can stay in the Shire for a little while longer.
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crheativity · 9 months
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SUMMARY: Someone's picked a fight with Prefect! But he isn't going to let anyone hurt you anymore. Not on his watch. Part 1! Part 2 with Vil and Silver can be found here.
WARNINGS: Uhhh Prefect (you) gets hit in the face & your nose bleeds. also blackmail.
COMMENTS: I actually wanted to write this firstly for some of my moots! I was gonna write more of their favourites but it accidentally got too long to put in one post, so I'm planning on making a part 2 tomorrow. Anyway, @azulashengrottospiano and @i-like-forgs, enjoy!!
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It must be raining.
You were just out in a storm. That’s all.
That would explain the crack of thunder that collided with your face and gave you a throbbing headache. The warm liquid blurring your vision and dripping out of your mouth and nose was just the rain, not some unholy mix of blood and tears. The chills that froze you where you stood was just humidity and the cold, not adrenaline and raw fear.
And yet, even with your desperate brain trying to come up with some reasonable explanation, the only thunderstorm you could see in front of you was a student you couldn’t recognise. Not with your head pounding like this. Not with the thunder in your ears.
There was something about the boy that scared you. That wasn’t uncommon - this school was full of terrifyingly promising mages. But the scariest thing wasn’t how he wielded his magical pen with deadly accuracy, or how strong he so evidently was.
It was just how much he seemed to be enjoying the mix of horror and pain, of blood and tears, that must have been so evidently and delicately splashed across your face.
His smile twisted as he raised his pen again, something in those cruel eyes of his setting off alarm signals in your aching head.
“This’ll teach you not to meddle where you don’t belong.”
The pen glowed, pure magic surrounding it as he prepared to shoot. His sadistic eyes were alight with entertainment. He knew what he was about to do. He didn’t care.
You squeeze your eyes shut and braced for the lightning.
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A chuckle and an arm wrapping around your waist made your eyes snap back open.
“C’mon babe, gotta run!”
Pulling you by the waist, the boy broke into a run. You stumbled for a minute, but soon followed after. He released your waist but gently took your hand, tugging you along, urging you to be faster.
A stray spell flew between the two of you.
The boy looked back, an uncharacteristic flash of annoyance creasing his brow.
He caught your eye and winked.
“Split card!”
A second boy seemed to appear next to you. He was an exact copy of the first - the same stylishly ruffled orange hair, the same piercing emerald eyes, the same practiced, perfect smile.
The same red diamond under his right eye.
“Hey, keep ‘em busy for me!”
“You got it, king.” The second boy - the product of Cater Diamond’s unique magic - winked at you. He planted his feet, whirled around and started to cast spell after spell at your assailant.
The real Cater Diamond pulled you along, into the school building. Together you ran, through corridor after corridor, passing empty classroom after empty classroom.
Finally, he slowed to a stop in front of a classroom you’d never seen before. Glancing around and putting his finger in front of his mouth in a shushing motion, he grinned at you.
“In here.”
He held open the door for you, shutting it behind the both of you as you looked around. There were all different kinds of instruments and sheet music scattered around, along with an abandoned satchel. You saw at least one set of drums, along with two electric guitars and one acoustic, amps, even some microphones and music stands.
You supposed this was the Light Music Club’s room.
Cater winced, scratching his nape. “My bad, forgot it was so messy here. Whoever that was won’t find us here, though!” He grinned at you, his smile fading when he noticed the condition you were in.
He took both of your hands and, holding you as though you were made of glass, led you over to an amp. He gently pushed you onto it. It was not the most comfortable thing to sit on, but that was not what you were focusing on.
How could it be?
Cater Diamond was standing in front of you. He glowed like the sun wherever he went, commanding your attention and leaving you blinded.
If he ever called you, you would gladly follow.
The light faded a little as he let go of your hands and stepped away. He walked over to the discarded bag on the ground and started rummaging through it.
“There’s gotta be something… aha, #jackpot!” Pulling out a packet of tissues, he made his way back over to you. Pulling out a tissue, he smiled hesitantly. “Do you mind if I…?”
You blinked. You had forgotten about the pounding in your head, which started to come back with a vengeance. Putting one hand to the side of your head, you gestured for him to go ahead.
He stood just in front of you, one hand cupping your face, the other gently trying to clean as much of the blood off as possible. He didn’t say anything as he went about his work, but there was a look in his eyes as he worked. One filled with kindness and empathy, soft enough to make your heart skip a beat.
He stepped back and, crossing his arms as though to survey his handiwork, he nodded satisfactorily. “The blood on your shirt will be hard to wash off, but the bleeding from your nose has stopped.” He gave you a strained - albeit gentle - smile.
You nodded and placed your hands in your lap, studying them instead of meeting the gentle emerald eyes you could feel searching you.
“Prefect…” he started, the hesitancy in his voice evident. He cautiously sat next to you and you glanced up at him. “Is- are you okay?”
You closed your eyes and leaned into him. He startled a little at your touch, then wrapped his arm around you. “I am now.”
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“My my, what have we here?”
“What… the hell?!”
That voice… wait, it couldn’t be-
Blinking rapidly to rid your eyes of the tears, you registered three things.
First, and most obvious, was that the thunderstorm was being contained.
Easily.
I mean, the new arrival held him as easily as a newborn kitten for goodness’ sake. He looked almost as twisted as your assailant, with pure glee in his yellow and olive-brown eyes, his wide grin revealing sharp, pointed teeth. He was evidently enjoying the student’s squirming.
“Got him! I wanna squeeze him ‘til he pops~”
The second thing you registered was the hand resting on your shoulder.
Looking up, you noticed another boy, practically a mirror image of the first. One hand was resting protectively on your shoulder, his other hiding his smile. He looked a lot calmer than the first, but his eyes - the exact opposite of his brother’s - betrayed him. The air around him was crackling with excited energy.
“Not yet, Floyd. I believe that Azul has something he wishes to say to him first.”
“Boo. Hurry up.” Wait.
Azul?
Looking around, you finally registered the third - and final - new arrival. Azul Ashengrotto, the head of the Mostro Lounge, was strolling towards the boy. There was something about him that was different. His curly hair caught the sun, making the silvery colour feel akin to pure, vivid white, as though it was glowing. From this angle, you couldn’t see the face you’d studied so many times - his enchanting grey eyes, or the beauty mark just below his mouth.
There was nothing physically different. So what was wrong?
Ah, that was it. He was angry.
“Do not fret, Floyd.” He stopped in front of the boy, directly in front of you. “You’ll get your chance soon enough.”
“Wh-… what the hell is wrong with you?!” The student shouted, twisting and scratching at Floyd’s arm in a desperate attempt to free himself.
“Wanna find out?” Floyd squeezed the boy tighter and he yelped.
“No! No thank you!”
“Well, at least you have some manners.” Azul drawled.
“What do you want from me?”
“This won’t take long.” Azul fished out some photos from his pocket and showed him. “Do you know who this is?”
“H-… how did you-?!”
“Unimportant.” He waved off the question as though it was simply one about the weather. “However, I believe that it would be in your best interests to leave the Prefect alone now.” “Hah… you’re trying to blackmail me?”
“Blackmail is such an ugly word. I am simply offering you a way out.”
“A way out?” The boy scoffed.
“Certainly. I believe if your mother saw these photos, you would be in a great deal of trouble, would you not? If I am correct, you promised her you’d be on your best behaviour this year. After all, one more incident could be enough for an expulsion, with a track record such as yours.”
“Hey-!”
“It’d be a shame for the school to lose such a promising mage. How about you meet with me in the VIP room tomorrow around 4 o’ clock tomorrow? We can discuss things in more… detail… then.”
The boy glowered but said nothing.
Azul sighed. “I’m a man of my word. As long as no harm will come to the prefect, no harm will come to you in the meantime.”
“Fine.” The boy spat.
“Very well, we have a deal then.” Azul took a step back. “Let him go, Floyd.”
“But he hurt Shrimpy! I don’t wanna~”
“Floyd. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future.”
Floyd complained loudly, but let the boy go. He smoothed his jacket, glaring daggers at you and Azul in turn. Then he whirled around and stormed off.
Three pairs of eyes now turned to you.
You blinked in return.
“Shrimpyyy~!” Floyd bounded over to you and squeezed you in a rib-cracking hug. “Did the bad man hurt you? Don’t worry, you’re with us now, Shrimpy!”
“Give them some air, Floyd.” Jade said and tugged Floyd’s shoulder, attempting to pull him away from you.
“Nooo-“
“Are you alright, Prefect?” Azul asked. He sounded worried.
Floyd and Jade exchanged conspiratorial smirks and Floyd let you go. There was blood on his jacket from where your head had rested against him.
