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norrisleclercf1 · 6 months

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hi an lando x reader please where he always pretends to propose but never really does and some day he really does❤️

A/N: He's a little shit who'd totally do this, but also I think he'd do this to trick you for when he does the actually one.

'23 British GP

You couldn't help but jump up and down as Lando approaches you. "Oh my god!" You cried, running towards him.

Lando laughs happily and drops his stuff, thankful that Jon is carrying the trophy. Jumping forward, Lando happily takes you into his arms. "Oh, so proud of you." You whisper, not caring your shirt is soaked in champagne.

Lando sets you down and pulls back. He couldn't find the words to convey the emotions running rampant in his head and chest. "Lando, just," You take a breath and he smirks, getting a brilliant idea.

"Y/n," He move getting down on one knee, a small scream leaves your lips as you try to wrap your brain around what he was about to do. "Will you," "Wait!" You cry shaking your head and his smile drops. "I was going to ask if you could help me carry my stuff." He stands back up holding out his helmet.

"Oh," You yank the helmet out of his hands and cradle it to your chest. "What? Did you think," "No," You snap and rush off towards the back as he smirks and follows after you.

'23 Hungarian GP

It was a gentle but romantic night walking around the gorgeous city of Budapest. It was your 3 year anniversary, Lando dressed nicely in an all black outfit with you wearing a matching dress but with one of Lando's jackets on you.

"Budapest is pretty," You whisper, resting your head on his shoulder that has him kissing your temple. "I prefer staring at you," Wrinkling your nose he laughs seeing your reaction.

"It's been 3 years," He admits, crazy how much time has passed between the two of you. "Mhm," Cuddling closer to him, Lando stops and stares at you. Turning you raise an eyebrow, confused as to why he stopped. "You know I love you right?" Lando steps back and gets down on one knee.

Covering your mouth, you try hard not to cry as he stares up at you. "I love you," You gasp, standing up straight now and he leans over and fixes the shoelace of his dress shoe and stands right back up.

"Good, let's get to our reservation." He tries hard not to laugh at your deadpan face as he leads you to the restaurant.

'23 Singapore GP

You knew how special this podium was to him. Not only did he fight like hell to keep the Mercedes back, but he also got a podium with one of his best friends and old teammate. Something they used to talk about all the time.

Carlos noticing you, runs over and hugs you tightly, kissing your cheek as the McLaren crew slaps his shoulders and screams loudly. "Lando, behind me!" He yells and soon turns hugging Charles.

"Lando!" The crew yells and your boyfriend run over but stops seeing Carlos. They both hold their arms out before hugging one another. Laughing you watch as his eyes connect with yours.

Letting Carlos go, he runs over telling Adam he got another podium before ripping his helmet off and pulls you in for a kiss. "Marry me!" He yells, but you can't hear anything over the Ferrari and McLaren crew. "What?" Lando's smile grows as he leans in. "I said, I love you." Pulling back as he gets pulled away for the post race interview.

Winter Break

Your friends were over hearing about Lando's joking proposals and how you really did want a real one. It was bugging you, hating how he was taking it as a joke when you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together.

Sigh, you tap your foot as you let the elevator take you up to Lando and yours shared apartment. Lando and you were getting ready to go skiing with some friends, so you were coming back from shopping.

The doors ding open and you head to the front door. "Babe, home." You call and haul your bags through the door. "Lando?" You call, getting annoyed when he doesn't answer you.

"Lando!" You yell, and drop your bags and turn, freezing. Lando was surrounded by candles and rose petals as he was down on one knee holding a ring. "Lando," You choke on your words covering your mouth.

"I know you've thought the last 3 times were for real, but this time it is. I kept thinking what you would want when this came time for it. And I realized that, it just being the two of us and small gesture would be perfect, so," Lando takes a deep breath.

"Y/n L/n, will you marry me?" You don't even pay attention to the ring as you fling yourself into his arms crying as you nod your head in agreement. "Yes, fuck yes." Lando laughs and places the ring down as he holds you close.

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chalametluvrz · 3 months

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dating timothee chalamet

timothee x afab!reader (mainly gn! expect on nsfw bits)

towards the start of the relationship, i think he'd be pretty anxious

he'd often find himself messing around with his hands a lot on dates

or stumbling over his words a little too much with a small giggle

if you've ever seen old interviews of him when he was younger. you know the ones where he gets all shy and giggly? that's exactly how i envision him to be with you

after some time, that's slowly replaced with his hyperactive ass

and let me tell you, boy never shuts the fuck up that's not a bad thing

because of his schedule, he rarely gets to see you in person

so whenever he does, he just has so much to tell you and so much to talk about that he just ends up coming out with a cluster-fuck of words

he always tries to facetime you at least a couple times a week

and let me tell you, the call will always start with him saying 'oh, i missed your pretty face' or 'seeing you has made my day'

boy is madly in love

and even though he hasn't said it yet, it's fairly obvious he's not hiding anything

he's the kind of person to want to keep your relationship on the down low

because if you're also famous, he wouldn't want to cause any issues or drama through tabloids

and if you aren't, he'd feel awful dragging you into the world of hollywood

eventually though, as most celeb relationships do, you got found out

someone caught you out on your 6 months anniversary

and that was it; twitter was going mental

timothee soon figured out that he probably had to say something

but honestly, he was kind of relieved he didn't have to hide you anymore

the morning you two woke up and saw yourselves going viral on twitter, there was a bit of a mad scramble between the two of you

before eventually, timothee chilled out

'but now i don't need to hide we're together, anymore. i can let the world know you're mine.' he'd say to your confusion at his relaxed state

cute but also now all of timmy's fans are stalking your instagram

cooking meals together!!!

i have a feeling timothee's love languages are more tailored towards physical touch and acts of service tell me im wrong

so cooking together is such a beautiful thing for him

as much as timothee loves taking you out, i think he'd much prefer to cook a fancy pasta dish together with wine over that any day

he also strikes me as a cosy movie date guy

but honestly, it more than likely turns into something else

don't fight me on his, he's a horny guy

like bro would get a hard-on just snuggling with you

when you first started dating, he'd get all shy about it

he'd apologise frantically and his face would be redder than ever

after dating for some time, he'd be less phased

unless you showed and expressed discomfort with it of course

after the shock of you dating slowly weaved out of the fans

timothee would definitely start posting you on his instagram

he just needed the world to know how obsessed he is with you

arguments are rare

extremely rare

they usually only happen when timothee is stressed

feelings get heated and you end up making some snippy comments at each other before one of you gets up and leaves the room

after you've both had time to cool down, you're both mature enough to talk it out and apologise for whatever each of you or one of you has done

communication is a big thing for timmy, so i think arguments are heavily avoided because he encourages you to come to him about anything

any concerns, rants and problems you have, he wants to know

he's a flirter, let me tell you that thankfully not with others

always dazzling you with compliments

you're in the crowd at a press tour? he's staring, smirking and winking at you the whole time

you're supporting him whilst he's on set? the man can't take his eyes off you and is coming to hold you the second the shot is taken

you're on facetime? every odd sentence is him saying some suggestive comment or simply how stunning you are

the man cannot get enough of you

going back to the horny thing...

he has a high sex drive

there's absolutely no doubt about it

he is a giver!!! the man aims to please!!!

could eat you out for days

i've already made a headcanon about him eating you out so i will be brief BUT!!!

he's messy!!! the wetter the better!!!

will overstimulate you with hid tongue any day

and then make sure you cum on his cock as well

you know what they say about tall, skinny boys? wink wink

i'd say he's a good 7 inches, 7 1/2 at a push

he knows how to please you, and he's eager to learn what makes you tick

even though he's mainly a dom, i can see him being a sub at times

only on rare assurances though

being his date to things like the met gala, oscars etc

after being open about your relationship, he couldn't wait to take you everywhere and anywhere with him

loves it when you wear his clothes

but i feel like all boys do?

especially when he's away, opening up a facetime call to see you sat there in one of his t-shirts. he actually thinks his heart might implode.

this boy will actually love you with his whole heart

the cutest, softest and proudest boyfriend around fr

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet headcanon #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet scenario #timothee chalamet drabble #laurie laurence #paul atreides #willy wonka #lee bones and all #little women #dune #wonka #headcanons #imagine #smut #drabble

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beskarandblasters · 1 month

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Illicit Affairs

Part One of Time, Wondrous Time

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist | AO3

Series summary: You’re California Crest Studios’ newest production assistant, getting the opportunity to work on the hit movie, The Man From Deadhorse. But when you meet the movie’s lead, Cooper Howard, you fall head-first into a secret affair. Enter a war, a cryogenic freezer, and a two-hundred-year time jump. And yet despite all that, you just might run into him again.

Chapter summary: The fateful night where it all starts with Cooper Howard.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: unspecified age gap, infidelity, reader is able-bodied and wears a skirt, workplace romance, secret mutual pining, fingering, one pussy slap, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, pet names (sweetheart), no use of y/n

A new beginning. A foot in the door in the industry you’ve been dying to get into– Hollywood. You’re California Crest Studios' newest production assistant and you get to work on the upcoming movie, The Man From Deadhorse. Although you’re not typically a fan of Westerns, you’re grateful for any experience you can get.

You’re hiding in the bathroom, killing time until production starts after getting to the studio rather early; LA traffic is unpredictable and your anxiety got the best of you this morning. You make sure your makeup is perfect and smooth down your skirt before walking to the soundstage. California Crest Studios is huge. It’s going to take forever to get used to not only the layout but also the hustle and bustle of a living, breathing set.

The soundstage is overwhelming to put it plainly. Everyone’s talking in pockets of well-established groups and you feel like an outsider looking in, trying desperately to look like you belong here. You search the room for a familiar face but there are so many people around it’s overwhelming. You met the director, Emil, at your interview but other than him, everyone here is a stranger.

Are you supposed to interrupt a conversation and ask what you’re supposed to do? Are you supposed to wait until you’re addressed? Are you supposed to–

“First day on set?”

You look to your left and find a man, stunning you with his bright smile. One look at his attire tells you he’s in costume, donning a blue shirt with gold fringe. He must be an extra or something. Whoever he is, you can’t deny that he’s devilishly handsome, could even be considered leading man type of handsome.

“That obvious, huh?”

He chuckles, placing his hands on his hips. “You’ll get the hang of it. Are you one of Emil’s new assistants?”

“I am,” you sigh, “I’m not sure where he is, though.”

“I’ll go find him for you,” he smiles, walking away before you can protest. Fuck, you’re not trying to bring any unnecessary attention to yourself. Not on your first day.

The man disappears within the pocket of people and eventually returns with Emil. He greets you with a smile and says, “Welcome to your first day on set! I see you’ve met Cooper, our leading man.”

He continues to talk but it turns into white noise. Your mind is too focused on the words: leading man.

You vaguely hear Emil talk about what his expectations of you are, but he finishes with “For now you can just go to the studio’s cafe and get us coffee.”

Sigh. Comes with the territory you suppose.

He goes to grab you a pen and paper, leaving you alone with Cooper. You awkwardly shift your weight between your feet, wanting desperately to make conversation with him but fearing that you’ll just annoy him.

“Don’t be so nervous,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“I never caught your name.”

You introduce yourself and he does the same, adding, “But I suppose Emil already did that for me.”

He chuckles and extends his hand out, you shake his hand and determine he has a nice firm handshake. The kind where you can just tell he’s a confident man.

