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hhnguyen · 7 months

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make me proud

Bringing my Sully Reader series to a bittersweet, yet hopefully comforting end.

♢ Pairing: Tuktirey x Oldest sister!Reader, Sully family x Oldest sister!Reader

♢ Word count: 3.2k

♢ Genre: angst, sibling love, fluff, grief - Warnings: cursing, major character death

⌲ Description: Time was passing by, and with hazy memories Tuk finds herself reminiscing about the person her sissy once was.

M A S T E R L I S T

R e c o m m e n d e d p l a y l i s t :

⌲ ashes - Celine Dion ⌲ brother - Kodaline ⌲ the nights - Chlara ⌲ the call - Regina Spektor

“Hello there,” Grinning, Tuktirey watched from a safe distance at the insistent yapping from a nest of Viperwolf pups.

This pack specifically was only a couple of months old, but friendlier than those residing further away from her village, thus more used to the comings and goings of the Omitikaya and not trying to kill anyone who came too near.

Tuk found herself visiting the energetic pups several times a week, always making sure their protective mother and pack weren’t too near when she snuck closer than anyone would recommend.

But she was confident in her abilities to protect herself, the bow slung over her body never left behind when outside the borders of her home. Not to mention the two extra daggers strapped to each thigh with firm leather holsters.

Allowing herself a couple more moments of silent admiration, she swallowed back a giggle as one of the bravest of the pups came bouncing over in her direction, stumbling clumsily over its legs and trotting the last couple of feet before rubbing its leathery body against her ankle, no sign of viciousness present.

Bending down to give the creature a little scratch behind its ears, the wolf gave a yip in satisfaction, tail thumping against the ground until a far-off howl sounded.

Forgetting Tuk’s presence all the pups started to howl in reply and she used their distraction to swiftly turn back around and climb up the tree she had come from, safely keeping herself a distance away as the rest of the pack came running through the bushes with their newest prey for the day, growls mixed in with the barks of the youngest.

With one last glance, Tuktirey started her short journey upwards before giving a sharp whistle.

A screech replied her quickly, a shadow flying over her only for a few seconds before landing down on the large branch before her, leaves fluttering down the ground from its appearance hidden within.

“Hey there boy,” Tuk trailed a gentle hand down her Ikran’s neck, somewhat feeling a little melancholic today, tracing the midnight blue skin with yellow and green marks. “Mawey Atanzaw.”

The old ikran listened, calming down and nudging his head against her hands as she smiled, nuzzling him back. She wasn’t the only one seemingly restless today.

Atanzaw himself was aware of what day it was, having acted impatient from morning until now.

Oh, what a shock that day had been for everyone; Tuk’s iknimaya was a moment still prone to come up in discussion to this day, four years later.

She had followed the same rites of passage as all her family before, making it all the way up to the Hallelujah Mountains without much issues. And just when Tuk thought she had found her bond, Atanzaw had swooped down from the sky like the vicious beast that he was known for.

Chasing away her first prospective Ikran and snarling at her.

No one had seen the animal since your death nearly seven years ago, the ikran having taken to the skies and never seen again after your body was brought back to Metkayina village to be buried with the ancestors.

She had been frozen to the core, all reason of what she was doing vanishing, until the realization that the ikran wanted her to fight; prove her worth to become his newest rider.

An occurrence that had never happened before in the history of her clan.

Once a rider died, it was well known their mounts refused to take any other.

But there she had been, faced with the fiercely loyal best of her long passed oldest sister.

“You want to see her, don’t you?” Tuktirey whispered, gently tracing the lines of his face as Atanzaw scuffed. “How about a little flight, then we’ll go.”

Swinging herself up on the saddle, the ikran didn’t need any more direction to follow their usual flight route circling her home forest.

Leaning forward to rest her whole body upon the warm skin of her mount, Tuk took a deep breath; eyes closing and feeling the wind whip past her as they soared above the trees.

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky in a beautiful picture of soft oranges, pinks and yellow, bathing her in a backdrop of warmth and comfort.

Ten years have passed since your death.

Tuk remembered that day more clearly than the others.

When her family had finally managed to pry her and Kiri away from the grasps of their enemies, her eight-year-old mind thinking everything was going to be alright from there out as they floated above the water on Payakan’s fin until she noticed the usual bright absence of her oldest sister.

Her questions had been answered in the worst possible way as she was led to the flat surface of rocks in the middle of the dark ocean, the flames of the sinking boat being the only light to illuminate them

But it had been bright enough for her eyes to take in the scarily still form of you. An image of cold serenity with a wet cloth covering your body from the neck down, eyes closed as if you were dreaming.

Tuk had thought you were.

Simply sleeping that is.

Sinking slowly down to her knees beside you, small hand shaking your shoulder to wake up, to hug her and assure her that everything was okay now. That their family was safe and they could go home. But you wouldn’t wake up.

“Why won’t sissy wake up, daddy!” Her child self had sobbed, hiccuping and whipping around to stare at her dad for an answer.

He had only scooped her up in his arms, tugging her head into his neck with comforting nothings, apologizing for something she couldn’t hear through her sobs of denial. Kiri had stared, seeing but unseeing, fists clenched by her side as their mother sank down and pulled your damp head into her lap.

The bright roots from the tree of souls brought her back to the present as Atanzaw swooped down slowly. The area was empty from what she could see, because Tuk had arrived late to her family’s tradition of visiting you on your death anniversary.

Instead of heading straight to the tree and connecting her queue, she found a slab of high rock several feet away and sat down. Her ikran settling down on his stomach beside her with a grumble as she absently traced his neck.

“Come on, Tuk Tuk! Atanzaw won’t wait for us forever!” Your voice seemingly whispered in her ears, your bright laughter following as the memories of her small self rushing out of the hut for your weekly sister bonding time.

“Tuk Tuk, mom and dad won’t be happy if you don’t clean up before dinner!” What an ongoing issue it had for you to force her to simply clean up after a day of adventures outside.

“Why are you crying, Tuk Tuk?”

“I-I had a n-nightmare of you leaving m-me…”

“Awe, my sweet little Tuk. I’ll never leave you, okay?”

“Y-you promise, sissy?” You had grinned so widely that it seemed like you could shield the entire world from her. “When have I ever broken a promise?”

Tuktirey couldn’t help but scoff, the sound feeling loud in the emptiness of the space as she plucked out handful of grass and letting them flutter to the ground.

“You’re a goddamn liar, sissy,” She couldn’t help but mutter bitterly.

“Careful now. She won’t be too happy hearing you say that.”

Looking over her shoulder to face the familiar deep voice of Neteyam, grinning almost innocently.

Tuk rolled her eyes, never stopping her aggressive little plucking of nature. She would apologize to Eywa another time.

“What are you doing here, Teyam?”

Her oldest brother heaved a sigh as he sat down on her other side, his ridiculously broad shoulders brushing her own. Just like everyone else, he had grown into himself as a strong male Na’vi. She knew that if their father decided to step down today as Olo'eyktan, Neteyam would be more than ready to take his place.

But alas, Jake Sully was still a stubborn male who assured he was more than capable for a couple more years before letting the role of leader go to someone else. A stubborn old fool, their mother had berated him to their amusement.

“I assumed since you didn’t show up earlier, I would find you here sooner or later.”

Her brother, now twenty-five was one of the respectable leaders of their clan, as a general and heir to their father. Neteyam even surpassed Jake in build and height, all the teenage softness melting into a strong wide jaw and high cheekbones.

“You didn’t have to wait,” Tuk muttered again as he chuckled.

“And let you remain here alone ruining that poor grass?” Her hand stopped at his pointed words with an inward sigh.

Pulling her knees against her chest, she wrapped her arms around them, never taking her eyes away from the gently swaying branches of the Tree of Souls.

“What’s the issue, Tuk?”

“What makes you think there is one?”

She didn’t have to look to know about the brow Neteyam raised at her. “You’ve been acting odd the last couple of days. Even mother and father have noticed.”

Tuk gnawed at her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“Since when have I ever judged you?”

That was true. Neteyam was always willing to offer an ear for her problems, often ending the conversation with a comforting hug to brighten up her days.

“I…think I’m forgetting her.” Tuk’s whispered admission floated into the air with a shuddering breath, eyes welling up with tears she let trail down her cheeks.

A guilt that had bothered her ever since she realized with horror how she couldn’t seem to recall how your smile had looked like, if the colors of your eyes had been as yellow as she remembered, or a more dark orange.

“Oh Tuk…” She didn’t fight the hold Neteyam slung over her shoulder, pulling her into his side, lips pressing against the crown of her head. “Why are you beating yourself up over that?”

“I can’t forget her, Teyam,” Tuk’s voice shook. “She’s…sissy. What kind of sister would I be if I can’t remember what her smile looked like? How her laugh sounded. It’s not right.”

“Who told you that?” Neteyam’s voice was a low comfort. “It’s the truth isn’t it?”

“No, not even close, Tuk Tuk.”

Tuktirey shook her head. “Don’t do that. I don’t want your lies, Teyam.”

“Do you believe Y/N would call you a liar?” His question made her pause because she didn’t know.

She didn’t remember what you would have said in moments like these, and it was that exact feeling that was eating her up from the inside.

“You were eight, Tuk,” Neteyam continued seriously. “A child in the midst of war and mayhem. We all were. Trauma has haunted us all since then, you as a child couldn’t even escape it. Your memories warp over time, and no one would blame you for forgetting details of scenarios over a decade ago.”

“But it’s sissy!” She repeated vehemently.

“Sissy would tell you to suck it up and stop being a wimp.”

Words that your oldest brother would never use on a daily basis made them both freeze, before sharing an airy laugh together at how you would 100% say that to their faces.

“Yeah, she would…”

How Tuk hated the truth of those words. You would have told them much more than that with narrowed eyes and hands on your hips. Probably including a couple of cuss words followed by your signature whack to the head.

“A day does not go by where we don’t miss her,” Neteyam’s voice had taken a note melancholy, Atanzaw in his silence seemingly agreeing with a rumble from his chest.

“Y/N will always leave a mark within our lives long after we’re gone as well. Just look at Lo’ak. That fool has managed pretty well for himself.”

Giggling at their inside joke, Tuk could see what he meant.

After the war ended, everyone besides their second brother decided to return to the forest. Lo’ak had been firm in his decision of remaining with the Metkayina, Tsireya by his side as mates and to lead the future generations to come. They were doing incredibly well last time the family had heard, welcoming a healthy baby girl as their first child and naming her after you. They had promised to come for a visit the moment the babe was old enough for long travels.

None of the family had expected Lo’ak to be the first one to create a family and life for himself, but he had put all the credit on you. How he promised to be strong for your sake; A promise he had now fulfilled to its brim to the pride of everyone else, your parents especially. Kiri herself had taken over the role of Tsahìk, with their grandmother only growing more weary by the day, and there was no one else suited better to the role than her.

That left only Tuk, with her eighteenth birthday having passed, she was officially an adult in human terms. She had chosen to become a part of the hunters, often led by Neteyam as well.

She took after you a lot in that sense, her sense of adventure and adrenalin.

“You think sissy would be proud?” Tuk asked carefully.

Neteyam nudged her enough to catch her eyes as she followed his gaze to the tree, his small smirk obvious. “Why don’t you go and find out?”

“W-what?”

“I think of all days, that today is when Eywa might feel a bit more giving than usual.”

Despite her confusion over his mysterious words, Tuk listened and stood up. Walking the distance towards the closest root, she expected the same familiar connection to Eywa and hearing the whispers of the past brush over her mind as well the warmth spreading through her body. However her heart hammered when she felt her mind being pulled in further, as if dragging her away from the ground itself.

Where was she?

Slowly looking around, Tuk could vaguely recognize it. It was still home, in the forests on one of the many wide branches belonging to their trees. But it was taller than most she remembered, somewhere further away from their village.

“Should I be offended that you look confused?”

Gasping, Tuktirey whirled around quicker than she had ever moved. Her hand covered her mouth, blinking as if in a dream as you grinned at her.

Looking just like you had back then. Burnt orange like the sunrise, that was your eye color.

“...sissy?” She was too afraid this wasn’t real. Because it didn’t feel like it.

Your grin widened, beaming almost - arms opening wide. “Hey Tuk Tuk.”

Tuktirey propelled into you mid sob, somehow still feeling smaller than you despite her couple inches on you. The familiar warmth of your grasp around her body brought her back to her childhood almost frighteningly fast, making her think how she managed to ever forget that feeling.

“How tall you’ve become,” You murmured gently, hands trailing down her long braids, kept neatly within a leather tie.

“I-I can’t believe this. How-”

“Eywa has granted us the gift of seeing each other again. A rare occurrence.”

Although not wanting to part from your arms, Tuktirey forced herself to pull back slightly.

Only to be startled by the fact she had to look down to meet your sparkling gaze. You had always seemed like a larger-than-life figure to her. Towering above like an impregnable shield, it was now she realized how you had only been sixteen. How young your features looked now compared to her own eighteen.

Had you always been that slight?

“I don’t know what to say.”

You chuckled, reaching up to brush a singular braid back and tuck it behind her ear. “Do you have something to say?”

“I-I thought I did,” Tuk admitted, grasping your smaller hands tightly as you watched her patiently. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Well, then how about I start?” Meeting your eyes, she watched them crinkle. “I missed you, Tuk Tuk.”

Eywa knows how she managed to smile, a light laugh following despite her tears. “I miss you so much, sissy.”

“You are stunning. I always knew you would be.”

“How could you?” The words slipped out before she could stop. “You’re not here.”

But you simply snorted, obviously disagreeing. “I’m always there, Tuk. Even if you can’t see me, or feel me. Or even want to remember me. I’ll always be there.”

“Then why did you leave?” Tuktirey couldn’t help the choked question, knowing better than to expect an answer to it.

You had been shot. Not chosen to die. But you defied all expectations as always, answering with a smirk.

“Shit happens.”

Their dad would have been proud to hear that.

“You are so much like Dad,” She huffed out almost exasperated.

“And don’t you let him forget,” You winked.

A cribble crawled over her skin, the leaves of the trees rustling almost in warning as your face tilted up towards the sky, smile faltering the slightest.

“We don’t have much time.”

“No,” Tuk shook her head, gripping your hands tighter, probably near painful but you gave no indication of it. “I want to speak with you more. Apologize or something, I can’t forget you!”

To her surprise, you laughed. Loud and coming from your belly. “Forget me? Oh Tuk Tuk, you worry too much.”

“What?”

“You fear the natural sides of life. Apologize? For what? How do you expect to forget your favorite sibling?” Your joke did not dry the fresh tears gathered in her eyes, before your eyes softened.

Hand coming back up to cup her cheek, thumb gently brushing against it. “You are allowed to forget my face. Even my voice. I would never hold it over you, Tuktirey. But this,” You patted her heart. “That will never be gone. You’ll always find me there, okay?”

Lips wobbling, Tuk sniffled almost pathetically as she nodded. “Okay.”

Her blurry vision took in your face carefully, for what felt like the very last time for a long while.

Looking at your shining eyes, loving wide grin with the same hint of mischief you always carried around.

The wind rose as you reached up to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, hands squeezing hers one last time before stepping back and letting go.

“I love you, sissy.” Tuk managed to croak out as the surroundings were starting to brighten. She swore it was a tear running down your cheek as your grin widened enough to show your teeth.

“I love you too, Tuk Tuk.” And then a classic you-move; offering her a two-finger salute with a wink. “Make me proud, tiger.”

With a sharp gasp, Tuktirey was back; eyes flying open and stumbling back only to be balanced swiftly by Neteyam.

But he didn’t look concerned. There was a knowing glint in his expectant smile as she stared at him silently, almost stunned.

That smile widened at the look on her face. “So what did she say?”

As reality caught up with her, Tuk straightened before huffing out a laugh, wiping away the stray tears on her cheek.

With twinkling eyes, she ran her tongue against the inside of her mouth in thought before blurting out.

“That you’ll always be a sniveling crybaby!”

Cackling, she ran away with a squeal towards Atanzaw as Neteyam growled playfully behind her, bringing up the chase as she took to the skies; heart and soul lighter than she could ever wish for.

Am I crying? Maybe.