The realness of what just happened began to set in. The pounding sensation in your head came back with a vengeance. “I-…” the world began to spin around you, and Azul grabbed you, panic in his eyes. You felt your legs buckle and he caught you smoothly. “Sorry- I just-“
“It’s quite alright. I will stay with you as long as you need.” Azul reassured you, although you didn’t - couldn’t - miss the quiver in his voice or the pink dusting his face. He pulled out a handkerchief and put it to your face. You took it and applied pressure to your nose, angling your head downwards in order to stop the bleeding, as Azul hesitantly rubbed patterns into your back to help you feel better. The sensation made you feel warm.
With a smile, you realised it wasn’t storming anymore. The sun had finally come out.
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♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥
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silentwisher-feed · 2 years
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Clones CLONES!!! - Prison Architect Episode 4
Clones CLONES!!! - Prison Architect Episode 4 #videogames #smallyoutuberarmy
Clones CLONES!!! – Prison Architect Episode 4
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reiderwriter · 9 months
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Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You🃏
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Chapter 1 of That's What You Get
Next Chapter
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Word count: 5.2k
Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise one of those sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs. Reid.
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, loss of memory, marriage (yeah that needs a warning), mommy issues, mentions of emotional abuse, implied sex scene, use of handcuffs in a sexual way, they theorize a possible creampie but I will neither confirm nor deny at this point, talk of contraception, no actual smut though, you guys are gonna have to wait for that. 18+ Minors DNI
A/N: The first chapter is here! Sorry for drawing you in with a silly little premise and then giving you mommy issues, I swear that after this chapter it's not bought up all that much. If you enjoy this chapter, you can sign up to the series taglist here, check out my masterlist and if you want leave a request! :D have fun reading!! ✨
Las Vegas, city of sin and entertainment capital of the world. Population approximately 600,000, home to the most famous casinos in the world, and unluckily for you, your latest unsub.
You’d been in Vegas for three weeks trying to hunt down this specific murderer, but now the case was all wrapped up and you could finally breathe, the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for almost a month now dissolving as you finally finished up the paperwork in the local precinct.
“Thank god that’s over. I cannot wait to be in bed with a good book and an empty head,” you groaned as you met the eyes of Penelope Garcia, your favorite tech analyst in the entire world and absolutely the only one you knew. She’d ended up having to join you on this case because some of the crime scenes just happened to be casinos that weren’t so happy sharing their data, but also didn’t want to be lumped with the warrant from the FBI. She’d been working between their offices and the precinct, and looked just as haggard as you felt.
“Oh, I feel you sister, this free travel experience thing is nice, but I would like to be back at my own perfect little desk hovel ASAP, thank you very much.” The two of you shared a small laugh, and then began collecting your stuff.
“Come on now, baby girl, you’re telling me that you don’t want to hit up the strip while we’re here? See the sights a little?”
“Sweet cheeks, I have been working from the most harrowing of surveillance units all week on that very strip. I have already seen the sights and they were not pretty, and definitely not worth using up my precious vacation time for.”
“Unfortunately Garcia, I don’t think you’ll be needing to use any of that vacation time to stay here,” Hotch announced as he walked in, and every member of your team snapped to attention to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Quantico, there’s a storm cloud moving in directly in our flight path and we haven’t been cleared for take off. They’re extending our stay by another day.”
“Shit,” you let out a silent curse, and noticed that your other team members didn’t seem all that happy about it either. JJ quickly excused herself from the room to call Will, Garcia let out a faux sob and fell back into her chair, and Rossi had the look of abject Italian disappointment on his face that he usually only got when you talked about your love of pineapple on pizza.
“How’s about that drink now, baby girl?” Derek Morgan teased, but it was half-hearted and you knew it. You were all desperate for bed, and you could only imagine the mistakes you would make if you went drinking now after the month you’d all just survived.
The only member of the team who didn’t seem put out quite yet was Reid, but you chalked that up to the fact that this place was his hometown.
“If you guys do change your mind, I know a bar downtown where you’re 34% less likely to be propositioned, robbed or over-charged.” He smiled over at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle knowing the man was 100% serious.
“Dare I ask how you found that statistic, Reid?” Emily inquired from the other corner.
“One part actually reading the annual crime report, one part personal experience?” Reid replied, and you laughed again, unable to hold it back.
“Count me out, thank you,” you replied, and you could have sworn for a second you saw a flash of disappointment flash over his features, but you didn’t get the chance to question it, because a call was lighting up your phone screen.
You quickly excused yourself and moved to pick up the call from your mother.
“Mom, hey, what’s up?”
“What, I can’t check in on my daughter now for no reason?” you sighed and rubbed your temples, knowing exactly how this phone call was going to go, because it was how the last ten calls home had.
“Yes, mom, of course you can. How are you?”
“Terrible. Cindy’s daughter is getting married, and it’s all she’s talking about now. Can you believe it? The girl was absolutely wild when you were friends with her in high school and now she’s settling down with a lawyer of all people. Someone should warn that young man before he realises what he’s got himself into,” she scoffed on the other end of the line and you did your best to not get worked up. If you got angry it only made her more self-richeous.
“I know, Mom, Jessica sent me an invite, and I’m sure Trevor knows exactly what he’s getting into since they’ve been dating since high school.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You never tell me anything.”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m in the middle of a case right now, can I call you back later?” You did your best to escape the conversation before it devolved into something you really didn’t want to talk about, like yourself, and more specifically your love life. But the gorgon had you frozen through the line and you weren’t about to make the mistake of hanging up on her.
“I’m sure your boss could spare you for five minutes, over-working you like he does. You haven’t had the time off to come and visit me since you got that fancy little job of yours, so you can do me this favor at least.”
“Sure, mom.” At times like this, you knew it was best to just let her talk and ride out the wave.
“And I’m sure you don’t even have time to date. Are you taking care of yourself, at least? Making sure you’re at least presentable, I hope? Its like I always say, you could meet your future husband in one of those precincts, you know. Get a big, strong man to take care of you.”
You had to resist the urge to throw your phone. You’d explained to your mother time and time again that you were perfectly content being the big, strong man for yourself, but there was absolutely no getting through to her. You received one of these phone calls everytime one of her friends or coworkers kids announced an engagement, got pregnant or bought a house, three things that she was desperate for you to do, as well. As soon as you saw the instagram post from Jessica you’d been counting down the days, almost thankful for your mothers lack of online presence.
“A crime scene isn’t exactly the most charming of meet cutes, Mom.”
“Well, then what about Virginia? There are some fine men working at the FBI surely. What about that one coworker of yours, what was his name?” Your heart-race increased for a moment, praying she wasn’t about to put a thought in your head that you wouldn’t be able to escape.
“Derek Morgan, was it? Now, that’s a fine young man.” This time you couldn’t stop the startled cry that came from your mouth. Sure, Morgan was an incredibly attractive man, but he’d joked around with you like a brother ever since you’d taken down your first unsub with the team. Your team was your family and your support system on the road, and they had your back on the case, so really, had your mother said anything, you’d have responded with incredulous guffawing. Hotch was like your dad, Rossi a fun Great-Uncle or something. You saw the sister’s you’d never had in JJ and Emily and of course Garcia was your best friend and you shared so many likes and dislikes that you regularly joked about being long-lost twins separated at birth. And Reid was Reid.
“Just give dating some thought, would you at least? The clock is ticking for you, you know.”
“Mom, I’m not even thirty yet. I’m in no rush.”
“That's what your Aunt Linda said, and look at her.” Your Aunt Linda was a perfectly content single woman in her late forties who had a high paying executive job, in NYC of all places, so yeah, you were in no rush at all.
“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, Hotch is calling me into the office to talk about some case files. I’ll speak to you later?”
“God, it’s like you don’t even want to talk to your mother for even five minutes. Go on, then, go do your big fancy job. Call me soon.”
“Yeah, Mom, I will.” And with that you finally hung up. Running a hand through your hair you paused for a breath for a second, closing your eyes and letting your hand just grip your hair for a second before releasing your breath for a second.
In the grand scheme of things, you knew that your mom wasn’t all that much to complain about. You and Emily had bonded over your respective mommy issues early in your time on the team, and you knew a lot of the other team members were either lacking some family member or the other, so you were just thankful that she was still around to annoy you, but god did she make it difficult sometimes.
Realising that any second, you’d have one profiler or the other come find you and ask you (with the best of intentions) what was wrong, you plastered a smile on your face and walked back into the office. You didn’t exactly want to relive that call anytime soon.
“Back so soon, Y/N? I thought that was your mom,” Morgan questioned you when you stepped back in.
“Yeah it was. One of my friends from highschool is getting married and you know how she loves to gossip.” You’d learnt early in the profession that you were in that the best way to hide something was to tell the truth about it for as long as you could, and then change the subject.
“Hey, Reid, you still up for a drink at that bar?” You looked hopefully at the man in the corner, and prayed noone would bring up your absolute change in attitude. “I was thinking a glass of wine or two after a successfully closed case couldn’t hurt, right?”