Emil returns with a pad and a pen and immediately starts shooting off coffee orders for him and some of the other people on set.

“By the end of this week, you won’t need to jot these down. You’ll have them all memorized.”

“Is that a challenge?” you ask playfully.

He laughs and says, “Sounds like you’ll fit in here,” before walking back into the set.

You turn towards Cooper and ask, “And what about you, Mr. Howard?” ready to take down his order.

“Please, Miss, call me Cooper. I’ll just have a black coffee.”

“You got it, Cooper,” you smile before familiarizing yourself with the set and crew, taking down everyone’s coffee orders before heading to the studio cafe.

You walk back to the soundstage with a large paper bag in hand, walking extra carefully to ensure the copious cups of coffee don’t spill. It’s already been an eventful morning but your mind keeps circling back to Cooper Howard. The first person you met on set, the first person to show you an act of kindness. You’re practically swooning over him.

A small part of you wants to believe that he was flirting with you. But you quickly push that out of your mind. He’s an actor. He’s naturally charismatic. And besides, he wouldn’t want anything to do with a production assistant for fuck’s sake.

You pass out everyone’s coffee back at the soundstage, surprised by just how nice most of the crew are. Of course, some people couldn’t be bothered to give you the time of day. To them, you’re someone who’s at the bottom of the barrel, someone they don’t have to treat with respect.

As for Cooper… God, he knows how to make you feel special, graciously accepting his coffee and thanking you up and down. But quickly enough it’s time to shoot and you’re tasked with making sure no one accidentally walks into the shot. It seems easy enough. For the most part, you just watch Cooper act and find yourself captivated by him. You’re not typically into Westerns but he has such a commanding aura about him that’s impossible to ignore.

After a few hours, the crew breaks for lunch. You learn lunch is catered most days which is nice. But now you’re in the first-day predicament where you must decide if you’re going to eat alone or encroach on an already established group.

You sit on the concrete with your legs straight out in front of you, eating the lunch you packed. All around you groups of people socialize and chatter. You can only hope that one day you’ll have your own group like this on set. As you’re about to take a bite of your sandwich, a voice above you asks, “Need a lunch buddy?”

You can tell just by his voice that it’s Cooper. But you can’t help but wonder… Why does he want to have lunch with you?

Doesn’t he have friends? Or even… a girlfriend? A wife?

“Sure,” you smile, scooching over so he can sit next to you.

“How’s your first day going so far?”

“Not bad. I’m sure I’ll get the flow of everything soon.”

“You’ll be a natural in no time. I’m sure of it.”

“Thanks,” you respond, starting to soften up. “What about you? How long have you been an actor?”

“Quite a while now. But I wasn’t always an actor. I was in the Marines before.”

You thank him for your service and it falls silent between you two. You assume this is where the conversation ends but to your surprise, he says, “Enough about me. Tell me about yourself.”

You share more details of your background, telling him things that range from where you went to college, what your family’s like, and where you grew up. He listens with such care and respect, occasionally nodding along. You didn’t expect to make any friends on your first day, let alone with the leading man. And yet here he is, listening to your stories as if you’re the most interesting person in the world.

Except it’s ripped away from you too soon.

Just as the conversation hits a lull again, someone catches his attention. He gets up and walks away, to a beautiful woman standing by the food table. Your heart sinks. You knew it was too good to be true.

Hang on. She could be a studio executive. She could be a coworker, a fellow actress even.

But the way he kisses and pulls her close tells you otherwise. You watch them interact, hopefully in a way that’s not painfully obvious as you finish your lunch. He caresses her face, listening to her talk in a way that reminds you of how he listened to you. You should’ve known better. He’s just naturally charismatic. He’s an actor for crying out loud. It was staring you right in the face.

They kiss goodbye and part ways. You look away and pretend to pack up your lunch. He stands before you and says, “Sorry, that was my wife. I should’ve introduced you two. That was rude of me.”

“No worries,” you smile.

He offers you his hand and helps you up, smiling at you again as he says, “Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

You nod and notice he’s still holding your hand. He squeezes it before he lets go, making your stomach do a flip. God, he gives you whiplash.

The workday wraps up rather uneventfully. And you’re left feeling exhausted, wondering how long it’ll take your body to get used to this new schedule.

Before you leave for the day Cooper places a hand on your shoulder; he’s out of costume, wearing a white t-shirt that’s a little too tight around his biceps, with his jacket slung over his shoulder.

He looks you in the eye, telling you, “Good job today. Glad to have you on board.” He smiles at you again and tells you good night before walking to his car and driving off.

You sit in your car and mentally talk yourself down, reminding yourself that he probably just does this with all the new hires, that he’s just a nice guy. But most importantly, he’s married. He’s off-limits. And before lunches together become a regular thing, you’re going to stop it while you can.

You’re going to try your hardest to not fall for Cooper Howard.

It’s the end of your first workweek and lunches alone have already proved to be a failure. Every time you tried to sneak away to your car or the studio cafe, Cooper would catch you and ask, “Mind if I join you?”

How could you ever try to say no to him? How could you ever deny yourself alone time with him? Your gut would swirl with guilt. But you never understood why. The act of getting lunch together is inherently innocent. You know he views it that way. But why can’t you? Until Friday night when you finally place your finger on why…

It’s because the more he opens up, the more you learn about him, you can’t help but fall for him harder. He told you about his childhood, his time in the Marines, how he was honorably discharged, and most importantly, his daughter.

If he wasn’t already off-limits before, he most certainly is now.

You spend your weekend thinking about him whenever your mind is idle. You’re treading into dangerous waters now. This is more than a silly workplace crush. This is full-on infatuation now. When you’re alone in bed, your hand slips down your pants, teasing your entrance as you close your eyes, picturing that Cooper’s above you, playing with your body. The fantasies are dangerous, feeling entirely too real. Even though you don’t know what it’s like to be pleasured by him, your imagination runs wild. You moan his name, thankful that you live alone for once. But once the self-induced orgasm subsides you’re left with guilt. And you’re conflicted about that guilt. You’re picturing these things that have never happened, that will never happen. What’s the harm in that? And yet, your kind keeps circling back to the unfortunate reality; he’s married. The guilt doesn’t seem to go away.

Sunday night rolls around and as you go to bed, you remind yourself that you need to be better about distancing yourself. Hopefully, you’ll listen for once.

No lunch together on Monday.

The same goes for Tuesday.

You managed to get to your car in time on Wednesday.

The week is just about halfway over and you’d consider it a success.

But as you walk to your car on this warm night, he catches you off guard.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you respond, startled a bit.

“I don’t mean to bother you but I can’t help but wonder… Did I do something wrong?”

You glance at your surroundings, trying to gauge who’s near before you speak. He picks up on your nervousness and says, “We can talk somewhere private if that’s easier.”

“Sure,” you choke out, feeling the adrenaline already start to course through your body.

You awkwardly walk side by side to his trailer, both of you stiff as a board. Thankfully, most if not everyone has gone home for the night. But you can’t help but wonder if there’s someone around catching a glimpse at the star Cooper Howard, inviting a young production assistant to his trailer.

It isn’t until you’re behind closed doors do you actually relax, but not by much. He sits you down on the sofa in his trailer, telling you to take your time as you awkwardly twiddle your thumbs.

“You didn’t… do anything to upset me.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” he sighs. “But it doesn’t explain why you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“I…” you trail off. “It was to get my feelings to go away.”

God, you can’t believe you just said that.

“...Feelings?”

You put your head in your hands and feel your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment. That was a terrible idea. Your job that’s barely two weeks old flashes before your eyes. You picture him telling his wife, laughing about the silly girl who thought she could take her man.

He places a hand on your back, rubbing it softly and catching you off guard.

“Someone’s got a little crush, huh?”

“I know. I know. It’s embarrassing,” you sigh, trying your hardest not to cry.

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart. Can I tell you a secret?”

You barely heard what he said after sweetheart. Your ears are ringing with white noise but you can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet. He leans in close, whispering in your ear, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a crush, too.”

“Oh yeah?” you scoff. “And who might that be?”

“I’ll give you a hint. She’s sittin’ in my trailer right now.”

You look at him with a bewildered expression on your face and say, “You’re joking.”

His face is impossibly close to yours.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, sweetheart.”

“But-”

You’re cut off with a kiss, warm and inviting. It tastes like the cinnamon gum you noticed that he chews after each meal. You’re startled at first before you melt into the kiss. His hands envelop your face, keeping you close. But it’s not close enough. You want more. You need more.

You move into his lap, straddling him and being sure to never break the kiss. His hands move from your face to your waist, holding onto you for dear life. You roll your hips into him and feel a bulge grow in his pants. You can’t believe your mind. You weren’t imagining it. There was something there all along.

It doesn’t take long for his hands to migrate to your skirt, lifting it before he squeezes your ass, moaning into the kiss before pulling away and cursing under his breath.

“Underwear off. Now,” he commands.

You happily oblige, pulling yourself off him to remove your underwear before you straddle him again. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them before playing with your entrance. You lean forward to kiss him again but he stops you, grabbing your chin with his other hand.

“Not so fast. Tell me, when did this crush start?”

“The day we met,” you say in between labored breaths as he teases you.

“Oh yeah? What was going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“Well, at first I thought you were an extra,” you smirk.

“You did not,” he says.

“Oh yes, I did.”

“Guess I went from some extra to the man you can’t seem to forget about real quick, huh?” he says.

But before you can answer he slaps your pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

“Stop teasing me already,” you plead.

“Are you whining?”

“Fuck… Yes.”

“Naughty girl.”

He finally gives in, plunging one finger inside of your already dripping cunt. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“So wet for me already,” he teases, curling his finger against your walls.

You place your hands on his shoulders as you roll your hips into him. He watches the physical evidence of your pleasure– your slack jaw, your wide eyes, your chest rising and falling, your cute gasps and moans. All thanks to him.

He adds a second finger and tells you, “That’s right. Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

You rock your hips back and forth, feeling his fingers push against your g-spot. Your pleasure comes to a head, the floodgates threaten to burst. He can sense it, too, the way your walls tense up around his fingers.

“Gonna cum?”

“Mhm,” you choke out.

“Let me feel it,” he commands.

With one last movement of your hips, you cum around his fingers. Your moans fill his trailer but you do your best to bite them back, unsure of who’s lurking outside. Your wetness seeps out of you and runs down his hand, coating your inner thighs in the process. His pupils are wide, looking at you with all of the lust in the world.

When you’re done coming down from your high, he coaxes you down on your back, thighs spread wide apart. He can’t get his cock out of his pants fast enough, hovering over you as he spreads your wetness on it with a few strokes.

“Such a good girl for me,” he praises, leaning down and pressing kisses along your jawline. All you can do is moan in response, aching for his cock to be inside you already. He slowly thrusts himself inside you and you grip onto his shirt for purchase. A deep moan gets caught in your throat, coming out as a choked-up sob as he draws his hips back and slams into you. He trails kisses from your jawline to your earlobe and down your neck while he repeatedly slams in and out of you.

“Takin’ my cock like such an angel,” he mutters, nipping at your skin.

Your second orgasm of the night is imminent, teetering on the edge as his cock hits the most perfect angles inside you. He props himself up on his hand, placing them by either side of your hand. He wants to watch your face as you cum on his cock. And when you do it nearly pulls his own orgasm from him, feeling your warmth clench and release his cock. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes due to the intense high you’re feeling. He watches as the pretty little moans slip past your lips.

