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b00tyliciousbabe · 3 months

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da vinci

pairing: dacre montgomery x male reader

summary: just the actor fawning over the abundance in your cultural capital.

request: @gayaristocrat YOU ARE THE VISUSLS BBY! thanks sm for your patience, plus the anon who also requested a while back, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing.

notes: happy pride! after FINALLY handing in my art coursework, this is my projection onto the character of the reader. never will i ever pick up another paintbrush - well…also officially finished my exams now so i am a slut for y’all’s requests! flood my inbox (but more importantly my hole) xx

song rec: naomi sharon - definition of love

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

dating dacre was nothing short of a dream. he always made you feel so at ease. he loved how creative you were - the perfect match to his inner theatre kid. taking him to fashion exhibitions + poetry slams, and the actor inviting you to theatre shows, seeing the world through each others’ eyes made the time together even more precious. you first met at a ballet show. he had been dragged to see it by a few of his castmates, but was more so enjoying the bts view of you with the dancers. you were backstage fitting all the dancers and making sure they were all comfortable in what you styled. he managed to peek behind the curtain and saw your beautiful, so focused on draping the fabric of the lead’s skirt.

fuck, you were fine.

but he didn’t think much of it, just some cute guy, with beautiful eyes, who probably had a boyfriend. he took his seat and watched it with his friends. one of them was engaged to one of the dancers and so took dacre to the dressing rooms after the show. after introducing the two of you, y’all were practically drooling over each other. barely a word was said between you, but your hearts’ communicated greater feelings than mere speech ever could. they say love at first sight is something for the big screen, but your initial encounter rivalled the biggest stories of romance any writer could ever craft.

from that night, you practically were together, with the tabloids plastering the two of you holding hands, yachting in capri. the pop culture side of twitter was OBSESSED with your relationship to the actor and was in constant awe with how perfect you guys were for each other.

y/nsupremacy: you guys make my heart smile

user111: they’d make such cute babies

dacrefanclub6: sexiest couple on the internet

there was even a time where he had to do a nude scene in an upcoming blockbuster and the whole world saw how much your man was packing. in his press tour, the panel of interviewers didn’t shy away from your bf’s HUGE deal, some even made inappropriate comments.

‘god bless bottoms like y/n, he be taking that shit better than a pornstar’

‘poor y/n, how does that thing even fit?’

‘checks out…big booty bitches y/n deserves to be fucked by hung men.’

dacre was afraid that you would feel uncomfortable with the constant media comments on your thickness, but he had nothing to fear. you embraced it, you were said to have the best bod in fashion. as much as he tried to keep his life with you private, he lowkey wanted to let the world know that how much of a good boy you were for him.

dacre: ‘in all fairness i ain’t had any complaints from him so…’

dacre: ‘but…our neighbours definitely hate us.’ he remarks with a devilish grin.

everyone was rooting for your relationship, and what better way to show this than him enlisting the joint troops of your fandoms to surprise you whilst you were working in paris. he had gotten some time away from filming and decided to come and visit your atelier in paris. sprawled out on your desk, with needles and materials adorning the creative canvas of the room, he saw you hard at work. with the same vein poking through your forehead as the first time he laid eyes on your angelic physique, he could’ve fallen in love all over again.

‘hey babe’ he came up to you with flowers. ‘you look ravishing tonight’ rolling his r’s with a tenacity that made you smile. his tone always made you feel so safe.

‘i ain’t even dressed yet,’ you protest, dusting off the loose threads and sequins from your sweats. ‘you’re beautiful in whatever you wear,’ coming closer and gripping underneath your butt, ‘even prettier with less on.’ dacre quips as his lips tickle your ear.

‘dacre stop,’ you laugh out. ‘that giggle of yours is so infectious.’ he crashes his lips into you, the flowers dropping haphazardly onto the desk as he pushed his tongue deeper.

he was wearing the blazer you had designed for his birthday last year, paired with a pendant necklace with the first initial of your name on it. he looked so sexy. ‘can’t seem to keep my hands off off of you.’ he breathed, nudging his jacket off.

‘nuh uh, we have dinner reservations.’ nudging him away.

‘fuck. why’d you gotta be so damn sexy?’ he sounded aggravated but you pecked him again, ‘don’t worry, i am all yours tonight.’

taking you to the balcony of a quaint, parisian bistro, the chill of the capital’s air made the two of you even more enamoured, your hearts burning passionately. whilst eating, you got some sauce on the corner of your lips, as he pushes it back into your mouth. ‘gotta get you used to the feeling of a foreign object in your mouth before tonight, don’t i?’ dacre always loved being dirty in public and you made sure to satiate his exhibitionist kink.

after many glasses of wine, you made your way to the louvre. with your many contacts you managed to snag an after hours tour - solo. you were much more of a lightweight than your boyfriend (the man could drink like a pirate and be even more chipper than before) and you couldn’t walk in a straight line for more than a few metres. he let you go so he could see your figure and admire it from afar, but as soon as he saw you stumble, dacre’s hand on your waist guided you to safety and sobriety.

y’all ran throughout the museum, finally landing and kissing in front of the mona lisa. it was such a picturesque moment. the taxi ride back to the hotel was such a fever dream, y’all were all over each other, your chauffeur knew well to close the barrier and give you two some alone time.

‘have i ever told you how beautiful you are?’ he says slurring his speech.

‘tell me again…’ you implored.

‘the most beautiful boy in the world.’ he reassured, pulling you in as the city of paris lit up, illuminating your eyes.

you called him an ‘eager beaver’ as dacre stumbled the two of you into the hotel you were staying at. he grunts between kisses,‘you know you love me.’ serving you with another peck. he stripped your clothes as you followed suit with his own, leaving a chasm of fabric in the corner of the room.

only your shared jewellery was left to remove. you fell back seductively onto the mattress. as dacre crawled on top of you with a dark lust growing in his eyes, you pulled him by the pendant around his neck.

the muscular man laid atop of you, placing each hand on the bed at dip of your waist, using his palms as a fulcrum to steady himself. you glanced down to see the light reflecting off his abs as they danced on the curves of your body.

‘you’re so beautiful.’ he whispered, kissing your cheek and cupping your face.

he lifted himself from your figure, grabbing your thighs and placing your feet at either side of his head.

kissing your legs softly ‘so fucking soft.’ he moaned into your skin. his dick was throbbingly red, precum glazing his cock as he slowly thigh fucked you. he folded his arms around your plush knees, and kept that pace, your fingers grazing his cock head each time it escaped the warm walls of your inner thighs. to your annoyance, he kept this up for what felt like forever. halting, you felt his rock length graze your hole.

‘dacre, put it in already!’ you said with overstimulated passion, earning a snicker from your boyfriend.

knowing that you were beginning to grow impatient, he caresses the flesh of your abdomen. ‘look who’s eager now?’ he smirked.

shut up,’ stroking his happy trail with an endearment. you looked up at him and bit your lip. ‘I need you, please.’ his mouth agape at you ‘of course baby.’

he laced his fingers into yours. rocking slowly into you. his huge dick stretching you out slowly as the the dimly lit room made his ash blue eyes appear dark with lust.

‘fuck, have i missed this pussy’ rhetorically muttering. dacre began whispering sweet nothings into your ear:

‘you’re doing so well.’

‘taking it like my good little boy aren’t you?’

he made you so hot. lifting himself onto his toes, he angled himself directly into you, placing his entire weight on you. fucking down into your hole, your boyfriend was hitting nerves that had been neglected in his absence.

your sphincter began tightening around him, dacre knew what this meant - your release would soon follow. he started kissing your neck, and circled your left nipple with his thumb, goading your orgasm out of you as he started drilling a bit faster. dacre chased his own high begging you to finish with him whilst slurring his words.

‘take it, baby it’s all yours. UGHHHHH’ he busted strongly inside you. his big balls slapped at your butt one last time, reassuring both of you that he had seeded you deeply. you came all over his chest, as he chuckled.

‘love it when you paint me, that’s that sexy shit i like.’ he praised giving you an eskimo kiss to calm you from my high.

‘y/n,’ he whispered, big spooning you.

‘what’s wrong baby?’ you sounded concerned, cradling his hand.

‘nothing love, i just,’ he paused hesitantly.

you turned back to face him. ‘what is it? you know you can tell me anything.’

‘I just need you to know how much i missed you,’

‘oh dacre, you already did an amazing job showing me.’ You joke ‘I feel so…enlightened right now.’

he lets out a sad deep chuckle, turning to him and stroking his cheek ‘I missed you too.’

he gripped your waist, taking your words as a source of comfort. pushing his tongue down your throat.

‘ready for round two,’ you say, massaging his dick with your palm, getting him ready.

‘always.’ he affirms, spanking your ass and turning you over. the first round was very much for your pleasure and to let you know that he had truly craved your body.

but seeing your coke bottle body all splayed out for him? it was here that dacre’s beast was awoken.

‘ass up for me baby.’ he said guiding you to a more comfortable position. he massaged your thick cheeks and started eating you out. his large hands looked abysmally small in comparison to how juicy your ass was.

‘I ain’t gonna show you any mercy this time, you know the safe word, but i don’t think we’ll be needing it.’ he muttered, kissing down your spine before impaling you.

‘shitttt dacre, slow down.’

‘shut the fuck up and take that shit like the pretty, little cockwhore you are.’ dacre degraded, knowing how much you loved his dom/aggressive nature almost as much as his softer side.

dacre began going ham on your poor hole. he stood up as he began pulling you into him from the edge of the bed. with one hand crossed against your cheek and the other in his hair, he had to compose himself - else he come to quickly.

he fucked into you at a painfully quick pace, but it felt so good having him take control. dacre slutted you out almost unconscious for a bit and you were brought back to earth as he hit your second hole.

‘fuck baby,’ ‘I will never get tired of that ass.’ he said watching your thickness bounce against his abs. you started becoming more active, pushing back onto him for a heightened pleasure.

‘shake it for daddy, theeeere ya go, that’s MY shit baby. FUUUUUUUCK.’

‘oh god, your dick is so good, dacre.’ you moan out , which is enough to send him over the edge.

he came as your ass halted at his base. tightenibg around him he started breathing falteringly. ‘baby d-don’t do that, shiiiiit.’ he started leaking like a faucet. trying to thrust inside with some rhythm (to no avail), he collapsed on top of you.

‘I love you so much.’ you say breathlessly.

‘the feeling is so mutual babe.’ he kissed into your skin.

‘y/n, you’re so fucking wet,’ he spoke under his breath. still inside that filled pussy of yours, his cum and your slick provided a juicy lubricant. as he pulled out, the cum oozing out of your wrecked hole pooled into his pubes and on the duvet cover. the two of you were completely oblivious to the mess, and cuddled in the filth you’d created - a filth you were looking forward to adding to in the morning.