“Yeah, sure. You wanna head back to the hotel first and change, or do you want to go from here? Hotch said we’re free now until 2pm tomorrow.” You could see a questioning look from Morgan to your left, but you kept your vision focused on Reid, quietly thankful for the rest of the teams disinterest.
“Give me five to drop off my badge and gun in my room and freshen up a bit and we can be on our way. If this bar is bad though, Reid, you know I’m never letting you hear the end of it, right?”
“I ran the statistics, there’s only a 14% chance you’ll dislike it.”
“You know what’s scary is, I can’t even tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”
–x–
Sarcasm or no, you had to admit, the bar he’d taken you to was pretty nice. It was a low-lit bar only a twenty minute taxi ride from your hotel and whilst it wasn’t exactly on the strip, it wasn’t so far out to be inconvenient. The best part about it was that it was lined with bookshelves, and each booth was blocked off by another, making it feel more like a library than a watering hole. You almost forgot you were in Vegas when you stepped in.
“Yeah, this is definitely a Spencer Reid place,” you said as you took the final swig of your wine, the glass you’d ordered on arrival having gone down easier than you’d expected.
“How so?” Spencer said as he returned to your table, carrying the replacement drinks he’d gone to order with him.
“Come on, Spencer. I’ve never seen the inside of your apartment but I’m sure it’s just this place with less furniture and more books.”
“Y/L/N, are you profiling me right now? Because that sounds pretty close to profiling?” Spencer teased and you rolled your eyes at him, grabbing your next drink from him and giving it a stir - the wine was good but at the price per glass you’d decided maybe cocktails were the thing for tonight.
“Besides, you did mention wanting to curl up with a book tonight, so I thought this bar was probably a good fit for you too.”
“Whose profiling who now, Doctor?” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he took a sip of his drink. You knew he didn’t drink that often, but he seemed pretty open to the idea tonight, and you were absolutely glad for the company.
“Okay, I won’t profile if you don’t, but do you mind me asking you a question, Y/N?”
“Fire away,” you were playing with the stirrer in your cocktail, waiting for him to ask the question but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking again, causing you to look up directly into his eyes.
“What’s going on with you and your mom? I don’t mean to pry and I didn’t overhear any of your call earlier or anything, but when you came in again you were all tense and you had that strained smile on your face. Then you suddenly changed your mind and decided we should get drinks so, I’m just guessing here, but you could probably do with talking about it, right?”
You let out a groan and let your head hang a bit. Yeah, you were starting to regret taking that role in the team of profilers. But at least Reid was sincere, and you knew his intentions were good. Of all the members of the team, you’d probably have described him as the safest. It was strange to think, considering all the comfort you found in your other friends, but there was just something so reassuring about Reid’s presence, the way most people overlooked him at first, how he could easily fall into his work and how you could see the cogs moving in his head as he made one genius leap to another that just made you think that everything was going to be okay if he was there.
So because it was him, you decided to talk.
“She’s just…She’s just a little much sometimes, you know?” He smiled back a knowing smile, but didn’t try to add anything and encouraged you to keep going.
“She’s been really persistent recently in bothering me about hitting some of lifes big milestones - marriage, kids, you know? And it always leaves me in a panic because though I’m pretty sure I want those things just yet, I don’t want the pressure of having them yet.” You swallowed the bile in your thoat and continued
“Everytime she says something, I feel bad that I don’t have them. And the way she talks about them its like they’re some kind of… of personal failure, that I’m not trying hard enough to catch a man or something, and I just wonder what if she’s right?” You start slow but you feel yourself gaining pace as you begin rambling, by the end you’re left wondering if Reid even caught any of that.
“I’m perfectly content living alone, but what if I’m secretly not, and I end up forty and alone and can’t even get a guy to look at me.”
“I can pretty confidently say that that’s not going to happen, Y/N.” Reid replied when you finally grabbed your drink ready to take another sip.
“How come?”
“You won’t have to put any effort into catching a man, Y/N.” Reid replied.
“You’re saying that because you’re my friend and you care about me Reid, of course you think that.”
“No, I’m saying that as an FBI Profiler that’s noticed the barman, the man on a date in the corner and the group of guys smoking outside the door eye you up since we’ve been here. And considering we’ve been doing paperwork all day, and the only change in your appearance since 8am this morning was the fresh coat of chapstick you put on while we were in the taxi, I’d think you hadn’t really put that much thought into what you look like right now.”
“You’re exaggerating,” and you really believe that, until you turn to look at the guy on the date and see him avert his gaze from you quickly, and you realise there might be something in what he’s saying.
“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean that I need or want to hear those things from my mother.”
“Y/N, take it from me, mother’s can be complicated.”
“God, I feel so stupid talking to you about something so trivial with my mom, I shouldn’t be doing that, we’re here to have fun.”
“Y/N, its okay. I can do the mommy issues talks, I’m perfectly qualified, but…” he trails off and grabs his drink for another sip and you find yourself hanging off his words begging for him to bring you more comfort and spoken caresses.
“But what, Reid?” you finally ask, as you realise he’s dragging this out on purpose to tease you a little.
“But how about a distraction instead? Have you ever been in a Las Vegas casino with a man that is banned from gambling in most of them?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little as he asked that and you giggled again, grateful for the reprieve from the serious talk.
“That doesn’t sound all that fun, Spencer.”
“Oh yeah, it’s not, but we could always use those vouchers we got as a token of appreciation earlier in the bars and drink some pretty fancy alcohol?”
“Spencer Reid, you are finally speaking my language.”
“I’m still speaking English Y/N, but if you wanted me to switch to russian or some other language, I could accommodate that depending on your linguistic preference.”
“It was a joke, Spence, now let’s get out of here.”
With that, he stood and dramatically offered you his hand like a gentleman, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow when you took it and guiding you swiftly out of the sweet bar. You were with Spencer, your safe friend, close work colleague and probably the least likely member of the BAU Team to get into trouble in a bar in Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? You thought, as you took a final step out into the humid night air of Las Vegas.
–X–
The first thing you noticed in the morning was the pounding in your head, and it was pretty much the only thing you noticed for quite some time. When you managed to finally unglue your eyes, the second thing you noticed that this definitely wasn’t your room. The third thing you noticed was the gaping hole in your memories that explained how you possibly could’ve ended up wherever it was that you were. Or really any memories from the night before at all.
Letting out a quick groan you sit up in bed and take stock of your surroundings. Although the layout is different, you quickly recognise the interior matches the hotel you’ve been staying at, so you’re thankful that you’re at least somewhere relatively safe, and most likely in familiar company. The room looks to be neat on the whole, but there’s obvious signs of a drunken escapade strewn everwhere - two champagne flutes and a drained bottle, the contents of your purse spilt onto the chair in the corner, some random balloons in the corner you must have picked up somewhere in a drunken stupor, your clothes discarded in a trail to the bed.
That last one wakes you up a little bit more, and almost embarrassingly, you look down at yourself and see your lack of clothing, pulling the covers of the quilt closer to you as you feel yourself flush.
Fuck.
There’s a shifting in the bed next to you, and you look down in horror to see exactly which member of your team got you so plastered last night. You try to move to see who it is, but theres a tightness around your wrist and you’re pulled right back down into bed. You look down at your arm, and that’s when you realise you’re really screwed.
There, around your wrist and restraining you against the bed, is a set of handcuffs. FBI standard. The insinuation flames your face as you whip around to see which close friend and coworker you maybe - possibly - hooked up with last night, too embarrassed to look at your hand any more.
Luckily, your mystery man shifts again, and you catch sight of the nest of brown curls right before he turns over to see you, so when you finally meet the eye of Doctor Spencer Reid, you don’t scream in surprise.
“Y/N? What are you doi-” he cuts himself off as he lets his eyes trail down your body, quickly noticing your state of undress and pulling himself up into a seated position. He is similarly disrobed and it takes all of your strength to pull your gaze away from his bare chest to look literally anywhere else, your face practically flaming now.
“Spencer, would you mind helping me out over here?” you manage to squeak out quickly, as he does his best to avoid your eyes. “I seem to be a little stuck?”
That draws his attention back to you, and he finally notices the strange position of your arms and the handcuffs keeping you pinned to that spot in the bed.
“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, fuck,” he quickly pulls on the pants he discarded by his side of the bed and scrambles over to you, tripping over once in his haste.
“Do you know where the key is?” you ask as he arrives at your side again, your free hand clutching the sheets over your breasts like your life depended on it.
“If that’s my pair they should be in the safe in the nightstand with my creds, give me a second to look.” After a second, he reaches the aforementioned safe box, pulling it open. He roots around inside it for a few seconds and then he spots something ad you watch the blood drain from his face.