He pulls out and rests on the back of his heels, letting his cum coat your stomach. He cums with a deep groan, sweat glistening on his forehead. The only sound in the trailer is your labored breaths, both of you coming down from your respective highs. He leans forward and grabs a box of tissues on the side table and cleans up the mess he just made before putting his cock away.

You reach for your underwear and stand up with shaky legs, looking at him as if you’re unsure if you should stay or go because the truth is, you don’t know what to do. At all.

“Should I…?”

He pats on the couch and says, “You don’t have to go just yet.”

You smooth down your skirt and notice a cum stain he left and suddenly feel sick to your stomach. You gingerly sit beside him, keeping your posture tight and controlled as he looks at you. He notices it right away.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine. Just intimidated I guess?”

“You can’t possibly be intimidated by me after that,” he chuckles. But then he adds, “Here, let me try to calm you down. Do you want to know what I thought of you when I first saw you?”

You turn towards him and say, “Sure.”

“I thought you were absolutely beautiful. Still do.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. But I also thought you seemed nervous.”

“I was.”

“But then I thought… What is she doing paying attention to me?”

“I could say the same for you,” you smile.

He leans in closer and kisses you again, hands enveloping your face once more. His breath is warm and his skin is slick with sweat. But you also realize… he smells like you and you wonder how he’s going to explain that to his wife.

He pulls away and glances at the clock on the wall.

“We should probably go. Gotta be here early tomorrow.”

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Should we go separately?”

“No need. There’s no one here this late.”

“You do this often?” you joke.

“No. Never,” he says nervously.

He opens the door and starts leading you back to the parking lot. He was right. The studio’s dead at this hour. The tension hangs heavy in the air and an awkward silence falls between you two.

“You know… I’m not going to tell anyone,” you say, not looking at him.

“Thank you,” he says in a small voice.

Once you’re back at your car, you can’t help but ask him, “So… What are you going to tell her?”

“I’ll just tell her a shoot ran late. It happens here and there.”

“Okay,” you nod, starting to get in your car. You secretly hope he’ll kiss you good night but in your heart, you know he won’t.

And you were right. He doesn’t.

“Good night,” he whispers.

“Good night,” you whisper back before he walks back to his car.

While you’re left alone, reeling from what just happened. A strange feeling swirls around inside you. But you’re not quite sure if it’s a sense of achievement or regret.

Part two

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Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

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#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x f!reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x f!reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #the ghoul fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #fallout series #fallout fanfiction #time wondrous time

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terrythemerry · 6 months

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I just watched Wish (2023) and it made me realize something kind of sad about Disney’s treatment of villains.

So Disney has a long history of villainy from the OG Evil Queen who is willing to murder a girl just for being pretty to the misguided like Auto thinking he’s protecting humanity in Wall-E. They are mean, jealous, prideful, vain, and many relish in just being the worst of the worst. However every now and then we get a glimpse of more complexity. Zootopia’s Bellwether dealing with years of racism and mistreatment, Gantu trying to stop what he thinks is a monster in Lilo and Stitch, Up’s Muntz being a heroic explorer before paranoia consumed him, etc. The thing that makes me sad about these villains is that not one of them has ever had a chance at redemption or change in Disney’s eyes and nowhere is that sadder to me than their latest villain, King Magnifico.

(Spoilers below)

King Magnifico is the magical founder of a utopian society that accepts people of all races, religions, and backgrounds. Who created this wonderful place after what is heavily implied to be a violent invasion destroyed his homeland when he was but a child. This past trauma led him to study magic and become a powerful sorcerer so that nothing could hurt him or the people he cared about ever again. His magic is a protection that he extends to all who choose to live in the city. The city is vibrant with a colorful community full of artisans, musicians, and dancers. He takes no taxes from them, but does take their one true wish upon joining this society.

When given these wishes it is understood that he will ensure their safety and possibly grant them one day. Something important to note about the physical manifestations of the wishes is that they give off a warm and comforting aura as they represent some of the purest parts of a person’s soul. Magnifico has been surrounding himself with this magical comfort for a very very long time by himself and I don’t think it’s unfair to say he has become addicted to their presence. The wishes are giving him a magical comfort through the kind souls within them, a feeling he could’ve probably also gotten if he had spent more time with his people.

It doesn’t look like he ever really got the chance to commune with his people properly because somehow the society kicked off on his wish granting abilities. People had to give him their wishes if they wanted them granted and eventually the ones that he couldn’t grant in good conscience or out of fear started adding up so he began locking them away. Keeping them safe so no harm came to the people. The rare occasions that anyone else interacts with these wishes is during wish granting ceremonies that the people are borderline rabid for. With good reason, it is their souls they’re thirsting for after all even if they don’t really know it.

However, Magnifico clearly doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as he’s given these people a wonderful safe haven from the horrors of the outside world where they can be whoever they want to be, do what they want to do, make what they want to make, and still all they see in him is a tool to fastpass to something else they want even more than the peace he’s given them.

This is clearly shown early on, before any of his evil behavior starts to take root, in relation to his assistants. We get a expo dump after the first song telling us that Asha wants to become one of his assistant to increase the odds of her grandfather’s wish being granted as there is a correlation between past assistants and having wishes granted. Something important here is that there have clearly been many assistants, suggesting that it’s a revolving door position without really explaining why. Who would want to keep finding assistants over and over again, when really you should find someone who could do the job long term right? Well we get to find out the likely reason when Asha steps up for the role.

When Asha comes to interview for his assistant position he sees she is nervous, he tries to calm her down, and he even manages to relate to her through fond memories of her kindly father who he clearly knew. After seeing her true resolve to do good he decides to trust her with something few people in the entire kingdom get to see, the vault of wishes. To which Asha doesn’t even hesitate to ask, after politely being told not to prior, if he’ll grant her grandfather’s wish.

Magnifico is blatantly stricken by her request, sadly remarking that most people at least wait a few months before doing so a.k.a pretend to be interested in helping him rather than trying to use him to grant a wish. This is likely why the assistant job is a revolving door. Magnifico tries to find someone who he thinks will truly and selflessly fulfill the role only to discover time and again that people are just using it to get direct access to him to ask for a wish. Then he can’t trust their true intentions anymore and moves them along.

After Asha makes her request he does take the time to look at her grandfather’s wish but dismisses it as too dangerous because it is the vague desire to inspire the next generation. Clearly we as the audience know that her grandfather means to inspire them to do good, but we have to remember Magnifico has seen the worst of society. He has seen the darkest wishes and desires of mankind and survived them. He brushes Asha off telling her she’s too young to understand, which is honestly true. She’s lived her entire life cloistered in peace and comfort thanks to him and the rules he has made. She has never had to know war, strife, or hardship thanks to him, yet she doubts his decision without understanding the trauma that guides it. This is what I believe pushes Magnifico into his villain arc, something that I don’t think we’ve ever really witnessed in a Disney movie.

Usually a villain already is the villain by the time the film rolls around, even the twist villains. Lotso had already been deliberately sentencing other toys to torture. Prince Hans was already planning to murder his way to a throne. Evelyn was already plotting her revenge. Magnifico wasn’t though. He was the hero. He had saved his wife and a whole city’s worth of people from whatever drove them from the mainlands. He wasn’t physically abusing/mistreating people like Gaston even if he was vainly basking in their adoration.

When Asha pushes him on the wishes he pulls back from her, identifying her in his mind as a threat and treats her as one. He dismisses her and tells her that her family’s wishes will never be granted by him, but he will still keep them safe as he has been doing. Essentially meaning nothing will change for her from what it has been. You know a happy loving existence of complete acceptance and wholesome family life or as Asha interprets it, a fate worse than death.

His interaction with Asha triggers him, as she’s pushed at the flaws in his reasoning for holding onto the wishes. The flaws are true, but his mind is clouded by fear of a lack of control, likely stemming from the horrors he witnessed in his childhood when he had no control. He also likely has a bit of an addiction to the warm fuzzies that the wishes give on top of his fears. While he’s ruminating on that some massive wave of magic blows through the kingdom and messes with the thing he’s already stressed beyond reason about, the wishes.

Magnifico frantically searches for any answer, even considering a dangerous tome of forbidden magic that he knows is trouble before his wife manages to talk him down.

The fact that he could even be talked down rather than ignoring her outright shows that Magnifico does have good in him. He’s just reacting out of a genuine panic. His panic is only worsened by huge mob continuing to beg him for wishes in exchange for doing what should be the selfless act of defending their kingdom from what is essentially perceived as an attack. Not having any faith left in his people he turns back to the evil book to give him the key to stopping this perceived attack.

Just to be clear King Magnifico goes to the big bad evil book not to gain more power for funsies, but to try to find a way to stop a perceived threat. Everything he does from this point on, such as threatening his wife, can no longer be fairly tied to him, because as the movie repeatedly tells us he is under the EVIL book’s influence. His wife even looks through the same book to try and see if there is a way to break the sway she knows it has over him, but says she can’t because the EVIL book said no.

Yada yada yada and Magnifico is sealed inside a magic mirror and smugly told to rot in the dungeon by his previously loving wife.

Seriously?! What the heck?! This guy was the perfect candidate for rehabilitation. He wasn’t flawless, but he wasn’t a murderous psycho like most of the other Disney villains. Disney loves to preach kindness, acceptance, and good will with their heroes, but never does it allow the message of change.

I was shocked going back through the catalogue and slowly realizing none of their villains, regardless of how tragic their origins are, are ever truly allowed a second chance. The hero may offer it, but the baddy never is truly expected to change or reform. Which is honestly super messed up to me. People make mistakes. Some can be small/insignificant, but some are big and do hurt people sometimes. That doesn’t mean they can’t change for the better.

Now I’m not saying every villain is redeemable or good, it’s just a bit surprising that for all the messages of kindness and acceptance we haven’t really gotten forgiveness in 100 years. Seeing the “bad guy’s punishment” just deeply bothered me this time. Probably because so much of the bad that Magnifico does is clearly a trauma response and as a punishment for not acting appropriately to said response he gets sentenced to eternity is magical cell.

#disney wish #wish 2023 #king magnifico #wish magnifico #magnifico x amaya #queen amaya #amaya #wish king magnifico #wish asha #disney villains #100 years of disney

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feyascorner · 2 months

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11 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

Ah. He wonders if you still have those. The last time he saw them, they’d nearly faded. And nowadays, you make it a point to keep your neck tucked under your collar, which leaves everything to his imagination.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. it's been a while! this isn't the longest of chapter but it's to kick my creative juices back into gear :) thank you sm for your patience friends <3

He knows he hasn’t returned your cloak yet. Unfortunately for you, Astarion has taken a special liking to the dull fabric.

Despite its dreary grey shade and the tears from being worn relentlessly, it’s of surprisingly good quality. It’s the only reason it's survived this long, he reasons, and also why the sun can never pierce through its sewing job and burn into his own skin.

When he felt the tadpole leave him, he thought he would never see the sunlit streets of Baldur’s Gate again. But this cloak of yours has brought him a new sense of freedom he hadn’t had before—free of Cazador, free of an unwelcome visitor in his skull, free of the looming fear of death…and most importantly, free of his fear of the sun.