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#avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar imagine #avatar angst #dad jake sully #jake sully imagine #sully family #sully family x reader #jake sully x reader #sully reader #tuktirey #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #loak x reader #loak imagine #neytiri x you #neytiri x daughter!reader #mom neytiri

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devildomditzy · 8 months

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You know how it goes.

The same old same old.

You attempt to get something done for once,

and he ruins it by attempting to insert himself as the constant center of your attention.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way, now would you?

Your attempt to study for your upcoming cursed speechcraft class was impressive, commendable even. But of course, you weren’t getting anything done, not if he had anything to say about it.

You’ve reread the same sentence at least twelve times now, trying to drown out the loud, cheesy love song blaring from outside your bedroom window. But of course, your efforts were futile.

You made eye contact with him, but how could you not! The poor boy stood out on the lawn under your bedroom window, practically on his tippy toes, holding a large, heavy boombox over his head. Sure, demonic strength was a thing, but that sure looks heavy!

Where’d he even get that?

Whatever.

No time to think about that. You were NOT going to let him distract you this time. Not after he had spent the whole day trying to convince you to ‘stop being such a damn nerd’.

But of course, your steadfast nature lined with the good intentions of not failing this course went through one ear and out the other.

You were going to ignore him? Fine.

Try to ignore Celine Dion on full blast.

You watch in annoyance as he turns the volume knob up to max, making the face of a man hellbent on distracting his human exchange student.

Now it was a game of patience, who would crack first? Him giving up this charade, or you finally caving into just what it is he wants?

Or Lucifer telling him to turn that thing off before he pops his head like a grape.

It’s anyone’s guess.

Don’t let him get to you.

Just turn to the next page.

Wait, what is he doing?

He’s set the boombox down, and he’s walking out of sight.

Maybe he’s giving up?

Of course not.

There’s a second boombox.

For Diavolo’s sake.

You pick up your D.D.D, opening your messages with him.

——————————————————————————

MC: Mammon.

Mammon: Pretty cool, huh? Found em on a sick deal too. Ya know I’d be happy to share one with ya, only if ya came down here though.

MC: I don’t want a boombox, I want to study.

MC: Where’d you get those anyway?

Mammon: Not important

MC: 🙃

Mammon: What IS important is that ya stop being’ such a rotten human and come down here to hang out with me.

MC: Mams, I already told you I’d hang out with you after I’m done studying! I can’t afford to fail this class, Lucifer will kill me! You’re welcome to come study with me as long as you’re actually studying.

Mammon: So you’re not coming down?

MC: No!

Mammon: Fine. Hope you like Beyoncé.

——————————————————————————

You groan in irritation and throw your D.D.D. onto your bed as his music somehow gets even louder.

You’re glad he forgets he can fly sometimes because if he was at your literal window you’d pop him like a grape yourself.

You put your head in your hands and look outside, just to see him lip syncing the first chorus of ‘Halo’ at you.

Its okay. Deep breath. Just block him out.

Eyes back on the page.

“The first step to recognizing when someone is attempting to use curse speechcraft on you is…”

Okay what the fuck.

What the hell is he doing.

Annnddd he’s taking his shirt off, okay.

Cool.

You make eye contact with him for a split second, and he makes that smirk you wish you could wipe off his face right now.

You rip your eyes away from your boyfriend’s impromptu strip tease as your D.D.D. buzzes from it’s spot on your bed, and you’re surprised to see the name flashing on the screen does not match the source of your frustrations.

——————————————————————————

Lucifer: MC.

MC: Yes?

Lucifer: Do you have any part in the absolute horror show that is taking place on the front lawn?

MC: Please make him stop.

Lucifer: l will return him to you in one piece.

——————————————————————————-

You look out the window just the time to see your panicked boyfriend attempting to run away with a stereo in each hand, his shirt and jacket thrown over his shoulder.

You’ll cut him down from the rafters eventually, but only after you’re sure he won’t be effecting your grades.

Annnd maybe after you’re done teasing him for a bit.

#kit’s playhouse #obey me #om #mammon #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me headcannons #obey me mc #mammon headcannons #mammon x mc #obey me nightbringer #omnb #omnb mammon #obey me nightbringer mammon #om mammon #om mc #obey me drabble #mammon drabble

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hoodharlow · 8 months

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Can't Quit You

AN: bc tell me whyyyyy I haven't written Jack snd Miriam fucking in the studio 🤪🤪🤪 also the song Miriam sings is Quit by Ariana Grande. Gif by @wildcmbcrsupdates

Requested? My coochie lol

Warnings: smut

Word Count:

Miriam took in Jack’s home studio. He was helping her with her movie’s soundtrack and producing some of the songs her character sang. She was in his home studio. She’s never really been inside the studio, she’d normally pop her head in and then go about her day. She liked to give Jack his space and let him do his thing when he had to work from their Louisville home.

She found the lyrics they’ve been working on with Victoria Monet and Nelly Furtado, the main producers for the soundtrack. Miriam had been struggling with a song because they wanted her to use her musical voice but they didn’t want her to sound like she was in a musical. She was having a hard time with that because she has several musicals under her belt. When she filmed In the Heights, the vocal coach worked a lot with her perfect that. And it wasn’t that she couldn't sing in her normal singing voice, she just struggled to stay consistent with it. Her singing voice fluctuated a lot when she sang because according to Victoria Monet, that was because she had the similar vocal range as Ariana Grande. She also mentioned why it was easy for Miriam to have a wide variety of impressions and how she was able to sound like Dua Lipa, 070 Shake, Lyn from Pvris, Selena Quintanilla, Halsey, Celine Dion, Jenifer Coolidge, Ariana Grande, and Billie Eilish. Miriam just had to learn how to control it.

Her and Jack were going to practice before going back to Nashville to officially record the song. The song wasn’t one her character sang in the surprise concert. The song was going to be used when Jack and Miriam’s characters sleep together for the first time. It wasn’t going to be a full on sex scene, but they were going to have a heavy makeout session that alluded to their characters hooking up.

Jack came in with a pizza box and smaller one on top. “Okay I got you sausage and jalapeno pizza. Honestly Miriam if you wanted some of my sausage all– why are you wearing a big ass jacket?”

“Your studio is cold as fuck.” she pulled her leather jacket closer to her body.

“You’re exaggerating.” He rolled his eyes. “Jacket off please.”

Miriam rolled her eyes and shredded off her jacket. She draped it behind one of Jack’s chairs and sat on it. She fixed the hoodie she wore under and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh you weren’t joking.” Jack smirked, reaching forward to rub his thumb over her nipples.

“You’re so annoying.”

She pulled herself with the chair to the coffee table where Jack placed their dinner. She took a slice of pizza and put it on her plate. Jack put her cup of mini ice cubes on a coaster along with a glass bottle of Mexican Coca-Cola and small vial of Mexican vanilla.

“I think you should drink some Phocus instead.” he told her as she prepared her drink. She liked drinking coke with a splash of vanilla. “It’ll help you with writer's block.”

“I don’t have writer’s block. I have singer’s block.” Miriam corrected him.

Jack was going to make a comment but he decided to just eat his pasta bowl. He knew Miriam was a perfectionist, even though she hid it under her jokes and natural talent, and that her not getting the songs how they’re meant to be was bothering her a lot. They ate in silence.

Once they finished, they went to the kitchen to put away any leftovers and throw away the trash. Miriam took Daisy out in the yard so she could do her business. Jack went back to the studio to get the song ready.

“Ready?” Miriam asked unenthusiastically.

“C’mon.”

Jack got behind her and held onto her shoulders, guiding her to where the mic was. He did car effects to make her laugh, but it was no use. She was stiffer than he was in the morning when he woke up to her ass pushing up against his dick. He silently cursed at the memory because he now felt his dick strain against his khakis.

“Okay just vibe to the music. Let it move you, okay?” He told her as he adjusted the mic and handed her the headphones.

“Okay, Pedros.” Miriam rolled her eyes.

“Who?” Jack asked.

“Isn’t that the Weeknd’s character’s name from the singing show?” she furrowed her eyebrows.

“No clue, I never watched it.” He shrugged.

“Same, but I saw a video on twitter where he was guiding Lily Rose on how to fuck herself while the recorded music.” she explained.

“Is that the one where he was quote on quote talkin’ dirty to her.” Jack chuckled.

“Yeah, it was so bad.” Miriam giggled.

Jack clapped his hands together and rubbed her arms.“Okay stop stalling."

Miriam rolled her eyes for the millionth time and pulled her legs up to sit criss-cross-applesauce on the stool. Something Jack never understood how she was able to do since the stool barely fit her ass when Miriam sat normally. She smoothed out the pages of the notebook where they had the songs written.

Jack walked to the sound booth. He pressed play and let the music play through the studio. He sat on the worn out leather chair and took in Miriam’s soft voice. She had previously recorded the song in a soft voice but it wasn’t fitting to the song. ‘Quit’, the song they’re working on, was a pop/edm song, so Miriam’s voice needed to be more powerful and loud.

The song started once more and this time Miriam started singing along. She sang exactly how Jack wanted the song to sound. He leaned forward and pressed ‘record’. When the song stopped he paused it before it could restart. He saved what she sang.

“Do that one more time for me, please.” Jack told her, as he pulled up another program to record her singing more clearly.

Miriam nodded and placed her phone on the small podium in front of her. She set it so she could record herself on mute. She waited for Jack’s queue to start again. He nodded at her and put on his headphones. Miriam leaned and started singing. When she finished she hung the headphones on the mic.

"How was it?" She asked, playing with one of her rings.

"It was beautiful." Jack said truthfully.

Miriam rolled her eyes, "You're supposed–"

"I know I joke around a lot, but I never joke about how talented you are, Miriam. I'm gonna save it so it can get mixed. Okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

She went and sat on one of the many chairs he had. Miriam shrugged off her hoodie and folded it, making it a makeshift pillow. She leaned against the armrest and watched Jack. There was something so admiring and hot about him working on music. He had a pensive face as he did whatever he did on the computer. He rolled his neck, groaning as he rubbed a kink on his shoulder. He adjusted himself on his chair and concentrated on the computer screen. The final straw was him running his hand over his beard.

Miriam sat on his thigh and laid her head on his shoulder. Without looking away from the computer, Jack gently patted her ass to acknowledge her. That annoyed her. She slid off his lap and knelt in front of him.

"Bro," Jack warned.

"Please, I'll just be sucking." She pouted.

"Have at it." Giving in instantly.

Jack leaned back. Miriam grinned and undid his khakis. She patted his thigh so he could lift his hips. He obliged and in seconds his pants and boxer-briefs were pulled down.

Miriam slipped her hand in her sleep shorts and was surprised how aroused she was. She gathered some of her arousal in her hand and used it to jerk Jack off. She spit on his cock for more ease and stroked it with both hands. Miriam met Jack's bright blue eyes and smirked as she slowly slid him down her throat.

Jack sighed as she kept her slow pace. Thankfully he saved the recording and all the notes he had for the mixing engineer so he could fully enjoy Miriam’s mouth on him. He pushed back some of her loose curls that had escaped her braid. He was close but he didn't want to finish in her mouth. He reached for her hand that was on his thigh for balance and squeezed it three times.

"What's up?" She asked, out of breath.

"Up." Jack said, getting up. He held his hands out for her.

Miriam took them and dusted off her knees when she stood up. Jack cupped her face and kissed her. He kicked off his pants and boxer-briefs, guiding her to the nearest wall. They finally pulled away and removed the rest of their clothes.

"Suck." Jack held out his ring and middle fingers to her.

"I'mwetenough." She mumbled.

"What?" He asked with a shit eating grin. He reached in between her thighs and slid his fingers in her. "Bro there's no way that choking on my dick got you this wet."

"It wasn't that." Miriam sighed, arching her back as he thrusted his fingers.

"Then what was it?"

"You," she moaned out, playing with her nipples.

With his free hand, Jack held her face and kissed her. He pulled his hand off her face and brought it down to her thigh. He wrapped her leg around his waist and sped up his fingers. He rubbed his thumb on her clit, bringing her to completion.

"Fu–Jack!" Miriam whimpered.

She repeated his name until her high faded. She leaned back on the wall to catch her breath. Jack pulled his fingers out of her and sucked them clean. He pressed himself on her and kissed all over her face, ending on her lips. Soon enough their kiss turned into another makeout session.

Jack picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch. He tripped over his shoes, nearly dropping Miriam and falling on her.

"Smooth," Miriam laughed a little too loud.

"No need to laugh that loud, Imma fuck you." He retorted.

He sat her on the armrest and reached down at the two straps. He pulled them and the couch turned into a bed. He was met with a very surprised Miriam.

"What is this?" She asked, furrowed brows and all.

"A pull out couch. Have you never seen one of these?" It was now Jack's turn to be confused.

"I'm pretty sure I have, just not this fancy. When did you get it?"

"Bro, I've had this since me and Urb moved to Atlanta. Our first place was a small studio and I slept in it. When I bought our house I put it here for when I worked late." He explained.

"All the times I've felt bad that you were sleeping on the couch, only to find out it was a bed?" She crossed her arms.

"We've side tracked." Jack said. He cupped her face and kissed her. "Let's go back to the task at hand."

"Which was?" She mumbled against his lips.

"Me fucking you." He kissed down her jaw.

Jack wrapped his arm around Miriam and laid her on the bed. He climbed on top of her and caged her in as he claimed her lips. He laid on his side and stroked his length a few times. He then pushed on Miriam's legs to her chest and slid in her.

"Oh fu–" she gasped.

"Fuck me." Jack groaned.

"I can't you're fucking me already." Miriam said sarcastically.

He gave her a pointed look and pulled his cock out until it was only his tip in her. He slowly thrusted himself back in, bottoming out. He did a few times, egging Miriam more and more so she was desperate for him.

"Jack please," she gasped when he slammed his hips.

"Are you gonna keep being a smartass?" He asked.

"I thought that was my whole allure." She smirked.

Jack pulled her chin down and captured her lips. He gripped her hips and he properly fucked her. He wrapped one of her legs around him, bringing them closer as he took her. Jack pushed himself up and reached forward to hold onto one of Miriam's shoulders to anchor himself as his thrusts sped up.

The familiar feeling came over her once more. Her breath hitched at how good it felt. Jack must have noticed, and continued thrusting in that spot. His thrusts got more precise, hitting where she needed him. She pulled him down so he was fully on top of her, and wrapped her legs and arms tightly around his body. She clung onto him as her orgasm came over her.

Jack pulled out of her and laid on his back. His cock stood proudly, waiting for its chance to come. Miriam rolled on her side and kissed Jack. One of her hands reached over and slowly jerked him off.

"Let me make you come." She said against his lips.

"I'm good, I'll jack off later." He reassured her.

Miriam deftly ran her fingernail against one of his veins. "Jack, its begging me to be in my mouth." She wrapped her hand around the base and gently squeezed him. "Let me take care of you. You've been so helpful the last few days with the song and stuff. I wanna show you how much I appreciate you, Jack."

He grinned, "Fine, don't twist my arm. Just be gentle, I'm sensitive."

Miriam rolled her eyes and shifted her body so she laid horizontally. She spit on his length and slowly jerked him off with both hands. She slipped him as far as she could take him. He let out an incoherent sound until she reached the back of her throat. She did it a few more times, egging him on.

She pulled away, with a trail of saliva spilling from the corner of her mouth, and kissed down his length. Miriam slowly bobbed her head up and down his length, getting her mouth used to him. She took him a little deeper each time. One of his hands gripped the back of her head, keeping her in place as he thrusted into her mouth. Miriam let out soft moans. Her hands gripped his legs, nails digging into his thighs. She continued to stroke him as he came, taking all of his release. She cleaned him up and cuddled next to him.

"I think I'm blacking out." Jack said breathlessly. "You sucked the soul outta me."

"Well you better gain consciousness again because I'm not done with you and your pull out couch."

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @cherry4everrr @carma-fanficaddict @youngharleezy @youngharleezyxo @babyharleezy @that-90s-girllll @alinaharlow @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @webinurcloset @gassyandsassy1 @jackharloww @awhore4moree @noescapricho-essentimiento @neon-lights-and-glitter @purecinnamonextract @whywontyoulovemecami @camificrecs @itsyagirljaz @w1ldthoughts @killatravtramp

#jack and miriam #jack harlow #jack harlow smut #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow one shot #jack harlow fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Note

Monday check up 😗

I meant to answer you yesterday but I was getting demolished by work. So I wanna say I'm doing good and I hope you are too. But also because this:

I give you this:

The Happy Couple

Warnings: nothing glaring besides allusions to criminal shit and some shady business transactions.