“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you spit out quickly, tongue still heavy, and lips probably still swollen, from the night before, so you trip over the words a little. He pulls out the keys from the draw, and you let out a sigh of relief, but you’re still tense as he reaches back inside the draw and pulls out something else.
“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, still staring intently at whatever else is in his hands. You try to angle your head to look, but between the restraints and the fact that Reid had turned his back to you couldn’t quite see what it was.
“What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.
Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.
“I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.
“Y/N I think we got married last night.”
For a second you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. This was not happening, not to you, not right now. How stupidly drunk could you have gotten to have actually gone and married someone you weren’t even dating. And considering your current lack of clothing, it was dawning on you that you had probably done a little bit more than what was in that photo.
“Spencer unlock these handcuffs right now, so help me God,” you breathed deep and screwed your eyes shut, hoping that wihtout the distraction of the glaring lights you’d be able to remember some of what you’d done last night, but nothing came to you.
Reid, for what it was worth, got you unlocked quickly. You winced slightly as you pulled your arm away from the position it’d been in for however many hours.
“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have undone those last night, I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Reid rambled, running a hand through his hair and pacing slightly at your side of the bed. You pushed yourself up and watched him for a minute, just looking at this man who was now, probably, your husband.
Your husband.
You shook the thought from your head and cut his rambling off quickly.
“You put me in these?” you asked, just desperate for any clarification on any of the events of the last 24 hours, not fully grasping the implications of what you were asking until Reid was looking down at you with a flushed face and a mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to find the words to say.
“This is my hotel room. Those are my handcuffs… I kind of just assumed…” he trailed off the thought and you were right with him, the embarrassment heating your face just as much as it had his. You found it hard to meet his eyes the, and dropped yours to your lap.
“So you don’t remember, either?” You almost sighed in relief at that. If even a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory was in this state after a night of drinking, then you really couldn’t be blamed for getting so drunk you married your coworker and most likely had some pretty kinky sex with him, remembering absolutely nothing on top of that at all.
“Do you need me to grab you something to wear?” he asked as he looked down at you, letting his gaze trail probably a little bit too low for a little bit too long. You grew heated under his stare, as your body reacted, and you realised how easy it must have been to fall underneath him last night if this was how you were feeling from just one look.
But you pulled yourself out of those thoughts quickly, and it seemed that so did he, as he began grabbing clothes from the floor and handing them to you, turning away as you started getting yourself into a semi-decent state.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you heard Reid mumble to himself as he made his way around the side of the bed, and in your concern for him, you called out.
“Anything specific those curses were for, Spence? Because I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but four Spencer Reid swears in a row is a cause for concern.” You tried to joke, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety of your predicament.
“I can’t find…” he started and then dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. “Y/N, I think we didn’t use protection.” You could see him panicking now, and for a second you thought of joining him too, but you crossed the room and grabbed his arms.
“Spencer, look at me, it’s fine. If we did end up… doing that, I’m on birth control, and we probably have time to grab something extra just to make sure, right?” he looked down at you then and after a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.
“I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m so stupid for suggesting we go to that casino bar last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. You even said last night that this wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, right now, god I’m an idiot, you don’t deserve this.” He buried his face in your neck and held you tight, and you pulled yours up to his back, rubbing circles into his skin slowly.
“Spencer, listen to me. I can think of noone I would have rather had a shotgun Vegas marriage with, okay? This isn’t your fault, we were both drunk, and I’m sure a Reid who was thinking straight could give me some kind of statistic about inhibitions dropping with a certain amount of alcohol.”
“A study in the United Kingdom found that there was an increase of risky sexual behavior in young people who had participated in binge drinking, including unprotected sex with a new partner and the use of emergency contraceptives and I’m not sure why I’m still talking when that was probably rhetorical, right?” You smiled at his panic, finding him just as endearing as ever, even in this predicament.
“What I’m saying, Spencer, is that we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the first time someone has gotten married in Vegas on a whim. Hell, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened to someone on our team. In a sense, this was a very traditional wedding.”
He groaned into your neck again and you laughed up at him. Sure, you were panicked still, but just having him in your arms there sharing his honest feelings with you instead of bottling it up and leaving you to deal with it on your own in your head too was doing you a world of good, and you found the words you used to reassure him soothing you, too, in turn.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. One, find the nearest pharmacy. Two, find whatever Elvis-inspired love shack wrote that marriage license and figure out if it’s actually legally binding. Three, avoid all of our coworkers until 2pm. How does that sound?”
Reid pulled himself out of your neck then, and you were almost sad at the loss of that warmth near you.
“It sounds like I made the smartest choice of a wife I was ever going to make,” he smiled down at you.
“Oh you got jokes now, Doc? I see.”
“Thought I should let you know all my deep dark secrets now we’re married.” You shared a laugh, and standing there amongst the debris of the night before, despite all the mistakes, you knew you were safe, and that the two of you would always be safe together.
🏷️ @sailortongue @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @high-functioning-cosplayer @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @academiareid @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @SwaggySagieWagie@reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @bluecandycake
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jellys-compendium · 4 months
Text
JJK Mafia AU
MafiaBoss!Nanami Kento Headcanons
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Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)
Pairing: Nanami Kento x gn!reader Cw: smut, mentions of violence and illegal activities Word Count: ~700 A/n: I am so weak. One little thought about Mafia!Boss Nanami and my little brain went boom. I hope this brainrot sticks because I'd love to write a multichapter fic with this premise!
mafiaboss!nanami rules from his position at the top of his criminal syndicate with an iron fist. Nanami is ruthless when it comes to ensuring that each gang member respect the chain of command and obey his rules. If you mess up, he doesn't give you second chances.
mafiaboss!nanami who oozes wealth. The luxury cars he drives, the expensive suits he wears--that watch that costs more than what you make in a year circling his thick wrist. All of these things not only speak to Nanami's expensive tastes, but also to the raw power and unadulterated authority he holds at his fingertips.
mafiaboss!nanami who has earned his wealth and status through his cunning and discipline. He has made his way to the top of the food chain through his own merit alone. Nanami has a deep respect for others who do the same.
mafiaboss!nanami who has the entire city eating out of the palm of his hand. Neither the politicians nor police force make a move without his express approval.
mafiaboss!nanami is dangerous when he is crossed. Nanami finds no pleasure in killing, but he will carry out the proper sentence towards those who have betrayed him. Especially towards any poor idiot who has taken something that belongs to him.
mafiaboss!nanami who could have his pick of any woman or man he so desires. Models, celebrities, or whatever multi-million heir/heiress that catches his eye. However, Nanami had grown tired of toying with these spoiled and out of touch airheads long ago. Now, Nanami much prefers to spend his time entertaining himself with someone who has a head on their shoulders. Someone like you.
mafiaboss!nanami who wants you the moment he first lays eyes on you. But he is not interested in using force, or his power and influence to win your heart. Instead, Nanami prefers to watch you from afar, relishing in your fire as you try to make your way on your own. And yet, whenever you eventually--inevitably--storm your way into his office with a frustrated scowl and sheepishly ask for his help, the euphoria that blooms in Nanami's chest is as powerful as the drugs he smuggles.
mafiaboss!nanami who simultaneously teases you and lays claim to you through his purposeful and scorching touches. His large hand on the small of your back as he guides you to his car, his fingers tracing the back of your neck as he fastens the necklace he had gifted you, the way his lips barely brush against yours as he leans down to sternly scold you for putting yourself in danger...
mafiaboss!nanami who kisses you with a knee-weakening and breathless passion. He ravishes your perfect mouth so well and so thoroughly, that you know deep down in your bones that you'll never be satisfied with kissing anyone else.
mafiaboss!nanami who undresses you with awe and hungry reverence. Nanami can't keep his mouth off of you. The deep, rumbling groans that escape him as he diligently tastes every delectable inch of your body makes your heart hammer in your chest. Nanami leaves no place unworshipped.
mafiaboss!nanami who staves off the full force of his desire for you for as long as he can. But those sweet little cries you make, coupled with your lewd kisses and the feeling of your fingers digging into the muscles of his back are his downfall. Partially clothed, Nanami pins you to his desk and fucks you into it raw.
mafiaboss!nanami who isn't satisfied with just one round. After he's fucked you on the desk he moves you towards the window, propping your hips up before pressing your palms against the glass. He leans down behind you and whispers seductively into your ear that he wants you to watch your reflection in the glass. Nanami wants you to witness how beautiful your expression becomes when he makes you mewl and whimper and cream on his cock.
mafiaboss!nanami who offers to provide for you and protect you when morning comes--and smiles when you decline. Nanami's gaze is intense, laced with both admiration and possessiveness as he watches you slip back on that sexy little number you wore last night.
He can't wait to taste you again.
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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 4 months
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❤ Yandere Police Officer ❤
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▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
Female reader
WARNINGS: Manipulation/Power Abuse.
--
◾ Yandere!Officer who has his eyes on you the moment you step foot in his town.