Being “stuck” in your home has given him too much time. Too much aimless staring at a book he’s already read four times over. Moreover, the others have become somewhat accustomed to his presence again…meaning some (Gale, specifically) don’t mind leaving Astarion by himself. And as much as he hates admitting it, Astarion would rather Gale’s incessant lectures rather than the boring silence you leave behind at the break of dawn.

An outing or two couldn’t hurt, surely.

So he embarks. Where to, he doesn’t know. But he leaves the house, making sure to lock the door behind him when he remembers how Shadowheart had scolded you for the mistake of not doing so. It’s not that he’s afraid of the cleric, of course. He’s a damn vampire, for heaven’s sake. He’s only being cautious.

The cloak makes it feel as if he were in an oven, especially with the weather becoming more sunny by the day, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he’s finally standing in the middle of a bustling street, staring unblinkingly while others rush past him, all seemingly having a place to be. A newspaper boy here, a maid there, a circus performer somewhere there. He suddenly feels surrounded by too much life, and it’s not much help when he begins noticing fleeting glances in his direction. Wearing a thick winter cloak in the middle of the summer isn’t exactly common, after all.

“Baldur’s Mouth? They just started printing papers again, if you’d like a peek.”

Astarion glances down at the newspaper boy with squinted eyes, and his voice sounds snarkier than intended—not that he cares. “Who in the hells would pay two silvers for a newspaper that sucked up to Gortash just a few months ago? Does anyone really pay for this abomination?”

The boy frowns, crossing his arms. “If you didn’t want one, you could’ve just said so.”

“Really? Your incessant yelling around the market says otherwise,” Astarion snatches one of the papers, much to the boy’s distaste. He eyes the front cover for a split moment before realizing the very front page has a supposed ‘Exclusive Interview from the Hero of Baldur’s Gate! Never seen before!’

He finds himself reading.

“Mister, if you’re going to read, you have to pay!”

Though Astarion gives him a sharp glare that has the boy swallowing the lump in his throat, he relents, tossing one silver coin in his direction. Not without a click of his tongue, however, and the coin lands in the boy’s palms with a plop. “It’s two silvers.”

“I’m fully aware, don’t worry.”

The Baldur’s Mouth is full of cheap stories, surely paid off by its snotty writer as always, but Astarion acknowledges improvement where it’s due. Gortash’s death must’ve struck some sort of moral chord in the newspaper because a few of its columns are filled with mundane updates on the rebuilding of the city, even if they don’t provide as much entertainment as it surely could’ve if they stretched a few truths. He doesn’t read much into them, though, because he’s soon found himself a corner in Elfsong Tavern where he’s practically boring holes into the damn paper. The cover, specifically.

In his honest opinion, the artist who drew your portrait should be fired, even if he’s no expert in the arts. Your softer features are far too sharp, and your sharper features are far too soft, in what he supposes is an effort to ‘enhance’ your appearance, but now it just looks plain uncanny. They also forgot to take into account the scars of battle on your skin, a part of your hair that he remembers sticking out more, the sheepishness of your smile looking straight at the painter, the two puncture wounds on your neck…

He wonders if you’re ashamed of them as he’s ashamed of the ones on his own neck.

Astarion tears his attention away from your portrait and resumes reading the actual paper.

The questions the interviewer asks are laughable, almost. They’re painfully boring or painfully intrusive, with nothing in between, resulting in awkward short answers or whatever filler the writer put in place of your answer. Half your words, at the very least, must’ve been altered, as they don’t sound much like you.

One question catches his eye.

‘So what does the hero of Baldur’s Gate plan to do after the city is rebuilt?’

Astarion lifts the paper closer to his face.

‘’This city is my home…but I don’t think I could stay here any longer than I have to. I’ve made some precious memories here, but I’ve also made ones that I’d rather move on from. People I want to move on from. For that reason, as much as I love this city, I’d have to embark for elsewhere.’’

His eyes widen. You’re leaving? When the hells did you decide that?

‘Truly a sad day for the citizens to see their beloved bard leaving. Knowing our readers must be curious as to what their next step is, we made sure to discuss more on this matter.’

‘’Where will I go? I mean…I guess I’d just wander. Explore. Faerun is a vast continent. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to do. Plenty of people to meet.’’

Astarion’s gaze reaches the end of the page. The rest of the sentences babble on in flowery language praising you, which he doesn’t even bother reading before shoving the newspaper into one of the pockets of your cloak. He’s not sure if he would’ve preferred simply not reading the damn paper, but he tells himself that this is an improvement. A reason for celebration, even! Without you, he won’t have to tiptoe around the city any longer, nor will you need to worry about having to continue a months-long argument with him.

This is exactly what the two of you need. Space. For a while. Maybe forever. He stares at the beer stains on the table. Forever sounds like a long time, even if it’s only a few years to him and the rest of your life to you.

Forever sounds too long, yet not long enough.

He’s always wanted to be immortal. Even before he’d grown fangs and his eyes turned red. Sure, the path he took to get here…left a lot to be desired, but with Cazador gone, he supposes it’s not so bad, being a vampire—-besides the whole ‘not-being-able-to-see-the-sun’ fiasco. Sure, he has nightmares every other night about his time spent under his master, but without him, he’s essentially invincible as long as he doesn’t find a cleric who specializes in radiant magic. Sure, wine tastes like vinegar. Sure, he has to wear this suffocating cloak everywhere, but is it really so bad?

He sighs. It could be worse. He could be dead, for all he knows. Actually, dead.

Astarion stands to leave. This damn tavern is even more suffocating than his cloak, especially filled with patrons already half passed out from booze before noon. There’s a reason why he’s always preferred wine over whatever’s filling their cups.

He paces toward the door, but just as he’s halfway there, it swings open. And much to his horror stands a familiar cleric who nearly chucked a fork into his eye just this morning.

“Shadowheart,” the bartender smiles, ceasing his hand midway, polishing a cup. “What brings you here this morning?”

She certainly won’t miss her mark this time if she sees him out in public.

Astarion immediately turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. He practically shoves through multiple patrons in the process, but he manages to get there just as Shadowheart joins Alan at the bar, her arms looped around two large fabric bags as she greets him. They’re just within earshot, even as the spawn scrambles to get upstairs. “Just picking up our attire for the celebration and your tavern was on the way back. My friends and I do apologize for our inconsistent appearances…”

He doesn’t wait to hear the rest of their conversation because he’s already trying the doors to each of the rooms to figure another way out of the building. Most doors are locked shut, but there’s one he tries that slides right open.

Much to his distaste, it’s occupied.

He slams the door back shut just as the woman shrieks.

He peeks out the window. He could jump down, technically, but there are far too many people on the street in broad daylight to go unnoticed. And if there were to be a commotion, no doubt the damn cleric would come rushing out, thinking it’s another attack. So, instead of returning downstairs, he opts for the ladder leading to the rooftop, higher up into the building.

The warm air of the summer breeze hits him like an axe to the face.

Still, he climbs out, grateful to even managed to have escaped the same room as Shadowheart. Thank the heavens. And for a moment, he thinks he’s alone, until there’s another shrill voice rushing at him.

“There you are, Tav! I’ve waited days to see you here agai—" the tiefling stops, her smile dropping. "You’re not Tav.”

Way to state the obvious.

Clearly, he wants to spit back. But he’s too occupied trying to figure out why she looks so familiar to do so. He merely squints at her, which some might consider rude, but she doesn't seem to mind at all. Noticing his confusion, she blinks. “Wait, you’re Tav’s friend!”

Friend. He hasn’t been considered your friend in a long while.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on house arrest?” she tilts her head. “Did you maybe make up with Tav?”

Ah. You must’ve told her about his—peculiar arrangement.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Alfira. We met at the grove and Last Light Inn, didn’t we?” she offers him a smile, which he doesn’t return. She doesn’t wait for an answer either. “I wasn’t expecting you here…Did Tav send you?”

Astarion scrunches his nose as she squints at him, hands on either of her hips as she gauges how he seems to sink further into your cloak, hesitating to kiss the sun’s radiant glow. She doesn’t seem to think much of it, though, as she taps her foot impatiently. “Well?”

“I—yes,” is all his damn brain can spit out.

“Oh,” her face softens, and a soft small stretches across her lips. How gullible. It wasn’t even a particularly good lie. “You should’ve just said so. In that case, I must ask you how they’re doing…I haven’t seen them in weeks. Are they well? Have they started reading up on my lyrics? Have they got a message for me? Ah, scratch those, where are they right now?”

Hells. He’s already itching to jump off the roof.

“Does your head ever implode with all those questions racked inside of it?” he grumbles. “And I’m afraid I don’t know half the answers. Sorry to disappoint.”

Alfira’s shoulders relax as she leans back on her heel, eyes falling to her shoes before she looks back up. “...Well, that’s a shame. Then, what brings you here?”

This time, he’s prepared.

“Seeing the state you’re in, my appearance was warranted. They only wished for me to ensure they’re doing well. It’s a busy time of year, you see, and they haven’t had the time to indulge your—-outings up here.”

“That’s good to hear.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air like a deathtrap, and he wishes he could say something—anything else about what you’ve been up to, but it comes up empty. It’s not like the two of you are on terms to sit down and have a chat every week over tea, but he’s not sure if he knows any more about what you’re doing than this bard standing right before him. You don’t play music anymore. You don’t frequent the bars as much as you used to. You don’t do a lot of things anymore. But what do you do?

It irks him: not knowing, that is.

He only realizes moments later that the bard has been talking this entire time.

“---and I’d really appreciate it if you could take it to them. I can’t imagine anyone else using it as well as they did,” she reaches behind her bag perched against the stair rails, and lifts something in his direction. He’d be a fool not to recognize it anywhere. It’s a pretty thing, the lyre. Your lyre. “I don’t know how I managed to find this at the market, but I like to think it’s fate. Tell them it’s a gift for helping with my songs.”

Astarion stares at the instrument. He runs the tips of his fingers against its familiar strings, taking note of indents he’s all too familiar with and the chips from months running in the wild. The last time he’d held it like this, it felt like it brought him closer to you. Now, it only feels like the cold dead wood it is.

“Were you looking for it?”

“No. Like I said, it must be fate.”

How cheesy.

His lips quirk downward even further, if that’s even possible, as he narrows in on a multitude of new dents and cracks in the wood. The lyre is yours, without a doubt, but it’s clearly seen a different level of care than what you would’ve given it even while fighting to the death. He glares at a particular blemish, and Alfira sighs.

“It’s seen better times, I know. But I’m sure they’d appreciate it even if it’s not how they left it.”

Wouldn’t you? No. He doesn’t know if you’d appreciate it. Why would you? You don’t even play the damn thing anymore, much less produce any music. He contemplates just tossing the object, but the second Alfira sees the glint of hesitation in his eyes, she pounces, shaking her head.

“Please,” she pleads. “Give it to them.”

His brows pinch.

And because he doesn’t want to entertain this tiefling any longer than he has to, and because he’d much rather get out of the sun and no other reason, he huffs. “Fine. I will.”

The smile she gives him doesn’t prompt him to do the same.

Months prior, he could see himself in the reflection of the gloss glazing over the wood. At least, that’s what he thinks because he could see your own expressions reflecting off it when you played it in the sun. It doesn’t hold a glow anymore, much less a reflection.

The lyre weighs heavily in his hands.

“I won’t pry,” Alfira says. “They never really told me what happened between the two of you…I respect your privacy, so I won’t ask. But whatever it was…I do hope it won’t happen again.”