Character: mob!Bucky

Summary: You have an interesting conversation with one of your father's capos at his wedding. (just over 1k)

👄

You thank the server as he fills your glass with sparkling rose. The music pumps through the speakers as drunken dancers crowd the floor. Their classy attire lends a laughable contrast to their activity, the sloppy moves of the unaware.

You cluck as you watch your new stepmother grind her ass against your father’s crotch. A deep gulp leaves your glass half-empty. You set down the stemmed flute and dab away the trickle at the corner of your lips with the cloth napkin at your elbow, careful not to smear your lip gloss.

You put the napkin down and fix the skinny strap of your satin dress, a similar shade to the bubbly wine. Another sardonic chuckle tickles your throat.

You were demoted from bridesmaids for refusing to wear the tacky ruffled teal monstrosities now twirling round messily. It hardly bothers you as you had enough experience in the role to know it was a pain in the ass more than an honour.

You take your glass again, tipping it daintily against your lips and sipping as the hordes of middle-aged partiers get rowdy to The B52s. Your amusement at the scene is curtailed by a pique of curiosity as a speck looms in the corner of your vision. You glance over as the chair next to your glides out across the polished floor.

“You mind?” Bucky calls over the music as he rests his hand on the back of the chair.

“Go for it,” you shrug and drink again.

He pauses as he unbuttons his jacket and slings it over the back of the chair. He sits, his fingers brushing down his white vest and settling across his black trousers, stretched over his thighs as his knees are spread wide. He squares his shoulders and sighs.

“You look elated,” he says dryly, raising his voice to compete with the bass.

“Oh, wonderfully happy for the newlyweds,” you roll your eyes.

“What’s this one? Four?”

“Number six,” you empty the glass and put it down, “tied with Henry VIII. You think this one will lose her head?”

He raises his hand and signals a server as he responds, “I didn’t know you liked history.”

“I’ve seen a few Youtube videos on some dead people,” you shake your head.

A server comes over with the wine and diligently pours until the bubbles are at the rim of the glass. Bucky dismisses them without a drink of his own. You look at the pale blush liquid and touch the side of the crystal as you squint at Bucky.

“Shouldn’t you be out there dancing?” You wonder.

“Shouldn’t you?” He tilts his head, his tongue poking out between his lips.

You lift your glass as you consider him, his eyes flicking down, catching the dimly set lights like sapphires. He’s handsome enough, especially compared to the other capos. He’s not terribly old and hasn’t yet grown the typical pot-belly that comes with an excess of red wine and prosciutto.

“If you’re asking me to get out there, no. These aren’t my dancing shoes,” you show off the rose gold Manolos.

“Ah,” his eyes trail down to your foot and he bends forward slowly. You watch curiously as he takes your foot and lifts it into his lap. You try to pull away but he holds your ankle firmly, “they always say something about beauty being pain” he admires the shoe as he drags his finger over the toe, “but you’re not hurtin’ for that, are you?”

“You’re silly,” you take a gulp as he wiggles your shoe off, “hey, what are you doing? Those are expensive.”

He sets your shoes on the table and puts his finger to his lips, hushing you in the din of a slow dance, Celine Dion’s voice crushing the frenetic energy of the dancers. He flutters his fingers up your arch and you twitch as the ticklish sensation it sends up your calf. He clings to you and pushes his thumb into your foot.

“What–”

“Maybe the next one of these will be yours,” he says as he deliberately but delicately massages your foot, “I hear the bride is about your age.”

“Ha, she sat behind me in geometry.”

“Small world.”

“Sure, and my dad’s got a big wallet.”

“Never hurts,” he agrees as he lets his left hand trail along your ankle, his other still kneading your foot, “I did have a chat with the good don.”

“Business? You know I don’t know about all that,” you look away evasively and slurp down a mouthful of wine.

“Business for him, pleasure for me,” his chair scrapes closer as his hand wanders to your knee, the slit of your skirt baring you to the thigh.

You put the glass down and lean forward, stopping his hand. You look at him in the artificial candlelight of the centerpiece. The glow catches the patch of silver along the dimple of his chin and the few strands at his temples. Is he crazy?

“My father doesn’t appreciate his men getting fresh with me.”

“I’m not worried about daddy,” he smirks as he grips your thigh, “I’m just following orders.”

You swallow. Despite the urge to laugh in his face and promise him that your dad will have his ring finger, you can’t muster the derision. The earnestness in his expression gives you pause. He’s your father’s most loyal and capable soldier.

“He wouldn’t–”

“His new wife wants an empty nest and I got one of my own,” his rough fingertips send a chill up your spine and you twitch, “no better prize than the boss’ daughter.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t?” He challenges as he peeks over to the dance floor.

You follow his eyeline as you father sways with Kendra. He watches calmly and gives a nod before smiling as his new wife and kissing her sloppily.

“I won’t go into detail about how I earned such a prize as yourself but I promise,” his hand creeps up and searches out the slender string of your panties, “I’ll take better care of you than any man. Even dear old daddy.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob au #ask drabble #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #au #avengers #winter soldier #captain america #mcu #marvel

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euroquision · 2 months

Text

No, Iceland is not up to "dirty political tricks" and neither is Bashar Murad

Hey lovely people, spirits, souls, and ghouls of Tumblr! To those of you who don't follow me on TikTok, there's a video I made just yesterday concerning Iceland (the lil Eurovision Country that Could!), Israel, a certain Irish TikTok-er with impressively horrible media literacy, and our dearest friend Bashar Murad. If you're not on TikTok, that's wonderful and dear god you don't need to subject yourself to that app. Instead, I wanted to make a post that explains what's going on, what's being said, and why one (1) Palestinian is not responsible for the aforementioned "dirty" political tricks.

If you're following Eurovision or just Bashar Murad himself, consider giving this a read.

So let's begin! First: who's calling Bashar Murad/Iceland "dirty"? Where am I getting that word from and why is it in quotes? That's because: it IS a quote! Buck wild, I know. This is a quote from the TikTok account AllThingsAdam.ie, run by the Irish Eurovision...fan? Podcast-haver? Idk, I'm not saying "journalist" because if I wanted to have a laugh, I would just watch the Unicorn edit I made a couple months ago. Did I share that here yet? Just in case, here it is:

Never fails to make me smile. Great edit, Me! Anyway, back on topic: Adam McCallig is a person with a TikTok account that has half a million followers, he has a podcast where he's interviewed Eurovision and NF artists, so he's definitely a "known figure" to a certain point. I can't sit here and say he's some random troll, y'know? So, in a TikTok that has since been deleted from his page, he accuses Iceland of being up to "dirty political Eurovision 2024 tricks." I created a TikTok where I briefly show this video, and here's a link to that! You can watch that for my condensed version of everything I'm talking about here, but this Tumblr post is for those who like reading what I have to say in longer form. Here's that video:

Since Adam's video is now "gone," I will do my best and summarize what he stated with whatever journalistic integrity I have. First: you hear him open the video with the word "dirty." So no one can say I'm putting words in his mouth -- no no, these are lifted from the source material, honey. Next, he goes on to claim that Bashar "has no connection to Iceland whatsoever." As much as Adam wants this to be true, it just...isn't?? Like, let's ignore Bashar's longtime collaborations with HATARI. Instead, let's look at him literally performing on the Songvakeppnin stage in the 2020 NF season:

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Additionally, the claim "Bashar has no connection to Iceland" rings very hollow not only when we know this claim is false, but it's not one Adam brings up about the many artists trying to represent a country other than their own in the 2024 NF season. Adam says he "knows that countries can let artists from whatever country represent them," but he hasn't made any videos about Marcus & Martinus (Norwegian) competing in Sweden's National Final. Tali (Israeli-born) is representing Luxembourg this year, and MEGARA (Spanish) are representing San Marino. "Foreign" artists representing any country in ESC is FAR from new, and if it were a punishable offense, Celine Dion would just have to settle for being Canadian.

However, as soon as Bashar Murad takes the stage and the colors of the Palestinian flag are visible, Adam is ready to take to TikTok and say "dirty political tricks" are at play -- before deleting it later, like I mentioned. In fact, not only did he delete it! Mere hours before writing this post, I used my second TT account to peep his page and he posted a video saying "One of these four songs should represent Iceland in Eurovision!" and showed snippets of four songs competing in the Icelandic NF Grand Finale, which takes place on Saturday the 2nd of March. However: there aren't four songs competing to win for Iceland. There's five. Which four did he show? The fours songs that AREN'T Bashar Murad. And yet, he's the one being dirty in all this? Adam, sweetie, the dirty call is coming from inside the dirty house.

Now, you might wonder if Adam has kept this kind of energy when talking about Israel's Eurovision participation, which at time of writing is still very much up in the air. But thing is: he doesn't. At least, not really. Adam has posted a video condemning the alleged song that Israel is trying to submit to Eurovision titled "October Rain." I won't go too deep into that -- please follow @/IsraelBreaksRules on Twitter for more details on this!! But basically, what Adam is attempting to do is play some sort of "political centrist" take on Eurovision, while simultaneously trying to say "Keep politics OUT of Eurovision!!" And at the end of his deleted video, Adam claimed that while "what happened in Gaza is terrible," Iceland is just as guilty for playing political tricks as Israel might be, and Bashar Murad's participation is just as bad.

Two things wrong with that statement, Adam. One: It's not what "happened" in Gaza. It's not past tense. It's on-going. It hasn't stopped. That's actually -- believe it or not -- WHY WE'RE STILL HERE. And two: JUST AS BAD?? REALLY??

If you watched my TikTok response that I shared the link to, you'll have seen the evidence I shared. But I wanna share them again just so you all can clearly see how the "political tricks" at play this year are not on the part of Iceland, nor would they be "just as bad." Where do we begin? Maybe we could begin with the fact that "Wild West," Bashar's song, has been spammed with negative reviews by anti-Palestinian ESC fans. This is mathematically observable when you notice "Wild West" has roughly THREE TIMES as many reviews as the other Icelandic NF songs on EurovisionWorld.com. You can check them out here and see the numbers yourself.

But it doesn't stop at bad reviews. Israeli ESC fans have begun a campaign to mass vote against Bashar, specifically for Hera Bjork, one of the four other competitors in Iceland's final on Saturday. This is really funny to me though because if Bashar doesn't win, it should totally be Sigga Ozk, right? GO TIFFANY!!! Anyway, I digress. A link to an article covering this voting campaign can be found here!

Not only is Bashar facing backlash, hate, and organized efforts AGAINST his participation, Israel is funneling money and resources into Facebook ads that look like this, claiming to shape the narrative:

...as well as filming "comedy" "sketches" like this "song" called...

*deep existential sigh* "Jews Pua" Link to that video here, if you can stand three minutes of awful propaganda containing just the right combination of shitty, easy rhymes and enough pinkwashing to put "Cops at Pride!" to shame. All of this should make it VERY clear to anyone observing this situation as a whole that the political tricks at play are NOT being done equally from everyone involved. Dare I boldly say: this shit is INCREDIBLY ONE-SIDED and we need to remind ourselves of the awful reality that is Israel's access to the money, ability, and audience of their "dirty political tricks" more so than Bashar Murad or Iceland ever could.

Lastly, let's just acknowledge the racism-shaped elephant in the room. Now, I as a white American am not here to play "Racism Police." That will never be the case. What I am about to say applies to the greater conversation, and it's not just an "Adam" problem. It's a problem we see happen when one (1) Palestinian decides to exist and write a song, and the way the world has been built around us conditions us to see that and scream "dirty political trickery afoot!!" Truly, ask yourself is this is "equal" in any way shape or form, as Adam posited. Adam and people like him will treat Iceland and Israel as equal, but that doesn't automatically make them "equal."

We are living in a world where Israel is currently being sued for genocide. That is not an exaggeration, it's just something we can all see and talk about. Israel is a country that has the money, platform, and bias of the most powerful countries of the world to not be held to the same standards of responsibility for the horrible things they're doing, nor is my own country being properly held accountable for PAYING for these things they're doing. Race is something used as a tool to identify oppressed peoples not just because it's discriminatory, but it tells people who aren't part of that group that people like Bashar Murad are simply political just by existing. Nowhere does Adam mention that Bashar and his song "Wild West" are about his journey as an artist having to leave his home and travel thousands of miles to the global "west" to even have a chance of representing Iceland (not Palestine, not Gaza, just Iceland) in Eurovision while the country responsible for the death of his people are facing MUCH less scrutiny from the Eurovision powers that be, let alone Irish TikTok accounts with re: shitty media literacy skills.

My final message to you is this: if you're someone paying attention to Eurovision and you maybe feel confused or overwhelmed by Israel, Iceland, Bashar, etc. etc. etc., here's what I want to tell you:

This is not an equal game. Iceland/Bashar are nowhere near on the same level as Israel and the money/access they have to GLOBAL levels of propaganda. Israel, in fact, verbally confirms how they want to use Eurovision to "shape the narrative" which is far dirtier, far more political than just the song "Wild West." Moreover, thinking that treating Eurovision as apolitical or that EVERYONE deserves the SAME level of EQUAL scrutiny only helps Israel at the end of the day. The things they've done, are doing, and hope to do are representative of tens of thousands of people they've killed in the last few months alone. Would you genuinely look at Bashar Murad trying to represent Iceland and say "Yep, these two things are the same"? My hope is that you wouldn't, but people like Adam clearly do.

Don't be like Adam. Don't play this weak-ass centrism card that ultimately helps no one and just makes it easier for people to shift blame, suspicion, or anger towards Bashar Murad. This is not the fight being had right now, and don't let it waste your time. Focus on what and who matters, which is obviously: the country doing genocide and wants us all to be chill with that.

PS. As a personal recommendation, "Wild West" and "Into the Atmosphere" are my two favs to win for Iceland, so def go gives those a stream. And while you're at it, let Bashar himself take you on a visual journey that might help you understand his message a bit better.

Much love you all. Thank you for being here. EuroQuision out.

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#eurovision #es #eurovision 2024 #esc 2024 #bashar murad #free palestine #free gaza #iceland #songvakeppnin 2024 #israel #euroquision #tiktok #twitter #Youtube

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tdinyomomma · 8 months

Text

TDI X Reader- Phobia Factor (Chapter Seven)

If you haven’t read: six

After the Killer Bass’s elimination we decided to go to the campfire and join them. Well there’s more to it but whatever. “What do you guys want? Come by to rub it in?” Courtney questions us with her hands on her hips. “We got some extra dessert after our tuck-shop party, thought you might want some.” Trent speaks for us as Beth jiggles the green jello in her hands.

“So, what? You’re just being nice?” Courtney rebuttals.

“Okay, Owen stank up our cabin and we need some time to air it out.” Gwen rolls her eyes and Owen farts. “Ew, dude.” Trent gives the big guy a look.

Beth then brings over the green jello to the Miss C.I.T. who ends up squealing, stepping back. “No!” She then collects herself. “I mean, no thanks. I’m good.” She politely declines the offer.

“What? Are you on a diet or something?” Duncan quizzes her.

“No, I just don’t like green jelly, okay?” She defends herself, Beth then goes past her and over to DJ, he gasps. “Snake!” Flipping the tray over. Cody bends over, grabbing the worm. “Chill, dude, it’s just a gummy worm.” He shows it off to the poor guy.

“Sorry for tripping. Snakes just freak me out.” He apologizes. “I feel you, chickens give me the creeps, dude.” Tyler comforts his teammate.

“You’re afraid of chickens?” Gwen asks in disbelief, Duncan chuckles. “Wow, that’s-that’s really lame man.”

“So suddenly, everyone’s having this big share fest by the fire. Like Beth went on and on about her mortal fear being covered by bugs. Harold’s afraid of Ninjas. Even Heather admitted she’s afraid of sumo wrestlers.” Gwen tells the camera, growing interested in each one she tells.

“What’s my worst fear? I guess being buried alive.” Gwen answers.

“Walking through a minefield… in heels.” Lindsay distresses.

“Flying man. That’s some crazy stuff.” Owen speaks up, shivering.

