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discokicks · 8 months

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BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life.

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care.

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting.

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours.

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers.

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something.

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt?

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so.

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth.

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be.

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth.

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it.

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you.

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter.

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis.

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him.

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand.

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number.

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read.

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning.

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names.

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you.

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you.

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.)

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee.

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you.

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight?

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes.

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it.

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat.

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past.

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember.

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips.

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is.

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.”

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him.

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs.

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point.

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply.

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back.

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips.

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say.

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close.

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.”

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make.

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing.

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so.

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings.

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention.

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating.

me too.

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with.

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #bad ideas #the one who's not a loser but THEE loser #discowrites

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avoxrising · 4 months

Text

The Feral One • Epilogue

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Prequel is coming in a few months! I haven’t made a Taglist yet and probably won’t start one till I’m closer to publishing. I’ll make a post tagging this series’ Taglist when I’m starting the next one.

Content Warnings - Mentions of fertility issues/miscarriage; death; the end of this series (don’t worry it’s a good ending imo)

Dear Brielle,

A lot has happened in seventeen years. I’ve now lived half of my life without you, mom, and dad. I’ve been thinking about you a lot so my husband Finnick (yes that Finnick lol) said I should write you a letter of all the things I wanted to tell you but never could.

A little over ten years ago we killed President Snow. The districts rebelled and won. The war was brutal and there were times I nearly died, but Finnick pulled me through.

We got married a year later. We never really did the whole dating thing, our friendship just evolved into a beautiful romance overnight. He was there for me after you left and he has been here ever since.

The years since the war have not been easy. I’ve had bouts of seizures that leave me bedridden and ill for days. The doctors said my condition should be worse so I should be grateful. Countless medications and treatments have made slight improvements to my health but the pain will always be there.

Two years after our wedding we almost hit our breaking point. Finnick and I had been trying to start a family for over a year but nothing was working. It was the most frustrating experience of my life post-war and I do not wish those struggles on anyone.

Three years after our wedding, Mags passed of old age. Although we were sad, we were all glad she got to live out her last few years in a free Panem. Johanna decided to move in with Annie afterwards so she wouldn’t be alone. We are still neighbors to this day.

Four years after our wedding, I got pregnant, only to lose the baby a few months in due to a bad seizure. This was Finnick and I’s lowest point to date.

It’s now been a bit over 9 years since I married the love of my life and the father of my child. We were finally blessed with a baby boy, Neptune, 4 years ago today. He is everything I could have asked for in a child; rambunctious, kind, and adventurous. He looks just like his father but acts like his mother.

Two years ago, Neptune’s best friend arrived in District 4. Annie and Johanna adopted a little girl, Jodie, from District 7. Neptune and her do EVERYTHING together. Finnick keeps joking that we should build a tunnel between our two houses so the kids can hang out all the time.

All in all, it’s been a very painful 34 years of existence. Part of me is glad you didn’t have to witness what happened. The other part of me still hopes you’re out there, even though I know you aren’t. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace.

Love, your dear sister,

Y/N

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @|3хі3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @lvsticm @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @finnysmusic @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @isasalom @yizhoutv @livingdead-reilly @coriolanussnowswife @faephoria @omwtkydttfym @iris1587 @sarcasm-and-stiles @10ava01 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @littleanubis21 @scorpiolystoned @maxinehufflepuffprincess

*if the tag didn’t work please check your settings to make sure other blogs can tag you

#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #catching fire #mockingjay #finnick odair angst #finnick angst #finnick #thg finnick #finnick fluff #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair fluff #the feral one

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strawberryforks · 4 months

Text

focus // finnick odair x reader

summary: it’s the 65th hunger games and district 4’s tributes are best friends. what’s unfortunate is that everyone knows there can only be one winner…

warnings: violence, suicide, underaged drinking (which i do not condone), no happy ending

word count: 2099

author’s note: this is my first fic and as i’m new to writing for “reader” or “y/n” the format may be different on others! but hopefully this is angsty enough <3 ALSO, REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!

sitting on the train, in a booth, beside your best friend finnick you were the furthest thing from present. you paid more attention the the blur of trees and buildings than him and your mentor, mags. your cheek was pressed against the glass and your hot breath was causing it to steam up.

was dragging your finger overtop it and making various smiley-faces more interesting than whatever finnick and mags were discussing? well, yes. still you couldn’t delude yourself into thinking it was the best use of your time. just like you couldn’t be surprised when finnick’s elbow found purchase in your side. it wouldn’t bruise but it didn’t feel nice. “focus,” he scolded. “you have to listen to what mags is saying. she’s been through this already. she won. she can help us.”

finnick, with his hopefulness, blonde hair, blue eyes and fourteen years worth of boyish charm was perfect. sometimes too perfect because you would catch yourself staring. eyes stuck and cheeks turned redder than a tomato whenever he caught you. embarassing, really, because it’s common sense. you just don’t look at your best friend like that.

“sure. sorry mags. i’ll pay attention.” the victor nodded and continued her explanation—told you and finnick that your best bet would be getting away from the cornucopia as soon as possible. you nodded and though you did your best to listen, you just hoped finnick had, because wherever he went, you would follow.

—

“what are you doing?”

you were doing something you shouldn’t have–but caught, the sounds that spilled from your lips weren’t hurried explanations. you just giggled. “uhm,” you held one hand out in front of your face like a shield and sat the cup of bubbling liquid down on the dresser.

drinking. you were drinking. you moved in front of the dresser hiding the evidence with your body. finnick stepped forward quickly, crossing the room and making it to you in no time at all. he was frowning, he saw the drinks and he wasn’t happy which you didn’t understand because you were overflowing with the stuff. everything was greater than it had been, you were smiling, laughing at things that weren’t funny, and felt a bit like you were floating. “that’s not allowed—where did you even get that?”

“there was a buffet table and,” you burped, “they had drinks. y’wanna try?”

he didn’t. finnick shook his head–didn’t understand why you weren’t taking this seriously. usually he loved your attitude and outlook on things, ‘whatever happens, happens’ was usually said on your adventures but this wasn’t that. this was serious. now was not the time. he just wanted you to focus. “we’re almost at the capital. you can’t do this again, you understand?”

you bite your tongue so your inner monologue doesn’t get out. because yeah, you wouldn’t ever get to do this again (drink, legally or not). you wouldn’t get to do much of anything ever again. your days were numbered. in your last ones you would smile and wave, play pretend with your best friend at your side.

finnick was quite possibly the best and worst person to be in this situation with. on one hand, you’d be with someone you loved in your last moments, on the other… there was no world in which you won this.

finnick swapped your drink with a tall glass of water. sat by you while you sipped at it and helped you to bed. morning came and he was still there. your eyes cracked open, narrowed by bright light and confusion. “you’re good now, yeah?” he asked.

your head hurt but you nodded it anyways. there were purple bags below his eyes. “did you sleep?” you asked despite the answer being obvious.

“someone had to make sure you didn’t choke on your vomit and i didn’t want to tell mags.” lest you disappoint another person. is what he was nice enough to omit.

you weren’t fast enough with thanking him and he left you alone with the myriad of thoughts you just wanted to ignore.

—

“i know what you’re doing.” it was mags.

you turned around to face her—had just finished being interviewed by a loser in an extravagant suit, and felt like a loser, dressed in a blue frilly dress. you kind of looked like a loser too, one late for tea time.

“i don’t know what you mean.”

mags sighed and shook her head lightly. “it’s honourable but he’ll hate you for it.”

you shrug. you don’t care, your mind is more than made up, and has been since you heard his name called alongside your own. “if he’s alive to hate i’m okay with that. you know there can only be one winner.”

mags knew more than most. “i won’t tell him. don’t worry.”

“Tell him,” you made her promise, “that i’m sorry. you know, tributes are vicious but the capitol is worse. keep an eye on him for me please?”