It’s a weak one, but it’s a warning. He’s had plenty of those to figure it out.

“It won’t,” he mutters.

He’ll be long gone before it can.

Sleep is a luxury you can't afford nowadays.

Surely, the bags under your eyes are enough of an indication if it weren’t for the sluggishness of your every step. Still, you manage to offer your guest a lopsided smile out of respect. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. Thank you, though,” Yevir says, eyeing you up and down, obviously noting your disheveled state. “Is now not a good time?”

You shake your head, straightening your back against the dining room table with a cough. “It’s alright. I’m only tired. With the preparations for the celebration next week, I’m a bit overwhelmed. I was meaning to speak to you again anyway.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but you can’t be bothered to deny your exhaustion further.

“You’ve been busy. I’ve seen the dead spawn that they retrieved from the Blushing Mermaid.”

Quite frankly, you feel terrible for the folk who own the place. A hag and then a horde of vampires in their basement in the span of a few months? You think it’d be a sign to close the tavern down.

Your tone remains grim. “Were any of them the woman you were looking for?”

He shakes his head, and a breath of relief escapes your lips. “No, she’s…I still haven’t found her.”

And maybe it’s the fatigue getting to your head, but your mouth moves before you can stop it. “You would think she’d try to meet someone she was so close to.”

It’s insensitive, and you wouldn’t blame him if he promptly stood to leave, but all he does is hang his head, dragging his hands over his face. He doesn’t seem like he’s gotten much rest recently, either. “Trust me, I’ve been wondering that for weeks now.”

“And have you come up with anything?”

“No. None. Zero. All I get are nightmares that I might get to one of my patrol shifts, and I’ll find her dead body lying on the ground somewhere,” he groans. “Well, deader body.”

“Maybe she’s afraid.”

“Of what? Me? Who in the hells would be afraid of me? Certainly not her, I must assure you. She’s always been stubborn, and she’s far more determined than myself, believe it or not.”

“Not you, but of herself. Vampire thirst surely can’t be so easy to control, and let’s be honest…” you point at your own neck, and the place where two puncture wounds should be on your wrist burns. “You’re practically a blood pot being offered to her.”

He frowns. “Is it so hard to control their thirst? I will admit that I don’t know much about vampire spawn aside from the obvious…”

You half snicker to yourself, almost in disbelief. “Believe me, they’re beasts when they’re ravenous.”

“Beasts?”

“Do you blame them? To them, blood is essentially liquid gold,” you shrug. “It tastes nothing like actual blood on their tongue. Sure, it might be a bit adjacent to drinking iron, but if they get their hands on prey, they really like…it tastes sweet to them. Would you deny a treat if you spent decades cooped up inside a dungeon cell, starving?"

Yevir’s face pales.

“See?”

His brows furrow as you sigh into your chair. “I’ve done my own share of research, but books seem to overexaggerate things most of the time…Can I ask how you know so much about them? Even if I manage to find her, I’d want to find some way to make her new life more tolerable…it’s not much, but it’s the least I could do.”

You blink.

Shit. You’ve said too much.

What are you supposed to say? You dated a vampire? Let him ravage you on the forest floor and spent months in his tent? That you kissed him just weeks prior, and he’s living just beside your own room? That he told you what your blood does to him, and reveal the bite marks on your skin?

You stand, your chair legs scraping against the ground.

“I have a book you might like. Let me grab it for you. And some tea, maybe,” you smile almost too widely. Fortunately for you, Yevir only nods.

“I’d appreciate it.”

You essentially grab whatever vampire-related book you have shoved under your bed and rush back downstairs to the kitchen. There isn’t much to learn from the thing with how much you already know, but you’re sure it must contain something that he might consider helpful. You know how horrible it felt to be kept in the dark about vampirism, even more so when you realized just how terrible the relationship between master and spawn tended to be…so a small push certainly wouldn’t hurt. Especially with Yevir's own problems with his beloved spawn. This is how you reassure yourself as you pour whatever tea Gale’s left on the stove into a cup.

If you were in Astarion’s shoes, you’d think becoming a spawn would have been the worst turning point of your life. And for a while, you thought he’d felt the same. A part of you thinks he does. But in the time you’ve spent with him and the stories he’s told you sparingly of his life before Cazador, your gut tells you differently. Especially when he’s drenched in the blood of your enemies, holding the immortality he’s long wished for with a sickening smile stretching on his lips. Guilt pools in your stomach for even bringing up the thought, but you can’t deny it, either.

You wonder if it hadn’t been for Cazador’s leash tying him down, he would’ve turned out differently. More twisted. That he would’ve indulged in the most corrupt parts of him as a magistrate. That maybe he wouldn’t have learned the value of a life. That he would’ve become more alike to him—the man he would’ve become if he’d ascended.

That small voice in your head is what stopped the ascension, for you feared he would lose everything he’d gained in his time as a spawn, no matter how trivial he believed it to be.

You hear the front door opening and snap out of your self-tangent. No use dwelling on it now. What’s done is done. No matter how strange the situation between you and the spawn is now, you’d rather have this than what could’ve happened if you hadn’t listened to your gut. You remain firm, no matter how much he hates you for it.

You pour Shadowheart an extra cup.

But as you step back into the living space, you realize the occupant doesn’t drink tea at all.

Astarion stands in the middle of the room, eyes wide as he stares at your guest with an undeniably bloody sack clutched in one hand. His large, red eyes seem glued to the ones of your guest, who stares back even more appalled as he takes one look at Astarion’s pale skin, the shade of his eyes, and the very bloody bag containing what you assume to be his dinner.

You drop the two cups onto the ground, tea splashing against your feet.

“You—Is he—” Yevir stumbles over his words, yet his instincts as a guard have him reaching for his weapon. “He’s—”

Astarion sneers, though his expression strains as Yevir’s hand reaches his sword. “Now, let’s not do anything that could ruin the wonderfully tasteful furniture in here...”

The Fist snaps his head in your direction. “He’s a spaw–!”

The back of a sword hilt hits the side of his head with an audible ‘thud,’ and he’s out like a light.

You stare at the unconscious body slouched over your dining table for a brief moment in utter shock before you gawk at the culprit. Of course. Lae’zel huffs, awfully pleased for someone who just caused a concussion to an innocent man. “Your soldiers are such children.”

Astarion barks a laugh, though it sounds more of a mix of disbelief and amusement.

You wish you could go one day in this house without another headache to add to the growing list.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer @roguishcat

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #tfbu #astarion x oc #tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader

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angelsdean · 26 days

Text

*record scratch* freeze frame. Reality Check. "You're the one who came and got me at school. You're the one who dragged me back into this." let's re-evaluate that statement, Sam, because that is not, in fact, what happened.

The context in which Sam makes this statement is that he's arguing Dean used to care about the revenge quest and killing the demon because Dean is the one that came and got Sam and thus "dragged him back" into the quest to kill the demon. But, that is not why Dean went to get Sam at school, it was to find John, who was missing and possibly dead. Dean didn't even Know about the demon at this point (they don't find out that "the thing that killed mom" is a demon til 1x11) or that John was closing in on it. Dean goes to Stanford to ask Sam to help him look for John, that's it. Then, at the end of 1x01 Dean brings Sam back to school in time for his interview as promised, and drives away. He only turns around when, in the deleted scene, he notices his watch has stopped, cluing him in that something is wrong. And he gets there in time to save Sam from the burning building.

Sam then makes the choice to leave with Dean because now that he's lost someone, he is personally invested in finding John because John knows more about the thing that killed Mary (and now Jess) than anyone, and Sam is the one who is now consumed by the need for revenge and the first step in getting that revenge is finding John, something he had no vested interest in doing before, but is now heavily invested in, even more than Dean is, as we see throughout the first half of s1 where Sam is often the one calling around looking for John and is more interested in searching for John than taking on random cases.

Anyways, it's just so interesting to track this revisionism of events and how both Sam and Dean come to accept this as the truth when it's literally not what we saw happen throughout the season. And we see Dean start to absorb this belief after Meg plants the seed in their heads in 1x16, trying to drive a wedge between them, by falsely saying Dean "drags Sam around like luggage" when literally the whole reason Sam and Meg meet is because Sam wanted to part ways in 1x11 and Dean let him go. Sam then comes back and decides to stay all on his own, even after Dean offers to drop Sam off somewhere.

Dean expresses in 1x16, that yes, he wants Sam around, he wants his family together again, but at the end of that very episode Dean is also the one who says they need to split up from John, even though it's the last thing he wants. Dean consistently is willing to let people go, even if it's not what he personally wants. And especially Sam. Over and over throughout the season he expressed how he wants Sam to have a normal life, is willing to let Sam go, or stay in some random town and drop the search for John. So even IF Dean did secretly want Sam to stick around when he went to get Sam at Stanford, he never expected it. Never enforced it.

That Sam comes to think Dean "dragged him back" into hunting is a purely revisionism and a bit of projection, I think, because Sam might not want to face the truth of the matter which is that he consistently chose to stick with hunting, and actually enjoys it more than he'd like to admit. And, as both he and John express, this quest to kill Yellow Eyes becomes "their" obsession. Not Dean's. Dean is the one who says he'd rather they never find the demon if it means losing his family. Dean is the one that says getting revenge isn't worth dying for. And then, Sam takes this to heart, when at the end of 1x22 he refuses to kill John Possessed by Azazel at Dean's pleading, AND when he tells John that killing this demon does not come "before everything" while eyeing Dean bleeding out in the backseat.

Dean was never the one invested in revenge. He did not come get Sam from Stanford to aid in the family revenge quest, he came for help in finding their missing father, something Dean cared abt simply because that's family, and Dean cares deeply, despite everything John put them through. Dean is the one that cares, the heart of the narrative, etc etc. He comes to Sam because he is alone in the world, because their only other blood relative is missing, because it's a very human thing, to reach out, to want family around. And still, he was always going to let Sam go after the 1x01. He didn't like it. It's not what Dean wanted. But he was going to let him go back to his life. Sam chose to follow Dean and continue searching for John.

#vics spn rewatch #sam revisionism #family dynamics #long post #sorry i got lots to say #spn 1x01 #spn 1x11 #spn 1x16 #spn 1x21 #spn 1x22

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inchidentally · 28 days

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Okay so I was thinking about why Oscar didn’t go and congratulate Lando right after his win but I think the answer is quite simple. It’s because he felt a little at odds with himself.

He lost out in that race because of the safety car the same one that secured Lando’s chance. (you can hear him audibly swear over the radio when it came out, which he NEVER does) He was pissed at the timing and then to top it all off gets his race ruined by Carlos of all people (again) and THEN when he’s desperately trying to force his way back thought he field he’s told to stop fighting because Lando is in the lead.

So whilst I’m sure he was happy for Lando, he was, at the same time, mourning his own loss. As he should! He’s a racing driver. he should be pissed at losing especially at no fault of his own.

So he gave Lando the space, let him take in his well deserved victory and once he’d calmed he congratulated Lando earnestly, without his feeling for his own race getting in the way!

And I think it’s says a lot about how understanding and kind Oscar is. He knew if he congratulated Lando as soon as they crossed the line he wouldn’t have meant it enough so he waited until he did mean it.

What do you think?

KES BABE you're gonna make me long post !!!