“I would never go up in a plane. Never.” Izzy holds her hands at her chest.

“I’m scared of hail. It’s small but deadly, dude.” Geoff expresses.

“Being left alone in the woods.” Bridgette says and Sadie sniffs, holding a wooden plank from the dock. “Bad haircuts.” Sadie cries out. “Oh, okay, I change mine. That’s so much scarier than a minefield.” Lindsay shutters at the thought.

“Having to diffuse a time bomb under pressure.” Cody scratches his cheek, then we all turn to Courtney.

“I’m not really afraid of anything.” She holds her knees to her chest. “Baloney.” Duncan coughs. “Oh, really? Well, what exactly is your phobia, Mr. Know-it-all?” She questions him, his face drops instantly and he glances around.

“Uh, Ce-Celine Dion music store-standees.” He slumps, holding his face. “Exsqueeze me? I didn’t quite get that.” Cody snickers, cupping his hand to his ear, I agree, covering my mouth as I laugh. “Dude, did you say Celine Dion music store-standees?” Trent chimes in. “Ooh, I love Celine Dion!” Lindsay excitedly admits.

“What’s a standee?”

“You know, that cardboard cutout thing that stands in the music store?” Trent clarifies. “Don’t say it dude.” Duncan whines, pointing to the other guy speaking, but gets ignored. “Kind of like a life-size but flat Celine.” I sit up straighter, holding onto Cody’s knee to stop myself from laughing.

“Shut up!” He covers his ears. “What about you guys?” He directs between Trent and I.

“Okay, well, I hate mimes. Like a lot.” Trent says, “Similar to Trent, clowns.” I boredly tell them, Courtney rolls her eyes at us. “All right Courtney. You’re afraid of something. Spit it out.” Trent orders and I nod but she sits taller. “Nope, nothing.”

“If that’s true you would’ve jumped during our first challenge. But you didn’t.” I then bend my arms, pretending to flap my wings.” “Shut up!” She shouts at me and I laugh.

Chris whistlers as we all give him our attention. I sit between Heather and Cody. “Campers, your next challenge is a little game I like to call. “Phobia Factor.” Prepare to face your worst fears.” He announces.

“Worse than this?” Leshawna lifts her food in disgust. “We’re in trouble.” Gwen mutters. “Now for our first victims… Heather!” A card flies into his hand and he reads off of it. “Meet us all in the theater. It’s sumo time!” She spits out her drink in shock. “Gwen you, me, the beach. A few tons of sand.” Her eyes go wide. “Wait how did they know those were your worst fears?” Lindsay asks, Gwen slaps her own forehead. “Because we told them.”

“At the campfire last night.” Trent reminds her, Beth and the blonde look at each other. He then comforts Gwen, rubbing her back as her head lays down on the table. I stare at them without realizing, my mind going blank as I go off into space.

Immediately getting out of it once Lindsay speaks again. “Wait, they were listening to us?”

“It’s a reality show, Einstein. They’re always listening to us.” Gwen sarcastically says.

I know I don’t like Gwen how she likes me but still being avoided and her bringing in the comfort of Trent as if I did something wrong hurts. I truly thought we were close friends…

“That’s like eavesdropping!” Lindsay pouts.

“Chef Hatchet, didn’t you have a special order for Tyler here today?” The muscular cook smirks, showing Tyler a fried chicken, the teen picks it up, he stares at it for a moment. Then he bites off the head and then an actual live chicken head pops up and Tyler screams in fear.

We go to the first thing which is for Beth, it’s a blow up pool filled with bugs DJ vomits just by looking at it. I cross my arms glancing over to Cody who was a worryful expression. For it being Beth’s worst fear she jumps right in. Coming out with worms all over her. “And Beth sets the bar way up there!” We cheer for our girl; she has a big smile planted on her face.

Lindsay and Sadie get wigs on their heads. Owen and Izzy have to go on a roughed up looking plane. Leshawna runs, screaming away from Hatchet who’s in a spider costume.

Next is Heather standing across from a sumo wrestler. “Heather, stepped up to the plate, scoring the Gophers their second point on the board.”

The wrestler comes running and the girl crouches down, the wrestler trips, falling off the stage.

Next was Gwen being buried alive, Trent comforts her, giving her a walkie so they could talk. I want to jump in and also comfort the girl but again… Not my place anymore I guess. She wants something I don’t.

As we’re moving onto the next thing, Trent runs past us. “Just talk to him bro and ask him to go away!” Chris yells after him. I tense up realizing I don’t know when a clown is going to come for me. I unconsciously grip onto Cody’s arm.

“Okay, then, we have 2 minutes before Gwen’s done. Cody, you’re up.” His eyes go up to the host after looking down to see my hands wrapped around his arm. He then looks back up to my face. “You got this.” I give him a thumbs up after letting him go.

We follow Chris to this trash bomb. I decided to stay with the boy, maybe helping him disconnect it. “All right, Cody This garbage bomb’s going off in exactly 10 minutes. Everything you need to know to defuse it is on these schematic blueprints.” Chris lifts up a blue paper he rolled out.

“What? No way! I can’t do this!” He exclaims, holding his head, clearly stressed out. “Then I suggest you find a safe place to hide, bro.” The host then throws the paper and I catch it before it hits the ground. “Later, dudes! Also, [Name]! Be careful.” He winks, walking away and my body freezes.

“Wait, you’re not gonna watch?” Cody questions. “No way, that’s a live bomb, dude!” He then runs away.

He turns to the trash bomb sighing. “You don’t have to stay, you know?” He takes the paper from my hands and I shrug. “I know but I don’t mind helping.” I smile motioning for him to pull the paper out so we can both read it.

As we’re reading the paper he speaks up. “What makes you so scared of-” I cover his mouth quickly. “Don’t even, it’s going to manifest it.” I whisper aggressively. “They could be a killer under that mask. Or- or, a kidnapper. And for some reason people just let them go to parties and carnivals.” I rant, not realizing one was right behind me. “[Name], you might want to start running then…”

Then that stupid clown horn squeaks in my ear and I scream, running away from Cody and the trash bomb. The thing laughs at me and I cry out in fear. “Stay away!” I take off my shoe mid run and throw it back at the clown. It stays hot on my trail and I run past the dock where Trent was soaking wet and Chris was sitting down controlling a cloud of hail following Geoff.

I notice Heather on the porch and wave more arms around. “Heather! Please!” I wail, going up the porch and throwing her in front of me, shielding myself from the clown that giggles, squeaking the horn again. “What- Let go-”

It stands on the bottom of the stairs. “Heather, please! Please, don’t make me let go.” I plead with her and she looks back at me, noticing the tears in my eyes. She rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. “What do you even want me to do?” She questions and I squeeze my eyes shut, gently holding onto her arms. “Tell it to go away.” I mumble, she then walks down the steps, taking off her sandal. “All right, go away you stupid clown. Shoo! Get away!” She slaps it with her shoe repeatedly and it sadly puts its head down, walking away.

“Yeah! Go away!” I cheer, and then run up to Heather after I know it’s gone, embracing her tightly. “Thank you! I owe you big time!” I grin, before running off, not letting her respond to me.

An explosion occurs and I gasp. “Shit, Cody!” I run to the area where the explosion happened and he’s sitting on the ground covered in trash. “[Name]? Is that you?” He groans, his arms out since he can’t see and even though I’m disgusted I help him up off the ground.

“I’m so sorry, the clown was just following me and flight or fight, response you know? Heather luckily helped me but I’m still so sorry, I should’ve done something to help.” I ramble on and he tiredly laughs. “It’s okay, I really need a show though.” He sighs, taking the banana peel off his head. We make it through the forest and as we’re walking through he goes in front of me, still groaning from the pain of the explosion.

Bridgette then hits him, screaming before running off. He grunts, falling to the floor once again. “Oh my god, are you okay?” I ask him and he just lays there for a moment. “I’m fine, just- just give me a minute.” He gives up and I laugh.

After Cody takes a shower and I wash my hands we make our way to a pen where Chris and Tyler are standing. The Gophers all made it through their challenges.

“All right gang, we’re ninth inning. Tyler, for your challenge you need to get in this pen for three minutes with these chickens.” Chris unboxes a momma chicken with two baby chickies. “You can do it Tyler!” Bridgette shouts. “Yeah, unless you’re chicken.” Duncan taunts. Tyler ends up sitting down, cradling himself back and forth.

“I’m not sure we’re getting anywhere on this one.” Chris says boredly.

“Tyler, this is the last challenge. Quit being such a girl!” Courtney yells at the boy. “You have to do this or we’re going to lose!” Courtney rolls her eyes.

“Actually if you do the math you can’t possibly win.” Cody calculates then shows the calculator. “The score’s 8-3.”

“Not necessarily. We’ve got one more challenge set up.” Chris says.

“Who? It can’t be me. But I didn’t-” Courtney goes on confused. “You didn’t have to. We’re always watching you and your reactions.” Chris reminds her.

“I knew it. Didn’t I tell you guys, they were eavesdropping?” Lindsay angrily asks. “Oh, who cares? It’s not going to make a difference.” Courtney frowns.

“Let’s make this interesting then. I’ll give you triple points if you can complete it.” He tells her.

We now stand in front of a huge wooden pool of green jello. “You’re afraid of jelly?” Duncan laughs. “Shut up! Only the green kind. It’s like sugary, jiggly snot!” She cries out in disgust.

“You can face your fear and dive straight into this pool of jelly or let your team lose yet another challenge!” Courtney slumps, making her way to the ladder. “This is insane! I could seriously die doing this.” She climbs up.

“Oh this is just cruel.” Gwen says, “It’s probably warm by now! Warm green jelly. Snotty, bouncy, ugh!” She stifles.

“You’re not going to make me quit!” Courtney yells down. “That’s it, keep climbing!” Duncan smiles.

“She’s just trying to psych you out!” Bridgette chimes in. “Like you said, Courtney! It’s okay if you can’t do it!” Duncan shouts, I yell up a chicken clucking sound just like I did in our first challenge earning a scowl in response. Once she stands up on the board she thinks about it then covers her face. “I can’t do it! I’m coming down!” She yells, her team all lower their head in disappointment as the Gophers cheer once again.

“And there you have it! The Gophers won invincibility this week… Again!”

After everything calms down we all chill in our cabin, mostly everyone was on the boys side except me, Gwen, Heather and Lindsay.

“I gotta go to the bathroom.” Gwen huffs, standing up, stretching out her body. “Ooh! Me too, I’ll come with!” Lindsay grins, following after the goth girl. Gwen scoffs but opens the door for the blonde and they walk out. Heather then stands up and I raise a brow at her. “Dang you have to go too?’

“No, I wanted to talk to you about something.” She tells me and I put my book down, giving her my attention. “What’s up, Heather?” I smile softly. “You said you owe me earlier right?” She asks and I slowly nod.

“Well, before that, I want to apologize for my actions with the whole diary thing. And then by owing me a favor I’d like you to pretend to be my friend for a little bit.” She crosses her arms and I’m taken aback for a moment.

“Seriously?” I lean closer to her as if I didn’t hear her correctly the first time. “Yes, just don’t expect me to be all nice with Gwen.” She says and I glance around. “What’s the point of this?”

“Just- please?” She huffs.

“I-I guess? Just pretending to be friends?” I furrow my brows, her face turns a light shade of pink. “Nevermind-”

“No, no, I’m down, we can be friends.” I wink, then go back to my book.

Links to other writings

Also if you’d like to request an imagine that is separate from the story let me know!!!

taglist: if you want to be added lmk

@pulling-out-my-eyes

@laecrowa

@bbootyyyshaker9000

@marsyay78

@random-apples-blog

@tulipatheticee

@psychicglitterdetective

@keriaonmarz

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overwatchfics · 2 years

Note

Fluff for my man Genji ❤️❤️❤️

Genji Fluff HCs

(This is post Blackwatch Genji, bc I've written fluff for that Genji twice man)

For someone so badass, he can also be kind of needy

Genji is kind of like a cat, where he'll just get extra close to you and when you run your hands through his hair, the whirring of the machinery in his body makes a purr sound

So, he's basically cybernetic cat ninja?

Very cuddly, though it will take some reassuring since he thinks his body isn't viable for affection since it is mostly made from carbon fiber.

He is very wrong, it's smooth and glossy and can heat up or cool down which let me tell you now anon is super nice.

Genji, while he won't admit it, is still a gamer at heart.

Gaming nights where he'll sit on the floor with you in his lap

He used to play competitively in arcades, but he found that with you he prefers to play games where you two works as a team or just enjoy each other's company

If you don't play games, he'd still like you to join him and watch as he plays a story-based game like Witcher 3 or Dragon age

He enjoys music A LOT

You took Lucio's suggestion and asked Genji to hook up his suit to change color to the beat of the music

He loves nothing more than to goof around doing silly dance moves with his RGB suit going off

We all know, no matter how much you love Genji, he can't dance for shit. His dance emote says it all.

If it's movie night? You know he cries his ass off at Titanic

He can't sing either, but he'll clear the feels out of the air by singing Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On"

It's horribly out of tune, but also just utterly charming that Genji's even trying.

As a nighttime routine, he has to plug himself in to a massive industrial charger on his side of the bed forcing him to lay on his back. (Not without giving you goodnight hugs and kisses)

While Genji can't move, you however, still can.

You can lay on his chest or hold his hand, his body heating up the bed and if you fear the dark, he's a ninja nightlight to chase the shadows.

A/N: While I hate playing against him, he is cute to write.

Requests: CLOSED

#genji x reader #genji shimada #overwatch imagine #overwatch2 #overwatch #overwatch x reader

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angel-of-the-moons · 2 months

Text

Okay so Tumblr deleted two asks I really wanted to do >=( but luckily I had screenshots! I plan on working on them when I snag some time to myself the upcoming weeks (which is usually in-between work, my dad, nephew and sleep, and between planning a trip we're supposed to be taking)

@spiderversewizard

I'm No Celine Dion

Pavitr x Singer!Reader

TW/CW: None, fluff, Pavitr being turned into a dumbstruck goober!

As with all my fics like this, Pavitr is an adult.

A/N: I can picture Reader singing this song (I prefer this version to the English one askskdksjl) but y'all can picture whatever you like!

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

"So, I figured we can have some chicken tikka masala for dinner tonight, hm, Pavitr? Maybe some soan papdi?" Maya hummed to her nephew.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, Auntie, sure!" Pavitr chirped, adjusting his hold over the canvas bags full of groceries he was holding.

Maya smirked at her nephew with a chuckle, noticing him once again look over to a small crowd of people gathered, the sound of music bleeding through the throng of them.

"Oh, so curious." She teased, reaching out to poke Pavitr in his side, making him squeak in surprise and laugh; earning a deep chuckle from his aunt and the little old man running the fruit stand.

"I'm ticklish!" Pavitr pouts. "And besides! I'm curious to know what's going on!"

"Ah, some new street performer." The old man replies as Maya purchases some mangoes, "Been drawing a big crowd lately. Doesn't bother me, people standing for too long get hungry, and it brings them to us!" He laughs as he gestures to the other carts and street stalls. It was a typical street market that he and Maya went to; their prices were cheap and their wares were always top notch!

Pavitr noticed the man wasn't wrong, the market was busier than usual, many of them breaking off from the audience to look at wares (judging by how some of them looked and acted they were tourists to Mumbattan) and go back to listen to whoever was playing and singing.

It surprised him that nobody thought of putting up a little performance here sooner!

"Come on then," Maya chuckled at her nephew, taking one of the bags into her own hands, plopping the juicy mangoes into it. "Let's go see what the fuss is about!"

Pavitr laughed along with his aunt and squeezed in between the gap of the people gathered, uttering "excuse me's" and "pardon me's" every time he thought he was being rude.

"Hey, watch it!" One rather grumpy fellow grunted as Pavitr squeaked by.

"Sorry!" He mumbled awkwardly, his face flushed a little bit. "I was just--"

His eyes blinked wide, his jaw dropping a little bit when his eyes landed on you.

You, who was singing into a microphone mounted to the music mixer you were using to create the beats, occasionally hitting a few soft keys as you softly and sweetly sang the song you played.

Pavitr stared, transfixed, his jaw slack as he watched you bob your head, eyes closed as you lost yourself in the melody.

You were amazing!