“of course.”

—

then you trained.

“come help,” he called. finnick was practising tying knots, all which he was excellent at. “sure,” you said, allowing him to interrupt your people-watching. you were worried about the careers but figured that together you and finnick could handle them. they were adults but… most of the others were. it was fine, would be fine.

“think you should try something else? you’re pretty good at this.”

finnick laughed and you tucked the sound away in your mind. “thanks, but you? You’re not.” He gestured to the mess of rope on your end before scooting closer. his hands overtop yours, he moved them and showed you the right way to do what you had been failing at. “and there’s no way you’re telling me to train something else. have you even picked up a weapon?”

you shrugged. “i’ve just been watching. i know how to shoot a bow and use knives, i get either of those and i’ll be just fine. a few days of preparation with either won’t change much. i've used them since i could walk, y’know?”

“i just want us to be prepared.” he said.

you smiled and stood, you held his hands and pulled him up with you. “the arena’s usually have tridents, right? you’re great with those.”

and he was. you didn’t care about impressing the judges but finnick did so effortlessly.

“we’ll stick together in the arena, right?” you blurted once the two of you were alone and resting.

“until the end,” he said with a sad smile.

then, almost out of nowhere, his smile brightened. “sleepover?”

that was something you did a lot. Sleepovers under the stars, in your bed, on your father’s boat. it was your thing and somehow the idea of one last sleepover was enough to make everything okay, even just for a little while.

you crawled into the big bed the capitol provided, finnick at your side. you pulled up a blanket at the same time he pulled you into him. he held tight. so tight, for a second you forgot to breath. it meant so much. so, so much. your back was pressed against his chest and his arms were around you–hours later, you were grateful he was such a heavy sleeper. finnick was warm and safe. he was home. you were thankful he was a heavy sleeper because otherwise the way you shook as wet trailed down your cheeks would’ve woke him.

–

finnick’s knots came in handy. you stuck to higher ground, perching in trees and climbing cliffs, and managed to booby trap most of the area around us. after tributes were caught in a net finnick made, you would take turns finishing them off. you, who’d been preparing to kill since your name was called, went first.

a teen who killed without issue was concerning but so was a civilization that made their people fight to the death for glory and entertainment so what could you do?

you killed the first one with an arrow—having got both the weapons you wanted, and finnick took the second, ending a thirty year old man who had more muscles than brains with a trident that had been gifted to him by a sponsor.

two days later and you both were still kicking. In the final four.

you knew what had to be done. your plan only solidified when the other two–also allied, found you. the fight was fast. finnick went up against the remaining tribute from district ten and you fought against the tribute from district two

you were uncomfortable with the distance between the two of you. you both had stuck together like glue the entire time and now fighting and separated? you hated it. if something– “shit,” the man swung the axe and you barely threw yourself out of the way in time. you list some hair and some skin off your shoulder but nothing you really needed. the axe buried itself in the ground behind you and before your opponent could yank it back you struck. you buried a dagger in his stomach and twisted it. his hands found your throat and black dotted your vision but you kept slicing and he went limp.

you rolled the man off of you and immediately ran to help finnick.

another minute and his opponent was dead. you was down a dagger but one was enough. you smiled so wide my cheeks hurt and flung yourself into finnick’s arms. he hugged you hesitantly at first–like he was wary of you. like he expected you to bury a dagger into his back. you would never. besides, your last one was… occupied. “we did it, finn. we did it.”

“only one of us can win…”

you pulled back. both of your hands–both shaky, both covered in blood, cupped his cheeks. “i know, i know. it’s okay. you did… you did great.”

“what? y/n what are you–what do you mean?”

your legs picked that moment to give out. you dropped, knees slamming into the rock. still, you wore that lazy smile. you were losing blood quick and lots of it. you saw the drone that recorded everything begin to inch closer, zooming in as terror finally flooded finnick’s face. he fell to his knees beside you. “no, no, no, no.” his hands pressed on either side of the dagger you had yet to pull out. “what did you do?” his voice broke and his eyes glistened with moisture. you wanted to wipe them away. it was okay. it would be okay. you made sure of it.

“i helped you win...” you assured.

finnick pushed harder on your stomach and you sobbed. he pulled his shirt and pressed it around the blade. pushed again. “finnick. finn, no,” you told him—pleaded with him. you moved your hands… wanted to move his but was too weak. “you didn’t–this isn’t helping. ” he shook his head and more tears fell. “why? you can’t leave me. friends forever, remember? what about that?”

“you-you’ll be okay.”

“not after this. not without you.” agony, finnick was in agony. an ugly sound tore it’s way out of his chest. you couldn’t leave him, not like this.

“c’mere,” you begged. he did, how could he argue with you now? the damage, the irreversible damage, had been done. you pulled his head closer to yours as he choked on more tears. the capitol had taken many things from both of you—and you decided that they could have your life, your future, your finn (you hated that most, but at least he would get to live. get to have his shot at happiness) but they couldn’t have your last words. those… well, they were only for him. “i love you finn. focus… on that.”

“no. no! focus on me, on my eyes—dammit, don’t close yours. no, no, no.”

then your eyes closed again for the last time. he called your name over an over like a prayer, one that went unanswered. but you tried, you swear you did… you just couldn’t get them open again. not as finnick sobbed, not as he stood up and faced the drone. “help her!” he cried, “help her dammit!”

“kill me instead, take me instead. i’ll die, i will! just bring her back, help her! you can’t—you can’t do this!” he begged and when that didn’t work he screamed at the cameras, cursing the capital until the footage stopped being streamed.

when your heart stopped, he refused to let go. clinging to your corpse, to his best friend, he hugged you for the last time.

finnick had won, but he didn’t feel like a winner.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader

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bracketsoffear · 1 month

Text

The Book of the War (Lawrence Miles et. al.) Synopsis: "The Great Houses: Immovable. Implacable. Unchanging. Old enough to pass themselves off as immortal, arrogant enough to claim ultimate authority over the Spiral Politic.

The Enemy: Not so much an army as a hostile new kind of history. So ambitious it can re-write worlds, so complex that even calling it by its name seems to underestimate it.

Faction Paradox: Renegades, ritualists, saboteurs and subterfugers, the criminal-cult to end all criminal-cults, happy to be caught in the crossfire and ready to take whatever's needed from the wreckage… assuming the other powers leave behind a universe that's habitable.

The War: A fifty-year-old dispute over the two most valuable territories in existence: "cause" and "effect."

Marking the first five decades of the conflict, THE BOOK OF THE WAR is an A to Z of a self-contained continuum and a complete guide to the Spiral Politic, from the beginning of recordable time to the fall of humanity. Part story, part history and part puzzle-box, this is a chronicle of protocol and paranoia in a War where the historians win as many battles as the soldiers and the greatest victory of all is to hold on to your own past."

Propaganda: A text which purports to be a constantly shifting and updating guide to The War, a conflict so overarching and complete that every other conflict is but a pale shadow thereof; the Time War. Of course, since it would shift retroactively with the changing timelines, there is no way to prove or disprove this claim. Notable entries include cities built from days stolen from shifting calendars, the secrets of removing yourself from history while still leaving yourself free to interfere, Grandfather Paradox, the location of the exact center of history, how to weaponize banality, and Parablox.

Oh, and there's something else in there. Something that seems to be talking to you.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/ Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there (Lewis Caroll) "Both books have a similar structure and are spiral for the same reasons: little Victorian child Alice founds herself in a strange world with rules vastly different from hers (for example, there's no real geography and the scenery changes suddenly from one place to another very much like in a dream). The characters she crosses constantly defy her understanding of the world and applies logics she struggles to understand. Even though she ends up going with the flow most of the time she never ceases to question whether shes experiencing real life or a dream; sanity is brought up a few times, and there's also the popular quote "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad", delivered by the grinning cat that appears and disappears like a slippery distortion. Lastly I may add that the TMA episode whose title references the book (Mag 177, Wonderland) is a spiral episode."