You’re different from all the girls he’s known all his life, maybe because you’re a city girl. But that doesn’t mean you’re bad, no.
On the contrary, he likes you very much.
You’re not arrogant, arms crossed with a disgusted expression at the small variety of entertainment that the town offers, like many other city people have done before while visiting his town.
You came with a wide smile, the smell of hope and new beginnings incrusted in your figure. He likes that. 
◾ Yandere!Officer who immediately strikes a friendship with you. He’s nice and friendly, offering you all the help you need as you settle in the town and his heart beats faster when you inform him that you plan on staying there permanently. 
He immediately starts daydreaming about you, about the cute perfect couple you two would make. You could take care of the house - and whatever small bundles of joys that came along the way - while he’d work and provide for the family.
Coming home to the happy shrieks of children, a sweet wife and a hot meal sounded like a dream. 
◾ Yandere!Officer that will be there for you as you slowly start to organize your life, helping you find a job at a local coffee shop.
He’d stop by multiple times a day, a charming smile on his face as he’d place his order, asking you about how everything was going. 
His white and blue friends would laugh and throw indiscreet clues about someone having a crush on the waitress, but he’d ignore them, his eyes following you as you work, a smile on your face as you served customers. 
He’d start spending more time in your workplace, even during his off-duty days. His easy going personality making it easy to form a connection with you.
You seem to appreciate his concern and interest in your wellbeing and repay him by bringing him a few pastries for free. 
◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll ask you out when he gives you a ride back to your home, and despite feeling so flattered, you refuse him.
You’re not looking for relationships, still trying to achieve some normalcy in your life before jumping into the dating scenario. 
Besides, he’s not exactly your type. He’s tall and slender, firm muscles stretching out the clothes he wears. Not ripped and bulky, as you like.
But he’s not bad though, having really handsome features and you’ve heard your female coworkers whisper about him, their comments horny enough to make you blush. 
He smiles and assures you it’s fine and that he's okay being friends for now, but you have a bad feeling at the way his expression drops into a sinister frown when he thinks you’re not seeing. 
◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll keep his friendly demeanor, despite the new awkwardness between you two. He still likes you, even if you rejected him like he was an annoying bug.
Maybe you just need a bit of time before accepting him. He’ll wait as long as he can, but can’t stop himself from quickly getting irked when he sees some local guys flirting with you while you’re serving them food. 
Fingers tightly gripping his gun as jealousy burns in his chest. He should teach those guys a lesson for attempting to swoon you, don’t they know you’re his?
Fucking idiots. 
◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll ask you out a second time soon after that.
Your rejection leaves a sour taste in his mouth and this time he doesn’t bother pretending that he’s fine as he angrily storms out of your coffee shop, slamming the door behind him. 
◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll realize that he needs to move fast, otherwise you’ll end up choosing someone else. But knowing how stubborn you were, he’ll have to play dirty to get you in his arms. 
He apologizes for his previous behavior, genuine regret all over his face and of course you end up accepting it, alongside the flowers he offers you. 
But shortly after, you realize that it was all a big mistake. 
He playfully suggests you go out with him in return for him forgetting about the speeding tickets you didn’t even know you had accumulated. His goofy behavior almost makes it look like a harmless proposition.
But when he playfully implies that if you don’t, he may be forced to arrest and book you because of safety issues - that’s when you realize that maybe he’s not as innocent as you think him to be. 
◾ Yandere!Officer who points out that there’s nowhere for you to hide or run from him.
He’s a cop and that means access to a lot of information. Where you came from, your parents, their workplaces, their addresses, everything. 
So how about you play good girl for him? He’d hate anything bad happening to his future in-laws. 
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Note
Hihi, love your writing. Just sending over a request for a male reader (could be ftm if you'd life) with Hobie Brown? So basically the reader is apart of the organisation too and is a spiderman (could be possibly like a rock and/or punk based spiderman, or something completely opposite it's up to you) and it's how he had met Hobie and how they got close? I can send more details over if you'd like, thanks!
Hobie Brown x Male reader
Headcanons
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I couldnt find any gifs of hobie yet, so just have this one.
Spoilers for Across the Spiderverse I guess? Reader is a Juggalo because I like ICP lmao.
You were one of the Spidermen that stood out somewhat amongst every other spiderperson around. You suit was white and black and had Juggalo features painted on the face. You wore a baggy ICP t-shirt and black shorts, maybe even a jacket or battle vest covered in patches. You wore a pair of heavy boots as well, perfect for kicking ass.
Along with that you didn’t respect the machine, aka the people in charge, as much as everyone else. You liked fighting and busting fascist and racist heads, you didn’t get involved with cops, and you were stubborn like a mule. This resulted in Miguel hating you because you were so difficult, but you were one of the best, so he kept you around.
You really liked fighting, which could be seen in the claws you added to your gloves, the brass knuckles worked into your suit, or the hard covering on your knees perfect for kneeing people in the chin. Those were only the visible ones, but you had many other hidden gizmos. This made you a bit of an outcast amongst the spiderpeople, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care about anyone’s approval but your own.
When Hobie joined the organization, it had been for Gwen’s sake in the beginning, since he himself doesn’t care much for large organizations with one leader who makes all the decisions. He puts up with it though, since its his duty to be spiderman.
Color him intrigued when one day he, Gwen and Jessica are called to Miguel’s area. When they arrive, they first see Miguel pacing back and forth rubbing his temples in clear annoyance, and second, they see a spiderman perched on the wall with little respect in his posture, roasting Miguel from head to toe.
Hobie already liked you from just that, but when you jump down to introduce yourself and he sees the anti-capitalism and anti-cop patches on your jacket? He might have fallen in love.
You, Gwen and Hobie were sent on a mission together, and you and Hobie got along like a house on fire. Gwen joked about being a third wheel the entire time, but she was just entertained about how well you two got along.
Outside of missions Hobie and you hang out most of the time, jumping into each other’s dimensions and just spending time at the others place. Hobies place is as punk rock as you can imagine, with all his instruments and an organized mess going on.
Your place is more what you’d imagine from someone who listens to rap, hiphop and ICP. You got a lot of music, casettes, cds, anything you can imagine. Lotsa posters or homemade merch stapled to the wall, etc.
When Hobie and Gwen make their band, you are invited of course, you are the singer. You can rap up a storm and speak so fast its hard for them to keep up some days. Hobie won’t admit it for a while, but hearing you spit bars makes his heart flutter.
Gwen would tease the both of you for having a crush on the other, which you both deny, because you are both cool and having crushes isn’t cool.
Gwen jokes about you two being boyfriends after you accidentally wear each other’s vest after spending the night at Hobies’ place. You both just roll your eyes at her and roast her with no actual heat, just doing it how friends would do it.
You both start dating at some point, neither of you can pinpoint when. One day you two just find yourselves cuddling on your rundown patched up couch without your masks on, cuddling and kissing.
Neither of you ever actually ask if you are boyfriends now or not, because you both know you are. It takes a while for Gwen and Pavitr a while to realize you two are together, since you don’t actually act any different.
Its only when they see you pull up his mask and your own to kiss him before going on a mission that it clicks for the both of them. They both whine that neither of you actually told them you were together.
When the movie happens you peace out the same moment as Hobie, having stolen your own tech so you two can keep visiting each other even if you aren’t part of the organization anymore.
Neither of you were ever big parts of being part of it anyways and only stayed for each other and for your friends, but seeing how Miguel deals with the whole Miles situation, you agree you need to leave.
You work together to make the watch for Gwen so she can save Miles. You two might join her too if needed, especially you, because you will take any chance to knock Miguel on his ass, maybe knock out those cheesy fangs of his.
Like I said, you hate authority. And since Miguel is authority, you hate him. Hobie follows after you because hes whipped and loves you deeply, plus he knows you can get kinda careless at times, so he has to pull you outta trouble if he needs.
You are both so grossly whipped for each other, it makes Gwen and Pavitr gag, though its fake gagging. You share clothes, instruments. You do his eyeliner and paint his nails, he does your Juggalo face paint. He always makes sure to give you a big kiss, which just wipes the paint onto his lips too.
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lola-la-cava · 1 year
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Met ‘23
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Timothée Chalamet x Reader
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
“Y-yeah, don’t even worry about it. Who needs air?. Just… keep going” I say as they continue to tighten the corset. I grip my waist, sucking up as much air as I can.
All of a sudden, I hear a familiar voice tsk. The women helping me with my dress backs up, causing the piece of clothing to loosen.
“Did she put you up to this?”, he asked the woman. She nodded.
“Traitor!”
He laughs at my quip and comes up to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful”
Timothée looks me up and down, examining the dress and taking my hand to twirl me. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” I giggle.
The curly haired boy gasped, “Half bad? Come on! Give me a little more credit!”