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tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

@lysanderplume

#gay #bottom male reader #smut #gay male #gay reader #male bottom #male x male #gay love #gay smut #male bottom reader #dacre montgomery #gay men #male reader #male x male fluff #bottom reader #gay fluff

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bratbby333 · 6 months

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jjk camp counselor au

nsfw brain dump, multiple x reader feat: satoru, suguru, nanami, toji, sukuna, shoko + choso summary: you're a camp counselor trying to make the most of your summer

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

satoru would definitely be the one to lead the rallies each morning, he's so charismatic and domineering. he'd also be in charge of the 15-17 year old group (obvi). he'll blatantly flirt with the other female counselors in front of you to make you jealous, sneaking away to the woods while the kids are eating lunch to apologize to you while balls deep inside you...summer fling energy fr

"i-im sorry...promise...it was nothin...meant n-nothing 't me" he pants out, seeing the irritated look on your face as you glare at him from over your shoulder, arms bracing your body against a tree, your jean shorts down by your ankles, panties shoved to the side. "shut up and keep fucking me, satoru," you roll your eyes in response. "show me how sorry you are," your demanding voice wavering slightly, stifling your moans so he doesn't know how good it feels, trying to keep up your annoyed facade. but god does he feel amazing, his tip stimulating your sweet spot with every stroke. he fucks you so much better when he thinks he's in trouble...he's a whining, whimpering mess for you power bottom!gojo supremacy

suguru is most definitely the chill instructor, leading the more creative activities; arts n crafts like tie-dye, making jewelry, etc. all the kids love him, too. he'd beam with pride as they run up to him to show him what they were able to create. he'd profess his feelings for you with a handmade, beaded bracelet.

you sneak out of the women's cabin in the middle of the night to meet up with suguru, finding him sat on the crest of a hill with a blanket laid out to watch the stars "suguru...this is precious," you gasp, eyes bright with adoration, taking a seat next time him, your legs kicked out in front of you and your arms propping you up. - "what about the kids? what if they see us?" you ask, concern plastered across your face, your legs wrapped around his waist, hands secured behind his neck, fingers tangling in his long hair. "don't worry, love," he breaths out, pausing his strokes, his strong arms positioned on either side of your head, "nanami's watching mine and shoko's watching over yours...plus we're so far from camp, no one's gonna see us", he reassures you with his pelvis flush against your core. "you just look so beautiful like this, i couldn't resist" he'd moan out, returning to his initial pace, thrusting deep and slow, the blanket he had laid out now disheveled. the moonlight bounces off your skin in the most ethereal way, and suguru can't get enough of you.

nanami would be in charge of the whole camp, carefully organizing everyone's permission slips, allergy forms and medical records (which were alphabetized and given to shoko), the payments from parents, the whole nine yards; ensuring everything ran smoothly. he would also be the one supervising the obstacle courses. he'd carefully and methodically strap the kids into their harnesses, surveying everyone intently...do you really think he'd trust the other dummies he works with to do so?

and of course he'd find a way to repurpose the harnesses as restraints in the privacy of the men's cabin with you, the two of you slipping away during one of satoru's overly energetic pep rallies. "ken...what if someone catches us?" you moan out, your arms secured behind you, your back arched, and your chest pressed against the mattress. his deep, purposeful strokes continue, his voice steady as he repsonds. "don't worry, love. we made the mistake of giving satoru the mic, he'll talk for hours if you let him...now hush and let me take care of you, yeah?" you nod back before moaning loudly, the depth of his cock in this position is hitting spots you didn't know existed. "you're taking me so well. such a good girl for me," he groans out, his trust speeding up, the sounds you're making for him spurring him on.

toji would be in charge of the more physical intramurals; dodgeball, kickball, archery, and life guard on duty for the water activities.

and god did he look good while patrolling the waters, his broad shoulders and tanned skin glowing under the summer sun, his wet swim trunks clinging to his thick, muscular thighs. you watch him from your beach chair, legs clenching and core pulsing at the sight of his sternly focused face, his eyes running up and down the lake, his body glistening from the droplets of water trickling from his damp hair. you're glad shoko is more attentive with the kids because your mind is elsewhere (and for a valid reason, too). - after the kids are sent to get changed into their dry clothes, he absolutely obliterates you in the boat house. "saw you watchin' me the whole time...this what you needed, love?" he'd ask through gritted teeth, his thrusts hard and deep, his thick cock stretching you out perfectly. you whimper in response, eyes low, mouth agape, nodding profusely as his fingers dig deeper into your hipbones. "uh huh..needed you so bad, toji," you whine out. baywatch!toji has me putting my fist in my mouth

sukuna would not get hired because the organizers were afraid that he'd try to create a child army and illicit a rebellion to overthrow the camp counsellors, creating a dystopian society where the kids tend to the land and run his errands for him. bummer... ruined his summer plans.

shoko helps you run the girl's cabin. she also works the first aid tent during the day, her long hair tied back to keep her cool. you lean up against a tree, admiring her beauty. you're pulled from your daydream when gojo elbows you in the side, shooting you an amused look; "go make a move, she likes women, ya know?" wiggling his eyebrows at you before running off to frolic in the water with his group.

the two of you sneak away during the bonfire, finding yourself in her bunk, laid on your back with her soft tongue attacking your clit. "sho, i'm close," you gasp out, your hands tangling in her auburn hair. she hums in response, the vibrations pushing you even closer to your release. you cry out for her, the pleasure coursing through you is overwhelming your senses. she uses one hand to cover your mouth, the other swipes between your folds before inserting two finger into your dripping cunt, curling slightly to massage your g-spot. your hips buck against her mouth, before you spill all over her tongue from the added stimulation. as you try to regain your breath, she leans over you and places two fingers against your neck. you gaze up at her through dazed eyes, shooting her a questioning look. "just checkin' your pulse, thought i was losin' you," she laughs.

choso takes his job very seriously, basically a helicopter parent while watching the kids...he's so protective of the children, treating them as if they were his own siblings. he stops dead in his tracks when he first lays eyes on you, watching you interact with your group; you are so sweet with your kids, tenderhearted and caring...he falls in love almost immediately and all he wants is to get close to you.

his soft, slow strokes make you giggle into his ear. everyone's in the mess hall for dinner, leaving the cabin empty, the once silent building now filled with your moans. "cho, you can be rougher with me," you sigh out, pulling him deeper into you, groaning at the stretch of his fully engulfed member. he buries his head into the crook of your neck, a long moan leaving his parted lips as he bottoms out against you. his cheeks flush to a bright red...you swear you can feel the heat emanating off them. "i know...jus' scared i'll cum fast if i go harder...you're just so pretty...so fuckin' sweet, angel," he whimpers out. he paws at every inch of you, his strokes getting more frantic, kissing your cheeks delicately and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

author notes: this made me giggle so much while writing. i love doing short form AUs, theyre so entertaining to me. sorry about sukuna's i was feeling unhinged when i wrote it

if u have any requests, feel free to send them my way! here's the link to my inbox ☺︎ leave an emoji if you want to be added to my anon club, or send it with your url and i'll credit you!

i really liked this idea and im considering making it a longer story, but i only wanna focus on one character x reader...leave a comment with who you'd want it to be with! (counselor!gojo is calling to me, but what do y'all think?)

thank you all for your love and support on my work...i literally tear up when i get the notifications. i'm so honored that y'all find my writing enjoyable enough to interact ❤︎

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satoruin · 8 months

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➣ matchmaking or meddling?

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: you find out just how much your students have been meddling in your love life, though you can’t really be mad.

notes from lee: i’m afraid to make this look like an award acceptance speech so ill be brief. had to make a fic for the namesake of the blog and a very late hbd to boo (@2018-01-20). kinda wish i had more interactions with the kids, but i ended up w/ a lot of gojo pov also unedited

Looking back it should have been obvious what these kids of yours were up to. Yes, they were the reason you were in this god-forsaken closet with a blindfolded fool.

You’re only really aware of their meddling now as you hear their snickers from the hallway, so you can’t quite tell when their meddling started. But it makes sense that they were plotting something, but was it in collaboration with Satoru? Because it seemed like every mishap or coincidence between your two classes, Satoru took it in stride and turned it into his advantage. Just like he was taking advantage of the situation now…

Thinking back, your first clue should have been with the sticky notes. A note scrawled on a pink sticky note, in actually legible handwriting, addressed to you like a valentine. Reading, “from: Satoru ;D to: (y/n) <3; do you look this good every day or do i just not remove my blindfold enough????” It’s on top of a stack of papers handed over by the ever-stoic Fushiguro. Surely to get your guard down, and it did.

When you interrogate your fellow teacher about it later, he keeps his normal all-knowing grin plastered on his face. Now they, being the kids who orchestrated it, don’t need to do any work as every day after that there’s a new sticky note somewhere for you to see. They vary in color, most in some shade of pink, some with bad pick-up lines, others with a stick figure drawing, or the very rare ones hidden away with words that make you spit out your drink.

Or maybe another tip off should have been the ‘coincidental’ times you’d have the second years out on the training field and he just so happened to also plan a demonstration for the first years at the same time. But then again you don’t hear their snickering above your irritation at the white-haired man as he lets you jab a finger into his chest, with his annoying smirk.

But they notice you don’t care anymore that he peeks his head over your shoulder to look at your teaching outline just so he can do the ‘coincidental’ planning now.

And still the biggest hint that you fall for every time, is when they leave you at the cafe with just Satoru after begging for a weekend meetup. And again, when they ask to have team dinners, study sessions, or extra training, it's ridiculous. Your gullibility and trust in them is commendable, but it’s become laughable as you still trust in the kids to show up. And they do, just in disguise from across wherever you are as they watch Satoru come to your rescue every time.

Maybe the more ridiculous part is when the rare glimpse of their teacher’s eyes is pointed, peeking through their poorly crafted disguises, at them from across the room with a smirk.

He’s noticed for a while now that the kids are playing matchmaker, and their skills are much better than those his clan hires. And to be honest, he doesn’t mind, if anything he finds it cute that they think he needs the help. Though admittedly they do have some good ideas. Each one never fails to fluster you, in your own cute and angry way, as he takes over their schemes. His six-eyes catch the flurry of texts sent every time he does so, which he’s sure just encourages them further.

Satoru’s not quite sure when his feelings for you developed. He’s always found you attractive, especially when you were his cute kouhai (he still likes to call you that in order to annoy you until you begrudgingly call him senpai once again.). Everything he learns about you only adds to his initial interest. He’s a sucker for getting to know the little things, like your favorite dinner spot after a tough mission or what your ideal day off is. Once you accept his feelings he’ll put the knowledge you deem useless to good work.

But there’s a moment that sits so starkly in his memory as the first time he realized he was in love with you and not just intrigued or infatuated.

It was maybe around the time Tsumiki had gotten sick and though Megumi was self sufficient, Satoru didn’t feel that he should be alone. He knows he’s not the best at comfort, hell he could barely comfort himself, so he sends you.

And he’s not overly worried about you, you’re a teacher so he’s sure you’ll get through to the ever prickly Megumi just fine. Plus you’ve always been significantly better at handling emotional situations, he knows first hand. So when he comes to check on you after finishing his mission, he smiles at your success.

Megumi’s head rests on your lap, asleep, and you’re slumped over the armrest. There’s a twang of jealousy that pricks at his mind, wishing it was him in your lap instead, but all he can think about is having you greet him as he comes home and Megumi and Tsumiki sitting for dinner and that would be yours and his alone.

He’s never felt like someone that would settle down or want a family, especially given the circumstances of his status. But you, in this moment, make him want to move past the shrewdness of the higher ups and his clan, and just have you. He longs for something that is just his, not part of Jujutsu Society, the higher ups, or his clan, or even Satoru Gojo, he wants things just for Satoru, just for him.

You are that something, that someone, he wants, he’s convinced that he needs you like the air he breathes. The weird surge of emotions that have been kept bottled up since a dark day suddenly seems to make sense and it has a name, it’s love.

So when he’s reminiscing on his feelings, it really has been there all along, but it’s that very specific moment in which his love for you was defined.

And the apex of all his work in gently guiding you to realize your feelings, that he’s very sure are there, is in a closet of all places. His blue eyes glow dimly in the dark of the closet with the snickers of his students on the other side.

“Hey,” he breathes out, much less confident than he intended, but you make him nervous.

You meet his bright eyes briefly before looking away and returning the greeting, “Um, hi.”

His breath hitches and his mind blanks, every funny line or flirty remark he could make right now is gone. He can’t think about anything other than you, how cute your expression is, how good your hair looks even slightly messed up, but mainly your lips and how much he needs to kiss you before he leaves this cramped closet. “How are you?��

You blink at him incredulously, “We’re in a closet, Gojo. How do you think I am?”

He tosses his head back and groans as you use his last name, he thought he’d gotten you to call him Satoru like pretty much everyone did. “C’mon (Y/n), you know I hate when you call me that.” He whines and pouts, jutting his bottom lip out like a toddler.

He watches the guilt flash across your face briefly, surely it’s you remembering how he confided in you about hating the weight that came with his last name. “Sorry, I know. I know,” you pause and he senses your hesitancy and waits, “Satoru.”

He’s got a big shit-eating grin on his face that differs from his usual smirk as he rocks on his feet with his heart fluttering.

“You really like it that much when I call you ‘Satoru’?” You ask, eyeing up his body language with a skeptical look.

“Maybe.” He answers in a sing-song tone, he’s back to his usual self, “But you know what I’d like more?”

He leans in close and glances down at your lips. No matter how many times he does this, it always results in him pulling away with a teasing smile. So when he feels your hands wrap around the neck of his uniform and pull him closer, it’s certainly a surprise.

“You want a kiss?” You ask and he nods meekly, if possible, and you do, you kiss him. Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as his heart flutters in his stomach. His big hands reach up to cup your face and keep you glued to his lips. Gods, it’s everything he’s dreamed about and more.

When you part from him to catch your breath, he’s smiling. “I hope you know I want much more than a kiss.” He waits for you to breathe and to watch your reaction before smashing his lips onto yours again.

Satoru feels your arms wrapped around his neck and how your hands crawl through his undercut to tug at his hair. And he’s similar, the hands once holding your face have traced down your body to your hips so he can hold you close.