#spiral poll #the spiral #poll #the magnus archives #leitner tournament #The Book of the War #faction paradox #doctor who #Lawrence Miles #alice in wonderland #through the looking glass #Lewis Caroll

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duplicityvn · 11 days

Text

Welcome to Duplicity!

Below you’ll find links to tags and the new itch page (once part 1 releases; tags will be added as they’re posted). You’ll also find some general information about the game and what to expect from here on.

As per usual, this game is a horror romance. It won’t feature any NSFW scenes, but it is not safe for minors. Minors DNI with this blog or the game.

Game Summary:

It’s been several years since you’ve been home, and a lot has changed. After failing to meet the strict deadlines of your former publishing house, your contract was terminated and you were left to fend for yourself. Once a prolific and popular author of romance and adventure stories, you’re now forced to move back home to live in your best friend’s apartment as their roommate. Struggling to figure out the next book in your series, you’re faced with many life-changing events, such as having to go back to work a customer service job you thought you’d left behind.

As you navigate this new chapter in your life, you’ll meet friends, old and new, and perhaps finally experience your own romantic tale… Just don’t trust everyone you meet.

(potential) Tag List:

#duplicityvn - general tag to encompass everything

#duplicitydevlogs - tag for dev-specific posts like progress and updates

#duplicity asks - tag for asks submitted to the blog

#duplicity griffin - Griffin specific tag

#duplicity tris - Tris specific tag

#duplicity taipan - Taipan specific tag

#duplicity dell - Dell specific tag

#duplicity nina - Nina specific tag

#duplicity savoy - Savoy specific tag

#duplicity riley - Riley specific tag

#duplicity melon - Melon specific tag

#duplicity mags - Mags specific tag

#duplicity all - general tag when everyone is involved in one post

#duplicity lore - tag for lore related to characters or settings

Here’s some potential questions I might get that I’m proactively answering now:

Why was the old blog deleted?

-I had a bad experience in the community and wanted to remove myself from it completely. I also had no idea where the game direction was going. Honestly, it started out with me wanting to make a yandere game with no understanding of what was going to happen really.

Why are you continuing with Duplicity?

-Duplicity originally stemmed from vague ideas about a horror romance I had started writing three years ago. Really, only some of the character names were similar. Once I started to feel like I wanted to come back and resume with development, I knew it needed a complete overhaul. So I went back to that old story and started piecing it together so it would work for a visual novel!

What changed and what can we expect?

-In the original demo, the game’s MC was around 20 years old. This has changed to player preference of anywhere between 25-30. Why? Because I’ve been wanting to see older characters in yandere visual novels, and just in VNs in general. I also don’t feel comfortable writing younger characters anymore. The characters’ ages will change depending on yours as well, which will be explained later. The only characters who have set ages are Mags and Melon.

-Speaking of characters, Sophie is no longer part of the story. I didn’t think about it at the time but I don’t want a minor to be included in this story when she’s not directly related to anyone, like a sister or a niece or something. In her place are several new characters: Nina, Savoy, and Melon.

-The game will be released in 3 parts instead of on a day-to-day basis. Part one will be mostly introductory but lengthy, part two will probably be the longest, and part three will mostly be focused on the endings of each route.

-The game will have more than just Griffin’s route. There are currently 9 endings I’m in the process of planning.

-As of the publishing of this post, everything previously known to the game is no longer canon, except for a few things.

What kind of asks can we send?

-Asks pertaining to the game and its characters and settings are all completely fine. In fact, it’ll probably help me develop the characters even better.

-NSFW asks are allowed! While there might not be NSFW in the base game (still juggling around the idea of a paid NSFW version), I am happy to write little fics if people are wanting them. I love writing, give me prompts!

-Hateful, derogatory, or other such topics that are sent to this blog will not be tolerated nor published. I wish to promote a safe space for everyone, and I won’t pay attention to any negativity.

-Silly and nonsensical asks are also allowed if they aren’t negative in context.

Alright this was long lmao but I hope it encompasses the general idea of what to expect from here on out! I’m not putting myself on a publishing schedule and I will update as frequently or as little as I do. I’m an anxious bean and can only do so much.

#duplicityvn #i hope everyone will like the new version ;3;#visual novels #yandere #male yandere #yandere visual novel #yandere vn #male yandere vn

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cherrybeartoast · 4 months

Text

As Loved by The Aces - "Going Home" - Seungmin x Reader

୨୧ a Cherry Song Series ୨୧ As Loved By The Aces Series Navigation

A series of individual-member centred stories based on songs by my favourite indie band, The Aces, portraying different love stories, emotions and people.

Pairing: Seungmin x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff, very sappy, incredibly self-indulgent (I'm not sorry, ever since I got Seung's Nylon mag I've been having the most uncontrollable Minnie brainrot)

Warnings: Kind of implied that the reader has ADHD, but can also be read as a reader who simply has a super bubbly, slightly chaotic personality <3 (did I mention this was self indulgent?)

Series playlist: Spotify

★ Track 7: S.M - Going Home

I love everything about you, you know, even all of the the things you say you don’t like, nothing I don’t like, I love that you never pretend with me, even from the start you taught me to be, nothing but me

“What are we even here for?” Seungmin asked, feigning annoyance as you roamed aimlessly through the aisles of the supermarket.

“I don’t remember,” you replied, wandering into the haircare aisle.

Seungmin huffed, although you didn’t miss the soft smile on his lips before he did so. “That’s why I told you to write a list or something, baby, you always forget.”

When Seungmin had introduced you to his friends, they’d been expecting someone scholarly, quiet and well-organised; essentially, a second Seungmin. “Did you meet her in the library?” Hyunjin had teased. “No, in the stationary section looking at notebooks!” Jeongin had snorted.

However, when you proved to be almost as chaotic, if not more, than Han Jisung himself, they’d been surprised, albeit happily. You couldn’t be more different from Seungmin; you were very physically affectionate, and had no troubles expressing your emotions through words. You were forgetful, yet refused to take actions to prevent it. You were sporadic and inconsistent, planning things last minute and taking your boyfriend on adventures on a whim. It had taken Seungmin time to get used to you when you first met as friends, but he soon found himself drawn to your confidence and chaos. You were a bit all over the place, yes, but you were his, and you found he helped contain the unhelpful aspects of your personality, such as struggles to focus and just generally get shit done, whilst you brought out the louder, gigglier side of him.

“Oh well,” you chuckled and shrugged, pulling out bottles of shampoo and examining the labels closely. “Ooh, this one’s on sale, Seung! Maybe I should try it, your big sister told me it was really good.”

Seungmin took the bottle out of your hand and placed it back on the shelf. “No,” he said stubbornly.

“Excuse me, Kim Seungmin?” You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms across your chest. “I think I’m allowed to select my own shampoo brand.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t smell the same, stupid. I like the one you use now. It’s nice.” He pulled you close and shoved his face into your hair to prove his point, and you giggled and smacked his arm lightly.

“What a sappy baby,” you tsked, pinching his cheek and grabbing two bottles of your usual shampoo and conditioner.

“Is that everything?”

“I just want to look around, Seung, then I’ll remember,” you pushed the trolley happily, skipping a little.

“Baby, we’ve been looking around for like twenty minutes. It’s gonna get dark soon, and it’s already snowing outside.” Seungmin gestured out the big windows, where flecks of snow drifted through the wind, dusting the cars parked outside, including yours, like icing sugar.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you huffed, picking up your two bottles and returning your trolley, and he shook his head. You squealed as he scooped you up, staggering along to the cashier.

He deposited you, and you paid for your items, then ran outside, almost slipping on the icy tarmac.