I've actually got to weigh in (pun intended) with a very real technicality that my cousin pointed out when I was looking for Oscar once we finally got to watch!

all of the drivers who congratulated Lando not only were father figures/big brother figures to him, they also finished in the top 10 and quite literally had finished their weigh in nice and quick - the exception being Daniel who did not have to go and see the stewards. quite literally Oscar had to wait toward the back of the queue to finish his parc ferme shit (did we ever even get eyes on him?) from there he had to go see the stewards. depending on who they spoke to first out of him, Carlos and KMag and how long they kept him in the meeting, from there he'd have had to find out where Lando was (celebrating? interviews? cool down room?) and then run around to wherever he was. and ofc if he was in cool down he wouldn't have been allowed in.

so technically maybe Lando would've still been easy to find in Oscar's gap between finishing in parc ferme and going to the stewards, he might also have been stood waiting for his interview or even doing it or he might have already headed to the cool down room etc etc etc.

but I am NOT going to expect Oscar to try and navigate all of that when he not only had his top 3 position ruined but now he also had to go and find out if he was going to be penalized as well !!

especially when he knows he's got ample time to congratulate Lando anyway and Oscar is not remotely the type to care if cameras are around to broadcast it or not. the other non-podium drivers were going to entirely different garages and who knows when they'd cross paths with Lando again.

so honestly I personally think this all came down to technicalities more than anything else and if Oscar had finished in the top 10 at least then he would've absolutely been right there to congratulate Lando both for the ease of it but also bc it wouldn't have been as awful a result even if did receive a penalty.

and equally if he had the time to think of it, he would've assumed Carlos was already headed up there to congratulate Lando (and possibly could have seen him) and it was not !! the time for Oscar and Carlos to cross paths at that moment !!

BUT AS YOU SAID !! I think if there was time for him to get past the frustration and anger at what had happened to his own race and those mitigating factors weren't as much of an issue as I'm guessing they were, we know damn well that he'd be thinking what you said <3<3 bc even when things are going horrendously for him, Oscar never loses his head. and if he at all thought he'd bring his own negativity to the biggest moment in Lando's career so far then no WAY would he have risked it.

and bottom line is that one hug has ended up paling in comparison with how much Oscar was there for Lando in Oscar accepting 50% of the upgrades, obeying team orders for Lando rather than trying to get back in the points, showing up for Lando's celebrations twice in a major way, then going out to celebrate him all night long and posting about his win on social media for days afterward <3 like sure it would've had wider publicity if there'd been a hug right after - but Lando's beaming smile and thanking Oscar shows that he doesn't rate publicity as being more significant than everything else Oscar did for him that weekend ;__;

and what's actually really killed me is that surely surely there had to be an element of it for Lando where he remembered last year telling the press how it stung and hurt that Oscar had achieved any kind of win before him. that Oscar was never a showboat about it and always specified that it was a sprint win and not a real race win. that Lando was always the one to bring it up and give Oscar his dues but that Oscar never brought it up again afterward himself. and the mounting anxiety for Lando of what if Oscar got that race win before him? and how much that anxiety must have been at it's peak watching Oscar leading in Miami?? literally I think it would've been too much to humanly expect Lando to cope at all well. I think the absolute least amount of grace we would have given him would be to not go and immediately celebrate it with Oscar but honestly? if he'd decided to just do his post race interviews and slip away quietly until the video with Andrea then none of us would have judged him for it AT ALL. it would have been an unavoidably bittersweet day and knowing what the press and haters would have done to him would have paled in comparison to Lando having to live with knowing that Oscar got there first and so much quicker. and genuinely I think it would have taken a certain amount of shine off of it for Oscar as well and he would not have even slightly expected Lando to put himself through any more of it than strictly necessary for appearances.

(seriously I think we all breathed a sigh of relief over this win as much as we were elated about it !! we will never have to exist in a timeline where Oscar got his race win before Lando)

so not only will Lando have not remotely expected Oscar to show up in parc ferme for a hug, he has clearly counted every moment of Oscar celebrating his win as golden and beyond the call of teammate duty. and that not only did he make sure that posterity recorded Oscar's achievements earlier in that race, he made sure that he thanked him by setting the example of what could be done on just half the upgrades.

we all expected each of the hugs Lando got right after that race. each of those men has helped to raise Lando and has watched him since he was small and awkward and painfully shy and suffering heart-wrenching race results. they needed to hold their boy in his moment of purest happiness.

but none of us could have reasonably assumed how Oscar - only just out of his rookie season and Lando's teammate of just one season and a bit - would react to such a devastating race for himself while also on the biggest day of his teammate's career to date.

one hug would honestly have been a perfectly fine bare minimum and plenty of other drivers would have called that good and begged off.

equally tho one measly hug shouldn't make anyone underestimate how extraordinarily above and beyond and then some Oscar has been for Lando for the past week. that not only has he celebrated it and celebrated Lando, he's done so in proportion to people older than him who have known Lando much longer than him and who are not direct rivals to Lando.

like genuinely, the general F1 fans keep saying what a gentlemen and exemplary one-of-a-kind teammate Oscar has been through all of this and they're absolutely right. we not only got to rejoice in Lando's win, we also get to rejoice that he has a teammate who has proven his worth and made the McLaren driver partnership secure for the years they have to come <3<3

#inchreplies #I'm sorry I went off on my own thing here babe !!! I just rly wanted to point those things out !!#landoscar

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goosita · 4 months

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Can you PLEASE give us some head canons/ bullet points about reader and politician!snow’s relationship, esp from them first getting together to now! I am Obsessed!!!! Sending so much love!!!!

ABSOLUTELY I CAN. these are mostly from coryos pov since the series is written more from readers perspective

first of all, coryo has been obsessed with you from the moment you walked in for your job interview. he literally didnt even read the resumes of any other candidates after he met you

somewhere between the gala date and now, he started placing a fresh rose in a small glass vase on your desk every single day. it always matches whatever color rose he wears on his suit lapel that day. he has never mentioned it, its just something he Does

he’s told tigris all about you. in fact, it was tigris’ idea for you to be his date to the gala that night that changed everything. neither of them would ever admit it to you, but coriolanus talks about you like a schoolboy with a crush, and tigris finds it so sweet.

minor detail but in part 3 when you go to tell him where you live and he says he remembers that it’s the same street an old friend lived on, he’s talking about sejanus 🫶🏻

coryo also knew from the very beginning that you were into him LMAO he knows he's very handsome and he clocked it immediately. it has never gone unnoticed, the way you look at him or the way you react to his closeness or his touches. he's always known and that's why he was so confident in flirting with you in the beginning.

we all know he's a little.....controlling. and especially Possessive. that's why a lot of the time he calls you by a term of endearment or pet name, it starts with "my" (MY darling, MY love, MY sweet girl) this was a very very pointed choice in the way i write in him hehe

you don't know this, but he has instructed (read: threatened) EVERY member of his staff and every employee who works beneath him to treat you with the upmost respect. they have all been firmly told to make your job as easy as possible and to be as polite and courteous to you as they possibly can. also, he doesn't give a fuck about "professionalism" when it comes to you; everyone knows he has a sweet spot for you and he doesn't particularly care how that might look. he has enough power that nobody would dare say anything about it.

you also don't know the full extent of this, but coryo is wrapped around your little finger. anything in the world that he could give you, it would be yours if you said the word. it's why he was so quick to send you home sick and care for you with his little package of medicine and remedies. he would do anything in his power to make you happy. your joy is his joy and your needs are just as important as his own.

his love language is acts of service and gifts. clearly.

if i think of more, i'll def add them!!! but yeah this is off the top of my head <3

#anon #politician!coryo x secretary!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coryo #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth

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andypantsx3 · 10 months

Text

incendiary | 6 | bakugou x reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Fem Reader

length: 3.7k | 6th of 8 chapters

summary: When you accidentally go viral in defense of quirkless people, an extremist group puts a target on your back. Pro hero Dynamight is the last person you want watching it.

tags/warnings: enemies to lovers, themes of discrimination (please see note in fic masterpost), canon typical violence, eventual smut, aged up characters

series masterlist

“Absolutely not,” Bakugou growled.

You just barely managed to step back as he reached for your laptop with one heavily-muscled arm. He swiped downwards as though he meant to shut it himself, physically closing the book on this discussion.

You let out a strangled noise, stumbling away, beating a quick retreat around the counter as the whisk he’d been using in the pancake batter clattered off the side of the bowl. You knew he could jump it if he really wanted, but the buffer between you made you feel better, although his instant rejection raised your hackles.

“Wait, why not?” you asked, although you’d been uncertain about the request yourself. It’s not like you had set out to accidentally become one of the most famous quirkless people in the country. Not to mention every time you stumbled back into public view, it seemed to just prolong your stay here, and put you in additional danger with Matsui and his group.

“Because it’s a fucking target on your back, idiot,” Bakugou said, pinning you with those scarlet eyes. “All this work to protect your bratty ass and you want to signal to Matsui right where you are?”

“Well, no,” you huffed. “But how many chances do you get to be on TV? This has to be carefully thought through.”

One blonde brow raised as Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest. You noted he was sleeveless again today, in nothing but a black tank, and all that bare muscle was looking especially pronounced at the moment—possibly from the workout you’d heard him finish a half hour ago . You forcibly dragged your eyes back up to his face, only to find he was watching you in disbelief.

Oh. Right. He was on TV like every day.

“Well, how many chances does a normal person get to be on TV?” you corrected, your face feeling hot for some reason.

The haughty, dismissive twist of Bakugou’s features made your back molars ache with that familiar need to bite him again.

“You’ve already been on TV and look where it got you, brat,” Bakugou said, returning to beating the pancake batter with a little too much vigor, his biceps straining.

Your gaze snapped to the motion of his arm, and you wisely chose not to pursue the subject any further, lest he deprive you of pancakes. Also your mouth was suddenly weirdly dry, and you felt a little bit like you needed to sit down.

This discussion could be put on pause for a minute.

You beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen instead, throwing yourself onto the couch where all your textbooks were still waiting for you, highlighter and pens uncapped where you’d dumped them all over the table. You sighed, flopping down and returning to your homework, feeling weirdly hot and displeased.

Bakugou was technically right. You ran a huge risk giving an interview on Japan’s biggest daily news show. And you didn’t even want to be famous—you wanted nothing to do with the level of internet notoriety you’d received, and you were so eager to be out of this damn safehouse. Now that Bakugou had apologized and you’d cleared the air, it somehow felt like the safehouse was even smaller than before.

Over the last few days, you and Bakugou had done an awful lot together. Cooking, eating, making actual human conversation. He’d also indicated he would let you watch one single hour of trash reality TV later this evening, which was almost nice of him. This entire morning, you’d found yourself compelled to spend time out in the living room while he cooked, trying not to peer at him over the top of your laptop screen as you finished up a paper.

All that interaction felt like you were occupying very close quarters, however, and that strange sense of tension was still there between you, though you couldn’t put your finger on quite what it was now. It was probably safest to evacuate the safehouse before anything came to a head.

You finished up your homework, trying to push the interview request to the back of your mind.

But it stuck around stubbornly, as if superglued to the forefront of your brain. There was this roiling feeling within you, like the one that had come just before your blowout with Bakugou. And his saying no only made things worse—it was like he’d lit a pilot light, dangerously close to a trail of gunpowder…

The request lingered in the back of your mind over the following days. It was there when you fell asleep, when you showered, when you brushed your teeth. It lurked in the cup of the measuring spoons as you and Bakugou cooked together once more, in the faces of the actors during your single permitted hour of “idiot TV”. For something you were fairly certain you could have said no to just a few days ago and never thought of again, it had alarmingly persistent sticking power.