The knock on the door cuts your time short, your tongues and bodies having to part. Satoru watches as you smooth over your clothes and hair before he pulls up his blindfold. The door opens not a moment later to reveal the two classes waiting with bated breath to see something scandalous.

They are disappointed, fortunately for you and your image as a teacher. None of the students have the time to catch the heavy blush on his face as he slips away while you lecture them. But they do notice how flustered you are when you get a text from Satoru, “dinner 2nite?”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #jjk #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo #gojo x gender neutral reader #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #! satoru gojo #[ lee's writing ]#[ + ] jjk

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husbandohunter · 1 year

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Two Shades of the Same Color

Synopsis: Protecting the law and protecting his family. The line seperating them were like two shades of the same color. Wriothesley just didn't know it yet.

Genre: Wriothesley x Reader, gender neutral pronouns, Reader and Wriothesley have a daughter

(A/n): this is my offering to the gacha gods praying for an early Wrio to come home 😔===============================

The Duke of Meropide often finds himself conflicted in the different roles he has to play.

In the daytime he carried his duty as the Warden. Having served his sentence through the years he was in prison, Wriothesley was appointed to be a suitable candidate now managing Fontaine's most notorious Fortress, guarding wanted criminals, convicts, and what justice deems guilty. Both feared and respected by them, it was quite an intresting story how he got into this rank. But he also didn't dislike his occupation. Perhaps due to this self-proclaimed 'rough around the edge' personality, he believed the prison wasn't so far disconnected from his nature.

"Wolf-ears, wolf-ears, daddy has wolf ears!" A sweet voice sang before imitating a growl sound.

Aaand there were those who really disconnected him from his 'nature'. Wriothesley sighs as he rub his forehead, clutching a stack of unsigned papers while the girl pulled the little tuffs in his hair.

Your five year old daughter came home one day, announcing that the class had been given an assignment.

Two things arise in his head. First off, why are they already giving assignments to children? Shouldn't they be learning their alphabets and make crafts or something? Second, why does it have to involve taking your kid to work?!!

You failed to stifle a laughter at the sight, the poor man silently hoping that you would do something, "Come down little one. You wouldn't want to accidentally fall over now, would you?"

The girl shook her head, avoiding your attempt to hold her and squeezed her small legs around his shoulders, "Don't stop me! Mari wants to stay up here."

"But he's going to get tired if you keep shaking like that," you suggested, placing both hands on your hips.

Mari huffs, "That's up for daddy to decide. Right, daddy?"

You quirked an eyebrow and glanced at your husband who seemed to be under a lot of pressure. What can he do? When his daughter stares at him with her toothy grin and gleaming eyes that looks just like his own?

Helpless at her whims, he pleads silently, urging for your aid once again.

"Sorry honey," you shrugged and tilted to the side, "I tried."

"Oh really?," the man doubts, "Then why are you smiling like that?"

Wriothesley wasn't sure how he got into this mess in the beginning. Actually, wait. He did. He just...didn't want to admit it.

The initial answer to Mari's request was a no brainer. Allowing his little babydoll Marigold through the walls of Meropide was something he stricly forbade until she reached thirty years old. A reasonable negotiation, he thought. Not even the gossips plastered all over the Steambird newspaper would be discussed at the dinner table. The man vowed to keep his work life and family life seperate the day she was born.

"Why don't you go find them to help you with your homework?"

"I work at the Fortress too, silly."

Well-- maybe not you since the two of you met here, but that's different. Rules are laws and laws shouldn't be broken. There's a reason why order is meant to be taken seriously in Fontaine. And of course, in his house too.

Then you proceed to say-- it's because you keep spoiling her! Which he retorts, "I'm not spoiling her, I'm just making sure she has a fun childhood, that's all."

"Uh huh, you sure do a great job at it officer, maybe a little too well," you tease, wrapping your arms around your burly husband and nuzzled against his cheek.

Fits of giggles came from above, Mari starts rocking back and forth, "Now give him a biiiiig kiss!"

"Alright alright, that's enough you two," Wriothesley caught hold of his wiggling daughter and settled her down on the floor. Seriously, he could hardly focus. Wriothesley had planned to make his routine as boring as possible so she would leave and he could go about his day. It seems the man terribly underestimated the fact Mari had a penchant of finding entertainment. Should've been obvious that he would be the center of it.

"Can we go downstairs now? I want to see where the machines are working," Mari declares and throws her hands up in excitement.

Wriothesley clears his throat, "What did I say earlier about going downstairs?"

"It's not safe for ages under thirteen and only for members who are given permission because they're criminals," Mari sheepishly repeats.

"Aaaannd?"

"You're not allowed to abuse your authority or give me special treatment because the Warden must be fair and respect the rules from the Fortress of Marinetide, treating everyone equally."

"That's my girl," he nods with a grin. Though the pronounciation can use a little tweaking. Eh, he'll let it slide.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit too much? The working grounds aren't that bad, even Sigewinne takes her strolls there during her breaktime," you chime in.

"Who's Sigewinne?"

The man expresses what seems like his version of a pout. Though you can never miss the small upturn slivering the corner of his mouth, "I'm starting to get the feeling that you enjoy seeing me like this."

"Nonsense," you lean on his shoulder, "I'm just admiring how much of a loving father my daughter has."

They're coaxing me into something, "No means no."

Wriothesley glances at Mari who had still been persisting him with pleads and questions. The reason why he wanted to keep his work life and family life sperate was because prison, in general, can shape a person entirely. Whether for good or worse depends on the individual, she was far too young to be exposed at the kind of stories and complex reasonings people would have. Wriothesley knew very well that nothing is black and white. Perhaps from growing up in this kind of world, he wanted to know, to see, to let an innocent child experience life far differently than he did. Because now, he had a choice.

"I already know what you're thinking, it's written all over your face," breaking him out of his thoughts, you gently spoke to his ear, "Not everyday our little Mari gets to spend time with her father like this. She was so happy when the teacher said it was going to be a 'take your kid to work day' assignment, you know?"

"I'd rather keep the details behind closed doors. There's not much that can be said outside the reputation everyone knows of," he reasons, "Besides, Sigewinne is the only exception because she's the head nurse. This little fellow here can hardly prounouce Meropide."

"Hey! That's not true. If I practice long and hard I can speak as perfectly as the papers on your desk!"

"Oh? You know what that's a great idea. How about we spend the day practicing your alphabets? We could also read the Boar Princess while we're at it," the Duke happily suggested.

"Wriothesley," you chide lightly, "As long as you're with her I'm sure there will be nothing to worry about," then you crouched down to Mari's height, "Right sweetie?"

"Yeah! Daddy is the strongest and smartest man in all of Fontaine!" She jumps up and down, "He can even lift me even when I'm wearing a backpack!"

Wriothesley eyes you both suspiciously, "I see how it is. Sounds like you two are teaming up."

"I like to call it a coincidential agreement," you tugged him at the arm and lead towards the stairwell, "Come on. Take the day off and let me handle the paperwork. Wouldn't want to keep the fun waiting, would you?"

Your husband folds his arms and scoffs, "A day off?"

"By the courtesy of Chief Justice Neuvillette himself," you responded.

Ah, they had it all planned out, "Astounding effort on your part, I suppose."

"Please, daddy? I swear I'll behave and not do anything to make you mad," Mari twiddles her thumbs, "Pleeease?"

Wriothesley closes his eyes, a habit he acquired during situations such as this. Well, looks like he was fighting a losing battle anyways. Maybe you were right. He was spoiling her.

"Fine. Only under one condition. You have to-"

"Call me 'Your Grace'!" She salutes immediately, " Oh, I mean...you, Your Grace."

Wriothesley glances at your way again and you merely returned a shrug. He smiles amusedly.

They really had it all planned out.

•••

When Wriothesley stepped out of his office, he was slowly starting to regret his decision.

Mari, being far too excited for her own good, already bounced a few metres ahead. He sometimes wondered where she gets her energy from. For newcomers, they easily wear out before they become used to things. Ah, that's right, I have to make sure she doesn't disturb the inmates. If this keeps going then who knows where she might end up. Archons forbid it'd be the Pankration Ring.

"Up you go," for now, Wriothesley scoops her into his hold, having the girl seated on one forearm and the other supporting her weight. Until she calms down, at least.

"Mari is reporting for duty," she salutes again.

Wriothesley lets out a chuckle, "Since when did I ever act like a Marechaussee Hunter? Wait, let me guess, you snuck to see Clorinde."

Guilty as charged. The little girl slaps a hand over her mouth, "Whoopsies."

"I'm joking. I actually didn't think you snuck out to see Clorinde," he smugly states, "Well well looks like my little culprit reveals herself."

She huffs, "Heyyy, that's cheating."

"Sorry babydoll, but I think I win this one," Wriothesley boops her nose in a playful manner and allowed Mari to stand on her own two feet, "So, are you ready for a tour around the Fortress of Meropide?"

"Where are we headed first, Your Grace?" She chirped, eyes blown wide like she was on a sugar rush from last time.

Wriothesley raised a scarred brow, "Oh you're letting me decide? In that case you'll just have to wait and see for yourself."

"Yay, I love surprises!"

Even better. This way, he can guarantee that she won't wander off to places she shouldn't be in, no one should be in.

Lunch hour was approaching and the inmates were already finishing up their shifts. He could feel the frequent looks being thrown from the cafeteria, already knowing it will be the hot topic for the next few days or weeks.

Right, then there's this part I have to deal with.

It didn't help that the man's presence alone had the same affect under normal circumstances. Seeing their Warden with a babbling little girl was rather jarring. Mari was...how should he put it, good at stealing the spotlight. So much she easily attracted all the attention from the locals. Wriothesley had never knew someone could be so pestering that it became endearing. Other than you of course. Heh, I guess that's one of many things they have in common.

He doesn't try to hide the smile softening at his features.

"C-Could that be His Grace and..."

Welp, looks like the hot topic is already cooking. Wriothesley pays no mind. There's nothing wrong with being open about his family in front of other people at least. Just because he had a reputation as the Warden to keep doesn't rob him the identity of being a father.

His mind suddenly drifts back to you. Is that why you were so insistent about this earlier?

"Daddy, everyone is looking at us funny."

The word 'daddy' does not escape those around him, percise as a radar and pointed sharply at his direction. Wriothesley expected as much. Actually, he was more surpised she even managed to remember the honorifics for this long, "Ah who cares. Let them do their thing. Anyways, didn't you say you wanted to see how the machines worked?"

A pause before she breaks out into a wide, beaming grin, "Yeah!"

"Then hold on tight," without a warning, Wriothesley lifts her until she was settled on his shoulders and ran as fast as he could, away from the crowd.

•••

"Was that...the Duke just now?"

A confused inmate, still processing at what he just saw, allowed the bitten meal in his hand fall to the plate.

"Who knew His Grace had a soft spot," Another one snickers.

Wolsey who had been tending to the dishes behind the counter exhales exasperatedly, "His Grace ought to be more careful with his actions around others next time."

•••

The shaft doors open to reveal the upper level of the production zone. Wriothesley exits first before gently taking the girl's hand as she shuffled down the two stairs. Thankfully the area had been emptied, except for a few supervisors, it was much more peaceful compared to the cafeteria.

"Wooooahh looks at all those meks!" She ogled. Meks was her way of saying gardemeks. Spending time with a five year old made him more keen to the language innuendos they create, "It's like one gigantic gear working together."

"Not just gears sweetheart, the people here are responsible for making sure ever part of the machine is functioning. Without them, there would be no clockworks you see in the surface," Wriothesley opens a palm while he explains, "I know most of your classmates only think of them as criminals, but criminals have been working for honest income."

"Does that mean the same criminals are now helping to make meks that catches more criminals and keep Fontaine safe?"

The man pauses, thinking for a moment, "You could say that."

"Hmmm," Mari looks down pensively, trying to put two and two together, "So if criminals are honest people, how did they end up in here?"

"Well uhhh... " Wriothesley breathes out quietly. It's complicated. Sometimes he doubts if the word criminal is even a proper label. Becoming a criminal isn't always by choice, some are just born into it, eventually going down a path because there was no where else to go. And the few who escape are the lucky ones, "Ah very tricky, sweetheart. Don't tell me you're here trying to get ideas."

The mischeivious expression he gave her made Mari gasp in disbelief, "I would never break the law daddy!"

"Are you sure?" He insists with jest.

"Yes, and I promised a hundred thousand times already," she emphasized.

Wriothesley pats her lightly on the head. Although his hands were calloused and scared, they carried the weight of a loving father, "Good. I know you'd do the right thing."