“It’s so pretty,” you gasped, squeaking as a snowflake landed on your nose and another melted down your cheek. “It’s very cold, though. Can we get inside, Seung?”

He nodded and opened the car, and you bundled yourself into the passenger seat, shivering as he turned the heater on.

“Dramatic, much,” he chuckled fondly, starting the engine.

“Shut up, I’m so cold,” you hissed through your teeth, blowing on your hands. “Hey, stop that, turn the car off.”

“That’ll turn the heater off,” Seungmin stated.

“I don’t care.”

“Where the fuck is your logic, baby?” Seungmin laughed.

You shook your head and dragged yourself over the console, planting yourself onto his lap. His cheeks flushed a little and he took the keys out, his arms moving to your waist automatically.

“You’re really warm, Seung,” you mumbled into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re always so warm, like, you just make me feel so cosy and soft and fluffy and gross.”

“Gross? Excuse me?”

“In a good way. I feel so sappy and lovey-dovey when I’m with you. I disgust myself. If I saw a couple acting like this in public, I’d be like, ew, that’s so weird, but I love acting like that with you. It doesn’t feel cliche or weird. It feels right.”

“Oh, baby.”

“Shush. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Seungmin lifted your head off his shoulder. “You already are, idiot.”

You slapped his cheek lightly. “Fuck off. It’s your turn to be overly sappy with your feelings now, Seung.”

Seungmin took a deep breath. “When I first got with you, all the guys were so surprised, because you’re so different to me. And when they were surprised, it made me nervous, because I trust them so much, though you better not tell them that, or they won’t shut up about it. Then Chan told me he hadn’t seen me act so carefree, so happy around anyone like this in a long, long time. He said he thought you were so good for me, you brought out parts of me he missed seeing.”

You stared into his eyes, biting back a smile.

“And it’s true. I’ve never really felt this happy around anyone before. I worry less, and when I worry, it's less about myself. Because I know you don’t care about the things I worry about myself; like my appearance, or my personality. You just love me. And I’ve never been loved like that before.”

“You went way sappier than I did, loverboy,” you giggled, but pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you so much, and it makes me happy that I make you as happy as you make me. You’re mine, yeah, Seung?”

“Always,” Seungmin pressed his nose to yours, then wrapped his arms around you tighter.

You sat, in the front seat of your car, in the supermarket parking lot, bodies entwined.

Sure, you should be getting home, but you weren’t in a rush.

Wherever he was, he was your home.

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stardustshimmer · 9 months

Text

Meta Pirate AU stuff: The Jolly Starcutter Crew

Ok so @maggieknight made the brilliant suggestion above, and I just had to go with it!

(I couldn’t make Marx look pirate-y enough, but whatever-)

Here’s Captain Meta’s first interaction with Magolarr:

Some fun facts about these four (plus Magolarr and Captain Meta’s dynamic) below:

(Oh, and deepest apologies to @that-fanperson-meg if this information interferes with your writing in progress! I’ll make any changes to it in the future if needed.)

Small angst warning for a particular section!

These swashbucklers (excluding Susie) are the only known pirates that possess natural magic. The Squeaks are pretty intimidated by them because of that, lol-

Before Captain Mags became a pirate, he was an ordinary mage. He heard many, many tales of Captain Meta and his crew who sailed the Halberd and embarked on dangerous and thrilling adventures, finding all sorts of treasure along the way. Inspired by the Swordsman of the Sea’s bravery (and a little greed-driven by the thought of treasure), he convinced his fellow friends Marx and Taranza to join him as he tried to bring his high-sea fantasy to life.

With some redecorating, the three had successfully transformed Magolor’s flying ship, the Lor Starcutter, into a flying pirate ship. They renamed it to the Jolly Starcutter.

Before meeting the others, Susie had spent pretty much her whole life as a sailor, working alongside her father. However, she got separated from him in a terrible ship accident involving the notorious Fatty Whale. Dedede had caught sight of Susie slowly sinking to the bottom of the ocean and immediately rescued her, bringing her up to the surface and saving her life thanks to the power of the Sapphire Brooch. Unfortunately, Susie’s father was nowhere to be found. Dedede stayed with Susie and comforted her for the while, and even attempted to signal passing ships to come and rescue her. After a few attempts, the Jolly Starcutter had noticed the signal, and after hearing an explanation of Susie’s situation, the crew was happy to take her in. They bonded quite well with her. To this day, Susie feels like she owes her life to the mysterious siren for saving her from her watery grave.

Magolarr is pretty great friends with Captain Meta, and his crew knows him quite well.

One activity the two captains like to do together is deep dive into books on ocean myths and legends. Sometimes they spend hours on hours in the Jolly Starcutter’s library doing research and chatting over tea.

Meta had never directly told Mags about his crush on Dedede, however, one day as they were going through a book, they had stumbled upon a section on sirens. Mags had noticed Meta’s constant smile while reading the sections out loud and had started teasing him for it. Meta ended up accidentally revealing that he’s not only encountered the siren king face to face before, but had ended up developing feelings for him as well. Regretting revealing so much information, Meta made Mags swear on his own life not to tell a soul what he heard. (I may or may not draw this out because I think this would be a funny interaction-)

…

Well, that’s enough for now. Good night, everyone!

#kirby #kirby fanart #kirby art #kirby comic #kirby au #stardustshimmer's meta pirate #taranza #taranza kirby #kirby marx #marx kirby #marx #susie kirby #susie haltmann #meta knight #magolor kirby #magolor #my art

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toomanylegos · 2 months

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MAG Episode 200

I decided to write down my thoughts on the final episode in a completely separate post. I felt like I would have lot to say and analyze after the episode was done and it would've been too much for the reblog chain I made.

I was right.

So, I started listening to this podcast ages ago. Like I mean sometime early last year and then stopped; forgot everything that happened and restarted from the beginning then proceeded to take long breaks in-between more upsetting episodes to keep me sane.

I went into this as someone who doesn't really listen to podcasts and doesn't have much interest in tragedies. I'm more likely to pick an animated film or an action anime or a fantasy novel or a short hurt/comfort fic than a 200 episode horror tragedy podcast.

Buuuuuuut my dearest Eggo had introduced me to the characters and the story. They talked about how much they loved the horror elements, the characters, the world; she encouraged me to give it a listen and reassured me that it was completely worth it. Obviously, she convinced me.

Despite the fact that my soul is shattered due to the emotional series finale, I'm so glad I gave this podcast a chance and I'm glad Eggo rambled about it to me. If they didn't, I wouldn't have come to a wonderful realization...

Tragedies are heartbreakingly beautiful.

I loved learning about these characters and seeing how they dealt with these horrible situations and impossible odds; I had to take so many breaks because if I binged MAG for too long I would become completely miserable due to the pure agony that Jon and everyone around him goes through.

However, there were always these little moments in between the agony. These small conversations between characters; a private reflection; a light joke. A pressure release for the audience that reminded me what, I believe, tragedies are meant to do -- highlight the beauty in the painful and be a cathartic outlet as well as a lesson.

I still don't like angst very much. I don't see the appeal of going into a piece of media that has no sense of comfort in it. Funnily enough, despite the genre space it sits in, MAG is comforting to me.

It brought me the love story of Jon and Martin -- together til the very end and learning to communicate and be with each other. Something that came to me at a point where I am considering pursuing a relationship myself and fear the hurdles I may face. Their story put my own worries just a tad at ease. The way I related to them and the way their fears are handled in the story helped -- are still helping me -- handle my own.

It brought me themes of humanity and monstrosity and how thin of line that can be. It brought me into worlds of flesh, and dark, and sky, and twisting corridors that made my head spin and my heart race.

Most of all, it brought me hope -- something I only realized in episode 199. The hope that even when your world is ending there is something that can be done. The faith in a chance that things can be better if you decide to take that leap.

That good old saying...