He looked down and saw the little sign you had at your feet;

Inside the bin attached to the sign was mostly spare change, a few crumpled small notes here and there, and for some reason, some candy. Honestly! Your singing was amazing! How on earth were people walking by and just tossing coins?

'Any little thing helps! :)'

Beneath that little sentence was an "@" to your socials, promoting your music.

Such is the life of a street performer, he supposed...

Maya cleared her throat just loud enough for Pavitr to hear and she nudged him with her elbow, giving him a knowing smirk and handing some money over to him. It was certainly more than what you've earned thus far, and surely you would appreciate it!

Pavitr set the bags down at Maya's feet and sheepishly made his way to your donation bin; his feet feeling like cement as he walked up to you. He felt clumsy; awkward. Almost like he was getting in the way of the show as he dropped the money in.

As he pulled back, he looked up and saw you smiling at him as you sang, your eyes glimmering joyfully.

Pavitr felt his heart lurch in his chest and his face heat up when you winked at him, continuing to sing without missing a beat.

He gave you what he hoped was a charming smile--but in reality he probably looked like he was in pain--before scurrying back to the anonymity of the crowd, picking the grocery bags back up.

His auntie Maya simply chuckled and smirked at her awkward nephew, watching him from the corner of her eyes as he continued to watch you perform.

For the rest of your set, you never broke eye contact with him, grateful at such a nice donation (and secretly amused that his aunt seemed to be silently teasing him). By the end of it, Pavitr had memorized your socials, hoping later he could find more of your music and... and then what? Ugh, he was so dumb!

As your performance came to a close and you thanked the crowd; you began to pack up as the crowd dispersed, parting like the waters as they went about their days.

Except for Maya and Pavitr.

Maya had smiled at you warmly, "You have a lovely voice!" she complimented.

"Thank you." You laugh softly, tucking your equipment back into their cases.

"I'm sure the market appreciates your presence, as well. It's typically so empty, here." She replies.

"Oh, actually that's what I was going for!" You chirp honestly. "Kind of a symbiotic relationship, if you will."

"Ooh, a good head for business sense, I see." She chuckles.

"I s'pose." You grin at her.

You notice (but pretend not to) how Maya not-so-subtly elbows Pavitr, raising her eyebrows and tipping her head at you.

It takes him a second to get the hint, and that makes you want to giggle, but he eventually finds his voice and awkwardly stumbles through a compliment.

"Oh! Y-yeah, I liked the song you sang! It was... Eh... Uh... Pretty..?"

Maya rolls her eyes and sighs at her hopeless nephew, almost wanting to facepalm.

"Thank you." You smile at him sweetly as you stand up straight, hoisting some of your equipment over your shoulder and taking the handle of the largest case in one hand.

"And thank you for the donation! It's appreciated, for sure. This money helps me maintain my equipment."

His face flushed as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "Oh! Uh, yeah! For sure! I mean, wait--like, I mean you're... welcome?"

"Oh, for the..." Maya sighs, shaking her hand and pressing a finger to her temple. She recovers quickly however, and looks at Pavitr, her eyes glimmering mischievously.

"Ah... Are you new here?"

"Yep! Moved here a couple of weeks ago." You say to her, tilting your head a bit; almost like one of those cute puppies Pavitr loves so much.

"Then that means you also don't know the best spots! Tourists go nuts for people like you, singing the way you do." She replies civilly. "If you don't mind my suggested my nephew, Pavitr, here knows almost every nook and cranny in Mumbattan!"

Maya bumps Pavitr playfully as his face gets darker and darker with embarrassment and shock. "In-between work and feeding the street pups, he could show you around!"

"I--uh--auntie--" Pavitr blubbers. You seem to pick up on his apparent discomfort.

"Oh... Really? I mean, uh... are you sure? If he's not comfortable...." You trail.

"I can do it!" He blurts out, barely letting you finish your sentence; immediately biting his tongue afterwards in embarrassment.

You jump back a little at his outburst, a lopsided and surprised grin on your oh so soft looking lips as he claps a hand over his mouth, then awkwardly tugging the collar of his shirt to the side.

"That is, uh... I mean... If you are comfortable with it, sure!"

"Haha... Sure. I'd very much appreciate it." You reply.

Maya looks at Pavitr with an "innocent" smile, "Why don't you add her on one of your... app thingies? It will be easier to communicate, that way."

Pavitr shoots his auntie a barely-concealed, panicked look in his eyes before trying to grin in what he hoped was a casual manner. "Sure, I can do that!" He says, pulling out his phone and tapping one of your socials in. He immediately sends a smiley face and a puppy emoji to you, his soul cringing at the horrible start to a convo.

You chuckle and show the message to him when your phone chimes, "This is you, hm?"

"Y-yep!" He laughs.

"Cool! I'll text you later when I plan on heading out somewhere!" You reply to him innocently.

Maya loops her arm around her nephews elbow and chuckles, "Have a nice day, dear."

"You too!" You grin brightly, waving at them as you part ways, Maya having to practically drag Pavitr along with her.

"Auntie, why did you--?!" He sputtered, his brain finally kicking back into operating parameters.

"You're welcome." She smirked.

Well...

At least now he had a reason to talk to you!

A part of him wondered...

How did you feel about superheroes? You didn't know it yet, but you were about to run into Spider-Man more often than most people, too...

#🌙 answered #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr x reader #pavitr x you #spiderverse pavitr #atsv pavitr

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seokjinsonlyone · 1 year

Note

btw i love how accurately you depict each member cuz 99% of bloggers here make bts seem like discord daddies 😭

but who do you think in bts would be the scariest in an argument with their partner?

to me, I feel like the maknae line would be scary if you made them angry enough like imagine jk swole tatted ass yelling at you and having you backed into a corner idk

listeeeennnn as sexy as they can be sometimes, me and the tannies just go back way too far to only see them in that occasional state of being like… i’ve seen jimin kick himself out of a chair and hobi play celine dion out his nostril on a recorder like u just gotta be fr from time to time 🫡 that being said

i don’t think jk would be the scariest like he may be big nd buff but he’s still a baby our kookoo baby star candy angel prince puppy would get more upset than anything in an argument like i can see him just getting really exasperated if he was tryna explain himself to you but you won’t hearing or believing him like he’ll be more ready to cry than anything like he’s just so accustomed to being our baby light bulb funky little pop star golden maknae that he’s just used to sitting there and taking it so i really believe that in an argument he wouldn’t be that aggressive however i do think that if you pushed him hard enough he would get loud wit you for a second just to shut you up before you make him reach his limit. scary meter: [5/10]

you know who i do think is really scary tho? hobi 😳. he may be all smiles and giggles and sunshine but when you piss him off the dark clouds roll in fr 😬 like say the wrong thing on the right day and you gon be in for something treacherous keep in mind this the same man that threw a banana at jungkook like the last time i heard of throwing a banana at someone was in mario kart now i can’t really see him raising his voice but he WILL back u into a corner like i have a clear vision of him red in the face gritting his teeth spewing straight up venom if y’all get into it real bad. scary meter: [9/10]

now when you think about a bangtan fight it seem like jimin always at the scene of the crime. u got the mandu incident, the time him nd jungkook got into it nd ended up hugging in the rain, on burn the stage when tae nd seokjinnie was having it out he was scolding them afterwards like he just always there for a tussle. so when i imagine fighting with jimin i can just see you popping off on him saying this and that and him talking over you saying this and that until you say sumn crazy and he gon tell you to watch your mouth, get fed up and tell you to leave him alone and don’t call him or something, and then try to storm out (and that’s when you grab his wrist before he makes it out the room and kiss him on da mouf and let him push you up against a wall and y’all make up 😏 way before y’all come to an agreement). scary meter: [6/10]

i think if you were to fight with seokjin i can’t say for surely that it would be super scary but by NO MEANS will it be a pretty sight to see. like we know he like to run his mouth so if y’all fighting he gon get to talking fast neck and ears gonna be red and whatever he saying to you it’s gonna be MEAN if you push him there he will raise his voice but i think that’s about it like your feelings gonna be super hurt at the end of it bc he know exactly which buttons to push but if you’re ever scared it’s gonna be bc you think he leaving bc one thing about seokjin is he not afraid to cut a person off. scary meter: [4/10]

yoongi wouldn’t hurt a fly nor would he give the impression that he would hurt a fly like yeah he's agust d and we’ve seen that the inner rage does exist but he the embodiment of the pen is mightier than the sword like if anything his anger runs cold like you can go ahead with the fussing and fighting and yelling crying carrying on but he not wit da dramatics you can talk to him or you can go somewhere he not doing all that so would he be scary in an argument? nah. scary meter: [3/10]

joonie is a big buff man real tall and muscly but that’s not what makes him scary bc as big and buff as he is he is equally kind and gentle but there's a definite streak of unrefined aggression that lives within him and if you ever tapped into that it'd be bad bc it's like he holds back so much that when the flood gates open you will drown like downturned eyebrows nose scrunched up red in the face volume at 100 he's gesturing wildly got you backed in the corner ya know the WORKS but i do think it'd be a real quick burst tho like he's gonna absolutely lose it for all of a minute before regaining control of his emotions and he'd apologize for talking to you like that immediately. scary meter: [7/10]

hands down 100% tae is the scariest member to fight with like i'm specifically thinking of that time that rumor was being spread and he went on weverse saying he wish he could like stab the reporters with needles or something like that like if at all possible DO NOT piss him off because he is just so firm in all his beliefs and convictions like he is not backing down and i think he is also the most dramatic so if you take him there he's going to make the most of it like it'd be a steady build up him just continuously getting more and more upset until he's stomping around yelling at you like there's slamming doors and harsh words i wouldn't put it above him to punch a hole in the wall depending on the severity of the situation just like he is naawwwttt the one. scary meter: [10/10]

a/n: AGAIN SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO RESPOND TO THIS forgive me 🥺🤲 ALSO LISTEN can not say for surely how firm MY beliefs in this take are bc like i just am not intimidated by people like they just aren't scary to me unless they carrying a gun that's the only time i be scared 💀

#bts #ask of interest #bts fanfiction #bts headcanons #bts x reader #namjoon x oc #seokjin x reader #yoongi fanfic #suga x y/n #j hope fanfic #hoseok x reader #park jimin x you #kim taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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aniron48 · 3 months

Note

Let’s play a game. Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts that would happen in a story

is it a low hanging fruit? yes. sometimes low hanging fruit is delicious.

bond's secret to his talent for resurrection is... resurrection. he has been dying his hair increasingly grey to look older over the years. he Does Not examine any similarities between M and Andromache. he is Not Going To fall in love with a mortal again, green eyes and adorable laugh be damned.

@dude-watchin-with-the-brontes hello friend! thank you for the AU ask! Oooh, "The Old Guard" AU for James Bond, let's do this! 😁

Well, first of all, in this AU, Vesper is the one who gets put into the Iron Maiden and dropped in the ocean Oh wait, this was supposed to be fun facts! Right! haha... ::sweats nervously and starts over::

The relationship between The Old Guard and MI6 is a special one. In this AU, one of Booker's children lived long enough to have children of his own, and Booker's identity became a family secret that was passed down through the generations. The last in the chain? Dench!M. (This at least partially explains her exasperated fondness for blond, broody alcoholics who don't follow the rules.)

2. When Bond dies for the first time (Moneypenny still shoots him off a bridge because in this AU I will give the people what we want--it's me, I'm people), the connection between Andromache's band of immortals and MI6 grows stronger, if more complicated. Andromache is the one to fish Bond out of that river in Turkey, and to bring him back to London when MI6 is under attack. When she does, Andromache and M eventually reach an uneasy truce whereby Bond can remain under M's command...for now.

3. Smart Blood trackers won't work on Bond--every time he dies they go offline and don't come back up. Bond has been known to use this fact to his advantage a time or two (shocking, I know). Q is going to figure it out eventually.

4. Meanwhile, over in the U.S., Copley has roped Felix into helping him find suitable missions for TOG. The first time Felix and Bond, unbeknownst to each other, show up at the same meeting after Bond's initial resurrection, it's like that meme of the Spidermen (Spidermans?) pointing at each other.

5. Once Q becomes immortal, too (because he's going to, obviously, I do what I want), the band gives Bond advice that is varying degrees of useful about how he should finally get his shit together and woo Q for the long term. Nicky suggests cooking a meal (goose fat cassoulet anyone?). Joe offers to help with a poem. Andy's suggestion of repeated mortal combat and mutual murder is greeted with some skepticism until everyone remembers how Joe and Nicky got together. Nile's all set to curate a romantic playlist until they get derailed by Bond's love for Celine Dion (I *will* die on this hill). Booker suggests drinks and everyone winces uh, flowers?

Sometimes low-hanging fruit IS delicious! What are your other fun facts for this AU? (Bond dying his hair grey at the temples absolutely sends me, btw.) I would love to hear them! 💜

#AU ask game #james bond #the old guard

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corner-stories · 4 months

Text

when it's dark in a cold decembre (but i've got you to keep me warm)

Jean Kirschtein. Mikasa Ackerman. Kiyomi Azumabito. Holiday Visits. Awkward Family Dinners. Cuddles. Doggies. 4191 words. (ao3.)

Vancouver is a change of pace. Having grown so used to winters in Montreal — or even his hometown of Trois-Rivieres — arriving at YVR to rain instead of snow leaves him confused.

At least Mikasa seems to find amusement in the poor Quebecer getting soaked in the drizzle.

A rapid transit line takes them from the airport to downtown, then an Uber driver takes them the rest of the way. As the vehicle crosses the Lionsgate Bridge, Jean’s eyes are affixed to the window and towards the rainy city outside.

At this time of night, all he can see is artificial lights — buildings with glass exteriors standing amidst the ocean and coniferous trees. It’s just enough to let him see the outline of the mountains. Above it all are clouds in a dark sky.

The car drives deeper into West Vancouver. The houses lining the roads are built with an emphasis on style and aesthetic, most of them looking to have been designed very recently with walls made of stone and glass.

Mikasa had told him that her Auntie was wealthy, and as the car passes by a house with more driveways and outdoor entertaining space to do with, the sentiment rings true.

Soon enough, the car arrives at the destination.

The house Mikasa grew up in differs from the gray homes adorning the streets. When Jean sees it, his eyes go to the vinyl siding and the rugged roof tiles, attributes that make the craftsman home feel like an island in the ocean of stone and glass houses.

Jean hoists his bags over his shoulder as the Uber driver takes off down the street. Mikasa walks from the street to the curb, comfortably taking her boyfriend’s hand as he looks at the house.

“You like?”

Jean nods, unable to take his eyes off the bulbs adorning the eaves. “I like the lights.”

“Auntie likes them, too.” She then squeezes his hand and begins guiding him towards the house.

Jean follows, keeping his eyes on the ground and watching her boots step into the puddles on the pathway. The rain is lighter here than it is at the airport, but it’s still enough for water droplets to collect in his hair.

The two climb up the steps and Jean mentally goes over the backstory Mikasa had given him regarding her aunt. Kiyomi had grown up alongside Mikasa’s mother in Tokyo, and despite being cousins they acted a lot more like sisters. They even moved to Vancouver together to study. They had kept in touch even when Makoto married a local man while Kiyomi moved back to Japan.

It was no surprise that Kiyomi was the one who stepped up after Mikasa’s parents passed, gladly taking the nine-year-old in and giving her shelter in a time where she had none. She even decided to move back to Canada permanently to be near her niece.

Despite coming from wealth, Kiyomi kept herself busy as a tenured professor at a local university. Giving lectures on international relations seemed to be her second priority on top of providing for Mikasa. Academia appeared to run in the Azumabito-Ackerman household.

As Jean keeps reciting the lore in his head, he turns to Mikasa and asks a last-minute question.

“So… is there anything else I should know?” His voice is just slightly tinged with his signature wit. “You know, before the point of no return?”

“Just be yourself,” Mikasa insists as her boots touch the top of the porch. “Besides, you both like sassing me and old school Celine Dion, in her mind you can do no wrong.”

Jean makes a noise that’s in between an awkward laugh and a nervous chuckle. “That’s one way to look at things…”

When the doorbell rings, what immediately follows is the sound of several dogs barking their heads off — one even sounds like a howl. Through the pane of glass in the door Jean can see two fluffy creatures with legs rushing to the door. After they yelp at the door for a few seconds, a person descends the stairs and gestures for said creatures to quiet down.