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar silouette dressed in pastel colors. Sigewinne had been speaking with Grainville at the Operation and Widget equipment. As you mentioned earlier, the head nurse pays frequent visits to check upon the health conditions of inmates. For the Duke, it was natural that he'd want to know if there was anything he should be concerned about. But now is not the time. He didn't want to drag his daughter when this was meant to be a fun activity of theirs.

"What's that over there?!" She scurries off without a warning, specifically at the direction he was glancing earlier.

Or we can just check it out anyways. Wriothesley thought to himself, using his hands to prop against his knee, standing upright so he could catch up with Mari.

The Melusine was the first to notice, "Your Grace? I'm seeing you everywhere these days. I hope you haven't been swarmed with too much to do."

It's true that Wriothesley had been more present in his timing. The Primordial Sea issue was something he wanted to be resolved as soon as possible, "I'm actually doing just fine, thank you Sigewinne."

"Y-Your Grace. I'm surprised to see you here. Are there any newcomers I must train?" Now it was Grainville's turn to intervene, "Oh, and who's this?"

"Sigewinne?? That's the nurse, daddy?" Mari exclaims, baffled as she compares her height with the other, "Why is she so small like me? Did she get hit by the short disease?"

Jeez. Children can really run around without a filter these days.

"She may be small but a lot more older than she looks," Wriothesley reasons, gentle and firm, "Aren't you forgetting something? In front of you, these people have greeted us the moment we came by. What's the right thing to do, Mari?"

It took some time for her to realize but she perks up as soon as she did. Flustered, the young lass dips herself into a low curtsy, head following suit that her hat fell to the floor, "Good afternoon. My name is Mari. I'm five years old. Nice to meet you all."

Wriothesley maintains a straight face and picks up her hat. On the inside, he could feel his heart squeezing. No matter how many tries you practiced with her, she still doesn't get it quite right. Totally his fault. He never scolds her for it.

"Hello Mari, my name's Sigewinne and I'm the head nurse," the melusine beams, "Though I'm a bit surprised, Your Grace. I thought [Name] said you didn't want to bring your daughter here."

Quick, he had to make an excuse before, "Ah, that's--"

"That's because daddy is awesome and he cares about us so much!"

Urk.

Sigewinne's countenance suggested she caught on that the Warden had a weak spot for his overly coddled daughter, "I see. You're fortunate to have such good parents, Mari. His Grace had put in great effort to ensure the safety and well-being of the Fortress. It's probably why everyone is quite satisfied with living here."

"I know," Mari nods with agreement, "Since daddy does the same thing at home."

Warmth spreads inside his chest and the glaciers of the man's gaze thaws enough for one to notice. Did she truly feel that way? Somehow, for a long time, he didn't think it was enough.

"It's true. His Grace doesn't ostracize anyone and gives them an equal chance of a better life," Grainville added.

Wriothesley crosses his arms and returns a quipped stare, "Indeed. Though I'm afraid flattery will get you as far as none. Best get to work."

Grainville salutes, "Yes, Your Grace!"

"Wait daddy, can I stay and watch?" Mari tugs the hem of his fur coat, "When I go to school tomorrow, I can tell all my friends all the cool things we did today."

He straightens his posture, "No."

"But daddyyyyyyy."

Here we go again. Except this time, the man will avoid all eye contact. Maybe he can try getting earplugs next time, which of course, must be slipped on discreetly so she wouldn't notice. If you were here, he'd be getting an earful of the same conversation he had in the office. Equipment processors can be dangerous to use if something suddenly screws loose. Who knows what might happen?

Though a father can only resist so much and he couldn't ignore her forever. Wriothesley relaxes his shoulders, the crease in his forehead fading, "Are you sure you can be careful?"

"Careful is my middlename!"

"Grainville," Wriothesley commands. Authority drips from his voice that the supervisor nearly flinched from his place, "Check if there's any malfunction in Operations and Widget equipment. I expect a thorough search once I get return from lunch."

Without a moment hesitation, Grainville executes his task as if his life depends on it.

"Daddy, can we go buy some food?" Mari looks up, "I want Fonta!"

"No junk food until you eat properly," though now she mentions it, he is craving a cup of tea by now.

Walking out of the shaft once more, Wriothesley takes another look at the environment surrounding the cafeteria, through a different lens than the last. He recalls his first day. Young, brash, and full of poor judgement. They were not the best memories, but they were certainly memories.

How things have changed. For the better, as it should. To Wriothesley, that was probably the most important aspect of all. He likes seeing signs of strength and hope, reassuring him that tomorrow will be a better day. Though he made peace with the present constantly filling him with doubt. Can the same progress be as steady as he wanted?

He thought about what you said. Then the words he heard from others. The Fortress of Meropide had improved to the point it could function autonomously. On top of that, he received high praise from both surface dwellers and those who lived in the underworld. What drives him to maintain this environment stems from his past. The good and the bad. The mistakes and lessons. The two shades of the same color blurred into one.

"Daddy, I just want to tell you, I had so much fun today. Thank you for bringing me here!"

And if those experiences of his could ensure that his daughter could live a safe and peaceful childhood, then that's everything he can ask for.

#genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin

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plutoswritingplanet · 3 months

Text

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.2

a/n: at my young, spry age, writing a twitter thread felt like "how do you do fellow kids", y'all better appreciate the sacrifice, Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: General Creepy Behavior, Plus Sized Reader, my inability to write a press conference yeehaw

Summary: First time in front of the cameras, you try to embrace your new persona... For better or worse

Pt.1 Pt.3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

This isn't you. You're not here.

The face staring back at you from the mirror might have some resemblance, but the heavy, over the top makeup distorts your features in a way, that makes you almost unrecognizable. The moment you've signed that contract, someone took your soul straight out of your body, containing it in a box, far from your reach. Sometimes you can almost feel it, the real you, like a ghost passing through a room. The Smirnoff you've carefully crafted over the years. She's in the way you walk, shoulders hunched, like you're carrying the weight of the world on them. In the heavy feeling of cigarette smoke, settling into your lungs after a rough day.

In the shower, you can almost hear her as well. Your voice is off-key, low, and doesn't seem to remember half the words, but it's much more genuine than the chirpy, lobotomized tone they commanded you to talk in. Media training was pure hell. It only lasted an hour, as your schedule appeared to be pretty tight, but the way Ashley spoke to you, with an air of patronizing authority, made you grit your teeth at the mere memory.

This body, soft and pliable, stuffed crudely into a corset that dug itself into your skin, like it was trying to force you to fit a mold. Those exposed, fishnet clad legs, were not yours as well. They were surely someone else's. Yours were hidden under all those flowery long skirts you've gathered over the years, so proud of your thrifted collection, which is now gathering dust back home. That's where you left the box with your soul, stacked it away under flowy linens and music sheets from your lessons.

You ponder over this feeling. This complete separation from your body. Perhaps this was your true superpower. And then your phone alarm goes off, and everything is shoved down, as your platform boots... No... Fireball's platform boots, carry you out of your room and down the corridor.

Homelander is already waiting for you, his stature imposing, looming over a crowd of backstage workers, as they clean off any imperfections before the press conference. His eyes snap towards you, the moment you step into the room, and you swallow thickly, remembering your last, admittedly, very fucking weird interaction. Ashley flashes past you, giving you a quick once over, seemingly satisfied with your look. It's hard to tell really, she always seems to find some flaw that needs to be corrected.

- Did you read the talking points? - she asks, her eyes flickering between you, and her tablet.

- Mhm... - too low, you think, adjusting the tone of your voice slightly.

There's a lot of people, more than what you're used to. Moving past the red-head, you sneak a peak behind the heavy curtain, separating you from the reporters chattering outside. What you see, does nothing to calm your nerves, as your eyes scan over a crowd of smart dressed people, the microphones, the cameras.

Perhaps, just perhaps, you've bitten off more than you can chew.

- Nervous? - a familiar voice says to your side, and you pull back, like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Homelander looks almost exactly how you remember, when you saw him the first time. When he tried to convince you, he's every bit the perfect person from his movies. There's a charming smile plastered on his face, and he holds himself with an air of heroic otherworldliness, not a trace of the creepy, leering supe you've come to know. Your eyebrows furrow, but you decide to play along. You're not alone here, there's constant buzzing of surveilence around you, after all.

- Very much, yeah - you admit, sincerely, throwing a cautious look towards the podium.

He laughs in a weirdly boyish manner. You imagine, this is how a Ken doll would laugh, if it was alive. His hand reaches up, grabbing your shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. His touch feels like needles on your skin, but you smile nonetheless. Cameras, remember the cameras. There are people all around you, and as such, someone is surely watching.

- Don't worry, you'll do great - he announces, then leans forward, until his face stops mere inches from your ear, making your body freeze up at the proximity - Don't even think about embarrassing me out there. No outbursts, no remarks, just keep on smiling and be the fucking mascot they hired you to be.

Okay, ouch. He leans back, his expression never changing from that same, bright smile. You blink up at him a couple of times. It's honestly impressing, how he keeps up the appearance of a perfect, selfless hero.

- Fucking hell, okay...

This time, the squeeze is anything but comforting, and you can feel all of his fingers dig into the meat of your shoulder.

- Language - he scolds you with a pointed finger, and to anyone standing on the outside, the gesture might seem endearing.

You know the truth however, and it takes a lot of strength out of you, not to flip him off. It seems he's taking the role of a mentor a bit too seriously. Or perhaps, he's just a patronizing asshole. As you watch his plastic smile, you're more and more inclined to believe the second option.

Still, there is something grounding in the way he holds you close, his hand steering you towards the curtain, and as it leaves your shoulder, you find yourself feeling conflicted. Especially now, since the announcer is saying your name to the sound of moderate applause, which intensifies as soon as the curtain moves to the side, exposing you, and Homelander to the hungry eyes of the reporters.

You knees start to wobble, as you're suddenly confronted with the reality of the flashing cameras, the lights, the voices. Your heart beats out of your chest, anxiety slowly but surely overtaking your body, and not knowing any other alternative, your hand reaches out in a gesture bordering on desperation.

Homelander flinches, when your fingers grab onto the material of his glove. His eyes flicker towards you for just a moment, taking in the rapidity of your pulse, thrumming through your veins. The shortness of breath, as your nails bite into the custom made leather. Your eyes are locked onto the reporters, and your body seems to be stuck in an awkward pose, in-between steps. Out of all the things, that could frighten you in your, frankly, hopeless situation, crowds were an unexpected turn of events.

So much for the strong, independent whatever. Homelander lets your hand linger for just a moment, if only to amuse himself further, before he steps forward to the podium, adjusting the microphone to his height. Your fingers curl around air, and you force your back to straighten.

- Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for coming - his voice booms through the conference room, and he takes a small pause, letting the applause subside - As you've probably been informed, I'm here to announce a very special, new member of The Seven. She'll be joining the team on a temporary basis, as a replacement for Lamplighter.

Shit. You swallow thickly, and Homelander's smirk grows into something sharper at the sound, hidden from everyone else but himself.

- I give you, Fireball!

He turns to you with a flourish, inviting you to step towards the podium. Your eyes flicker towards his, and he gives you a pointed look, that makes your heart sink to the floor. Here you are, presented to the wolves by a much worse monster. Deep breaths, remember that fated hour of media training. There's a role to play, after all.

This isn't you. You're not here.

A bright, practiced smile floats onto your features, and finally you take a step forward, your hands curling into tight fists at your sides. You can feel the texture of your matte lipstic pull at your lips, the high-end eyeliner sticking the corners of your eyes together. The reporters clap politely, and you try to focus on a point above their heads, like they taught you in high school. The last time you've been in front of such a crowd, was when your friend roped you into taking part in a student reedition of Heathers. A fucking miserable affair.

You're a little bit too quiet, for a little bit too long, and Homelander bristles out of the corner of your eye. You can see his chest expand, as he inhales deeply. Then, he moves in front of you, standing closer to the microphone, and intentionally or not, saving you from all the curious looks. You take a moment to gather your bearings, closing your eyes for just a second.

- Now, we have limited time for questions, so let's keep it simple - he announces, scanning the crowd of raised hands. - Gentleman in the back?

- Hi, John Douglas VNN. A question for Fireball?

Homelander turns to you with that same, plastic smile, and you nod, trying to convince yourself, more than him, that you're ready to speak. He moves aside, just enough to make a sliver of space for you in front of the microphone, and you step up with a sigh.

- Hey, what's up? - there's a tremble to your voice, which you try to swallow down.

- I think we're all surprised by you joining The Seven - the man comments with a smirk - Can you tell us some more about the recruitment process?