"It's always darkest before the dawn."

Now, after finishing The Magnus Archives, I can move on.

So, as I type this with teary eyes and a scattered brain, I would like to say that I loved The Magnus Archives; I have a better appreciation for the tragic and horrible.

I can seek out The Mechanisms and experience more of Jonny Sims' wonderful work.

I can start listening to Rusty Quill Gaming and listen to Alex's DM style and all of the team's adventures.

I can seek out more works produced by the wonderful people over at Rusty Quill.

And most of all, I can catch up with The Magnus Protocol and I can finally say...

They put my bois in the fuckin' 'puter

#apologies for the rambling #and sorry if none of this makes sense #i am very emotional #the magnus archives #magnus archives #tma #tma podcast #tma spoilers #the magnus protocol #tmagp #magpod

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pandamoniumvibes-27 · 1 year

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Rainy Day

Back to Masterlist

Characters: Mona Ningguang Yae Miko

A/N: okay so I haven’t done a Genshin post in a bit but I took a break blinked and all the sudden I’m behind on all the Sumeru lore. I’m trying to do it right now but until then I can’t do anything really lore related. But it’s raining outside so I hope you like some rainy day writing!

A/N: Okay I wrote these a couple months ago and originally this was suppose to have an extra character but I couldn’t figure out what to write for them. I hope you like it!!!!!!

~~🌧️~~

Mona’s mood was already soured. Why out of all days did it have to rain today?!

She had planned to go to the Adventures Guild for some extra mora so she could eat something other than salad

Not that she didn’t love salad!

No, salad is amazing, and it saves her mora.

She could go all day having only salad!

She knows from experience…

But with the rain being non stop she came home soaked!

Not to mention her scryglass was hazy from the rain. She couldn’t even scry the stars.

Archons she could go for some soup right now.

Eating soup underneath a blanket, reading her favorite astrology books.

Instead she was cold and had only salad to eat- wait what was that smell?

Mona’s house for whatever reason was filled with the most delightful aroma and it was warmer than normal.

Almost as if someone has been cooking…

“Who’s there?! Come out and a face the wrath of the great Astrologist Mona Mag-“

“Hi Mona!”

“egi- Y/N what are you doing here!?”

“Im making soup.”

“How did you even get in?!”

“You have a spare key under the welcome mat remember? Anyways, I saw you doing commissions earlier, and thought I’ll surprise you with soup! No one likes eating cold salad on a cold day!”

Mona couldn’t help but smile. It was almost as if you had scry the stars yourself and red her destiny.

Mona however quickly gained composure.

“Well I suppose I can also use this time to finally get you to understand the difference between Astrology and Astronomy. Each time you get it wrong I’ll hit you with one of my books on the head.”

“Hey aren’t your books kinda big and all hard cover?”

“ They have a lot of knowledge. But don’t worry I won’t use my favorites they are to import to use on you.”

“ Sweet Barbatos save me!”

~~🌧️~~

The weather never really affected Ningguang’s job.

However it could serve as an annoyance.

Cargo and intel that was being shipped to Liyue Habor could be delayed.

Meetings would have to be rescheduled if they were taking place outside.

But this by far bothered her the most. Today she was supposed to have a meeting with Y/N for a picnic.

A small break from her busy schedule to spend time with the one she loves most.

She had picked out a spot away from the harbor.

Placed far from Hilichurls and slimes so they could relax in nature with each other as their company.

All plans ruined by rain.

You still manage to visit her though.

“You know Liyue Harbor is still quite beautiful even when it rains.”

“Y/N. I suppose our date will have to be rescheduled for today…”

“We could, or we can go ahead and take a walk, just the two of us. Maybe buy ourselves a nice meal~ bring it back to Jade chamber. I’ll gladly cancel my schedule if it meant u can spend more time with you.”

Ningguang chuckled to herself.

“While that’s a lovely idea we both know it’s impractical. However, I am a little bit less busy from the rain today. Would you be free for dinner?”

Y/N nod smiling.

“I’ll pay tonight!”

“No, I have more than enough mora I’ll pay.”

“No! You always do this let me treat you!”

“I have more than enough mora for the both of us, I should naturally pay for the expenses.”

“No it’s my treat!”

The only problem now was how she was gonna convince Y/N to let her pay for the bill.

~~🌧️~~

Miko had no qualms with rain. Rain was a natural part of life and nothing to get upset over.

That didn’t mean she preferred it.

Inazuma was currently facing quite the storm. Thankfully not one created by The Shogun but still a nuisance nonetheless.

Miko, along with many other shop owners had to close their shops due to the rain.

To make the day more banal the shrine was also not busy today from the weather.

Miko must admit she was a little surprised to see Y/N still came to visit her.

But Y/N didn’t need to know about that.

“Y/N, you still came all this way to visit me~ What a special day this is~”

“I’m surprised you haven’t decided to mess with one of the Shrine Maidens yet. Feeling merciful today Miko?”

Miko chuckled.

“Well that’s for you to find out~”

Miko was not in the mood to tease today surprisingly enough. Today she wanted to relax indoors and enjoy the sound of the rain on her windows.

Perhaps she could do just that.

“Are you busy?”

“No, why do you ask.”

“I need a beta-reader for some of the new books, would you mind?”

Y/N look at Miko confused but then answered.

“You know I love a good book.”

“Follow me then.”

Miko went to her private courtiers where you to took a seat in one of the two reading nooks.

“You always take that chair, what do you like it so much?”

“It’s comfy. I don’t have any new books for me to read, I hated all the new books given to me yesterday.”

“I knew it! I finished reading the latest books yesterday!”

“It seems I’ve been caught red handed~ Would you like to read a book on the shelf?”

“I’m in the middle of reading The Miraculous Adventures of the Traveler you have it?”

“I have all my best selling novels, it should be on the second shelf with the white spine. What chapter are you on?”

“I don’t know the chapter, but they just arrived in Liyue and a tour guide is helping them prepare a send off for Rex Lapis. What are you reading?”

“That book is such a good read, I’m rereading Pretty Please Kitsune Guuji?”

Miko always chuckled after saying the title.

“You just made that book to mess with The Raiden Shogun, Im sure of it.”

“I would never~”

The two made small talk as the rain made noise for a tranquil atmosphere.

Good books, good company, good atmosphere, how perfect of a day this has become.

———

Masterlist

#genshin impact #yae miko #yae miko x reader #ningguang x reader #ningguang #mona megistus #mona x reader

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impossiblefangirl0632 · 3 months

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Take Back the Kingdom Master List

I've decided to compile everything related to Take Back the Kingdom in one easy place. This entire universe has been co-written with @optimistic-violinist

Fics by Us

Take Back the Kingdom: This is the main fic that as of posting this has one chapter left. (Edit 3/29/24: Now complete plus one epilogue) It's a fantasy kingdom/modern AU with found family, adventure, mystery, a smidge of humor, and buckets of angst. Rated T, currently 169K words

The Appendices: These are outtakes and other material adjacent to the main fic.

To Fall Apart (to reunite): A deep dive into Bruno's backstory using the 2023 Encantober prompts. Fleshes out his relationship with Razili and gives more backstory for Oscar. Includes bits and pieces of the yet to be published Like Ships.

Like Ships (Coming soon-ish): Bruno/Razili's story

Home: A little AU oneshot that I should really post to the Appendices that is currently only on tumblr. Bruno manages to find the canon Encanto and things get confusing.

Valentine's Day oneshot: What it says on the tin. Bruno/Razili

Adjacent Fics by Others

Just Your Ordinary, Everyday Encounter with… Yourself?: This is a crossover fic we wrote with @16magnolias that has our Bruno/Razili meeting Mags' Bruno/Lucia

@ramblesanddragons 's first oneshot based on TBTK

Reading Take Back the Kingdom by Asteria_Leon: One of our readers asked permission to write a read it fic of TBTK. It has our AU characters reading the fic before the events of Antonio's gift ceremony.