Unsurprisingly, the act of wagging one’s finger at two rambunctious dogs does nothing to quell their screams.

Nonetheless, the door opens and the pair of tired traveling grad students are greeted to the sight of Mikasa’s Aunt Kiyomi.

As to be expected, the older lady is smiling from ear to ear and immediately steps forward to embrace her niece. Mikasa herself gives a gentle grin as she hugs her Aunt back.

“Mikasa!”

“Auntie.”

Jean gives them their space as they reunite. In the space between the doorframe and the door, he gets a better look into the house, taking note of the wooden floors, the warm lighting, the spotless walls. The whole place is impeccably clean, even with the two dogs running around.

Speaking of which, Jean also gets an eyeful of the canines standing behind Kiyomi — one is a samoyed with the doofiest grin he’s ever seen on a dog, and the other is husky with an abundance of fluffy fur. The husky in particular is letting out dramatic weeping noises as it looks at the visitors at the door.

When aunt and niece separate, Kiyomi sets her eyes on Jean.

“And is this the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?” she asks. “Jean, right?”

Jean gives a nod and a polite smile. “That’s me.” He reaches out and shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Azumabito.”

Kiyomi is a head shorter than both Jean and Mikasa. Like her niece, her hair is dark, but she keeps it neatly combed and tied into a proper bun.

The only woman looks him up and down, seemingly content with finally meeting him in the flesh. She even seems flattered by his formality. “Please, call me Kiyomi. And come in, you two must be soaked.”

Jean and Mikasa enter the home, bringing their luggage with them. He’s only been in Vancouver for an hour and he’s already relieved to get out of the downpour.

As Jean shakes the water out of his hair, Mikasa kneels down to the two dogs of the Azumabito household. She beams sweetly at both the husky and the samoyed, both of which are excited to see her return. The husky in particular is wagging its tail so hard that its rear end is shaking.

Back at McGill, Mikasa had spoken at length about her dogs back at home. Back at their apartment, there’s a photo of both the husky and samoyed as puppies pinned to their refrigerator.

Seeing the dogs in the fluff is significantly more enjoyable than seeing them in photo form. The sweet look of heartfelt joy on Mikasa’s face is also a bonus.

“Yes, yes, I missed you, too,” says Mikasa as the husky kisses her cheek.

Kiyomi immediately proves to be a cordial host. She takes Jean’s jacket without being prompted, hanging it up on a nearby coat rack. She then reaches for the luggage and grabs the first two bags she can find.

“It’s been raining all week,” the older lady says. She takes a pair of backpacks to a nearby closet.

“Has it?” asks Mikasa.

There is an irked, gravelly tone to Kiyomi’s voice as she replies. “Unfortunately.”

Mikasa lets out a hum, which is her way of laughing. “That’s a Vancouver Christmas for you.”

Jean chuckles as he rubs his freezing hands together. Now free from the constraints of his parka, he kneels down to get to Mikasa’s level and looks at the pair of dogs.

“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you two,” he says, petting the head of the cheery samoyed. “So… which one’s which again?”

Mikasa gestures to the husky lovingly licking her cheek. “This one’s Mochi…” She then points to the white fluff ball. “...and this one’s Miso.”

Jean can’t help but chuckle, a throaty one that makes the corners of his mouth turn up.

Somehow, he’s getting the feeling that he’ll enjoy the holidays here.

…

Dinner is a simple affair, though Kiyomi uses it as an excuse to break out a bottle of red from the cellar. Christmas may be a few days away, but her beloved niece returning home is a good reason to celebrate. She serves dishes that Mikasa has had throughout her childhood, only occasionally having to scold the dogs for putting their paws on the table. Evidently, Mochi absolutely drools in the presence of Kiyomi’s katsudon.

And true to Mikasa’s words, Kiyomi is a fan of old-school Dion, as the singer’s Christmas album proceeds to play on the house stereo.

Jean sits at the table and listens to aunt and niece catching up, taking note of the way Mikasa’s eyes light up as she speaks. Sometimes they’ll slip into Japanese in the middle of the conversation, only exchanging a few brief sentences before returning to English. It happens so smoothly that Jean can tell it’s just one of those habits the two share.

And suddenly, he now knows how Mikasa feels when he switches into French with other francophones in front of her.

A part of him is hesitant to chime in, as the flow of the conversation feels so fast. He’s also worried that he might spoil the joy of the reunion.

So he spends the time petting Miso under the table while Mochi tries to steal some bites of okonomiyaki. At least the samoyed has begun taking a liking to him.

Mikasa recalls to her Aunt Kiyomi exactly how she and Jean met. The story involved a social gathering for McGill grad students, as well as alcohol and a karaoke machine. Sometimes Jean thinks about how different things would have been had Mikasa not spilled wine on his shirt at the start of the party — he would have probably spent the night drunk singing instead of watching her trying to fruitlessly clean his clothes in the bathroom.

Considering how many of his colleagues at the School of Architecture were attending the party, Mikasa had most likely saved his reputation before he even had one to destroy.

Mikasa is in the midst of explaining her thesis to Kiyomi, detailing how she made the choice to specialize in plant pathology. Recently, she’s been studying a virus that has only been affecting flowers that thrive in cold weather.

Jean loves it when she gets like this, so wrapped up in explaining her work that she’s talking more than she usually does. Truth be told, he can’t comprehend enough botanical science to truly understand what she’s talking about, but the fact that she can talk about trees and flowers like an artist talks about the Sistine Chapel is enough for him. Seeing the way she lights up as she talks about what she’s dedicating her life to is all he’ll ever need.

Plus, Mikasa always seems tuned in when he goes on and on about architecture mumbo jumbo, even the stuff that he knows for a fact will bore people to tears. (“No one cares about the history of the pillar,” Sasha’s voice echoes in his head.) The least he can do is be an attentive boyfriend.

“It’s nice to know that all those years away from home have done you good,” Kiyomi says, pouring herself a little more wine.

“It has,” Mikasa assures. She then looks down and sees Mochi resting his chin on her lap with a loving look in his eyes.“But I can never stay away for too long…”

Kiyomi looks amused. “Have you ever considered getting a dog?”

“We have,” Jean finally speaks up. It’s telling of him that the one topic he’s more comfortable chining in on is pets. “But it’d be a hassle while we’re both still in school.”

Nonetheless, Kiyomi looks interested and listens intently.

“We did dogsit for our friend Historia once — she’s got a terrier mix, we watched it for about a week,” Jean continues, then lets out a chuckle. “The poor guy would weep every time we crated him for the night, wouldn’t sleep unless he was in the bed with us.”

Mikasa lets out a polite hum, reliving the memories of the two stressed grad students trying to curb a terrier’s energy inside their apartment. At least the little one was calm once he was allowed to sleep in the realm of the humans.

“And our bedroom still has some of Donut’s dog hair in it,” Mikasa adds.

Kiyomi spends a moment politely laughing along.

“Oh, speaking of which,” the older lady starts, eyeing the man currently petting the samoyed under the table. “Jean, I prepared the guest bedroom for you.”

It does not take long for both Jean and Mikasa to understand the implications. Jean is suddenly plunged into a mix of embarrassment and confusion, a sensation that makes him pick up the fidgety mannerisms of a twelve-year-old boy.

“Ah… thank you?” is all he can muster. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck.

Meanwhile, Mikasa’s sweet smile disappears from her pretty face and in its place is a glare directed at the hostess.

“Auntie, I was under the impression that my room would be available for us,” she asks in a tone that’s the slightest bit stilted, perhaps to cover up her clear agitation.

“Oh, certainly, Dear, it’s available for you,” Kiyomi explains simply. The way she says ‘dear’ is both motherly and condescending. “I’ve cleaned it and everything.”

Mikasa starts to look more and more frustrated with every passing second. “I meant for both of us.”

“Not in my house.” Kiyomi then reaches for the bottle in the middle of the table like nothing is wrong. “More wine, anyone?”

Then just like before, Mikasa and Kiyomi slip into a tongue that’s foreign to Jean's ears. This time, instead of speaking Japanese for a sentence or two, the two engage into what can respectfully be referred to as a “passive aggressive debate.”

Jean hasn’t learned enough Japanese to discern exactly what the two are saying, but the subject matter is enough to bring a blush to his cheeks. He didn’t anticipate that the concept of he and Mikasa sharing a room — despite sharing so much more back in their apartment in Montreal — would be such a hot topic in the Azumabito household. Apparently, Kiyomi had put a lot of thought into making sure that her niece and her niece’s boyfriend didn’t get too close.

Mikasa’s tone is composed, focused, the one she uses when she has to babysit freshmen undergrads all day. Yet it is laced with just enough persistence to prove that she’s not backing down without a fight. On the other hand, Kiyomi remains placid as she explains her point, continuing to act like there’s nothing wrong with her silly little rule.

Suddenly, Jean’s wondering why he passed up on his mother’s offer to spend the holidays with her in Montpellier.

To quell the uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach, Jean begins petting another dog — Mochi this time — and reaches for the bottle of red.

“Some wine sounds nice, actually.”

…

Once dinner and the debate is over, the two jet-lagged grad students decide to retire for the night. It’s only 9 o’clock but it feels so much later than that.

The outcome of the conversation has caused Jean to unpack his luggage in the basement guest room, whereas Mikasa is forced to do the same on the top floor.

The last time Mikasa had stayed in her childhood bedroom, she was taking a break before heading onto grad school. She can remember the months she spent preparing to move across the country for a second time — the tables she waited to earn extra cash, the lessons she spent with a tutor to get a better grasp on French. Montreal was going to be a whole new beast compared to Toronto — where she had completed her undergrad — and every reminder of that was a sign that she needed to prepare.

That era of her life was roughly two years ago, yet Mikasa feels like it’s a millenia away.

Despite Kiyomi’s rule regarding her niece and her niece’s significant other, at least the bedroom is clean and cozy. Although the pictures and art on the wall have been removed, the sheets are clean and the blankets are soft, more than enough to help Mikasa survive the night.

So alone in her room, Mikasa lies on a bed and reads a book, her usual habit whenever she needs to fall asleep. With the sound of rain hitting the roof and the two dogs napping at the foot of her bed, she almost feels like she’s in high school again, preferring to spend hours in her room just snuggling with Mochi and Miso.

As Mikasa turns the page, she hears a light knock. Mochi immediately lifts his head from the cushions and watches the door open. Jean peaks in with a playful, almost boyish look on his face, knowing well that what he’s doing is a little mischievous.

He steps into the room calmly, having changed from his traveling clothes to something a lot more comfortable. He’s wearing a pair of pyjama pants that Mikasa bought for him on a whim, as well as a flannel shirt that he’s buttoned sparingly. His hair is damp from a shower, ashy brown locks draping messily over his face. The stubble on his jawline and chin looks a bit thicker, more like a short beard.

Knowing Jean, Mikasa wonders if he’s trying to entice her, as he knows exactly what she thinks when she sees him looking so disheveled.

“What are you reading?” he asks, stepping barefoot into her room. He sits on the edge of her bed and starts petting Miso, who predictably reacts with a doofy grin.

Mikasa looks away from her book. “One of Sasha’s romance novels — she lent it to me.”

Jean catches sight of the muscular man on the cover and raises an eyebrow. “Sasha reads romance?”

“When she can,” Mikasa answers. “Vet school’s been taking up a lot of her time.”

There is a beat — Mikasa continues reading and Jean continues petting the dog on the bed. He then notices something that brings a smile to his face.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

Mikasa is nonplussed as she turns a page. “I know.”

Nowadays, Jean’s green button-front shirt finds itself in Mikasa’s care more often than his. He doesn’t seem to mind though.

Mikasa changes the subject with ease. She looks up and affixes her gaze to his. “How’s the guest room? Cozy?”

“It is.” He nods his head, then his voice goes warm. “Not as cozy as this though.”

Mikasa is quick to close her book and give him a knowing look. “Don’t get any ideas. I wouldn’t want Kiyomi to toss you onto the street.”

Jean puts his hands up in mock defeat. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want that either.”

Putting her novel away, she straightens her back and sits up. “I’m sorry you had to see the argument.”

“It’s fine,” Jean shrugs. At least he’s good at taking things in stride. “What’s the holidays without some family bickering, huh?”

Mikasa lets out a sigh and looks down. “Unfortunately.”

In hindsight, attempting to argue with Kiyomi in Japanese was somewhat pointless, as Jean most likely knew that they were talking about thanks to their mannerisms. Some things in the world are just made to transcend language barriers.

“But hey, I don’t wanna rock the boat.” He’s trying to keep a positive undertone to his voice. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

He moves on the bed a bit to sit next to her, gently cupping her face with his hand and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Mikasa closes her eyes and lets the gesture send a warm sensation throughout her entire body. The unease she had dealt with at dinner starts to fade away.

With his palms still touching her cheeks, Jean presses a kiss to her lips. It’s gentle, sweet, and makes her want him to stay.

She puts her hands on his as they remain on her face, gently deepening their kiss as her forehead brushes against his. He’s warm, so warm.

Mikasa’s hands trail down to Jean’s shoulders, then to his chest — her thumbs start hooking into the hems of his shirt.

But before anything more can happen, Jean pulls away. She can see the flustered look on his face as his breathing goes unsteady.

“I should go,” he insists, quickly buttoning up his shirt.

Sensing the urgency Mikasa nods along. She then remembers that Kiyomi is still awake and currently relaxing one floor beneath them.

Also, if they are to engage in any intimacy during the stay, she would rather do it without the dogs in the room.

Jean takes her hand and kisses it, a last gesture before he leaves.

“See you in the morning, mon amour.”

And when everything said is done, he leaves. Standing from the bed, he gives the dogs some last pets before walking out of the bedroom. He makes sure to give Mikasa one last assuring look before he is truly gone.

Once the door is closed, Mikasa takes in a breath and rubs her face. Her palms are sweating. When she opens her eyes she is greeted to the sight of Mochi and Miso staring at her with their unblinking gazes.

Her first instinct is to glare back. “Don’t judge me, I’ve seen you two dig up a hornet’s nest.”

…

It’s 5AM when Mikasa wakes. The room is warm and so is the bed, yet when she reaches to the other side to only feel nothing it might as well be cold as ice.

After opening her eyes, she spends a few moments staring at the ceiling and thinking about how tired she is. She may be on vacation, but parts of her are still in grad student mode. Her body has yet to comprehend that she’s not going to spend the day TAing or going over research notes.

When Mikasa gets up, she notices that the dogs are no longer sleeping at the foot of her bed. With the bedroom door ajar, she surmises that Mochi and Miso have transitioned to sleeping in Kiyomi’s bed, as per usual.

Being jet-lagged, Mikasa feels awake, but the kind of awake where one can either function for the day or go for a few more hours of slumber. She contemplates going for an early morning run to ease her nerves, then looks to the window to find that last night’s downpour has intensified.

Vancouver is always rainy, but the kind of rain that makes it impossible to go outside feels truly constricting.

Then an idea pops into Mikasa’s head, one attached to consequences but possible enough to pull off. She has to be careful though, so as quietly as she can she slips out of bed and steps onto the floor.

The carpets dampen the noise of her footfalls as she makes her way through the hallway. When she sees Kiyomi’s bedroom door slightly ajar, she takes in the sight of her Auntie sleeping in between the world’s fluffiest dogs. Smartly, she makes sure to close the door.

Mikasa descends the stairs to the first floor, moving past the furniture and framed photographs before approaching the basement entrance. The lower portion of the house is as cozy as the rest and when she arrives at the bedroom at the end of the hall she slips in without any hesitation. She makes sure to lock the door behind her.

The guest room is warm, Jean’s belongings are scattered about. On a nearby chair is the shirt he had been wearing in her room and on the desk is one of his sketchbooks — he’s quite fond of traveling with at least one. The open page is filled with doodles of Mochi and Miso.

Jean is fast asleep on the bed, bare-chested and breathing gently. His eyes are closed and his hair is strewn in every direction.

Mikasa doesn’t waste any more time. She slips under the sheets, her body easily finding his, and begins peppering kisses against his shoulder.