You take a deep breath, imagine your friend in front of you, and lean against the podium with a lazy smile. You're not here, after all. This isn't you.

- Well, a video of me, helping out during a house fire went viral, and soon enough Vaught has offered me a temporary partnership. - there's a playful tilt to your words, and you can already see all the comments pouring in - Besides, y'all have seen the contract.

There's a murmur of sheepish laughter rolling over the conference room, and you swallow thickly, trying to fight off the dryness in your throat.

- Here, at the front? - Homelander cuts in, leaning closer as he speaks to the microphone.

Absent-mindedly, you note he smells very, almost obscenely expensive, and your nose crinkles slightly as you take a breath.

- Mileena Johnson, News Nation - a woman in a tasteful costume stands up - Given this sudden interest from Vaught, is it safe to assume you're not used to all this?

She looks around the room, then back to you and mirrors your smile, flashing her perfectly white teeth. With a sardonic expression, you lean towards the microphone again, some unknown, mischievous note entering your voice.

- Oh, yeah! - you confirm - I'm a media virgin, through and through.

There's a strangled sound of multiple people laughing, some reporters clearly thrilled by the joke, others shaking their head disapprovingly. There's a large portion just staring at you, and you fight off the urge to cringe at your own words. Then, there's a small noise, somewhere next to you, and pushed by curiosity, you look over at Homelander. He looks conflicted between keeping up the smile, and stepping in, eventually opting to lean back, his eyes shifting between you and the reporters with a hint of curiosity hidden behind them.

And then he moves, shifting ever so slightly behind you, his hand finding purchase on the lower part of your back, his fingertips drumming lightly against the zipper. Your back straightens like a guitar string, a shiver of something running up your spine. With his free hand, he points towards another reporter, who stands up and introduces himself politely.

It's hard for you to focus.

- How, in your opinion, an addition of such a young Hero will affect the team?

Homelander's hand climbs higher, towards the edge of your corset. You can feel his gloved fingertips dance across the stitching.

- I'll do everything in my power to help the Seven fight for peace - you answer, voice slightly choked up, but your expression remains impassive.

- That's right! - Homelander chimes in, suddenly much more animated - Such a young, fresh, addition will surely motivate us to push ourselves even harder.

Another reporter raises her hand, and you're starting to scream internally, as Homelander's gloved hand abandons your corset in favor of running up your bare skin. Your smile falters for just a second, as he grabs onto the back of your neck, squeezing a few times, before letting his hand rest under your hair.

- Something for the tabloids? - the reporter announces - I have to say, the both of you look great together, and since Homelander's recent breakup with Queen Meave, we're wondering, what exactly is the relationship between the two of you?

Fuck, fuckitty fuck fuck fuck, your brain scrambles for a proper response. That was not included in the talking points. Although eventual shipping was expected, you were aware of the culture, you though it would take some time for the thing to sail away. Unfortunately, the reporter blinks expectantly, and the longer you stay silent, the worse the rumors will undoubtedly get. Out of the corner of your eye, you can already see Homelander lean towards the mic, and knowing deep in your bones, that whatever he says, will be humiliating, you lurch forwards.

- We're coworkers. He's my mentor, I'm his student. Do with that, what y'all want.

- Right, is there a chance that a romance may bloom? - the reporter pushes further, adjusting her glasses on her nose.

- I met him yesterday, y'all - you comment with an exasperated sigh, and force yourself to ignore the way Homelander's finger tangles itself into the hair growing at the base of your skull.

The reporter laughs and sits down, and this time you can't stop the sigh of relief from escaping your lips. Another hand shoots up in the back of the room, and Homelander points to it over your shoulder. A man in his thirties stands up, and even blinded by the reflectors, you can see the cocky smirk on his face.

- I've seen the video - he starts, a flippant tone entering his voice - And I couldn't help but wonder, how did Vaught even let someone so inexperienced into the Tower?

It's quiet, dozens of eyes flicker nervously between you and Homelander, and his hand stills at your back. You're not here. This isn't you. And so, lips pulled back into a mean bastardization of a bright smile, you lean heavily on the podium, letting it all, proverbially, hang out.

- I flashed the doorman.

You don't have to have a degree in media analysis to notice the sudden uptake in flashing lights. Homelander's hand falls from your back in a languid motion, the leather of his glove dragging itself down your spine, before he moves, and takes up the entirety of space in front of the podium.

- And on that - he pauses, and pretends to look back at you, too lazy to actually commit to the bit - thrilling note, I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today. Thank you all for coming. God bless you all!

You wave a half assed goodbye to all the gathered people, and before anyone can say anything else, you turn on your heel and walk back towards a very pissed-off-looking Ashley. The white light of her tablet is illuminating her scowl, and involuntarily, you groan.

- What the fuck was that? - she asks, before you get one word out - Freezing up like an idiot? Making stupid fucking jokes?

Homelander enters soon after you, his expression unreadable. He stands in the back, arms crossed in front of his chest, observing your interaction with Ashley. Seemingly pondering over something. His inaction, somehow, makes flames of irritation rise inside your gut, and you direct your anger towards the red-headed woman.

- Stillwell is going to have my fucking head - Ashley lamments, eyes locked onto her tablet - This will be horrible for your ratings, not to mention Homelander's.

With a roll of your eyes, you step closer, grabbing the hardware and consequently, forcing her to look up at you.

- Oh yeah? - there's a note of bravery entering your voice, and Homelander's eyebrow shoots upwards - Check fucking Twitter.

For just a second, Ashley hesitates, blinking at you owlishly. Then, she taps away at the tablet, her features illuminated with blue. Homelander's hashtag is trending, as expected, but you can see your given Hero name right under it. The third hashtag makes you smirk. Ashley starts reading out loud.

"Have y'all seen that interaction between #Homelander and #Fireball?"

There's a video, couple seconds long, where you can see yourself, frozen with nerves backstage, Homelander leaning over your form. From afar, it looks comforting, cute even. You smirk. It cuts to the moment his hand sneaked up your back. Even to you, the gesture looks like a show of support, although you're sure some groups of people will run with the romance storyline.

"I have an anxiety disorder, and #Fireball is showing clear signs of an anxiety attack"

"No media training seen in the room #iconic"

"Aww, look at #Homelander comforting her, they're so cute together"

"Did we collectively forget what he said during that graduation speech?"

"Let's normalize people learning and growing"

"It's honestly heartwarming, seeing someone with mental health problems in The Seven, I finally feel represented"

"And can we talk about how #Homelander handled the situation? Truly, #AmericasGreatestHero"

"#MentalHealthKing"

It's quiet on set for a long moment, as both Ashley and Homelander seem to take in this one Twitter thread, among many similar ones. You, holding in laughter to the best of your abilities, wait patiently, until Ashley finally looks up at you.

- I know, why I'm here - you tell her, and something passes across her features.

She clears her throat, swiping on her tablet.

- You have training with Black Noir in an hour - she informs you, her voice back to that professional, emotionless tone - We'll get some footage of it out to the public, so try to behave.

- Yes Ma'am - you smile, and once again, she gives you a strange look, before turning on her heels, and walking away, a satisfied lightness to her steps.

It's only you and Homelander left backstage, and as you turn to face him, he's already looking at you with an appraising gaze. Despite yourself, despite his borderline creepy behavior, and the threats, and the touches, you can't help, but smile. It starts off slow, a small smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth, but soon after that, all your teeth are on display. Because fuck it, you're proud of yourself, and for the first time since you've met him, Homelander doesn't look at you like you're a cut of meat on a bucther's rack.

- That went so much better, than I expected - you breathe out, and he nods.

- It sure was something - he says, leaning on a nearby pillar.

You bark a short laugh at his admission, the adrenaline from your first real encounter with the press, keeping you on a high you were not expecting. There's buzzing at the end of your fingertips, and you shake your hands, trying to dispell some of the energy.

- Oh, I was ready to shit myself - you huff, shaking your head.

Homelander sucks on his teeth, his eyebrow shooting up.

- Language. - he reminds you, and you put up your hands in mock surrender.

It's easy, riding the wave of your newly found success. As such, you ignore the way his eyes glide all over your body, stopping rather obscenely at your chest. You pretend not to notice, the way his hands twitch at his sides, and you definitely don't see the tightness in his lower area. No, all of it doesn't matter, because you've proven your worth, not as much to Homelander, but to the company, and fuck, if it didn't feel good.

Your enthusiasm turns to ashes in your mouth, as Homelander leans forward, invading your personal space like it wasn't yours to begin with. There's a glint of barely masked anger in his eyes, the blue of his irises getting swallowed by a dangerous, red sheen. Not enough to hurt anyone, but enough to let you know, you're on thin ice. Which confuses you beyond belief, because up until this point, you thought everything went peachy.

A gloved hand sneaks up, towards you chin, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough, you can imagine them chipping the bones underneath.

- Next time - he seethes through gritted teeth - Keep your fucking mouth in check, or I'll find a better use for it.

Oh, that's new. Your soul leaves your body once again, the box locking it away with a click, that sounds like thunder in your ears. Homelander frowns, as if he can see the change happen right before his eyes. And perhaps, even through the fog of anger, he's perceptive enough. His posture falters slightly, as you take a step in his direction, or, more likely, Fireball does.

- Why wait, I'm standing right here - the challenging note in your voice surprises both of you.

He blinks. You blink. And then, his face changes completely. The authoritarian expression of anger melts away into something you'd never expect. An almost childish sort of giddiness enters his eyes, and if you were yourself, not Fireball, you would've found the sparkling blue of his eyes enchanting. Terrifying, but impossible to look away. You should be thankful for this separation, it is surely saving your sanity.

Before he can act out whatever his twisted, blonde mind conjured up, you slip past him like smoke out the window, your platform boots clicking against the floor. It doesn't matter, none of it matters. This isn't you after all. You're not here.

It's long past her working hours, when Stillwelll finally has the time to sit down and unwind. Her phone screen reflects in the lenses of her reading glasses, a recognizable, Twitter-blue illuminating her features. Her eyes scan the site for a moment, and then, suddenly, her hand comes up to cover her mouth.

There it is. A picture of her best project to date. You're standing awkwardly, shoulders tense, a sheen of sweat on your forehead mingling with a foundation, that's worth more than your entire wardrobe back home. Homelander's hand is holding you securely, fingers splayed at the skin of your back. And above the picture... "#MentalHealthKing"

Stillwell laughs, quietly but sincerely. Who would've thought.

#my writing #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #homelander #the boys fanfiction #the boys amazon #the boys x reader #plus size reader #thank you charli xcx i listened to 365 and guess in a loop while writing this #till the windows crack ill be bumpin that

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inlovewithpandora · 1 year

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- Father’s Day Special -

Pairing: Ralak x Fem!Sully!Reader

Synopsis: After a long day of working Ralak comes home to you and your children showering him with love (and gifts)

Content: Fluff, mated pair, gift giving, kids being cute, Ralak being the best father ever, reader being a good mate, just a cute little family fic, no use of y/n, suggestive content towards the end (if you squint)

Author’s Note: Decided to make my first Ralak fic FD themed because I know he’s an amazing dad!

- the character Ralak (and children) belongs to @zestys-stuff

- please excuse any mistakes!

Word Count: 1k

Glossary: Sa’nu - Mommy || Sempu - Daddy || Prrsmung - Baby Carrier || ‘itan - son || tanhì - star, bioluminescent freckle

Extra: Requests are open! Please read rules prior to requesting!

Links: Navigation || Masterlist || Taglist

Today was Father's Day and you were so excited to celebrate your mate. Ralak left early at sunrise to begin his clan duties. You tried to convince him to stay home and take the day off but of course, he decided to leave. You loved how hardworking he was and how he always provided for you and the boys.

You've been working all day with your son Rak'äni so he could make the perfect gift for his father, "Sa'nu? Do you think Sempu will like my gift?"

Rak'äni has been working so hard on his gift, he's spent all day crafting it to perfection with your help. Watching him use his little fingers to weave was such an adorable scene that it made your heart melt.

"Of course he will, when he sees this he'll absolutely love it" You give him a reassuring smile as you rub his head softly, slightly tousling his hair.

As Rak'äni continued working on his gift your youngest son Neyäk began to crawl around the floor, making his way to Rak'äni's gift. As you watched him getting closer you swooped him into your arms, "No Neyäk you can't mess up your brother's gift" you coo as you tickle his stomach softly which makes him erupt with giggles and show his gummy smile.