A Lonely Soul and a Hearty Laugh by @ramblesanddragons : An excellent snippet of Bruno's life and a bit of human kindness. (I'm still not over this, thanks again Rambles)

Art by others (Still not over this!)

@16magnolias drew the flying scene from chapter 28 for my birthday and IT'S SO GOOOOOOOOD!!! She also drew Bruno and Razili!

Razili among some other excellent OCs by @teawizard

@greenvillainredemption drew Razili in another group of amazing OCs

@dragondrawer28 drew the ceremonial robes!

Art by me

Razili's Character Sheet: (This has art by others as well)

This silly Spoilers Without Context I made for Chapter 31 of TBTK

Pirate Bruno and Razili

Art by Britt

Her AMAZING ANIME OPENING/ANIMATIC for TBTK

My posts about this universe are tagged either TBTK or Razili

#TBTK #Razili #phew this took forever to compile #my fic

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dreddedwheat · 4 months

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Back to the Dredd-tomes: Judgement Day

Okay, so-!

Brief introduction: I used to have a previous blog that focused on my youthful fanboyism of the 2000AD and Judge Dredd universe. A few misstimed clicks a year or so back and that all got nuked, and it basically killed my enthusiasm for writing stuff up, since I lost a metric ton of amateur analysis, fan-mixes and other stuff that most people would usually forget.

There was a lot of back and forth with good folks like @judgeanon (who I credit with helping support what is a vanishingly small online discussion around Dredd and 2000ad in general), which is now sadly mostly lost. Usually for the better with my more immature antics, hence the fresh start and fresh name to go with it.

However, after a Christmas filled with a sudden surge of - probably ill-informed - Dredd buys, I decided to get back into things. That means actually talking about the comic that was formative for me as a fan of both comic-books and fiction in general...

JUDGE DREDD

And where better to start than the biggest, the meanest, and the best/baddest (depending on who you ask) Dredd epic, JUDGEMENT DAY. (Spoiler warnings, images courtesy of the 2000AD site and Google Search.)

So, let's get into a basic overview of this contentious Dredd epic...

The Story so far: Judge Dredd is a law-enforcer in Mega-City One, a massive post-apocalyptic metropolis. As a Judge he's authorised to deliver instant sentencing on the spot, no jury or court necessary. He's judge, jury and executioner, and he is the law, but you probably already knew that.

Johnny Alpha is a Strontium Dog, a mutant bounty-hunter that wants to break free of life on an increasingly anti-mutant Earth. Taking on the bounties no-one else will touch, he utilises his unique 'Alpha Eyes' to see through walls, sense other people's intentions and more. He always gets his man.

Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, let's get into it. For the uninitiated, a Dredd 'epic' is a pretty standard description for a big summer storyline. This all started with the "Apocalypse War" back in the eighties, a storyline which defined not only Judge Dredd but also British Boy's comics.

For American fans, and British comic readers of a certain age (like me) it's hard to imagine a time when most British comics were simply lukewarm re-treads of the same adventure stories you'd read in the fifties, sixties and seventies. Of course, not all of these were bad - far from it - but like many things in Britain during the eighties they were a victim of a stuffy, uptight and squeamish society.

2000AD proved to be a seminal title in many ways, mostly in introducing borderline graphic violence, mature storylines, cynical themes and more complicated heroes. Judge Dredd, a tyrannical authoritarian supercop who nonetheless has strong principles and heroic intentions is the most emblematic of that.

However, for most of his lifetime Dredd had been a relatively straightforward and heroic figure. And although a direct criticism of this was not far away - in the form of the Democracy Now storyline - the Apocalypse War was perhaps the first time we saw Dredd on a firm backfoot.

The lantern-jawed hero was put thoroughly on the defensive when the Sovs, a pastiche of Soviet-era Russia, attacked and destroyed a large portion of Mega-City One. It was a grand war story depicting the Judges of the city waging guerilla warfare and culminating with a particularly chilling page where Dredd retaliates using the Sov's own nukes, obliterating hundreds of millions of people.

Yee-ikes, even nowadays this is vicious stuff. Now imagine this in a mag that's being sold next to "The Beano" on shelves and you can imagine why this was considered such a definitive storyline.

But, okay, why am I telling you this? Well, put simple, Judgement Day is a result of the inherent love that writer Garth Ennis, best-known now for titles like The Boys and Punisher Max, had for this storyline. At least that's the prevailing thesis put forwards by people like JA, God knows that online discussion of Dredd is hard to come by no matter what.

Regardless, this should set the stage. By now, Mega-City One has fazed many crises and successive near-extinction events. Most recently - at the time - Necropolis, where the Dark Judges (we'll get into them) invaded and took control of the city's Judges, attempting to carry out their campaign of omnnicide before being narrowly halted by Judge Dredd, McGruder, Cadet Giant and the everlovin' Psi-Judge Anderson.

So, stage-set, where does that lead us?

Judgement Day is, in simple terms, Dredd vs Zombies. Pretty cliché now, but back in the 90s this was still a fresh and rather bloody concept. And regardless of what one thinks of Ennis' writing, the art is stunning and graphic, with Dredd mainstay Carlos Ezquerra taking center-stage. Although I'd argue that Dean Ormston is at least second-best if not better, with some mouthwatering - pardon the pun - depictions of flesh-eating zombies cribbing from giallo films.

Judge Dredd - and the rest of his post-nuclear world - suddenly face an overwhelming undead assault from the necromagus Sabbat. Resurrecting billions of corpses, Sabbat wages all-out war on the Mega-Cities, and all seems lost until the arrival of Johnny Alpha...

Alpha and Dredd had already met in the story "Top Dogs" where Johnny and his partner, the time-displaced viking Wulf Sternhammer, narrowly escaped capture by the lawman. Naturally, they don't get on too well.

Regardless, Alpha proves instrumental in helping Dredd - and a coalition of international Judges - finding and destroying (or near-enough) Sabbat in a bloody showdown in the Radlands of Ji, a part of post-nuclear China.

In-between we have lavish set-pieces of Dredd and his fellow Judges fending off hordes of the undead, flashes to other parts of the globe and other judges playing their part, as well as fantastic art throughout.

So, what's the problem?

Well, the main issue is that, as JA pointed out in his own posts on the storyline, Judgement Day is very much a 'blockbuster' event. And sadly, it's as close as 2000AD has ever gotten to emulating the American comics ideal of the big crossover event. And NOT in a good way. Although you couldn't criticise it for being slow-paced and overwrought, it has many issues that mark it out for fans.

For one, the storyline - as I only recently found out - ran consecutively in both 2000AD and the Judge Dredd Megazine, the latter a solely Dreddverse-focused publication. Now, obviously, the issues with asking people to buy two magazines, monthly and weekly, aside this also meant that the fairly fast-paced movie-style storyline was constantly being broken up.

Add onto that the ridiculous stakes ("Billions of people are dying! Planet Earth is on the brink!"), an at-times-confusing tone (Sabbat's zombies performing a Disney-esque musical number during the climactic showdown), the destruction of various international Mega-cities - few of which we'd even had the chance to know - and the borderline fanservicey pairing of Dredd and Alpha, and we have a recipe for...not a disaster, but something that's a bit of a messy moment in the Dredd saga.

Because, yes, Dredd's story has been continuous, and while not concrete generally the broad-strokes have always been pretty solid (usually a tweak to a character's origin or what they said and did here, but stuff like the Apocalypse War is almost untouched). Judgement Day really feels like a moment where a lot of potential areas of the world like Brasilia, Mega-City Two and others were, quite literally, nuked off the face of the Earth. We also saw some interesting side-characters gored under the zombie hordes, such as Oz Judge Bruce and Judge Dekker.