With the sweetest touch, she trails her lips up his neck and onto his jaw. His stubble is soft and tickles her face. He lets out a hum, as he’s used to being woken up like this. His eyes are still closed as he shifts slightly, letting Mikasa easily pry herself under his arm. Soon she rests her head on his chest, where she always likes to be. He’s warm, warmer than her room upstairs.

With all his strength, Jean manages to open his eyes just enough to see his girlfriend snuggling against him. The room is dark, but she can still see the sleepy smile on his beautiful face.

“Couldn’t stay away?”

“Not a bit.”

Mikasa relaxes into him, letting his heartbeat become a gentle lullaby. In the sheets his hand finds hers and holds it tight, one of her legs hooking around his. She is content to drift off to sleep just like this.

She’ll deal with the consequences later.

#Jeankasa #Jeanmika #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #jean kirschtein #kiyomi azumabito #modern au #grad student au #snk #jkholidaysspecial2023 #jkholidaysspecial

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lovesongbracket · 1 year

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Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Iris

Written By: John Rzeznik

Artist: The Goo Goo Dolls

Released: 1998

“Iris” was written for the 1998 film City of Angels starring Nicolas Cage. John Rzeznik explained: “When I wrote it, I was thinking about the situation of the Nicolas Cage character in the movie. This guy is completely willing to give up his own immortality, just to be able to feel something very human. And I think, ‘Wow! What an amazing thing it must be like to love someone so much that you give up everything to be with them.’ That’s a pretty heavy thought.” “Iris” eventually became one of the Goo Goo Dolls' biggest and most recognizable hits, eclipsing the movie it was written for.

[Verse 1] And I'd give up forever to touch you 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be And I don't wanna go home right now [Verse 2] And all I can taste is this moment And all I can breathe is your life And sooner or later, it's over I just don't wanna miss you tonight [Chorus] And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am [Instrumental] [Verse 3] And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming Or the moment of truth in your lies When everything feels like the movies Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive [Chorus] And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am [Instrumental Break] [Chorus] And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am [Chorus] And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am [Outro] I just want you to know who I am I just want you to know who I am I just want you to know who I am

youtube

My Heart Will Go On

Written By: Will Jennings & James Horner

Artist: Céline Dion

Released: 1997

The main theme song to James Cameron’s blockbuster film Titanic. James Horner first wrote the musical backing as part of the score, taking inspiration from Jethro Tull. Then he decided to add lyrics, courtesy of Will Jennings. After Celine Dion was convinced to record (not her first time doing a movie theme), Horner had to find a day where the notoriously ill-tempered Cameron would be welcoming to show him. “My Heart Will Go On” then was turned into the end credits theme, and its association with the eventual highest-grossing movie ever (until Cameron topped his own record 11 years later) led to the song topping charts everywhere, as well as an Oscar and two Grammys. Céline recorded her vocals in one take; it was intended to be a demo, but that vocal track was used on the finished song.

[Verse 1] Every night in my dreams I see you, I feel you That is how I know you go on Far across the distance And spaces between us You have come to show you go on [Chorus] Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on Once more, you open the door And you're here in my heart And my heart will go on and on [Verse 2] Love can touch us one time And last for a lifetime And never let go 'til we're gone Love was when I loved you One true time I'd hold to In my life, we'll always go on [Chorus] Near, far, wherever you are I believe that the heart does go on (Why does the heart go on?) Once more, you open the door And you're here in my heart And my heart will go on and on [Instrumental Bridge] [Chorus] You're here, there's nothing I fear And I know that my heart will go on We'll stay forever this way You are safe in my heart And my heart will go on and on [Outro] Mm, mm-mm

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#iris #the goo goo dolls #céline dion #celine dion #my heart will go on #titanic #polls #poll tournament #poll bracket #tournament #bracket #lovesongbracket #round2

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whats-her-quirk · 2 years

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secret oath chapter 4

last || m.list || next

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marco bott x fem!reader

18+ mdni

word count: 5k

warnings: masturbation, pining, sexual tension, a sexy game of chicken, dirty thoughts

➷➷➷➷➷

After karaoke night, you think about Marco constantly. In fact, it’s hard to stop thinking about him. With every wake up call, every meal, every evening campfire, your mind always wanders back to him, whether he’s nearby or not. It’s particularly bad during morning showers, since they’re the one blessed time when you’re truly alone with nothing but your thoughts.

As you rinse out your hair, eyes closed to keep the soap and water out, images drift into your head like dreams. You think of Marco’s bright smile and speckled cheeks. You paint his body in your mind—strong, broad shoulders, sunkissed olive skin. You picture him shirtless at the pool, your mind’s eye tracing his abs to the curve of his hips to the tan lines just below his waistband and on the tops of his thighs.

This time, when your hand slides between your legs, you don’t stop it.

It’s early. You got up before everyone else, before anyone even knocked on the cabin door for wake-up. No one else is showering, and the chances of a camper walking in are slim to none. You can be quiet, you know you can, so with your middle finger, you swirl over your clit, pressing against those little nerves of pleasure while you fantasize about Marco.

You imagine how he strips off wet swim trunks after he’s done at the pool. Your body tingles as you touch yourself the way you like, thinking about how large he is, how he looks when he’s soft vs. hard. You bet his cock is as pretty as the rest of him and almost moan, but instead let the sound out as a slow exhale.

It feels a little gross, almost creepy to think about him like this, but it feels too good. You’re paired up with him for small group today, and you’re not sure how you’ll face him, but fuck it. You can’t stop now—you don’t want to. You think of his big hand resting on your thigh, about the time he caught you by the elbow so you didn’t fall down. Fuck, you want his hands on you. You rub a little harder, a little faster, remembering almost against your will that if you rode him, you’d be his first pussy, maybe even the one that ruined him for anyone else…

With a gasp, the slow heat of orgasm rushes to your belly. It’s a small crest but enough to give you a rush during the comedown. You brace one hand against the wall as you slow your breathing, savoring the tremors inside you as water rolls down your back and shoulders. It feels good, your first real release in weeks, and even as the satisfaction slips away, you’re still thinking about Marco. You’re so fucking insatiable.

You rinse the trickle of slick off your thighs before turning the water off and reaching for your towel. When the shower sputters to a halt, you can suddenly hear someone carrying a tune on the other side of the cement block wall—in the guys’ showers.

Immediately, you’re embarrassed. You’re sure, positive even, that you didn’t moan out loud, right? There’s no way whoever is singing over there could have heard you over both your shower and theirs, but what if… No. They couldn’t have. But you can’t help but wonder who it is, if it’s Marco on the other side, just like the other night when you were 98% sure it was him humming your song in the cabin.

You don’t want to wait outside the door—that would actually be legitimately creepy. You take your time brushing your teeth at the sink and wrapping your head in a towel, lingering near the doorway, casually, until the singing gets louder. As quietly as you can in your shower flip flops, you take a few steps back, hoping you’re hidden behind the wall. After a tense few moments, Eren passes by outside, wearing a low-slung towel around his hips and singing what you can now recognize as a Celine Dion ballad. Apparently, now that he’s revealed his impressive pipes, he has no problem showing them off.

Frankly, you don’t really care what Eren thinks of you anyway, so there’s no use in hiding any longer. As you stroll out of the shower house, following him back to the cabin at a distance, you’re almost surprised he doesn’t drop his little brown towel when he wails, “Baby, baby, baby!” before disappearing into the boys’ cabin to a chorus of curse words.

–

You’re finishing the last dregs of your coffee on your way out of the mess hall when you feel a tug on your arm. Zofia, looking panicked, quickly blurts out that she forgot her sunglasses in the lodge yesterday. You’re supposed to head to the barn for a horseback ride with Hange this morning, but Zofia insists that she can’t ride without her glasses or else she’ll “probably lead the horse into a ditch.” You wouldn’t want that, so once you finish your head count, you flag down Marco.

This morning, he’s wearing loose dad jeans over gray New Balance tennis shoes—both of which he’s incredibly capable of pulling off. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt, highlighting those shoulders you can’t get out of your head. He looks so good, it’s almost unfair.

“Hey, will you take my group with yours while I go grab something Zofia forgot?”

“No problem, see you in a sec.” He holds out a hand to Zofia. “Are you excited to see the horses?”

Just before you take off jogging toward the lodge, Zofia nods and wraps her little hands around Marco’s wrist, gluing herself to his side. You have to force yourself to leave before you get too distracted by how sweet it is.

The barn doors to the lodge are wide open, which is a bit odd this early in the day, but whatever. Zofia told you she couldn’t remember where she laid her sunglasses down, but she was positive the last place she had them was in here, so you start by checking all the tables, the windowsills, and the bookshelves. When they don’t turn up, you hit the deck to look under the couch, thinking they might have gotten kicked underneath by accident.

“Hey.”

Someone speaks so suddenly it makes you jump, and you bang your elbow on the bottom edge of the couch. While you rub your buzzing funny bone, you pop your head up to find a black-haired man in heavy work pants and thick boots. He has a jacket tied around his waist over a faded white t-shirt and a bandana sticking out of his pocket. You’ve never seen him before, but by the way he confidently leans against a push broom, you assume he must work here.

“Hi,” you reply, hopping up off the floor. “I’m looking for a little purple pair of sunglasses. Have you seen—?”

The man, who is shorter than you thought before you stood up, reaches into his pocket and pulls out Zofia’s sparkly purple glasses. “Found ‘em on the railing of the balcony this morning. Tell the kid to be more careful where they leave their stuff,” he says before slapping them in your outstretched hand.

“I will, thank you!” You’d stay and chat, but Hange is probably waiting for you to get started with the ride, so you take off toward the stable.

You’re a little winded when you get there, all the way on the other side of the mess hall, but Zofia gives you a big hug around your legs, so you know the jog was worth it. You pat her on the back and then quickly guide her around to where Hange is giving instructions along with the stable manager, Ness. The camp keeps an impressive number of horses on site, but even perpetually haggard Ness seems charmed by how eager all the campers are.

Some kids take to the horses immediately, but others are more hesitant, especially those who haven’t ridden before. But Ness trains his horses well, so they’re impressively docile while you get each camper situated and comfortable in their saddles.

Once all of the campers are lined up and ready, Ness takes the lead, trotting his own horse up to the front of the line. Hange says they’ll slide in somewhere in the middle, then asks you and Marco to stay at the end of the caravan. The trail you’re taking is a very clear, direct path through the woods with almost nowhere to stray, but it’s a good idea to make sure nobody gets lost or left behind.

Ness leads the group out at a walking pace, and the line accordions until everyone is moving. You leave a gap between the last camper and yourself. Marco’s horse sways side to side for a few steps before he guides her to walk beside yours.

“Have you ever ridden before?” you ask.

“Nope, first time.” Marco’s horse shakes her mane and drifts a bit to the left. “You?”

“Yeah, but only a few times, mostly in groups like this. You’re doing fine though, maybe hold the reins a little more firmly.”

Marco pulls up on his reins, and his horse settles into a straighter gait, falling into step with yours. Marco gives you a big grin. “I’ll be fine if you stay with me, then.”

Your cheeks feel incredibly warm suddenly, so you stare ahead at the trail. Ness has already disappeared into the trees, and Hange is leading the second leg of campers onto the trail proper now. Nobody’s horse has gone astray yet, though if you had known you were taking a forest trail, you could have told Zofia she wouldn’t really need her sunglasses. You live and learn.

Which reminds you to ask Marco, “Have you met all the staff yet? Because I ran into a guy this morning that I think is a groundskeeper, but I’ve never seen him before.”

“Hmm. Tall guy with a hat?”

“No, that’s Kenny. This guy was like, pretty short.”

Marco ponders. “I don’t think I’ve seen him. But you’ve been here longer than me, so if you don’t know him, he must be new?”

“Yeah, I guess he must be. I’ll have to ask around some more.”

For a few paces, you continue along side by side. The group has pulled ahead a bit, but you can still clearly see that none of the campers have taken their horses off track. Marco ducks under a low-hanging tree branch, bicep flexing as he pushes it up and out of your way.

“Thanks.” Seeing his toned arms on display brings back memories of earlier that morning, when you let your fantasies run away with you. Marco is so kind and thoughtful, but he’s also strong and athletic. It makes you wonder which he’d be in bed—rough or gentle. Or maybe he’s both.

You shake your head, trying to clear your mind. Now’s not the time. But that does remind you of something else you’ve been wanting to say to him.

“Hey, about the past few nights…”

Marco, reins held taut, slows his horse down. “Uh huh?”

You feel comfortable with the distance between the two of you and the last camper—he’s talking to the person in front of him anyway—but just to be safe, you try to keep your voice low. “I’m sorry that nobody will leave you alone since the sex stuff came up. We’re kind of used to having no boundaries. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can say something to everybody.”

Marco snort-laughs a little. “Thanks. It was a little embarrassing at first, but actually, I’m kind of glad, in a weird way.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, it’s like…” He thinks for a moment. “I’ve never really felt comfortable talking about this kind of stuff with anyone. But with everyone being so open about it, I don’t know. I don’t feel judged. I can tell the teasing is well-intentioned.”

You can’t help but clutch your heart. “Aw, Marco. That’s actually so sweet. But I'm serious, if you need me to like, gag Ymir with my socks, just say the word.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I, uh…” Marco’s horse shakes her head, and he chokes up on the reins again. “I feel very safe around you.”

You’re surprised that he’d choose that word—safe—after knowing you for only a few short weeks. It feels special, something you aren’t quite sure how you earned, but you’re thankful for it either way. Your heart aches softly, sharing his vulnerability. “Thanks. I feel the same with you.”

Marco looks down, pink blooming in his cheeks. “Cool.”

Somehow he always knows the cutest, dorkiest thing to say.

–

Since nobody got lost on the horseback ride, your spirits are high at lunch and going into free time. After checking in with your campers, Jean runs up and shakes you by the shoulders.

“The blob is finally blown up.”

You slap your info binder on your legs. “Shut up, really?”

“I am so effing serious.” Jean is getting much better at watching his mouth when there are children present. Even if it’s abundantly clear what he’s censoring, he’s blurting the words out less often.

You grab Jean by the wrists. “We have to get everybody to go to the lake today. We HAVE to.”

“Pardon?” Marco asks. “The what is what, now?”

Your mouth drops. “You don’t know what the blob is?”

“Uh, no. Should I?”

Your head swivels back to Jean, eyebrows raised. “We need to educate this poor child.”

“Did you say it was something that blew up?”

Jean puts a hand on Marco’s chest. “It’s an inflatable, not an explosive, I assure you. Just put on your swimsuit and come to the lake with us. You’ll see.”

On his other side, you link arms with Marco and lead him toward the counselor cabin. “Just wait. You’ll love it.”

After you’re changed into your suits, you tromp down to the bottom of the hill, below the lodge. Word has obviously gotten around, because just about everyone is at the lake, and a line has already formed at the diving dock. At the end of the 10 ft. wooden platform is the blob: a giant, primary-color-striped inflatable roughly the shape of a big body pillow.

“I see where it gets its name,” Marco says. “But what does it do?”

“Just watch.” You hang onto his arm, excited for him to see it for the first time.

Marcel, the lake lifeguard, climbs up the steps to his chair. Once he’s seated with his rescue float in his lap, he blows his whistle. “Ok,” he announces. “One at a time.”

Only campers who have taken the swimming test already are allowed in the lake, so the vast majority of them already know what they’re doing. First in line is Falco, who scrambles up the ladder to the diving platform. With excellent form, he hops off the edge, landing on his butt in the center of the blob, his legs out straight in front of him. Once the wobbling inflatable settles, he scoots himself out to the red stripe near the edge of the blob.

Then Reiner climbs the ladder.

“Wait, is he going to—” Marco starts to ask.

With a loud whoop, Reiner leaps into the air. When he lands in the center, Falco is catapulted off the edge of the float, limbs flailing wildly at least fifteen feet in the air. Falco tucks into a cannonball just in time to hit the water, and by the time he surfaces again, Marco is laughing so hard he’s crying.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, doubling over into your side. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Told ya.” And because he doesn’t pull away, you wrap one arm around his waist, letting him lean against you while you find places in line.

One of the bigger fifth graders jumps next, but because of the weight difference, Reiner doesn’t get much air. He more so somersaults off the edge of the blob into the water.

Marcel tweets his whistle. “No flips.”