On Sunday afternoon you found yourself blinking back to yourself in the shower, realizing you’d lost dozens of minutes to contemplation, staring sightlessly at the ugly floral curtain. You sank to the floor of the shower, huddling into a contemplative ball under its steady spray. A memory niggled at your mind, fuzzy, barely remembered, and yet disturbing in its intensity.

The flash of an ugly blue-and-green polo, a pasty leer, and a surge of white hot anger, climbing up your chest, into your throat, and then—and then—

And then the convenience store. The two men, advancing into the space you’d ceded. A request that they mind their own business and leave you to yours.

“You wouldn’t know a thing about minding your own business, you fucking freak,” echoed on loop in your brain.

Wouldn’t know a thing about minding your own business—because you had asked a bunch of QRAs to back off. To back off of people like you.

And…well didn’t that make it your business? Yours, more than anyone’s? You were the quirkless person whose very existence was being picked over. You were the quirkless person getting harassed on the street, in the classroom, in some random convenience store where you were just trying to buy a sandwich. You were the person trapped in a safehouse because someone wanted to murder you—all for minding what was exactly your own business.

Before you knew what you were doing, you’d risen back to your feet, and were shampooing your hair with a vengeance. You rocketed through your personal care and all but leapt out of the shower, and stuffed yourself into your change of clothes, still half-wet.

And then you found yourself peering into the living room, and risking the fragile peace you’d found with Bakugou once again.

“The fuck about ‘no’ are you not getting?” Bakugou demanded, whipping around to stare at you before the question had even finished leaving your own mouth. He was stretched out over the yoga mat, holding himself perfectly level, with his feet not even touching the ground.

You gaped, your mouth falling open as your brain went momentarily offline. All thoughts of the interview evacuated your mind. “What the fuck are you doing?” you demanded, your eyes flicking unwillingly to his straining biceps.

Bakugou’s red-eyed glare cut through you. “It’s a fucking pushup, idiot.”

Your head shook as your eyes lingered in the dips and swells of his muscles. That black tank top he was always wearing was slowly riding up over the flat plane of his stomach and you could just make out the shadow of an intimidating set of abdominals from this angle.

“Nuh uh,” you said stupidly.

A blonde eyebrow raised, and he slowly, agonizingly pushed himself into an impossible ninety degree angle and on into a fucking handstand.

You could feel how slack your jaw was but there was nothing you could do about your caveperson image. Your eyes were nailed to the trim waist and mouth-watering set of abs bared by this move. “You—pushup—that’s not—” you just managed to clamp your mouth closed as that horrible echo of pegnate?? gregnant?? tolled in the depths of your mind.

You were so focused on the flex of Bakugou’s arm as he lowered himself again that you almost missed the flash of a smirk across his mouth.

“Got something else to say, brat?” he asked.

The smugness in his tone raised your hackles, but it took you several more minutes to fumble around and locate your faculties for human speech. “I—yes, as a matter of fact. I’m doing the interview. And that’s not a question, it’s a statement.”

Bakugou pressed into another handstand, and then pushed up out of it, easy as anything. A vague sense of annoyance buzzed about you like a mosquito as he righted himself. Showoff.

“I already said you’re not, princess,” Bakugou said. Sweat glinted at his collar points and the line of his hair, giving him a faint glow in the afternoon sunlight. That sweet, tangy caramel scent met your nose again as he moved closer, crossing those biceps over his chest.

You tried not to go cross-eyed. “Well… I already said I am,” you told him, yanking your eyes firmly back up to his.

Something about the look on his face made your teeth ache to latch over his skin again, to clamp down and bite.

He leaned in, bringing a whiff of caramel with him, and you stumbled back a step, surprised. “You mean you’re not gonna be good for me, princess?” he asked, something smug thick in his tone.

Instantly your face flamed, the way it had a few days ago over breakfast. Good for him? Good for him? Your ears went so hot that the air around them chilled you.

“I’ll show you what’s good for you,” you said nonsensically, raising your hands to his chest to push him back, only to find he was as immovable as a stone wall, and as hard as one, too. Your hands froze on his pecs, your face getting even hotter with the heat of him under your hands.

A wicked smirk carved the sides of his mouth, and your brain suddenly fuzzed with static, panicking.

You couldn’t think—all you could do was reach up, catch a fistful of his hair, and yank him down into a headlock.

“Oi, what the fuck—” Bakugou swore, twisting. You clamped your arm down, panicking harder, realizing you’d just grabbed a trained combat professional, desperate to keep him down.

But Bakugou wasted no time. No sooner had you tensed your arm than he’d seized you under your legs and back, pushing you straight up and over his head. You flailed, trying to grab back onto him, but he swung you right down on the yoga mat he’d been occupying, grappling for your arms and pinning you down neatly. He managed it in under two seconds, and you stared up at him, dazed, taking in the incredulous look that split his stupid handsome face.

“What the fuck was that for, brat?” he demanded, his face filling up your entire vision.

“Showing you—what’s good for you—” you managed to cough out, winded.

A feral smile slashed across Bakugou’s mouth, completely unexpectedly. “I’ve met fuckin’ babies who can do better than that.”

You glared up at him, trying to angle your foot to kick him off of you, but he shifted, pressing his knee down on your leg in warning.

“You’re not doing the interview,” he said firmly, his tone final.

But you had already made up your mind, the second you’d sifted through those memories in the shower and realized just why the request had stuck with you. And not even pro hero Dynamight was enough force to stop you.

“Yes I am,” you told him, staring him straight in the eye. You tried to put all your conviction, all your determination and intent into your stare, into the firmness of your tone.

“For what?” Bakugou demanded hotly, his grip tightening on your wrists.

“For me!” you said. “I keep getting accused of not minding my own business, for being a nosy bitch or whatever, and I’m sick of it! Being quirkless is my business. I completely intended to mind my own business the night of the first video, going out with my friends and getting drunk, and it’s those QRA assholes who showed up on my campus in the first place! And then in the convenience store—all I was doing was trying to buy a sandwich!”

Bakugou’s mouth pressed into an annoyed line. “Yeah? And what are you even gonna say, brat?”

You grunted, trying to shift him off of you, but he held fast, pressing you down harder into the mat. “I want to give a real account of what it’s like to be a quirkless person who is minding their own business. Who was literally just living my life, uninvolved in any sort of activism or anything, and still got pulled into multiple situations where my life and my safety are threatened! The point is that ordinary people need to care about this stuff because it apparently can seep into your life whether you think you can avoid it or not. And some of us have been learning the hard way.”

Bakugou’s brows furrowed, his full mouth curling up in distaste like he hated to even be contemplating what you’d said. “So you wanna let Matsui know right where you are because you’re what—pissed off?”

For a moment, the only thought in your head was leaning forward and biting that expression right off of his face. Your whole brain was swirling with the barely-contained need to do something to him—until a revelation dawned on you.

You would be letting Matsui know right where you were.

Matsui, who had been waiting in the shadows like some sort of phantom harm. Matsui, who’d been bold enough to send a threat to your university, had been bold enough to run his mouth in all of the unsavory parts of the internet, but hadn’t yet been bold enough, or knowledgeable enough, to make his final move. Matsui—-who no one could actually touch or bring in until his threat was confirmed to be real.

And really, what better way to confirm than to draw him out?

You stared at Bakugou, your eyes running down his now-familiar features. That pert nose, that pretty mouth, always set in determination, those blazing scarlet eyes, always searching out a fight. His blond brows, still drawn down in focus, and the haughty tilt to his jaw. If there was one person equipped to handle Matsui, if he did come for you, it was the annoying pro hero currently pinning you to his yoga mat.

“What, scared to fight him?” you asked, knowing exactly the kind of reaction it would get from Bakugou.

His teeth gritted, and he leaned down to put his face into yours. “I ain’t scared of shit.”

“Then what’s the issue?” you asked. “Didn’t you say at the beginning that you wanted to hunt him down yourself and crush him?”

Bakugou’s expression darkened, getting slightly redder like he was getting angry, like he knew you were baiting him—but if there was one thing about him, it’s that he was an incredibly consistent personality. “I’ll fucking destroy him.”

You quickly suppressed the smile that threatened to overtake your mouth. “Good, then we’re in agreement.”

Bakugou looked almost apoplectic. “We are not in agreement, you goddamn brat,” he spat.

“You just said you were gonna destroy him!” you said. If your hands had been free, you would have thrown them up in exasperation.

“Jeanist has to agree to this idiot fucking plan, and he’s not gonna do that if it puts you at risk, you fucking brat. There’s no guarantee that Matsui wouldn’t bring a bunch of his quirk supremacist friends, it would be extremely easy for you to get your ass blown off the face of the earth. What makes you think you’d even fucking make it out of there in one piece?” Bakugou growled.

You looked up at him, slightly touched by the concern. But try as you might, you couldn’t imagine Bakugou of all people losing track of the fight and letting you get cremated. The more you insisted on this idea, the more you believed it yourself.

“Because I’ll have you,” you said simply.

Bakugou paused, blinking down at you through long, golden lashes. His face went suddenly still in a way that you hadn’t seen before, and without his features twisted up in disdain, he looked instantly, incredibly handsome. “What,” he said flatly.

You squirmed a little in his grip, embarrassed by how sincerely you meant it. But you pushed on. “Because I trust you to protect me,” you said. “You have so far. And you’ve proved I was wrong about you before. You haven’t given me a reason not to trust you.”

Bakugou’s face spasmed, like he was desperately trying to not feel human emotion, but you could see the way the tips of his ears went pink through the ashy blonde strands of his hair.

You thought this had been a rather effective play on your part, though you did mean it. He’d saved you once before, made you tea and food and let you cry in front of him like a big dramatic baby. He’d apologized, and spent the last week trying to make it up to you, albeit aggressively, by letting you get away with more and trying to feed you real meals.

Actions spoke loudly, and Bakugou’s actions had proven himself to you, as far as you were concerned.

Those scarlet eyes cut away from you, focusing on some point on the floor to the left of your head, and it was then you knew you’d gotten him.

“You’re a goddamn pain in my ass,” he said, his voice slightly more gravelly than before. “You can go on one fucking condition.”

You nodded eagerly, thrilled with your success. “Okay. Yes. Whatever it is, yes.”

Bakugou’s lip curled, and his gaze cut back to yours. “You’re going to learn self-defense before you go on that stupid fucking show.”

You blinked. “In less than a week? During finals week?”

“As much as I say you will,” he growled, raising his eyebrows at you significantly.

You got the impression then that this was a non-negotiable point for him. And much as you doubted you’d been an expert by the time Thursday rolled around, you couldn’t deny the idea had merit. You probably weren’t going to take out Matsui himself, but it wouldn’t hurt to know how to suppress someone with a lesser quirk.

“Okay,” you said, nodding. “I’ll do it.”

Bakugou shifted over you so he was crouched over you, almost sitting on your stomach, still pinning your wrists down at the side of your head. A mean smirk overtook his face again, and a warning light flicked on in the back of your brain.

“First lesson, then, brat. Try to get out of this hold,” he said.

You stared up at him in disbelief, incredulity and annoyance instantly bubbling up in your veins like they’d just been set on a hot stove. “Now? Get out of this?” you demanded.