“Ah fine! You look gorgeous!” I praise, getting my body close to his to pull him in for a needed kiss.
“Ah, ah, ah. I’m not done yet! Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, huh, lover boy?” my make-up artist comes to pull us apart and retouching my lipstick.
“How could I?” he stared at me with a love sick stare that I didn’t quite notice at the time.
Timothée hears a quick snap!from the camera. He whips his head around to see one of the photographers catch the perfect moment.
“Whoops” the guy shrugged.
“You people are sickening!” my assistant screamed from the other side of the room.
Timothée answers back, “Jealous much, Meg?”
“Ha. ha.” she teased. “I happen to enjoy being all alone, thank you very much”
I playfully roll my eyes at her antics. “Yeah, sureee”
“Aaalright, Y/N you’re set!” She pats my cheek as I look at her with grateful eyes.
Timothée’s arms wrap around my front once again as soon as she let go. His head resting on my shoulder, kissing my neck
“I just hope lover boy here doesn’t ruin your make-up”
“No promises” he giggles as he playfully placed wet kisses on the side of my head.
“I swear, you will never hear the end from me if you do” she warns him.
“Now, get on out there. Tons of people are expecting you”
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
Ah, the calm before the storm.
Well, as calm as it can get. Which was not very.
They stood in the line before getting their pictures taken. Celebrities in extravagant clothing surrounded them. Some familiar faces present that Y/N took note to say hello to later on.
Y/N smoothed over her dress and brought her hand up to fix her hair again. Timothée noticing this, he interrupted her movement and took her hand. He squeezed it three times before kissing it.
I love you.
She took her hand back and grabbed her phone from a discreet pocket on the dress.
She scrolled aimlessly through social media, trying to get feeling of impending doom of my mind.
Her eye catches a random headline from an entertainment news update account. It read:
‘Timothée Chalamet and Kylie Jenner hard launching their relationship at tonight’s Met Gala? Y/N Y/L/N left in the dust?’
She lets out an obnoxious scoff. Timmy hearing it, he looks at her screen, reading the obviously made-up headline.
“God, they’re still on that?”
He notices his partner’s silence. “Come on. You’re not really bothered by this, are you?”
She opened her mouth to say something. No words came out. She merely shrugged.
He gripped her shoulders and pulled her in for a bear hug. Timothée rested his head on hers as she got close to his chest, hearing the comforting beat of his heart that never failed to comfort her.
The couple stayed like that. “Trust me, mon coeur. I wouldn’t have this any other way. I’m perfect where I am and who I’m with”
“Shit, I actually might cry. I never know what to say when you say this sappy shit”, Y/N chuckles as she puts her hand up to mess with his styled hair.
Feeling her hand creeping his back, Timmy pulls away and bows. “I aim to please you. It’s my sole purpose in life”
A smile instantly appeared on her face and butterflies in her stomach. Nothing had definitely changed from when they first started going out. Same sparks, same chemistry, same tension. Whatever you wanna call it. It was there. They had it.
She tugged on his hand, pulling him in for one more kiss. Y/N looked at him, looking over the features she admired so much that she practically memorized them. Her gaze lands on his lips.
Some of her lipstick and gloss had transferred to his lips. She quickly tried to get the makeup off. “Shit, wait hold on. You have some-“
He smacks her hand away. “No, no. Keep it.” He rubbed his lips together getting the substance to cover all ground.
“Y/N Y/L/N and Timothée Chalamet? They’re ready for you.”
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
“Right now, I’m here with everyone’s favourite couple, Timothée Chalamet and Y/N Y/L/N” Emma, the interviewer, spoke with enthusiasm.
We’d just finished the carpet and were almost home free. Camera flashes blinded my vision as I tried not to close my eyes throughout the whole thing. Screams of my name were heard throughout the venue. Meddlesome questions and controlling demands to pose a certain way were yelled. To which, I didn’t respond to. Why should I? I maintained my balance by holding onto Timothée. You’d think after a few years, you’d get used to the bordering aggressive personalities you have to deal with every single day.
It turns out not really.
“How does it feel to be back? I mean, you guys have gone before, but how does it feel to be here as the quote-unquote, it couple?”
Me and Timmy both give awkward chuckles as we heard the last two words.
“Uh- I really don’t know about that last part, but it just feels great to share such a meaningful moment with him. I’ve personally dreamed of attending since I first saw it as a kid and to be invited for the second time… It’s just… yea”, I answer, not being able to expound on the statement.
Emma hums and gains back the mic.
“So, rumors have been swirling about the internet that actually said othewise. Do you have anything to say about that?” She points the microphone at Timothée this time, definitely hinting at the Kylie rumors.
He seems taken aback by the question, not knowing what to say and the only thing I’m able to do was squeeze his hand. Three times.
I love you.
Emma realizes this with a regretful look on her face. She leans toward both of us as she moves the mic away.
“It’s totally fine if you guys aren’t comfortable. We could just mov-“
He takes the mic, she gives him a grateful small smile.
“No, I uh, me and Y/N have actually seen a handful of tweets about this and I just wanna set the record straight and say we are very much still together”, he nods as he hands the microphone back to her.
“I think I’m right by saying that this has definitely relieved viewrs at home and me.” We laugh genuinely at her quip.
I imagine people on Twitter have stopped adding fuel to the fire after what he said and can have a better goodnight’s sleep later in the evening.
“And that’s our time. I’ll see you lovebirds inside! Have a great time together!”
We both shook her hand and left with an indebted expression for keeping it mellow (for the most part) after such a nerve-wracking red carpet.
“Very professional with that answer, Chalamet”, I hook my arms with his and leaned on his shoulder.
“Of course, ‘gotta remind everyone you’re still my girl”, he says with a smug smirk.
I laugh, “Your girl? I suppose that means you’re my boy?”
He playfully rolls his eyes. “Come on! As if you didn’t know that from the beginning”
“Ohhh, I know. I just wanted to hear it from your mouth!”
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izvmimi · 6 months
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cw: longer drabble but no title because i suck at titles. you are bakugou's photographer. mostly sfw.
“Mr. Dynamight,” you start, sweet as can be while erring close to the side of professionalism in present company, “would you please humor us with a smile?”
Katsuki, hounded by his personal assistant amongst a horde of personal assistants rearranging the lapel of his slightly open white shirt, adjusting his cuff links, dabbing one cheek with powder and blotting excess product off the other, arranging the spikes of his hair, grimaces at you in response. Yet by the time you have settled back behind your camera and adjust your lenses to snap your next photo, his displeased look is replaced with a smirk that is cheeky yet suits his handsome face well, and you are satisfied. 
“Great!” you reply cheerfully. The shutters close, then open, then close again and Katsuki moves surprisingly gracefully with the camera, a naturally adept subject, and grins, smirks, jeers even, all manner of looks to satisfy the demands of the shoot. 
You, on the other hand, are having a blast. 
It’s your biggest gig so far, being an up-and-coming photographer, and the chance to do a celebrity profile for a rising star as Dynamight is one in a lifetime. You still wonder how you managed to get so lucky anyway - even your first meeting was a stroke of serendipity - but you are good at capitalizing on any opportunities once presented to you. 
You reach the end of the shoot and the crew offered to you by Katsuki’s team sets up around you. You stand there behind the tripod, still watching as his personal assistant, well paid but heavily burdened, begins to recite the remainder of your friend’s schedule to him, and he rolls his eyes dismissively at something she says, something that nearly causes a vein to pop on her forehead.
“Listen, I already accommodate so much of your nonsense, so the least you can do is fix that attitude,” she hisses. You wonder if he’ll yell back, but instead his eyes shift to you, and he grins. His assistant watches his attention shift, and she groans then shakes her head before reminding him he has somewhere to be in exactly two hours, and she storms past you, giving you only a millisecond of a glance as her heels click rapidly down the hall. 
You quickly avert your eyes, pretending you didn’t see that altercation, then look down at your camera to review the photos. Katsuki is quick to find his way around you, leaning in close enough that you can smell the cologne for which he is now spokesperson for, his chin nearly rested on your shoulder. You find your body stiffening slightly, but rather than let yourself be quasi-intimidated, you decide to assert yourself in return.
“You should be nicer to her, you know,” you remind him, as you click through to return to the first of the set of pictures to show him.
“I am nice,” he answers quickly.
“Just a little bit more effort,” you suggest, turning slightly so that he can see the way your eyes crinkle when you tease him. He huffs, but his lips turn upward.
“Instead of worrying about my personality, we should focus on how good I look.” You move out of the way, hands behind your back, as he peruses through the stack, one after the other. His brow furrows as he looks, back hunched, and suddenly he is so focused you find it entertaining. 
“Anything not to your liking?” you ask. He doesn’t answer immediately, and that does actually concern you a bit. What if he doesn’t like the pictures? 
You move in a bit closer to look, aiming to catch any mistakes before he does, but he places his elbow on your shoulder which makes your heart skip a beat.