Basically, Judgement Day slammed the door shut on potential plotlines, was shaky in terms of the publishing angle and overall had more of an overwrought Hollywood blockbuster than intense action-thriller. It also came hot on the heels of Necropolis, and arguably was part of a quick-succession of world-shaking crises such as Inferno which, as far as I can tell, numbed readership going into the 2000s.

Sabbat also stands as quite a weak villain. He rarely appears until the finale, and his backstory - a downtrodden teacher's pet turned murderous necromancer - may be an amusing reference to the aforementioned "Beano" but it's also a bit of a silly one for someone who's meant to be our big, brutal bad-guy, and not in a good way. He's not a bore to read, but sometimes his moments of simpering arrogance can undercut what is essentially an apocalyptic moment for the world of Dredd.

However, even more frustratingly, Judgement Day is also a massive stepping-stone in terms of the-then current Dredd plotline, making it very hard to ignore. It effectively marked Chief Judge McGruder's last major heroic moment, the first time we saw Judge Hershey take up the mantle of Chief Judge and perhaps the most definitive Alpha/Dredd crossover.

I think it's a testament to the overall high-quality of major Dredd storylines that Judgement Day holds up as well as it does. But it also bears all the hallmarks of something that would work well in a vacuum, but which has a messy place in continuity. I'd loved to have seen a non-canon take on this, perhaps allowing us to bring in characters like Wulf Sternhammer - who was sadly offed before this storyline was written - into the zombie battle royale.

There's also some usual holdovers of poorly-aged stuff that was endemic to British comics at the time. Hondo-City, Ciudad Barranquilla and other areas get equal billing but some traces of their stereotypical origins remain. This storyline did go some way to fleshing out the wider world - as much as it obliterated it - of Dredd.

Yet I can't deny that, in the moment of reading, Judgement Day is enthralling. It's pure, gorey action and fanservice. I just wish it didn't cast such a shadow across later stories, and that it hadn't taken so many interesting places and people with it in the process.

Picking this story up, you know what you're getting, and if you're along for the ride...you'll have a hell of a time.

As it stands, Judgement Day is a weaker entry writing-wise but still well-worth picking up for the art and general premise alone. If you're a new Dredd fan and want something a bit lighter than the commonly-cited "America" storyline, this is a fine way to get into the fast-paced and more action-focused content of 2000AD without needing much forward knowledge.

FIN

#Judgement Day #Judge Dredd #2000AD #Comic Spoilers #Analysis #Please excuse the messy and rather unfocused writeup #But I figured either go big or go home when it comes to returning to the comics game #Edits are likely to take place at some point or another

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popculturebuffet · 11 months

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Into the Spider-Verse: Spider-Ham (Marvel Tails #1 and Peter Porker, The Spectacular Spider-Ham #15) (Comissioned by WeirdKev15)

Hello all you happy webheads and welcome back to Into the Spider-Verse, my look at the origins of every webslinger from the landmark film in the build up to Across the Spider-Verse. And it's bittersweet to be this close to the end of the web here: i'm proud of myself for this project and kev for having cooked it up as it allowed me to really dig into my love of spider-man, and comics in general, with new ideas and even possible new retrospectives wholesale coming out of this.

But before we can end this ride, we still have one Spidey to cover, who after our previous spider-persons adventures with crackers and milk, their predecesors literal oppisite sex clone, mob goons without fear, rock n roll pop art halluciongens in your giant spider mecha, and giant spiders stripping you naked, one man comes along to say..

Yes it's time for the debut of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham a

And i'm sure many of you, both those familiar with the comics and those who just watched the movie, are asking the same question: why. The answer is simple. Way way back in the 1980's, Marvel had a new animated arm, Marvel Productions, which was a massive deal, producing both GI Joe and Transformers, which both started as comics first to promote the upcoming toylines, as well as Dungeons and Dragons, My LIttle Pony Tales, Muppet Babies, Jem and the Holograms, Kid N Play and the Biker Mice From Mars. There were also of course marvel cartoons like Spider-Man(the 80s one), Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends, The Incredible Hulk, the more popular Incredible Hulk and the infamous and destined to be covered Pryde of the X-Men Pilot.

So naturally Marvel wanted more ips to feed into the almighty merchandising machine, because shockingly, companies have ALWAYS wanted every dollar they can get out of making more and more adaptations as long s they can afford it. So two writers set to work to spitball this: They were Tom DeFalco, a longtime spider-man editor who would go on to write the guidebook I had as a kid that really got me into the comics and taught me a lot about his rogues gallery and more importantly would write the book himself briefly, being the one to crystalize Mary Jane's tragic Backstory and her knowing Peter Parker is spider-man all along. WIth him was the wonderful Larry Hama, at the time writing GI JOe for marvel.. and at the time of this writing STILL writing his continuation of that continuity for IDW as he should. Hama deserves all the credit for setting the foundations of the GI Joe universe most adaptations follows and for writing one hell of a comic in the process, and not one to rest on his laurels would later have the defining run on Wolverine's solo book.

So as you can imagine when these two legends get together.. they created a simple but enduringly weird joke that has lasted decades. It's a concept that just works: Spider-Man.. but he's a funny animal. Weirdly though Marvel Animation passed on it, not wanting anything to do with it despite the fact that in a time when Garfield was at the peak of his powers and they'd be making muppet babies, funny animals were a VERY easy sell. Seriously why Marvel Animation was so stupid is a riddle for the ages but Marvel liked printing money, so they put Porker in a one shot, Marvel Tails, parodying the marvel reprint mag marvel Tales. That said DeFalco didn't expect much from it and was suprised months later when the higher ups asked for another issue. He explained it was a one shot.. and then they asked when the next issue was and he got the memo. While DeFalco wrote the one shot that launched the character he freely admits he's not the one who made him a star. That honor goes to Steve Skeates. Skeates had been a mainstay in the industry, paticuarlly having a run on Aquaman i've been trying to read for some time that really launched the character to new heights before Superfriends would shove him back to the depths for a while. He was burnt out on the industry and freely admits he wouldn't of done the book for Larry Hama if it was any other book, but felt the format allowed him to do a throwback to the kinds of books he liked writing while still throwing in plenty of comedy to keep it fresh. The result was pretty great, with Skeates wisely having Porker's various foes not be the obvious joke of being the animals they resemble, for instance the Vulture being a possum in a buzzard suit instead of a vulture.

And we'll be seeing that contrast between Porker's humble one shot joke beginings and evolved more nuanced parody as unlike most of the characters featured... Porker didn't get his origin story for a while. While most of the spider-persons got there's in their very first appearance or arc, Porker's origin didn't come about till late in his solo books run. So today we'll be looking at both his first appearance in Marvel Tails, and his origin story in Peter Porker the Spectacular Spider-Ham #15 under the cut!

Spider-Ham begins his career in a typical spider-man setting: stopping a typical gang of thugs with ease and some quips. But it's not long before we get into one of the weird things about this story, something that just dosen't really work with it: Captain Americat. Cap is pictured here as Peter's steadfast partner and a reporter at his paper and none of this works. Now this is an AU, it COULD work and the idea of steve and peter being closer partners and steve mentoring him is great, just as the idea of Tony mentoring him was a brilliant one the movies captalized on. But here it's just treated as a normal thing without really being used for a joke that this is so unusual. A large part of this is something that's easy to forget as it hasn't been true about the character since the early 2000's. Spidey.. used to be a bit of a loner when it came to the rest of the Marvel Universe. Granted he was the kind of loaner who had an entire ongoing dedicated to him teaming up with other heroes and a tv show where he had two super college roomies he'd fight crime with, but when it came to consistant teamups his only real super friends were the fantastic four and in a few years Daredevil. Spider-Woman existed, but Jessica was largely her own thing by design, with only the name in common and wouldn't really become an ally or even friend of peter's till they were in the avengers together. Peter would have team ups but he really wasn't super close with the rest of the marvel universe. This changed in the early 2000's as his joining the new avengers gave him a lot of new allies in the marvel universe: He'd be on the new avengers until Brian Micheal Bendis left the book, he joined HIckman's avengers for the first arc, with Doc Ock taking his place, and joined the Mighty Avengers and Mark Waid's avengers afterwords, only in the last few years taking a break from the group entirely, ironically as his MCU counterpart became heavily associated with them himself. Not only that the dawn of the spider-verse and miles migrating to become the 616's second spider-man, meant peter soon had a spider-family.