Bakugou’s smile was a wicked, feral thing, and it made something hot curl in your stomach, even more disconcerting than your annoyance. “If you wanna make it to your computer in time to respond to the email, then you’d better hurry up,” he said.

Immediately you started bucking in his hold, trying to shove him off of you with the raise of your hips, trying to twist out of his grip like a spineless jellyfish. Bakugou held you down, looking far too self-satisfied, and way too relaxed, like this was child’s play to him, while you struggled for your life. You kicked and curled and squirmed but none of it would dislodge him, and the insane urge to fucking bite him rose within you again, blotting out all rational thought.

Before you had realized what you were doing, you’d turned your head and brought your mouth to one of the arms holding you down. And then you leaned up and bit him right in the middle of his bicep, clamping down for all you were worth.

“What the fuck—!” Bakugou shouted, suddenly pulling his hands off of you just as hot, reflexive sparks of his quirk shot out of his palms. The motion jerked the skin of his arm out of your mouth, and you could see the ring of your tooth marks left in the firm muscle, smell the ashy sweetness of his quirk heat the air around you.

You realized he’d only moved to protect you, but that was enough of a surprise for you to buck him off of you, sliding quickly out from underneath him.

He recovered quickly enough, catching you by the scruff of your shirt and slamming you back down on the yoga mat. He covered you with his body again, his palms still hot from his quirk.

“What the fuck was that you goddamn brat?” he demanded.

You gave him your shittiest, smuggest grin. “Self defense,” you said. “And I escaped your hold, even if only for a second, so I win.”

Bakugou looked beyond pissed.

“You’re gonna get it, you shitty fucking brat,” he told you warningly, his tone going darker.

But you didn’t care. You were far too satisfied with your unexpected win, and the realization of your desire to bite him that had compounded over the course of your isolation with him.

You loved the look of him, incredulous, furious, and so impossibly golden and handsome over you—this, you thought wildly, was worth any revenge he could think up. This was exactly how you wanted him.

And then Bakugou moved, his revenge swift and merciless.

He uttered your name like an oath, ducked his head. And then he caught your mouth in a kiss—hot and furious.

And the tension you had sensed building all along finally snapped.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #andie's writing #character: bakugou katsuki #bakugo x y/n

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d-targaryenshoe · 4 months

Text

Carpets And Premieres - Luke Thompson

Word count: 827

Summary: Arriving at the premiere of the third season of a show you've been working on for two years, is rather exciting, no?

As the paparazzi flashbulbs went off like a thousand tiny suns, you and Luke, made your way down the red carpet as his hand was placed on your lower back.

You were wearing a pastel blue dress with a fitted top, a plunging neckline, and a flowing skirt that added a touch of refinement.

The intricate beading and embroidery details on the dress not only improve its visual appeal but also make it a statement piece for all who see it.

The fitted top ensured a flattering fit, while the flowing skirt added a touch of drama and elegance.

The air was electric with anticipation and the sweet, intoxicating scent of popcorn wafted past, carried on the warm, humid breeze.

Fans lined up along the barricades, some holding signs that read

"We love you!" and "Season 3, we are ready for the feels!" while others eagerly snapped photos with their smartphones.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as you spotted the familiar faces of the cast members, who felt more like family than co-stars.

They were all dressed to the nines, looking like they'd just stepped out of the pages of a romantic novel.

As you and Luke approached the interviewer, you noticed the microphone in his hand and the earnest expression on his face.

He was excited to speak with you about the upcoming season.

"So, Luke, how does it feel to be here at the premiere of Bridgerton season three?" he asked, his voice steady and professional.

You could see the flash of Luke's dimple as he smiled and replied

"It's absurd. We've all been working so hard on this season, and to finally share it with our fans like this is just incredible." He paused for a moment, looking into the interviewer's eyes before turning to you.

"And, of course, having her by my side makes it even more special." You felt your cheeks redden at his words.

"And what about you, y/n?" the interviewer asked, turning his attention to you.

You cleared your throat, trying to find the right words to express how much being a part of the Bridgerton world meant to you.

"It's been such an extraordinary journey," you began,

"I never could have imagined being here, standing next to this amazing man, watching our characters come to life on a screen. It's a dream come true." You glanced over at Luke, feeling his hand squeeze yours gently in support.

The interviewer seemed to sense the sincerity in your words, and nodded before asking,

"So, what can we expect from the new season? Any special details you can share with us?"

You and Luke exchanged knowing looks.

"Well," you began, "I can tell you that the love story between y/c/n and Benedict, this season is going to be breathtaking. There's a lot of passion, a lot of drama, and course, a few jaw-droppers along the way."

Luke chimed in, "And the chemistry between y/c/n and Benedict? It's off the charts. I think the fans are going to love what they see."

You smiled at him, feeling your heart flutter. Even after all this time, being around Luke still made you feel giddy.

"And what about the other characters?" the interviewer prodded. "Any favorite moments or storylines you can share?"

Luke thought for a moment before answering,

"There's so much to choose from, but I think my favorite part is seeing how the Bridgerton siblings find love one by one. They're an amazing family, both on and off screen."

You nodded in agreement.

"And," you added with a grin, "I think we can all look forward to seeing how even a wallflower can bloom."

As the interviewer thanked you and Luke, you both excused yourselves from the media frenzy and made your way over to where your co-stars, Jonathan Bailey, Nicola Coughlan, Claudia Jessie, and Simone Ashley were standing.

They were deep in conversation when you approached, but quickly broke away with hugs and well-wishes for the premiere.

"How are you both holding up?" Jonathan asked with a warm smile. "This whole thing is such a whirlwind, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," you agreed, returning his grin. "But it's so exciting to be here with all of you. You've all been such a huge support system over the years."

You glanced over at Luke, who nodded in agreement. "It does feel like a family," he said, squeezing your hand.

"Well," Nicola cut in with a laugh, "let's not forget that we also have some amazing material to work with. Lady Whistledown would be proud."

They all shared a laugh before falling silent, gazing out at the sea of adoring fans.

"This is going to be one heck of a ride," Claudia said with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

"But I think we're all up for it." You couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie and pride as you stood there with your fellow Bridgerton colleagues.

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jeons-catalyst · 9 days

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I hope this is not a “going too far” question lol. But for some reason i often think about those “sus” jikook moments we saw on camera in the years and ask myself if they could be true. Like, i don’t know if you remember that video of the members sitting in a camper or something like that, and Jimin touching Jungkook’s inner thigh with his foot under the table. Or touching his foot under the table again on that vacation they all had. Or that interview, when Jungkook was standing behind Jimin and Jimin put his hands back, close to Jungkook’s… you know. Or that concert when Jungkook was saying he ripped his pants right between his legs and Jimin stuck his tongue out.

I just ask myself if i’m influenced by edits/clips/popular opinions or if moments like these are true and Jikook would actually do it on camera. What’s your opinion on it? Thank you!

Hey anon!

Sorry it took me some time to respond to ur ask and no this isn’t a “going too far” question. What fun would it be if we couldn’t even discuss Jikook and their “susness” lol. All these moments you mentioned are pretty sus to me too and sometimes i ask myself if we are maybe reading too much into these things or if there is some context we are missing or if perhaps we are misinterpreting things, i don’t know. The thing is some of these moments are very clear, like you actually see an action and a reaction which means that we are not just seeing things lol.

This moment where Jimin’s foot was touching Jungkook’s inner thigh….. i don’t know how else we could explain it but it is possible that it could have been the angle even though it does look like Jimin’s foot goes far up Jk’s thigh and the fact that Jk leans in and sorta blocks the camera, isn’t helping🤭

That moment in BV where Jimin touches Jungkook’s foot under the table is one of my favourite sus jikook moments because not only can you see the action but you can literally also see the reaction lol. Jungkook looked panicked as hell but my man didn’t move his foot💀

The J-14 interview is another head scratcher. In this one too you can kinda see the action and the reaction. Jimin and Jungkook looking around suspiciously didn’t help my delusions either. What was going on???!!

And then we also have this moment from BV 4. Another favourite sus jikook moment. See eh, one of my favourite things about being a jikooker is that we literally don’t have to force things that just aren’t there. Here we see Jikook seated close to each other in the room with the other members and we can clearly see Jk’s toes rubbing on Jimin’s leg and then there’s a cut and next thing we know the members are asking Jimin why he is all red, Jungkook fleeing the scene with his hands in his pocket (iykyk), Jimin stuttering trying to explain why he is red and then looking down at his “member”, Jungkook later coming into a “hot” room with a huge parker on and constantly trying to cover his front area. Idk man, make of this what you will but this whole moment is sus as hell and i cannot for the life of me find another explaination for it.

Someone on twitter once said Jikook must be freaky type of couple (if they are together like that) because why on God’s green earth would Jk be talking about his ripped pants and then Jimin looks him dead in the eye and sticks his tongue out? How else to you explain this? Is this what some people do with their bros? Bro is talking about feeling the breeze in his tushie from his ripped pants and the best thing Jimin thought of doing in that moment was this????!!!

Don’t even get me started about this moment. Jimin going down on his knees, looking Jungkook dead in the eye and sticking his tongue out seductively????? What was the reason? What was the reason fellow brethen? Can someone explain this to me in “bro” terms because i just don’t get it!!!

This moment doesn’t seem to be a very sus moment to many jikookers but it is extremely sus to me. Not only because Jungkook literally shifts Jimin’s top and digs his hands deeper to caress bare skin but because Jimin literally has zero reaction. Look, i get that all of the members don’t understand the basic concept of personal space when it comes to exploring each other’s bodies but this right here to me is very sexual and Jimin’s lack of reaction and the ease in which Jk does it greatly suggests that this happens all the time. Plus I don’t think i have ever seen Jk do this to any one else. Them touching each other’s pecks, hitting eo in the gonads, cuddling, giving each other kisses etc are normal. We have seen them all do stuff like that with each other but why would Jungkook just feel the need to lift Jimin’s top, to put his hand inside to caress his bare skin? He wasn’t even really paying attention to it too so we cannot say he was just goffing around. Idk man.

This moment right here is also pretty sus for me and no matter how much i think about it, i really don’t see how this can be platonic. Jk literally acts like he is about to whisper something to Jimin but he doesn’t say anything and instead just rubs his cheek slightly against Jimin’s. Why?

This moment too is another moment i sideeye. At first glance, it doesn’t look like much is going on but the more you pay attention to Jk’s hands slipping up Jimin’s thigh and Jimin’s body language immediately Jk does, things start looking pretty sus but maybe that’s just my schizophrenia talking lol

Are we all collectively going to act like Jungkook was literally asking Jimin to netflix and chill here? I mean, i would have brushed it off as friendly banter for giggles because it isn’t uncommon for friends to have some risque jokes but the reason i can’t brush it off is Jimin and Jungkook’s reactions immediately Jungkook said that plus Jimin’s response. Jk goes “Do you want to have ramyeon” which is the most common sexual innuendo in Korea and Jimin’s answer is, “Let’s sleep now, i’m tired”??!!! What?

Just like you anon, i have sometimes asked myself if perhaps we are reading too much into these things but one reason why i don’t think we are is because most of these things only happen with Jikook and no other members. Plus, there is usually some sorta panicked reaction which suggests even they feel like they are doing something they don’t want to be caught doing.

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #my asks #jikook blog

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