“Perfect.”
You look up at him and feel the apples of your cheek warm ever so slightly. Just before you can say anything else, you hear the door down the hall close loudly. You both turn, remembering that the studio is closing. Katsuki shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I’ll let you know if I need any more pictures taken,” he offers. You nod quickly, then berate yourself for looking a little too eager. But the extra cash can help, and he’s aware of it. He’s aware of a little too much.
He waits as you pack up your own equipment, the most expensive thing you own at the very moment. 
“Do you need a ride home?” he asks. He always does. 
You shake your head.
“I have to make a few stops anyway, and I know Suzume will get irritated if you’re late again to a program.”
“Suzume gets irritated regardless,” he replies, as he follows you out of the studio, trailing close behind. 
“It’s nice to see that you found your match,” you retort. He snorts, but doesn’t respond to that directly, making sure to let the door open for you to go through.
You met Katsuki in the wintertime, in the last place you’d expect the star rookie Pro Hero to be. He was the second student in an intimate pottery class of just four, and you had hardly recognized him in a large orange hoodie and khaki pants, the hood he’d been reluctant to take down the course of the entire lesson. You’d gently advised him to at least roll up his sleeves just to keep the clay away and he’d tutted at you, annoyed by the intrusion, but he’d taken the whole hoodie off anyway, and the large scar along the left side of his face, trailing down into the collar of his T-shirt had surprised the instructor and the group of students but it was the awe of recognition.
“I didn’t come here to sign autographs, I came here to make some pots,” he quickly redirected the group. You’d heard that Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight was a bit of an asshole, but somehow you’d spared the arrogant nature of his words in favor of the plea in his voice to just treat him normally. No one asked him for an autograph or really asked him any questions further, although you could see the two young women who shared the class with you eye him quite ravenously in between focused spins of the pottery wheel, paying particularly close attention to his fingers as they curved and shaped the clay. 
He didn’t say anything to you or any others after that for the first two lessons.
By the third however, as you washed your hands clear of glorified mud, he took the sink next to you and asked you why you’d come. 
You turned and looked at him, startled by the question.
“To learn how to make pottery,” you answered. Why else does anyone show up to a pottery class if not to learn?
His eyes softened at the sound of your voice, adjusting his tone as he asked the question, and something in that action, the soft warmth of the red of his eyes, disarmed you and put you at unease at the same time.
“No, why are you here really?”
You can barely remember why you answered what you did at that moment, but you remember thinking about that question all night.
“To do something with my hands.”
The faucet turned off and you bowed politely before leaving quickly, unsure of where the conversation might lead you if you managed to continue. 
Things had been particularly hard then. A slew of unfortunate circumstances, then outright tragedies had seemed to sap your energy into nothing, until you were no longer sure of what your raison d’etre was anymore. But learning to do something with your hands, the slip of clay through your fingertips, an oven to refine your work, the precision of colored glaze and something to finally sip warm tea in and hope that it not only fills your belly but your heart - that was promising. 
The next day Katsuki told you he came for the same reason, and a small friendship, perhaps out of guilt that you’d treated him coldly, bloomed. 
Once Katsuki learned about a few of your troubles, the search for a new job being one of them, he’d honed in on your skill in photography, offering you to be his personal photographer for any shoots coming up. You’d asked him why he immediately trusted you with the job, and he shrugged.
“You seem to know what you’re doing,” he replied over a plain cup of coffee. 
You blinked, your half-eaten crepe seeming to be as shocked as you were from the smiley face made of syrup on your plate.
“That’s it?”
“If you’re bad at it, I’ll fire you. Deal?”
His directness made you laugh.
“Deal.”
So here you were, editing pictures of Katsuki, a man you know called friend, who’d learned a few more of your secrets than you truly needed to offer him, in the dead of night. Picking up on every detail, there were very few things to retouch; a man as naturally handsome as him is blessed by the camera, after all. 
A message from him on your home screen tells you to sleep and not worry. The pictures are already great as is.
He’s right. He’s always right.
The next time he hires you, it’s for a family magazine, and you tease him endlessly for it. He reminds you that he’s argued for hours to insist you get this paycheck and it only slows down your banter for a moment, until you say,
“What does an unmarried, only child, have to contribute to this shoot?”
He blinks and you wonder for a moment if you’ve gone too far. Then he smiles. 
“Are you trying to change that for me?”
Your cheeks warm, yet again, like soft clay unmolded, but he turns to leave and take position, and you are left to ponder on what he meant, thoughts formless.
Months later, Katsuki asks you if you’d like to come to a shoot again, but not as a photographer. 
“What’s the theme?” you ask. Katsuki’s half-sitting, half-laying on your couch, having decided not to go to his own apartment to shower, but borrowing yours. Something about renovations. You’re not sure you believe him, and public baths are a dime a dozen, even if he’s possibly too famous to end up at one.
“Heroes and their loved ones.”
You nearly choke on your popcorn, but he seems unfazed by what he said, more concerned about whether or not you’ll need a Heimlich maneuver in the next few moments.
“You couldn’t bring your parents or something?” you ask.
“My mom’s annoying, and Deku is already bringing his mom. Shoto brought a partner, so I think it’s fair to bring a friend.”
A friend. Something washes over your body and you’re unsure if it’s relief or disappointment. 
“Okay.”
You should have asked why Katsuki doesn’t have other friends, people he’s known longer and better, but the interview goes well. Shoto and Deku seem very pleased to meet you, Deku asking a million questions, and Shoto asking next to none, but telling you that you seem very nice and that they’re surprised Katsuki could make friends in such a setting. 
“We make art together, I suppose,” you suggest. “That probably makes it easier to connect.”
Deku nods affirmatively. Shoto watches you carefully as though he’s trying to parse out the nuance in your words.
Art. Art is what you make together.
The number of selfies in your phone with Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight increase dramatically. It starts off with a few candid pictures taken of him in the background of your selfies, then slowly becomes intentional.
Katsuki offers you a trip that you only realize when meeting downtown will be the next island over. He asks you to bring your camera, and you take pictures together. It’s a week before your birthday, but when he unwraps a box to hand you a pair of bowls he made in secret as a birthday gift, you find your eyes welling with tears.
“Does that mean you like them?” he asks. He carefully allows a finger to wipe away one that escapes and runs down your cheek.
“I love them more than anything in the world.”
“These pictures need you in them.”
His head lays in your lap as he leaves through the latest edition of Heroes Weekly. He looks great as usual - you made sure of that - but he’s lamenting the fact that there are still questions on tabloids and forums of where his romantic feelings lie. You let your fingers run through his hair, and he reaches out to grip you gently by the chin and pull you closer into a kiss. 
“We should go public,” he says, as your lips part. 
Yes, but you’re not ready yet. A year has passed and things have settled into place but part of you wants to keep this, whatever you and Katsuki are creating in your hearts, the art of your relationship, to yourself first. 
“Soon.”
He pouts which makes you smile, and then his hand catches yours in his hair then pulls it to his mouth, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. 
“Okay.” He won’t press you on it, and you’re thankful for that. 
“Suzume told me to remind you, you have another program tomorrow at 4.”
He grimaces again and you gently tap his forehead.
“She only messages me because you don’t text back,” you add. He sighs.
“Annoying.”
“All you have to do is listen,” you reply. He shrugs, then rises to a sitting position. You lay against his back for a moment before he turns and adjusts you so that you rest on his shoulder.
“Everything okay?” he asks. The gentleness in his voice soothes you, draws you into slumber. It’s late.
“We should take a painting class,” you suggest as he picks up on your cue and carries you to your bed.
“I’ll fit it into my schedule,” he offers, laying you down. You wrap your arms around his shoulders before he can escape, pulling him back into a kiss.
His eyelids lower, and both of you continue to do something with your hands - rather, your whole bodies.
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sun-snatcher · 3 months
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YOUR MEDIC!READER X JET HAS BREATHED LIFE INTO ME. MAKE THEM HOLD HANDS. I BEG. THE PINING IS INSANE. The atla jet fandom is DRY so you're doing god's work out here 😭 😭 (Or anything tbh! I'm absolutely in love with your writing 😭❤️)
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🌾 ・ HAND IN LOVING HAND
summ. Jet comes into a dawning realisation. It starts with a mission gone wrong. pairing. Jet x f!medic!reader w.count. 0.7k ( just a blurb! ) a/n. Ask and you shall receive! I’m so glad you love medic!reader as much as I do!
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He figures, later, that it might have started with Operation: Creeping Cricket. 
Courtesy to Smellerbee for the unique mission name, ofcourse. 
That had involved, to date: A handful of Freedom Fighters itching for a fight, an imprisoned pair of orphan twins they’d planned to break out, a couple of dumb Fire Nation spies, and the leaky walls they called the borders of Omashu. 