You grabbed the prrsmung that was in the corner of the room and wrapped it around your body and placed Neyäk inside so you could be productive. You went over to the cooking fire and began to prepare dinner. You loved cooking and since you were making Ralak's favorite meal you were even more excited for him to come home.

—

After an hour or so everything was completed, you made a beautiful arrangement of food on your makeshift table and you began to clean up so you wouldn't have to worry about it later tonight.

As you put out the cooking fire you felt a tug on your loincloth, "Sa'nu? Sa'nu? When is Sempu coming home?" Rak'äni asked in a excited tone which indicated that he was ready to show Ralak his gift.

"Soon 'itan, he'll be here any second. Make sure when he gets home you shout Happy Father's Day" You look down at him giving him a soft smile

"I will Sa'nu"

A few moments later right on schedule, Ralak walked through the entryway with his spear in hand.

"Happy Father's Day!" Rak'äni shouted as he ran toward him with a grin plastered on his face.

Ralak's lips curled into a smile as he put down his spear, "Ah thank you 'itan" Ralak picked Rak'äni up and planted a small kiss on his forehead.

Once Ralak placed him back onto the ground Rak'äni grabbed his hand and began pulling him to the center of the marui, "I made you a gift!"

Ralak lets Rak'äni drag him to the center of the marui, watching the excitement in his little eyes as he grabs the gift.

"Close your eyes Sempu" Ralak does as told, closing his eyes in anticipation ready to see the gift his son created for him.

"Okay, you can open them now!" Ralak opens his eyes and sees a woven armband made with shell chips.

" 'itan this is amazing, you crafted this so well" Ralak can tell how much work his son put into creating it which just makes him even happier and excited to wear it throughout the village, showing it off to everyone in sight.

"Sa'nu helped me with it"

"Oh, she did?" Ralak turns and flashes you a smile, his blue eyes piercing yours which makes you a little giddy inside.

Neyäk was beginning to squirm around in the prrsmung so you took him out and placed him on the floor so he could crawl around, "Yeah I did assist him but he basically did everything by himself, he barely even needed my help" you say as you walk over to grab the gift you made for him

"This is from me and Neyäk" You hand him a basket that contained multiple perfectly woven fish nets. The works were intricate. The weaving patterns were a raw display of your skill, a mix of your new and old culture.

"Oh tanhì, these are absolutely amazing" Ralak loved when you create things for him, especially fish nets because he felt like you were great at making them, even better than him.

Each net was made of durable seagrass, natural fibers, and sea hemp. All of these materials were harder to find due to them being closer to the edge of the reef. He knew how difficult it was to retrieve these materials so for you to take the time and collect them so you could make him this wonderful gift meant the world to him.

He could tell that you poured your love into each thread.

"I knew how much you needed new fish nets and you couldn't find the time to make any so I decided to make them for you, I hope you like them."

"Like them? I love them, thank you my love" Ralak walked over to you and planted a kiss on your forehead

"I have another surprise for you tonight" a smirk appears on your lips as you run your hands through his long slick hair.

You had a beautiful night planned for the both of you, you even had the seamstress create a new, more intimate outfit for you.

"Oh, a surprise huh? Well, I can't wait to see it" He replicates your smirk with a small twinkle of desire in his eye, he couldn't wait to have his way with you tonight.

"Happy Father's Day Lak. you're the best father to our children"

"And I couldn't ask for a better mate” he gives you a quick yet soft kiss on the lips, “now let's enjoy that great dinner you made" He scoops Neyäk off the floor and sits down next to Rak'äni, and begins to play with them.

As you watch them laugh and smile you couldn't be happier, you were so thankful that Eywa gave you this perfect little family.

I hope you enjoyed🩵!

Previous Fic

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are highly appreciated🩵!

A/N: thank you to @teyamsbitch and @number1gal for beta reading this for me🩵!

Divider from here

Taglist: @liyahsocorro @iwantjaketosullyme @fanboyluvr @kapyzkms @ladespedidas @navegaluv @haileymsstuff @onlyloaksgf @kierys-blog @myh3artttt @julyytsireya @gamerxpfighter @h3l3na-pandora @skyv-n @potatoknishesofficial69 @downbadforloak @yetanotherattemptatanaccount @yeosxxx @bakugouswaif @hc-geralt-23 @myheartfollower @katsuki-httpslol

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pandoramyst · 1 year

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little thing I wrote abt dilf!jake and reader w/ age gap (I watched avatar again...it invoked some feelings in me that inspired this. 18+ warning there’s smut!!! PLS DNI if not comfortable)

you didn’t want this to happen, jake didn’t want this to happen. I mean, technically, it shouldn’t have. it should have stayed the way it was before. untouched. he shouldn’t have dug deep into the feeling in his heart that made him eager. the feeling that was eating him from the inside out, picking at the flesh shielding his rationale.

looking back it was dumb. he usually had a good instinct but this was a bad choice. one of few that he made. you had invoked something so strong in him that even overpowered his instincts. you were bad for him. he was sure of it. you were much younger too. you needed somebody that could relate to you, somebody that would understand you. but why had he convinced himself that he was that person for you?

he watched you from afar; in your long flowy skirts that were see-through enough to show the v shape your panties form on your buttocks. in the tank top the na’vi women had crafted for you, using a fine twill. this particular top that you constantly wore, seemed to be your favorite.

bold choice, jake thought as the color of your breast was visible through the small holes left open for elasticity. na’vi women had no clue about censorship, especially when it came to their attire. he could see your breasts bouncing as you jumped up and down in excitement as if you were a kid.

he found himself peering at you any chance he got, chin resting on his palm. if he could see himself, he would face-palm and scold himself for acting like a teenager. but was it his fault?

how could he have known that that deep feeling that was engulfing his heart was desire? he quickly fixed his posture as you walked towards him, a little skip in your step. what had gotten you so excited? he wondered.

you jumped up the steps, fixing your hair as you did so. pulling out a strand of hair that was stuck between your lips, you appeared in front of him shaking your bow in his face. a bright smile was plastered on your face that was almost too inviting to ignore.

“what's gotcha all excited, kid?” he smiled at you, stretching his palm out for you to take. putting your hand in his, he pulled you to sit on his thigh facing him as you did so. this was normal of course, you would always sit on his lip but it was innocent. always innocent.

you pulled a tiny fish out of the basket attached to your hip, which prompted jake to gasp dramatically. he held the limp fish in his hand, feelings its scales with his thumb.

“I did that” you pointed at the fish and smiled at it proudly. he stared at you before pressing quick kisses on your cheek, causing you to giggle.

“all by yourself?”

“all by myself,” you repeated, placing your head on his neck.

“you’re such a talented girl, aren’t you?” you bit your lip in an attempt to hide your strong smile. his hand fell on your thigh, caressing the soft skin. he noticed how his hand covered your thigh entirely as your human body was obviously a lot smaller than his. this was one of the things he was scared to admit but secretly adored about you.

his hand sneaked through the folds of your skirt and landed on your undies, caressing your sensitive skin. your mouth formed the shape of an “o” as you let out a shaky breath.

“yeah, you like that don’t you? like when I praise you hm? tell you how good of a girl you are?” you whimpered as his voice got deeper. his hand pushed away the fabric separating his fingers from your clit, and he slid his fingers down the slippery skin. “Jake...” your hands went up to his face, pushing his dreads away from his cheeks.

he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “want me to show you how good of a girl you are?” you nodded, rubbing your lips on the skin of his cheek. he hummed before letting out a chuckle. he patted your thigh, signaling you to get up. as your legs met the floor, his hand came up to trace the pattern on your top.

“undress, kid” he said, looking up at you as his thumbs went to caress your hips.

your hands found themselves resting on his shoulder, and your mouth fell slightly open at his command.

“what?” your voice went soft under his demanding gaze.

he gave you a soft smile and slowly blinked at you as if he were a cat.

“do you trust me?” his voice was deep.

you sighed, returning the smile at him, “i trust you”

“then undress” you stepped back, untying your skirt first. you pulled the loose strings that formed a bow, adorning your hip. jake’s hips moved so that he could find a more comfortable position on his chair, spreading his legs wide open. his arm rested on the armrest of the chair, holding his chin up, watching you. adoration found in his eyes.

he loved making you squirm. watching his eyes get dark as he watched your body move with every step. looking you up and down. he enjoyed the size difference since he could constantly look down at you, holding you easily in his embrace, considering how much bigger he was.

when your skirt was off, jake scoffed at the fact that you were wearing panties. despite being used to it, hanging around the na’vi for so long he got used to the lack of clothes. you slowly pulled down the white undies that had a pink bow on the hem. you took your time turning around, letting him examine every inch of your naked body.

before you could fully turn your back to him, his hands went on your ass; caressing it as you continued to turn.

“such a sweet bum you have, baby. gon let daddy kiss it?” you turned your head, and nodded at him from across your shoulder. he leaned in, leaving soft kisses on your scarred skin. his hands tracing the pattern of the lines on your buttocks.

you pushed your hair to the side, letting it rest on your shoulder and opening your back to Jake. considering how tall he was he didn’t need to stand up. he put his hands on the strings of your top, untying it. he let it fall down, sliding on your body. his hands helped to turn your body around and when he did, you climbed on his lap, letting your lips kiss his jaw.

“so eager, always so eager. wanna explore me baby?” you looked up at him, nodding desperately. your eyebrows scrunched together and your lips fell into a small pout.

“go on, kid. get what you want,”

#Jake Sully #jake x reader #jake sully x reader #jake smut #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water #avatar smut #spider avatar #jake sully x y/n #jake sully age gap #dilf jake sully

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russellsppttemplates · 11 months

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Papa Pierre dealing with some crisis with the kids. Maybe it's a meltdown, maybe one of them hurts themselves...something in order to make him sweat. And after when he's telling mamãe about it, he'll be all "I was so scared/stressed, amour. I don't know how you deal with this"

Tw: child accidentally gets hurt, mentions blood, hospital visits

The afternoon was filled with projects and activities you had left for Pierre while Alexandre and Louid were at school and you took Celeste for a doctor's appointment, leaving him with Élodie to make some arts and crafts.

"Oh, someone's calling papa, one second, chérie, I'll be right back", he excused himself, leaving the room and taking the call in the hallway. After sorting out a few details about next week's schedule, Pierre dialled off, entering the room to see his daughter's pouty lip, "what happened, amour?", he said, noticing her tear filled eyes.

"I- I was painting and then it slipped, so I want to grab the paper, and- and I hurt myself", she said, finally letting the tears flow freely as she allowed her body to feel the scare now that her papa was there with her.

"Where did you hurt yourself, Élodie?", Pierre asked, inspecting her from head to toe, "in my arm, papa", she said, showing the small cut on her forearm. Even though he was panicking a little, Pierre managed to go to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit and a bowl of water to bring to the room.

"It doesn't hurt papa, but there's some blood, look", his daughter mumbledd, showing him the wound, "papa is going to wet this and I'm going to clean it, okay? Tell me if it hurst", he said, not hearing any complaints from her as her tears died down, "Good, very brave, Élodie!", he encouraged, "it doesn't seem to deep, I think we can just put some solution and a band aid and you'll be good as new, okay?", he said, grabbing the foreign looking bottle.

"Is that going to hurt, papa?", she asked, seeing the reddish brown colour of the solution, "it might tickle a little, but this is what is going to make this better and heal faster, okay? I'll go gently", he promised her, gently dabbing the cotton on her skin, hearing her hiss, "you're doing so well, chérie, so so so well, I'm almost done".

"Now, we have these plasters, you can choose one of the big ones so it covers all of it", Pierre told her as he discarded all of the used supplies, coming back to see her choice, "this one, with the boats, I think it's pretty", she said, her cheeks dry from the tears, "I think it's a fine choice, let me put it on".

When you got home, both boys went upstairs so they could shower quickly after their practices while you changed Celeste's diaper, reminding the boys to shut the water before heading downstairs, "hey, you two", you greeted Pierre and Élodie, "is everything alright?", you asked since your oldest daughter was laying on top of her father, "she got hurt and now we are having some cuddles", he said as Élodie showed you her arm, "Oh, this should heal quickly", you kissed the plaster.

When Élodie went to the bathroom and rhe boys joined you downstairs, Pierre spoke up, "as stupid as it sounds now that I know she's fine, as soon as she told me she was hurt, I was so scared, I thought I'd have to call you to stay at the hospital because we would have to go there", he admitted, "it was a small nick, she said she brushed her arm too quickly, but I've already moved the table", he pointed to the coffee table now resting against the wall, "I don't know how you do it, you know? Stay calm and collected, because last time this happened to Alexandre you did what I did with Celeste on your chest, happily sleeping in the sling", he breathed out a chuckle.