Reiner waves at him as he paddles to shore. “Sorry, dude!”

Because the campers are smart enough to know that they get flung the farthest by an adult, Marco is elected to go next. You can tell he’s excited regardless by the way he rockets up the ladder. At the top, he winds himself up and then jumps, and even from several feet back, you can hear him cackling as the camper shoots into the air with a screech of delight.

Gabi goes next, meaning Marco has to basically crawl off the blob on his own, but all the while, he’s beaming. Once she’s ready, Gabi shouts for Bertholdt to launch her. He just can’t seem to escape her, no matter how hard he tries. Bert tiptoes off the edge, letting himself land as gingerly as possible, but it doesn’t make much difference. She goes flying, and you hear her squeal, “Yeet!” before the big splash.

“Hey, hey!” You turn away from the main event long enough to see Miche coming down the hill with Zeke, Eren, and Mikasa in tow.

Campers actually scream, and you get it. To them, Miche and Zeke are higher-level adults than you, which makes them infinitely more entertaining to bother. And in the case of the blob, they’re ready to throw themselves at Miche’s feet for the privilege of being flung by him.

Miche strolls right up to you and nudges you harmlessly off balance with his elbow. After you stumble, you look up at Marcel, conspicuously pointing at Miche.

“Is this allowed?”

Marcel just rolls his neck and ignores you. Figures.

Miche snickers and nudges you again. “Shut up. The blob is my calling.”

“You’re like 200 pounds of pure muscle. These kids should have to sign a waiver before you launch them into orbit.” You know you’re only stroking his ego, to which he crosses his arms and looks up smugly, but you can’t help it. It’s too fun to razz him.

“And what am I, chopped liver?” Zeke tucks his chin over Miche’s shoulder, which he’s just tall enough to reach on his tiptoes, before Miche shrugs him off.

You give Zeke a good-natured eye roll. “Well go on, then. The kids are waiting.”

Zeke slaps Miche on the back, which makes Miche grimace, but the two of them head over to wait their turn by the platform.

Mikasa joins you while Eren spreads out a beach towel by the shoreline. “What’s with him?” you ask.

She cracks a smile. “He can’t swim.”

Jean practically shoves you out of the way. “You’re kidding. Jaeger can’t swim?”

Mikasa shakes her head before glancing over her shoulder. “Sinks like a rock, for some reason.”

With his hands on his hips, Jean hoots with laughter. “Oh my god. This day keeps getting better. Hey, Eren, do you want us to get you some floaties?”

Eren sits up on his towel, scowling behind dark sunglasses, and lifts his hand as if to flip Jean off before pounding his fist into the marshy sand beside him.

You swat at Jean. “Be nice, dummy.”

He scoffs. “To Jaeger? No way.”

Freshly dripping from the lake, Zeke flicks Jean in the back of the head as he walks by. “Leave him alone,” he warns. Jean scowls after him, rubbing his head before falling into a conversation with Mikasa.

A hand slides into yours, pulling you a few paces backward. It’s Hitch, wearing a mischievous smile. You try to ask her what she’s up to, but before you can, she physically points you toward where Zeke is drying his face on a towel.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to ask you,” whispers Hitch, “but don’t you think Zeke looks so good with his hair grown out?”

Last summer, Zeke’s hair was much shorter in the back, but he’s sporting a small bun more often than not this year. Not that you spend much time thinking about him, but, “Yeah, it looks good honestly. I thought you were going after Erwin though.”

“I am. But it doesn’t mean I can’t…” You watch Hitch’s eyes shamelessly rake up and down Zeke’s figure. “Go window shopping,” she concludes.

You snort and mumble back. “His abs are ripped, I’ll give him that.”

“He’s hotter than any gym teacher I ever had in school.”

Hitch gasps when Zeke takes half a step in your direction and smirks, giggling and hiding her face in an incredibly obvious way.

“I don’t know what to do with her,” you tell Zeke, feeling a little embarrassed yourself, but you should know better than letting Hitch talk about men when they’re within earshot. These are cabin-only conversations.

Historia and Ymir arrive in time to watch more blob action—mostly the boys taking turns jumping in until all the kids have gotten sufficient air time. Not all of the campers disperse, but a lot of them get tired of jumping and climbing after a while and go to splash in the shallow water or play on the inflatable trampoline before they need to go shower off for dinner.

Even Porco shows up, waving to his brother and asking if he needs any help keeping an eye on things. “I closed the pool early since everyone was down here anyway,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the lifeguard chair.

When you hear a shrill laugh behind you, you don’t expect it to be coming from Mikasa. Jean has lifted her over his shoulder and is walking into the water. She laughs and kicks her feet until he drops her in the waist-high depth with a splash, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her express such pure joy before.

He might actually be getting somewhere with her after all, you think.

“Ladies, ladies. None of you are even wet yet.” Reiner motions to the dock ladder. “Who’s up?”

“Me!” Hitch volunteers. You worry a bit for her string bikini, which is technically not to camp dress code, but she’s smart enough to hold her boobs when Reiner pops her into the air. She lands in an elegant pencil dive and surfaces with her swimsuit intact.

“Someone who can actually fling him should go next,” Ymir points out. Miche and Bertholdt play rock, paper, scissors for the honor, and Bertholdt wins. The weight difference still isn’t quite pronounced enough to even faze Reiner, but he gets a good five feet of air.

When Bert starts to roll himself off the side of the blob, Marcel blows the whistle at him. “Gotta wait, bud,” Marcel calls out, and you swear you see him smirking. Bert sighs, then waits for Zeke to give him a little bounce into the lake.

Mikasa goes next, seemingly expecting Jean to follow after her. She screams when she sees Miche climbing the platform, and despite her fit build, she still rockets at least ten feet straight up before splashing down.

It wouldn’t matter who went next—aside from maybe Erwin, nobody could launch Miche, and Erwin doesn’t come to the lake anymore. Not after fully losing his swim trunks after a dive early last summer. He was so embarrassed that, to your knowledge, he has refused to swim at camp ever since.

Marco’s warm hand slides over your shoulder. “How about you go next?”

“That depends. Do you want to follow me?”

He laughs. “Yeah, I wanna see you go flying.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Do your worst.”

Once you’re up on the platform, Miche watches you over his shoulder. “Bounce me, bounce me!” he cheers like he’s ten and not almost thirty. You roll your eyes dramatically before he faces forward like he’s supposed to for safety. You take a couple steps back for a running start, but even with the highest jump you can manage, Miche still merely flops off the front of the blob like a dead fish.

After crawling to the launch spot, you cross your arms over your chest, not wanting a wardrobe malfunction of your own. Behind you, Marco counts down his own jump. “Three… two…”

He never hits one—you just feel yourself lift into the air. He jumped early just to scare you, and it works. You scream involuntarily, flailing until you land with a splash.

Water rushes up around you, and your foot actually touches the bottom of the lake. You kick off the wet sand, propelling yourself back to the surface.

“Marco!” you scold playfully, wiping water from your eyes. All you get in return is a big, thousand-watt grin in response before Jean bounces him in after you.

When Marco resurfaces, he shakes out his floppy, wet hair like a golden retriever, then looks side to side. His face lights up when he finds you, and for a moment, you forget everything else. You forget that there are people watching, that you’re not the only two people swimming in a secluded lagoon in some kind of romance novel scenario. Because the way he looks at you, so joyful and eager, is nearly overwhelming.

You open your arms as Marco swims toward you, and without so much as a moment of hesitation, he scoops you up, tucking you into his side as you cling around his shoulders and wrap your legs around his waist. His bangs drip on your arm as you try to keep yourself from shaking with excitement.

He carries you to the shallow-ish water near the shore, where most of the staff members are splashing around. You let go of Marco, a little embarrassed that people saw you wrap yourself around him, but he stays close to your side, and it’s comforting.

Historia squeals when Ymir dips under the water and lifts her up on her shoulders. Ymir confidently spins around, holding tight to Historia’s legs. “Who wants to play chicken?”

“Me, oh my god. Me!” Hitch grabs for Bert’s arm. “Be my partner. Pleeeeease!”

Bert shrugs away. “I don’t wanna play. Besides, I'm way taller than everyone, it's such an unfair advantage.”

“Oh, how modest of you,” Hitch says, splashing him for good measure. “Where’s Reiner, he’ll—”

You point to where he’s leaning against the lifeguard chair, talking to the Galliards, but Hitch can only pout for a second before Zeke wades up to her.

“Hop on.”

Hitch is quick to oblige. Zeke lifts her out of the water, hands wrapped around her thighs, and they start the first chicken fight. Hitch and Historia lock fingers almost immediately, both of them giggling as they wrestle, trying to knock the other off balance. While Zeke mostly anchors himself down in one spot, Ymir has a more active strategy, moving and twisting until she helps Historia, who you know to be deceptively strong, finally pushes Hitch backwards, toppling her and Zeke together.

Ymir flexes her biceps in the air, her girlfriend perched daintily on her shoulders.“Who’s next?”

“Us!” Reiner charges back into the water, dragging Porco behind him by the wrist.

“Oh, this is about to be good,” you murmur to Marco.

“Top or bottom?” Reiner asks. Ymir barks out a laugh, but Porco just rolls his eyes before diving under Reiner’s legs, lifting the larger man with ease before flipping his wet hair back out of his face. Though Porco is the shorter of the two, he’s strong and sturdy. You suspect his choice is less strategy and more about showing off for Reiner, who seems only concerned with flexing his muscles for Historia.

Jean swims up beside you and shakes his head. “What a mess.”

“Do you think we should tell him about Historia and Ymir?” you ask. Even if Ymir doesn’t want him to know, you’re starting to feel kind of bad for him.

“Nah,” Jean says. “He’ll figure it out when he realizes Porco has a crush on him.”

“Ok, but do you guys actually know if either of them likes guys?” Marco asks. “Just an honest question.”

“Porco is gay, he flat out told me,” says Jean. “I’m not sure Reiner knows what he likes.”

“If you ask me, it seems like someone is getting jealous.” The three of you look on as Reiner reaches for Historia’s waist and manages to tip her over. Ymir glares at him, and something tells you that it’s not just because she lost the game. You won’t be surprised if she gives up on her own charade soon.

Jean pairs up with Mikasa for the next round because Eren won’t even get his feet wet. Even though Reiner is twice her size, Mikasa is able to push him over after a short struggle. Practically everyone in the lake is cheering for you to go next, though you need no convincing, and neither does Marco.

When he lifts you up on his shoulders, you can barely think about the game. You’re not concerned with winning—all you care about is the fact that it’s Marco’s big hands resting on the tops of your thighs, his head between your legs. When Mikasa grapples your hands with hers, your muscles tense, thighs squeezing against the sides of Marco’s neck to try and keep yourself from falling. You hold out as long as you can, stomach swirling with the filthy thoughts of other things you’d like him to do between your legs until your arms finally give out.

WIth a splash, you and Marco hit the water together, making Jean and Mikasa the champions of the chicken tournament. It’s getting close to dinner time, and everyone wants a shower after swimming in the lake, so you wrap yourselves in your towels and trudge back up the hill together.

You stick close to Marco’s side so your arm can brush his, reluctant not to be touching him. Now that you’ve started, it’s hard to stop. Maybe it’s obvious that you want to be near to him, but when he reaches out and holds your hand, you smile and decide that you don’t really care.

➷➷➷➷➷

#marco bott x reader #marco bodt x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #junes fics #junes secret oath #snk

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lilyoffandoms · 1 year

Text

WTD Drabble - Troy x Saeed

For @moodmusicmonday’s Luck of the Draw. My draw was Because You Loved Me by Celine Dion.

Warnings & A/N: Didn’t got too literal with this song prompt but love the idea that my Saeed would find stupid and not so stupid things for Troy when out scouting because gift giving is his love language and he would definitely want to do this because Troy surprisingly chooses to love him each and every day. Anyway, I’ve not finished WTD yet as I just picked it up again and I’m only on chapter six, so forgive any errors in canon compliance.

He looked out over the gardens, thriving in the late summer light, and counted the garden gnomes that dotted the rows of vegetables. Silly little things that brought a smile to his face each time he discovered a new one.

It had been a joke between them at first. Saeed asking Troy about them when he saw a faded and torn ad for them in an old gardening magazine. And Troy telling a story with a fond smile on his face about his neighbor maybe having some from back before. Slowly, week by week, and month by month Saeed found new ones to joined the ranks among their garden at Olympus.

Anything to see you smile, Saeed had said to Troy.

He glanced at the book in his hands, flipping it over and chuckling at the cover. A cheesy sci-fi series that was missing books two and five with the most gaudy cover on it that looked little like what the pages contained, but that he enjoyed nevertheless.

Book one had been his father’s from before the end of the world. It was the only thing he had of his family any longer. Books three, four, six, and seven were lined up in the bookshelves of their bedroom.

A fond chuckle escaped him as he thought about the little inscription Saeed had placed in each and everyone them upon giving them to Troy.

Anything to see you smile, Saeed had said.

So many little gifts that meant so much to Troy. If they talked about something from back then, Saeed made sure to find it or at least have one of the other scavenger teams keep a look out for it.

Hand held video games that didn’t work anymore, and he would never be able to play but in his imagination as he mimicked what he had read they sounded like. A fun game of make believe. Fashion magazines that meant little to him, but whose glossy pictures of people in absurd clothing and ridiculous looking hair and makeup in the most unnatural of colors, fascinated him. Comic books, crosswords, word searches that once would have been used to pass the time on road trips now found their place in a large basket in the corner of their room for this lazy rainy nights spent before the fire.

What must the world have been like back then? they would always ask each other and imagine.

Rather dull without your smile, Saeed always concluded.

The sun dipped below the tree line as he looked out at the perimeter patrols, barely visible in the growing dark.

They should have been back by now, he worried the corner of his lip. His mind wandered to places he knew he shouldn’t let it. But the past always seems to come haunt you in those moments of weakness. He didn’t understand why Saeed was insisting on going along on more of those scavenger excursions and that too worried him.

He shook his head free of those nightmares and climbed into bed with his book, reading until the light faded along with the words.

It was later than they had planned on returning but the chance for those farm tools had been worth the risk, Saeed sighed as he entered the still room.

He took the book from Troy’s hands and set it on the nightstand and pulling another two from his pack, placed them atop his father’s copy. He climbed into their bed, lying on his side, head resting on his arm, as close as he could get without jostling Troy so he could watch him sleeping.

Softly he caressed one of his exposed shoulders, tracing random curves on Troy’s skin in a gentle attempt to let him know he was back.

“You’re late,” Troy mumbled.

“Yeah,” Saeed smiled. “Took a bit of a detour on the way back from the city, but it was worth it.”

Troy opened his eyes.

“And before you ask, yes, everyone is safe and sound back here.”

“Good,” Troy replied with a yawn. “What was so important?”

“Farm equipment we can put to use. Some spare parts. Good stuff. Now go back to sleep,” he whispered and placed a soft kiss to Troy’s head.

“Did you get everything we needed from the city?”

It had been a dangerous trip venturing into territory that was as infested as cities tended to be, but the supply list was desperately needed.

“Yeah, we did. Even got a surprise for you too,” Saeed grinned.

“You need to stop risking that,” Troy scolded but smiled at the possibilities.

“Never!” Saeed scoffed. “It’s worth it to see you smile.”

“Don’t be stupid. My smile isn’t that great,” Troy said and flashed him a devastatingly perfect smile.

“Don’t give me that. You know exactly what that smile does to me. And you know I can’t actually see you smiling right now, right?” Saeed laughed.

“Ah but I know you are remembering just how perfect a smile it is,” Troy said and Saeed could hear the pleased smirk.

“Go to sleep.”

“Only if you give me a kiss,” Troy said.

After fumbling and laughing in their blind attempts to find the others lips, they settled into each others arms. Saeed listening to Troy’s even breaths as he feel back to sleep.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t risk for you,” he whispered.

——————————

All Choices Tag: @storyofmychoices @peonierose @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads

#choices wtd #troy hassan #troy x saeed #mmm luck of the draw #i like to live dangerously and so do not edit please forgive any mistakes #also so this is late my life is a hectic crazy mess right now and this is beyond hasty thing i did in between doc appts with my pop #so anyway it’s done it’s here it’s posted but don’t read to closely 😬#my drabble #my oc: saeed mendis

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