Except, ofcourse, it wouldn’t be a mission without a series of unfortunate events, of which occurred: a storm that changed Sneers’ accurately-predicted course of said Fire Nation spies, which meant their little hostages that they’d come to rescue would be headed down a different path, which also meant their traps lining on the trail towards the borders of Omashu— that The Duke had spent a frustratingly long amount of time setting up— would be rendered useless.
They settled on a brute force ambush instead, much to your disdain; you were, after all, a better healer than you were a fighter.
“This was a terrible—!” You pause to dodge a burst of white hot flames from a Fire Nation soldier. The rain is quick to dampen their efforts, luckily for you. “This was a terrible plan, Jet!”
He strains to hear you underneath the torrent. “Don’t blame me, Pipsqueak started it! Duck!”
You duck. Another spy crumples behind you, thanks to the swing of Jet’s tiger blades, and as the soldier lands on the ground— that’s when you notice it; the quaking rumble of earth, the jumping of stones.
Earth Kingdom Guards have caught wind.
In the distance, Longshot produces a birdcall from high above— shrill and piercing, one that’s rarely ever been used amongst the rebellion— a warning. Retreat. The Freedom Fighters are outnumbered. Scatter. 
The ground erupts beneath you, and you scream. You practically sweep Jet off his feet as you snatch his hand and take off to higher ground to avoid the rising tempest. Hot on your heels, both of you can feel the snap and crackle of roots tearing deep underneath as the kingdom guards begin their manhunt. 
“Quick!” you urge, as he trips over his footing. You glance at him over your shoulder, giving him a squeeze in your intertwined fingers as you check, “Hey, you hurt?”
“I— uh, no,” he stumbles, for some reason. Nothing but superficial cuts and bruises, anyway. He’ll live. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
It could’ve been minutes or an hour of just running, he isn’t quite sure— he’s too busy noting how your hands fit awfully perfect against his, and how despite the rain and muck, you still managed to look... collected. (Collected, he thinks, because he refused to admit anything unforgivably romantic.) Jet lets himself be led across the maze of woodland and grass, and catches himself wondering whether the hand holding had been a conscious move at all.
At the time, he’d decided it didn’t matter. 
It shouldn’t, Jet had reasoned to himself, as you tugged him underneath an overhang and into a hidden crevice. Beyond the roguish charm and borderline flirtatious jokes he liked to play at— both of you were, at the end of the day, amidst an unending war. You were the Rebellions’ resident medic, and he was their token leader. There was no time to entertain fairytales and pipedreams.
“I think we lost them,” you pant, peeking over. “Do you think the others are okay?”
Jet looks at you, fights back the urge to tuck the rain-wet strands of your hair behind your ear so he can see your face better; how the light hits your profile and sets your eyes alight, down to the tip of your nose, and to your mud-stained cheeks. Collected. Capable, he reminds himself. Not pretty. Not pretty. Not—
“What’s wrong?” you ask, when you’d caught his gaze. “Jet?”
“Ah. Uh, nothing,” he blinks away— too fast; too quick to hide the obvious lie. “The others can handle themselves. Let’s, let’s wait for the storm to pass.”
This is simply camaraderie, he’d convinced himself, and stifled down the barb of disappointment that crept in him when you were the first to finally let go.
Right?
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holylulusworld · 14 days
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Every Breath You take (1)
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Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.
Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Bucky x Alpine (platonic)
Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, bitchy boss, secret admirer trope, voyeurism
A/N: We start slowly to get to know them and their backstory. In this part, we will get to know Y/N better.
A/N2: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader
Catch up here: Every breath you take (Prologue)
Every Breath You Take Masterlist
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You’re chewing on your lower lip, humming at something your boss said. He’s boring as hell and so demanding. With his hands on his hips, he glares at your lunch as if he wants to turn it to ashes.
All you want to do is tell him to leave you alone during lunch break. You’re just too polite and nice to do so. 
He can bug you during work time, but not in the precious moments you use to catch up on the latest gossip on your phone. 
You were about to read about an affair Tony Stark had with an intern. Fake news, you’re fairly sure, but it’s still entertaining reading all the furious and stupid comments.
“Sure,” you nod and make a mental note, hopefully not forgetting about his next demand before you reach your desk to write it down. “Right after my lunch break.” You point out and give him a fake smile.
“You better hurry,” he snaps at you and storms off. “If not, you can look for a new job.”
He cannot fire you per se. Your boss is not as important as he thinks he is. One word to the HR and he can kiss his ass goodbye.
You’re just indifferent when it comes to your boss and his antics. You prefer to ignore his sometimes nasty comments.
The world is cold and unfriendly enough. You don’t want to be the kind of person adding more hatred to this world.
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Bucky aimlessly strolls through the streets. He prepared everything for tonight, and now he’s a little lost because you are still at work.
It became his obsession to make sure you came home safely. He’d kill the time, window shopping or imagining how’d feel to hold your hand.
Time. Bucky needs more time to prepare himself to meet you for real. 
He wants your first date to be perfect. Therefore, he must watch you a little longer to get to know you better. – At least that’s how he justifies he’s following you like a shadow for the better of three weeks.
Bucky stops in front of your favorite bookstore, he looks out the window, wondering if he should buy you a book and gift it to you this week, or wait a little longer. 
He shakes his head. No. Bucky will start with the usual gift. Flowers. He saw you carry flowers inside your apartment over the last weeks more than once.
You love flowers, and he will find out which ones you love the most. Bucky doesn’t want to gift you the wrong flowers and disappoint you.
He already has a plan. According to your schedule – which he knows by heart – you will go to the little café close to your home. The perfect opportunity to sneak inside your apartment and get to know you even better.
Bucky will take any chance to make you see he’s more than his bad reputation. To the people out there he’s still the Winter Soldier. He doesn’t want you to think the same about him.
All he wants is to keep you safe and happy. Bucky’s new mission is the most important one he ever had. 
For today, he will wait patiently to follow you home, making sure you’re safe. There are many dangerous people out there, wanting to hurt or take advantage of a lovely person like you.
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“Phew, home sweet home,” you sigh and plop down onto your sofa. You’re tired, and hungry and would kill to have someone to massage your shoulders. “What a shitty day.”
You hate to get back up, but you need a shower and search your fridge to find anything eatable. Your boss made sure you were working overtime, and you didn’t have the energy left to buy groceries.
Slowly getting back up, you sigh. You’d love to fall asleep right here on the couch, but it won’t do you any good.
Instead of sleeping, you walk out of the living room to have a shower. There’s still enough time left to watch your favorite show and eat leftovers from your fridge.
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“She looks tired,” Bucky worriedly watches you with his binoculars when you walk back inside your living room. You yawn and rub your tired eyes. “She’s wearing cute pajamas, Alpine.”
Your secret admirer swoons. “Isn’t our girl beautiful?” He dips his head to look at Alpine sitting on his lap. The white cat meows and rubs his cheek into Bucky’s shirt. “She’ll be such a good mommy for you.”
Bucky pats Alpine’s head, gently murmuring the cat’s name. Alpine is his only companion, and he wants the cat to love you too.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers while lifting the binoculars to his eyes again, “she’s a wonderful and kind person. Y/N will love you too.”
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Bucky inhales deeply as he presses your shirt to his nose. He’d love to take it with him, but for now, the top and panties he found under your bed must do. Bucky cannot risk taking more of your things right now.
In due time, he will take more of your things to bring them to the house he plans to buy for you and him. He’s already ahead of his plans, but Bucky never felt like this again. Not since Hydra turned him into a monster everyone still fears.
“Soon,” he hums and walks around your bedroom. Bucky takes his time, and even risks lying in your bed for a moment. He sniffs at your pillow, inhaling your scent deeply. 
Bucky sighs. He can’t risk leaving his scent on your sheets and must slip out of your bed too soon for his liking.
Time. He needs more time. Bucky tells himself all over again. He cannot risk scaring you off, or that you’ll be afraid of him.
He’s a protector, not a villain.
Bucky slowly walks out of your bedroom and inside your bathroom. He wants to know more about the products you like, and maybe sniff at your perfume too.
You’re still at work, and he has all the time in the world before he will pick you up from work and bring you home. In his mind. – He cannot turn up at your workplace and offer you a ride home. Not yet.
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Bucky lurks around the corner to watch you walk out of the building. You’re angrily wiping your eyes and even cussing. Something you never did before.
“Who hurt you, doll?” He asks himself, and the person delivers the answer on a silver plate.
Your boss storms after you, calling you a dumb bimbo while throwing a tantrum like a man-child. 
Bucky squares his jaw. He clenches and unclenches his metal fist, ready to beat your boss into a bloody pulp.
No—not now. Not here. He will bring you home first and come back. Bucky will avenge you, and make sure your boss will never dare to raise his voice around you again.
Every Breath You Take (2)
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Tags in reblog.
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