Smiling at him, you kisses his forehead, "well, genetically and evolutionarily, women are designed to tend to many things at once", you said smartly, "and I was also a child that got bumps and bruises very easily", you said, earning a fake surprised look from him, "me being clumsy? I know! What a shock, eh?", you giggled.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#pierre gasly blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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pm-plaster-craft · 1 year

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Plaster Crafts For Kids | Design Figures | PM Plaster Craft

If you are looking for plaster crafts for kids but are unaware of how to make them, then this blog will help you understand how to make plaster and how they are beneficial for your children. Read this blog now.

#Plaster Crafts For Kids

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unformula1 · 6 months

Text

Changed (LS2 x OP81)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ synopsis: Logan thinks about Oscar. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pairing: Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri w/c: 645 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a/n: messy but eh. hopefully this becomes a series (yea?) day 16 of loscar posts until we get a loscar podium! (series masterlist) masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan didn’t know when it started, when everything started to fall apart at the seams, when the four walls came crashing down, when life started to make less sense.

All he did know was that Oscar wasn’t there.

“Promise?” Logan asks.

“Always.” Oscar assures.

“Always there?” “Promise.”

It was just a bunch of empty, pointless promises.

He couldn’t blame Oscar, they were kids, naive and innocent, unaware of how the world would treat both of them differently.

He couldn’t blame Oscar, how was he supposed to know that he would find someone better eventually.

He couldn’t blame Oscar, he never expected Oscar to keep his promises anyway. As he grew older, he knew that their promises would eventually fall apart.

He couldn’t blame Oscar, he really couldn’t.

Logan leans against the walls of his drivers’ room. The silence is deafening, it’s just him and his thoughts which aren't always good. He’s forced to sit down and run through everything in his head.

They’re usually messy jumbles of information which he’ll probably forget within hours, faded memories like old reports turning yellow and crystal clear mistakes which will never go away.

He throws a ball against the wall, it bounces back and he catches it. It’s stupid, but it helps to arrange Logan’s thoughts. It’s pathetic. Who the hell throws balls against the wall to think properly?

If younger Logan could see him now, he can only imagine the disappointment on his face. The sighs coming out from his mouth, the subtle head shakes.

Logan forces himself to stop messing around with his thoughts. He rolls the ball to one side of the room and steps out of his driver’s room. Usually this shouldn’t be hard, but it is. It’s unbearably difficult for Logan to walk into the paddock and see everyone but him having fun.

He makes his way around the paddock, finding something to occupy his mind with. It’s harder than he expects. He loiters around the different garages before finally landing at the McLaren garage.

Oscar’s face is plastered on the giant entryway, Logan looks at it for a solid few seconds before kicking a tiny pebble on the ground and walking off. He looks back at it one more time. He misses Oscar.

He really does.

Oscar used to be that one constant in his life, the one who would always be there for him, the one who always regarded Logan as his first choice. Not anymore. Oscar had someone else, he had something more important to focus on.

They used to be a perfect pair, made for each other, crafted to be each other’s halves and now they were a wilting rose, a loose thread hanging on to whatever’s left, an invisible string losing its glow.

It was absolutely devastating to think about it. Logan wipes the small tear that he shed.

Just like the universe playing some sick trick on Logan, Oscar walks out of the garage, standing super close to Lando, who follows him. A media crew surrounds him. They’re probably filming some media day content which reminds Logan he needs to head back for media day filming too.

He looks one more time at the McLaren duo and for a split second, him and Oscar lock eyes. Logan gives Oscar a smile and suddenly, everything slows down and Logan feels the rising urge in him to just run over and hug Oscar.

Then reality comes back and hits him in the head, Oscar turns away, barely acknowledging Logan’s presence.

Logan stands there as the McLaren duo walk off, camera crew following behind.

Logan feels his world crashing around him, not even a smile back, not a glance, nothing. Everything was gone.

Everything’s changed, nothing stayed the same, it’s all different now.

It was like peeling the petals of a rose, wondering if they love you back and ending up with the last petal of “he loves me not”.

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deliciousangelfestival · 9 months

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Every Time You Lie - Ch 7 || Lloyd Hansen

Character: dark!Lloyd Hansen x female!reader, dark!Husband Lloyd Hansen x Wife!reader.

Synopsis: Any woman is jealous of you, especially with the status of being the wife of Lloyd Hansen—the CEO of the biggest pharmacy company in the country. From the outside, everyone sees you as a perfect family, a successful husband, two kids, and living in a big house.

But the truth is different. You are trapped in this marriage because of the mistake you made. You are willing to give everything you have to get your freedom. Free from him. Free from your vicious mother-in-law. Free from your snobby son.

Both of them shouldn’t be together.

Warning: Betrayal, suicidal thought, harsh language, tragedy. Minors do not read. 18+

Author Note: I do not consent to copying or translating my work.

Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think.

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

In that moment of revelation, you found yourself frozen, your hands instinctively reaching for Ransom's face as if the touch could erase the weight of his words.

Once filled with a mischievous spark, his eyes now held a haunted depth that mirrored your heart's turmoil.

"Tell me what happened," you pleaded, the words escaping your lips almost in a whisper, a fragile plea for the truth you feared.

The weight of Ransom's words hung in the air, sinking into your consciousness like a heavy anchor. "Because of drugs," he confessed, and the reality of the situation crashed over you like a tidal wave.

In the recesses of your memories, you recalled when Ransom's choice of friends had raised concerns. You, along with Linda and Harlan, had implored him to distance himself from the dangerous circle, a plea that fell on deaf ears. Ransom had always reassured everyone that he wasn't addicted, that he could handle it.

But the past had a way of resurfacing, revealing the cracks in the carefully crafted facade.

Ransom continued, his gaze fixed on a distant point, "One day, after our argument, the police stopped my car. They found drugs in it."

His voice quivered, a mixture of regret and bitterness coloring the words. "I hired a lawyer, fought the charges, but I still lost. And I knew it was because of your husband."

The revelation struck you like a lightning bolt. The intricate web of events, woven by choices and consequences, tightened its grip around you.

The realization that Lloyd may have played a role in Ransom's downfall stunned you, a mosaic of emotions playing across your features.

Ransom's eyes bore into yours, “Do you remember?”

"I don't. What happened after that?" you questioned, your voice edging with curiosity and apprehension.

"To be free from jail, my lawyer suggested I go into rehabilitation," Ransom admitted, the bitterness of the past still lingering in his words. "And then my old man, infuriated by the scandal plastered all over the media, decided to ship me off to Europe."

He recounted the harsh reality of his journey—an odyssey of rehabilitation that felt no different from a prison sentence. The inability to return for a year compounded his sense of confinement.

Yet, amidst the struggles, he found a silver lining—a connection that proved to be surprisingly valuable.

You listened to his story; for you, the time passed quickly, but for him, it had been years. The fear of losing a memory loomed, casting a shadow over the revelation.

Seizing the moment, you asked Ransom, "Do you know the truth about my dad, his company, and my siblings?”

Ransom's nod carried a sense of solemnity, "But, it's for me to tell you."

He turned around, and you instinctively followed his lead. As you both faced the room, a palpable tension hung in the air.

Your breath caught when a surprise guest entered—the last person you expected. It was your brother, Theo.

******

At Crystal Pharmaceutical L.A Branch

Lloyd sat restlessly in the dimly lit boardroom, surrounded by his legal team. Tension hung thick in the air as they delved into the intricate details of the pharmacy company's myriad issues.

Lloyd's face contorted with a mix of frustration and disbelief. He clenched his jaw as the weight of the accusations sank in. "Opium and human experiments?" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the tense meeting room.

The lawyers exchanged nervous glances, realizing the gravity of the situation. "Sir, the media is running wild with these claims. We need a strategic approach to address these allegations and mitigate the damage to the company's reputation," one of them stammered.

Lloyd leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the distant hum of city traffic. "Find out who's behind this.

I want names, connections, and every detail about that so-called whistleblower," he commanded, his eyes piercing through the legal team.

As the meeting continued, Lloyd's mind raced, contemplating the potential fallout from these damning revelations.

He knew that salvaging the company's image would require more than just legal maneuvering; it would demand a meticulous investigation to unveil the truth and clear the company's tarnished name.

The stakes were high, and Lloyd couldn't afford to let the allegations spiral out of control. The challenge ahead seemed daunting, and the fate of the company hung in the balance.

Lloyd leaned forward, his eyes locking onto the intensity in the room. "If one of you works well, I will reward that person with $2 million," he declared, the gravity of his words punctuating the already charged atmosphere.

A collective gasp filled the room as the legal team absorbed the staggering number.

"Now do your work, before I change my mind," Lloyd asserted with a firm resolve, his voice cutting through the stillness.

The weight of his announcement settled over the team, prompting a flurry of activity as they refocused on their tasks, driven by the prospect of both professional success and a substantial financial reward. All of them ran to leave the meeting room.

Alone in the now-empty meeting room, Lloyd's expression hardened. He swiftly reached for his phone and dialed a number, his voice low and decisive. "Burn everything," he commanded.

Author Note :

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

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Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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Any reblog, comment, and feedback are appreciated. I want to know what you guys think.

Series Masterlist || Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , -

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi 🥹💓

#lloyd hansen x reader #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen #soft!dark lloyd hansen imagine #soft!dark lloyd hansen x y/n #soft!dark lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you

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ghcstao3 · 1 year

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I saw your tags, you have challenged me!

Scary Show AU (cw for cannibalism and murder)

Ghost is a very well-known yet still semi-anonymous Voice Actor for spooky shit. There's a huge following for him because, regardless of what role he's playing, he does a phenomenal job. He's only listed in the cast list as "S.R.Ghost"

Typically he plays the role of the creatures in this super popular show called "Cryptid Season" which follows a gang of college kids desperate for extra credit in their Biology class so they hunt cryptids as evidence/to study for their papers. He does the voice over and some of the motion capture (he's a big dude) for the monsters and such, his most famous one being "Goatman" (from the demonic Goatman's bridge in I think Texas?)

Meanwhile Soap is this animator who's starting to become really popular, and he announces a new show in the work: "Consume", where he voices one of the two lead roles. It's presented as a show about a normal, if not very lonely man, being tormented by a demonic presence in his home.

Plot twist: dude's actually a cannibalistic serial killer and ends up quickly befriending the demon. The demon helps make the man harder to track by police forces in exchange for the bones and souls of his victims.

Cast:

Soap as the killer

Ghost as the demonic entity

Gaz as a detective who's new to the case but also best friends with Soap's character

Price voices the seasoned detective who's been working this case "too damn long"

Ghost and Soap ABSOLUTELY fall in love while recording scenes together. The banter, the flirting, the sexy scenario of cutting up a corpse together; it's too much not to fall in love irl

(actually such a big brain idea but I don't know how you'd write it tbh lmao. Maybe the show itself, where the boys keep their names? Idk the original idea turned into something much greater)

took a minute to figure something out i'm ngl but i did. something (in any case i would love to see your proper takes(s) if you'd be up to it, seeing as it's your idea!! i feel like i couldn’t do it justice)

Just like any other actor, Ghost had to audition for the role.

His agent books it for him without consultation, knowing the project would be right up his alley—horror, monsters, no face required—and Ghost makes no argument in sending in his tape. He recognizes this process and takes no issue with it, and once out of his hands, he waits patiently for a congratulatory offer or a gentle rejection.

Just like any other movie, or show, or what have you. Consume is no different.

Supposedly. At first.

John "Soap" MacTavish is... many things. He's charming, according to most. Talented. A joy to be around. A man who wears more than several hats of a project, which certainly tells of someone trying to worm their way into the commercial industry.

He has the spirit and creativity, Ghost will allow him that. But he also doesn't know when to stop talking as soon as the important work is done.

Is Soap professional? Sure. Does Soap make sure all jobs are done with efficiency and done well? Yes, he does. Does it make him any less of a nuisance to Ghost? Absolutely not.

But Ghost would be damned if the project doesn’t find its way into his soft spots, despite its nature. He’d be damned if he doesn’t fall in love with Soap’s animations and the hard work and craft he puts into them.

Then he blinks, and the pilot is premiering. It does well (again, considering its content), and Consume is properly green-lit.

Which is when Soap proposes the idea of recording their lines in the same room. Together. Facing one another. Because banter, and chemistry, and whatever other reasons he insists upon.

Personally, Ghost wants to decline. He’s always felt somewhat awkward when recording as such with anyone, but professionally? He couldn’t really say no, could he?