Even now in his current tirefire of a solo i've been purposfully avoiding but suspect i'l lhave to confront some day, he has Ms Marvel, soon to be thrown in the fridge, Norman Osborn, long story, and his current girlfriend the black cat. Peter's no longer the solo operator he once was.. but back then it's very weird fo ra parody of the character to just.. casually hang out with Captain America regularly and this angle was wisely dropped.

This isn't the only weird thing in this issue either. For some reason rather than pulling from peter's many rogues, the issue has him face the Masked Marauder, some punk ripping off a super high tech arcade. It comes off more like a Scooby Doo Mystery complete with various red herings and the actual culprit showing up early on. He's not even the main threat as the everlovin hulk is also shoved into this issue. His origin is a little neat, with Bruce Bunny being an arcade game maker who gets shoved into a cabinet.

The result though just isn't that funny. Ther'es a good joke about steve stashing his shield in his coat

But otherwise i'ts just kinda.. there and didn't leave the best first impression back when I first read it. It's nicely drawn, but dosen't have much actually to say or any really satire of the character. It's clear they had the name but no idea what to do with it. THe backup is pretty funny though, the weird Goose Rider, take a while guess, who just.. spends it riding around, thinking about grabbing a burger, and dealing iwth shouty civlians and some random doofus called chainsaw. This satire.. actually works as from what I can tell Ghost Rider's early rogues gallery before his reinvention in the 90's wasn't all that impressive with few exceptions. It's more what I wanted. Thankfully when Peter got his title shot, things perked up and by the time we get to his origin... we get something delightful.

As you can tell both by the cover used for this review and from the title, this one's a parody of spider-man no more. Even if you haven't read the story (I've only read the iconic issue iwth the cover), you've doubtlessly seen it's cover, and the various homages to both that and the shot of peter throwing his costume in the trash and walking away, both by spider-heroes and the rest of the marvel. It helps that Sam Rami choose it as the backbone of Spider-Man 2 and ended up making an even BETTER version of the story in the process. Even Miles had his own version of it after his mom died and he blamed himself for it since the second ultimate venom was the reason she died. If you've read more recent comics and seen Rio alive and well that's because Miles befriended the Molocule Man, a very shy man with the power to control molocules... which shockingly for comics has been treated every bit as horrifyingly powerful as it should since his introduction, with MM's only real wekaness being his crippling neurosis. So when the universe died and was put back, Molocule brought her back as a thank you present. I had a point here.. ah yes.. I love the Molocule Man and feel he's a highly underated character. Oh that with the severe stress and sacrifice of being a spider-man, it's not a huge leap to have that moment of doubt. And it's an even shorter leap to take that moment and parody it and Peter's angst for all it's worth. We open with J Jonah Jackal hooking himself up to an idea machine while his three young wards, the junior newsboys watch. They are Jermiah Jackal, JJJ's snooty nephew, Bunson Bunny, our resident nerd who talks in big snetences and Upton Adam Stray, a combination of a black sterotype and

If your getting some deja vu from a rich magnate having three young sidekicks who both acompany him and try to steer away his worse instincts, one of whom is jonah's literal nephew.. GOOD. It means you have good taste and also get the bit. Spider-Ham has a bit of the old Scrooge McDuck stories in it's dna, simply adding spider-man and his rogues to the mix, and really JJJ is such a perfect fit for scrooge and Peter for Donald, that I can't blame both writers for dipping into this formula when it fits spider-man shockingly well now he's a pig.

This issue is written by steven Mellor, who took over the title later in his run, but like Skeates does a really fun job with it.

With Jonah having peter come to the clubhouse to view an idea he came up with that involves the kids

Peter deals with typical spider-man things. That is trying to get a date with his ex Betty Bat. It goes about usual for peter

Also as you might have noticed, hilariously, Peter Porker looks a LOT like John Mulaney, despite having been created only one year after John was born. I mean he's also a talking pig but the hair is distractingly like his future voice actors and I love it.

Baby P decides to handle this like a mature, rational young swine

Before bemoaning that he's still single.. what I like is that Mellor both really gets how Peter Parker Mopey Rants work, and milks it with everyone starring not sure what to do as peter ineternally rants and the janitor eventually asking him to leave as he's getting his tears on the floor. Peter then reflects back to his origin, the reason we're here. And even for a talking pig.. peter's origin is hilaroiusly bizzare. It's my kind of weird shenanigans. Okay so in this version Peter.. was a spider, which is clever enough.. but May was a mad scientest who befriended peter and showed him her new invention: a fission powered hairdryer. It made her radoactive, it wasn't good.. and well... I can't say what happens next and have most of you belivie it actually happened so here's photographic evdience.

This.. this is comedy gold, and clever as all hell. Just deciding to have may be radioactive nad bite peter. It's as nuts as it is brilliant and I love it. So we get the standard origin moments of Peter testing out his powers.. and we also get a nice gag out of him bending a pipe in the original amazing fantasy #15

Peter returns to find may basically the dodering old lady sterotype she was in earlier spider-man comics, and decides to look after her and not tell her the truth, as well as put his powers to use. Peter's genius in this version is also from the bite and thus Spider-Ham is born

After running into flash thompsons counterpart, who sadly isn't named flash beagle, we get jonah's meeting where he's dressed himself and the boys up in superhero outfits and ...

To become Black Beagle and his beagle brigadeers. Peter is dragged along for this and this.. is easily the weakest part of the issue. While the idea of Jonah becoming a hero himself is great and has been used well, here it's just kinda there and is mostly a setup for them to befriend "Andy Warthog" and see a bunch of celebrity pastiches. It's a boring page or two

Thankfully it picks up with a delightful parody of one of my faviorite spider-man rogue as the Hobgobbler crashes the party! God bless this pun. He kidnaps one of the celebrties and we get a ncie character moment. Despite how silly this character and his origin are... it's still neat to see the core of spider-man.. is still present.

No matter the universe, no matter who wears the mask... they can't turn down responsiblity. Try as he might.. Peter just can't let someone else get hurt if he can help it and that's what makes spider-man the hero we love so much: that drive to help people no matter what it takes. It's what makes a spider-person what they are wethere they be man, woman, ham or nb.

So Peter naturally wins, in a nicely drawn fight, cooks the turkey and drive sJonah home. He WANTS to just get some deserved sleep but Aunt May has other plans.. thankfully said plans give our hero his much deserved happy ending. Action is already his reward.

As you can probably figure, this issue is a massive improvment and it's clear even with two diffrent writers, the full ongoing got the concept better and more importantly had more fun with it. The result.. is fucking great. Also the puns. Dear lord the puns. And that's not getting into the backup which has the scavengers fight kangaroo the conquerer. Who damn well better be among the council of kangs. At any rate this issue was greatr and even with the brief slowdown, is a great issue, not only getting me reintrested in this run, but also showing off just what you can do with a parody: have it be both heartfelt and clearly get what it's making fun of while still being great.

Next Time: The web ends as we look at the movie itself. Anyone can wear the mask but is one Miles Morales up to the task? Can he fill peter's shoes? Well yeah, I mean there's even a sequel, but it's still one hell of a ride.

#spider-man #peter porker #spider-ham #mary jane waterbuffalo #john mulaney #into the spider-verse #across the spider-verse

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