And it is awkward, at first. There’s more takes than usual, and Ghost can sense Soap’s frustration, though the man never expresses it. He just plasters on a tight smile, calls for a break, and pulls Ghost aside.

Surely, surely this is where Ghost gets fired. This is where Ghost is told he’s going to be replaced, where he’s told to say goodbye to Gaz and Price and wish them luck, and move onto his next gig. This is where—

“Have I done something wrong?”

Soap’s face is so earnest. So painfully sincere.

Ghost clenches his jaw. Shakes his head.

“No, I—“ He sighs. “Just have to get used to the… face-to-face. Let’s—I’ll try again.”

Soap smiles wider, now, as he nods, something kind and warm and brilliant.

The second try goes much smoother. Ghost takes a deep breath and eases himself into scripted dialogue, into witty banter and subtle flirts like it’s any other project.

They continue to record lines as such, just the two of them, each episode at a time. At some point, Ghost worries, the line between script and show and reality gets blurred. At some point, he fears, that flirting becomes genuine.

And what would he know—the reviews only get better as that line becomes less and less clear. Natural, real-feeling dialogue, critics say. The relationship is authentic, claim viewers.

The love is actually heartfelt.

And fuck, if that doesn’t make Ghost realize a few things about himself.

About Soap.

Consume is no different, his ass. He might have to have a stern talk with his agent in the near future.

(Or not.)

#ask #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #writing #alternate universe

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winxanity-ii · 6 months

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 02 Chapter 02 | glowing defiance⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Your life was a carefully constructed bubble, meticulously crafted by your ever-anxious mother, Mei. Unlike other children your age, you didn't attend daycare or school.

The outside world, with its potential dangers and lurking germs, was deemed too much for your mother's fragile peace of mind.

Instead, your days revolved around a routine as predictable as the sunrise.

Mornings began with a meticulously planned breakfast, followed by lessons conducted by Mei herself. As a former high school teacher, she poured all her energy into your homeschooling, bombarding you with colorful flashcards and meticulously constructed schedules.

While other children learned through messy playdates and scraped knees, your world was confined to the walls of your apartment, safe but undeniably stifling.

Wino remained a distant figure in all this, keeping his interactions with you brief and impersonal. Sometimes, you'd catch him stealing a glance your way—a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he quickly retreated behind a curtain of newspaper.

Despite, or perhaps because of, your sheltered life, a fierce independence bloomed within you. You devoured the lessons Mei presented, your mind a sponge soaking up knowledge. You craved understanding, a way to make sense of the world beyond the four walls of your home.

One afternoon, as you were diligently building a tower with colorful blocks, the sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on your focused face.

The air was thick with the aroma of baking cookies, courtesy of Mei, who was humming cheerfully in the kitchen.

Suddenly, the gentle hum was replaced by the familiar blaring voice of a cartoon announcer on the television.

You glanced up, the frown furrowing your brow mirroring the one now etched on the face of the overly enthusiastic cartoon hero plastered across the television screen.

The hero, clad in a flamboyant costume that seemed more of a hindrance than a help, was pummeling a villain whose entire power seemed to be an unfortunate case of bad hair.

"And that, my friends," the announcer boomed, his voice dripping with condescension, "is how a proper hero uses their Quirk! Now, let's talk about those unfortunate souls who weren't blessed with such amazing abilities."

A familiar heat pooled in your chest, a simmering resentment fueled by the announcer's patronizing tone.You weren't 'unfortunate'—you were Y/N.

And you wouldn't be belittled like some charity case.

The announcer, completely oblivious to your internal dilemma, continued his spiel. "Being Quirkless doesn't mean you can't contribute to society," he chirped, his voice laced with a saccharine sweetness that made your teeth itch.

You rolled your eyes, grumbling under your breath, "Yeah, contribute by being a glorified dog walker."

You spent the next few moments trying to drown out the annoying voice, focusing on meticulously placing the final block atop your ever-growing castle.

You stacked them with an almost obsessive focus, each piece a silent rebuttal to the announcer's words. But you couldn't drown him out forever.

"And remember, kids," the announcer declared, his voice adopting a sinister edge, "if you're Quirkless, no point in attempting to do the impossible. You're better off understanding your role as a citizen in society. Don't become a burden!"

Slowly, you raised your head; your eyes narrowed to pinpoints as the last line echoed in your head.

Burden? A scowl thundered across your face, erasing any trace of childish amusement. A low growl, more animalistic than human, rumbled from your chest.

Everything went silent around you, the only sound being the frantic drumming of your heart.

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes once again began to glow an unsettling yellow.

A blinding flash of static suddenly erupted from the television, scrambling the image on the screen into a distorted mess. You were so engrossed in glaring at the screen—your mind running miles a minute with internal arguments about how you weren't average and wouldn't be belittled—that you didn't notice your mother rushing in.

The static intensified, morphing into a horrifying, demonic screech that sent shivers down your spine. The air crackled with unseen energy, and the hairs on your arms stood on end.

Suddenly, with a deafening pop, the television went completely black. The room plunged into an eerie silence, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You blinked, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

Slowly, you turned your head to find Mei standing frozen in the doorway, her face etched with a mixture of concern and confusion.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy. Mei, finally breaking free from her shock, ventured towards the lifeless television.

"Well, I guess that means it's time for an upgrade?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as much a question to herself as to you.

☆

Warm bubbles tickled your skin as you leaned back in the tub, tilting your head to allow Mei to lather your hair with shampoo. Her gentle hands worked the suds in, a soft smile lighting her face.

"You're unbelievable, sweetie~ You managed to finish all the multiplication flash cards in record time!" she chirped, her voice tinged with a touch of awe. "Honestly, Y/N, you're learning so fast, I'll have to find some more challenging material soon!"

Her praises usually fill you with a sense of accomplishment, a validation of your efforts. Today, however, it triggered a different thought.

She was right...you weren't like the other children—like the ones in the grainy television shows you occasionally glimpsed at or the ones you saw playing from your window.

They were carefree, giggling as they chased each other down the street, their quirks a vibrant kaleidoscope of color and powers.

Mei continued, blissfully unaware of your internal turmoil. "Maybe we could even tackle some basic science concepts next! Wouldn't that be exciting?"

Exciting wasn't the word you'd use to describe your current mood.

You tilted your head back, allowing Mei to rinse out the soap. As the cool water cascaded down your face, you squeezed your eyes shut, picturing those same children once again.

You weren't like them.

They interacted with ease; their world filled with laughter and adventure.

You, on the other hand, were a mystery, even to yourself. The yellow glow in your eyes, the distorted television, the demonic screech—these weren't normal occurrences.

A shiver ran down your spine, but it wasn't entirely from the cool water rinsing down your face. A chilling realization settled in—the world you inhabited felt small and stifling.

A question, heavy with unspoken fear and a strange, exhilarating thrill, began to form in your mind: What exactly were you?

A/N: ok, i swear this is the last update. I just couldn't wait ❤️❤️ see you guys soon

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ireadyabooks · 2 months

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5 Books That NEED to Be in Your Beach Bag! 🏖️🌞

All year we have been dreaming about laying out on the beach reading a swoony romance that sets our heats ablaze and the time has finally come! Grab the sunscreen, your favorite pair of sunglasses, and the next book you’ll be raving about to all of your friends! Not sure what book to pack in your beach bag? No worries, we’ve put together our top five books that we’re relaxing in the sand with this summer! Happy reading!

Okay, Cupid by Mason Deaver

From the bestselling author of I Wish You All the Best, the story of a cupid who thinks they know everything about love . . . until they fall in love themselves.

As a cupid, Jude thinks they understand love a little bit more than the average human. It makes sense -- Jude's been studying love their whole teen life. And, yes, there have been some bumps in the road, and they're currently on probation for doing something that they absolutely, definitely shouldn't have done . . . but they're ready to prove they can make matches without ever getting involved.

Only . . . Jude's next assignment isn't about setting up two adults. No, this time Jude has to go to high school, with kids their own age. And the assignment is a tough one: two best friends who are meant to be more than just best friends . . . but who aren't currently speaking to each other after a huge falling out.

Jude thinks they've got this one all under control, and that they won't get involved whatsoever.

Which proves that maybe Jude hasn't learned the first lesson of humans and love . . . It’s complicated.

Start reading Okay, Cupid now!

I Hope This Doesn’t Find You by Ann Liang

Unforgettable, snarky, and romantic, I Hope This Doesn't Find You is Never Have I Ever meets To All the Boys I've Loved Before if Lara Jean wrote hate emails instead of love letters.

Sadie Wen is perfect on paper: school captain, valedictorian, and a "pleasure to have in class." It's not easy, but she has a trick to keep her model-student smile plastered on her face at all times: she channels all her frustrations into her email drafts. She'd never send them of course -- she'd rather die than hurt anyone's feelings -- but it's a relief to let loose on her power-hungry English teacher or a freeloading classmate taking credit for Sadie's work.

All her most vehemently worded emails are directed at her infuriating cocaptain, Julius Gong, whose arrogance and competitive streak have irked Sadie since they were kids. "You're attention starved and self-obsessed and unbearably vain . . . I really hope your comb breaks and you run out of whatever expensive hair products you've been using to make your hair appear deceptively soft . . ."

Sadie doesn't have to hold back in her emails, because nobody will ever read them . . . that is, until they're accidentally sent out.

Overnight, Sadie's carefully crafted, conflict-free life is turned upside down. It's her worst nightmare -- now everyone at school knows what she really thinks of them, and they're not afraid to tell her what they really think of her either. But amidst the chaos, there's one person growing to appreciate the "real" Sadie -- Julius, the only boy she's sworn to hate . . .

Start reading I Hope This Doesn’t Find You now!

Heartstopper by Alice Oseman

Boy meets boy. Boys become friends. Boys fall in love. A sweet and charming coming-of-age story that explores friendship, love, and coming out. Now streaming on Netflix!

Shy and softhearted Charlie Spring sits next to rugby player Nick Nelson in class one morning. A warm and intimate friendship follows, and that soon develops into something more for Charlie, who doesn't think he has a chance.

But Nick is struggling with feelings of his own, and as the two grow closer and take on the ups and downs of high school, they come to understand the surprising and delightful ways in which love works.

Start reading Heartstopper now!

Stepping Off by Jordan Sonnenblick

Jesse Dienstag's favorite sweatshirt says, "The real world isn't real." That's the slogan of the vacation-home community in Pennsylvania where his family has always spent every vacation and weekend for as long as he can remember. In the summer of 2019, as Jesse is about to enter his junior year of high school in New York City, he desperately wants to believe the slogan is true. For one thing, the two girls he loves -- equally and desperately -- are in Pennsylvania, and all the stresses and pressures of his daily life and school are in New York.

But when his parents stop talking to each other, it gets harder and harder for Jesse to maintain his dream life in Pennsylvania. And when Covid shuts New York City down in March 2020 just days after Jesse’s mother leaves his father, Jesse's worlds collide.

Start reading Stepping Off now!

London On My Mind by Clara Alves

Red, White & Royal Blue meets A Cuban Girl's Guide to Tea and Tomorrow in this unlikely London romance by debut author Clara Alves!

Sixteen-year-old Dayana has always dreamed of visiting London -- to walk along the Thames, take pictures outside Buckingham Palace, and maybe even get a glimpse of Arthur, Prince of Wales, whose marriage has been all over tabloids. But the trip of her dreams turns into a royal nightmare when her mother passes away. Now, Day must leave Rio de Janeiro to live with her estranged father and his new family in London.

As it turns out, the U.K. isn't exactly Day's cup of tea. She struggles to forgive her father for walking out on her and her mom all those years ago; fights with her stepsister constantly; detests her stepmother; and she can't even see One Direction in concert because they've been broken up for ages. All she wants to do is trade the rainy skies of London for the sun and beaches of Rio.

That's when she runs into the girl of her dreams -- literally: The coincidentally named Diana, a witty, funny, redhead who was in the middle of . . . escaping Buckingham Palace? Something isn't right here, but it makes Diana all the more alluring. As time passes, and the two girls grow closer, Day can't help but wonder if there is more than a little truth to the rumors surrounding Prince Arthur -- and if Diana might be involved somehow. Is it all in her head, or could Day be caught up in a real-life royal scandal?

Start reading London On My Mind now!

#ireadya #ya books #Okay Cupid #Mason Deaver #I Hope This Doesn't Find You #Ann Liang #Heartstopper #Alice Oseman #Stepping Off #Jordan Sonnenblick #London On My Mind #Clara Alves #beach reads #summer books #romance

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