#amp ambles

[wwereaderinserts]

do you do cody rhodes..? If so can i ask for some fluff from him where the reader injures her head during a fight (busts it open and needs like 2 or 3 stitches)

Title: Gimme Stitches Pairing: Cody Rhodes x Reader Word Count: 866

Your heart is hammering in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through you while you wait for your opponent, Tiffany, to scramble back up to her feet outside the ring. You prance on the spot, taunting her while you amp yourself up to spear her into the steel steps, waiting for the perfect timing to ensure you can deliver a pivotal blow to her in your match so far.

Tiffany rises up to her feet with her back to you, blissfully unaware of exactly what’s about to hit her. Once she finds her bearings, she turns on her heel in your general direction, and that’s when you seize the opportunity to charge directly at her with a guttural yell.

You lock in on her as you run full speed, closing in on her rapidly, but just as you’re about to reach her, she’s situationally aware enough to sidestep you and avoid your spear. Your feet carry you too fast for you to stop yourself in time, and you carry on running until you lose your footing slightly and crash into the steps.

The crowd reacts with a resounding ooh! at the impact - as do you from how hard your head connected with the corner of the steps - but it isn’t until you feel a trickling down your forehead that you realise you’ve done slightly more than simply take a bump.

“Ah! Shit!”

You express your pain as you attempt to rise back up to your feet, and when you catch the look of sheer horror on Tiffany’s face when she sees you’re busted completely wide open, along with the referee rushing out to check on you, reality begins to set in.

Despite insisting that you’re fine and that you want to continue the match, the referee makes the executive decision to stop the match. Not that you blame them in the slightest - you currently have a nasty gash on your forehead that’s bleeding like there’s no tomorrow, and for all you know, you could’ve easily given yourself a concussion.

With the adrenaline finally beginning to subside, your head throbs and you can taste the lingering copper on your lips as you amble your way back up the ramp to the applause of onlooking fans either side of you.

You’re inwardly kicking yourself right now, frustrated that you’ve potentially just put yourself on the shelf for a good few weeks depending on the verdict from medical, but you also understand that this is the risk you take every time you step foot in the ring. But you cast your frustration to one side as soon as you’re met with a friendly, very familiar face.

“Oh my god, I saw that out there! Are you okay?”

Cody is already waiting for you, damp towel in hand and at the ready as soon as you make it backstage with concern written all over his face while he stops himself from reaching out to you. You give him a weak thumbs up in response, seemingly downplaying things, but Cody is having none of it.

“Just a scratch, I’ll be fine-”

You begin, but Cody shakes his head and takes a step closer to you. The towel is clenched up into a ball in his hand, and he uses this to lightly wipe away any residual blood that remains on your face while he takes extra care to avoid the nasty gash on your forehead.

“No, none of that.” Cody’s tone is soft, but you can tell he’s lightly scolding you, “Don’t try acting like this is nothing. The match was stopped, and this looks really bad. You’re gonna need stitches, definitely.”

His eyes meet yours, and you feel a warmth spread in your chest at the tenderness of both his gaze and the way he cleans you up. You know he’s right, and worried about you to boot.

“I watched it all happen from back here. You had me worried, y’know?”

Cody continues, and even though he’s trailed off with a rhetorical question, he still seeks some form of acknowledgement from you. You hum and give him a brief nod, reaching out to take the hand of his which isn’t holding the towel in yours.

“I can only imagine,” you crack a smile for him and give his hand a brief squeeze, “But you know me, I’m made of tough stuff.”

You press a soft kiss against Cody’s knuckles, and the tension leaves him, if only for a fleeting moment. He returns the gesture before you release your hold on his hand, and it returns to its rightful place to cup your face.

“As much as I can clean you up for the time being, you’re still bleeding. We’d better get you over to medical.” he tells you with a nod of his head towards the nearest doorway, retracting both his hand and the towel from you, “But I am glad it didn’t end up being worse than this.”

You nod in agreement and take his hand in yours, giving it a light squeeze to which Cody is quick to reciprocate before he leads the way to medical with you in tow, fully intending on staying with you the entire time.

[mywifeleftme]

274: Nap Eyes // Whine of the Mystic

Whine of the Mystic Nap Eyes 2014, Plastic Factory (Bandcamp)

Can’t speak to the sound on the original 2014 pressing of this guy from Plastic Factory Records, but the 2015 Paradise of Bachelors/You’ve Changed edition sounds pretty revelatory to me—kudos to the folks at the plant, and to Mike Wright and Peter Woodford for the mixing and mastering. Talk about Nap Eyes tends to quickly descend into the Nigel Chapman show—the vocalist’s laconic cadences and ambling lyricism offer plenty of grist for a critic to chew on, but here on the LP the rhythm section is mixed loud and way up front so that the insistent throb of Josh Salter’s bass becomes as difficult to ignore as the pounding of your own pulse in your ears when you’ve run too hard. Whine of the Mystic was recorded at Drones Club in Montreal back in 2013, which is basically just a none-too-large loft apartment in my current neighbourhood where they do raves sometimes, and the record sounds just like listening to the boys play while wearing good custom-fitted ear plugs. That rawness does a band who can flirt with a nutritious beigeness a lot of good—the guitars singe and flare, the amps sizzle, and the feeling of this band as a slack psych live force comes through.

I’ve been a huge fan of Nap Eyes since I caught them in Ottawa back in 2014, and people generally dig them when I recommend the record (with the exception of my pal Meghan, who despises them with the grumpy exhaustion that comes of seeing a band you don’t like constantly opening for bands you do). As such, Whine of the Mystic has been with me through a lot—the best songs (like “Dark Creedence,” and the last four) make a shimmering soundtrack to existential hangovers; walking toward some workaday Calvary in the rain; handrolling cigarettes badly; pining for girls if only to keep in practice; not getting a master’s; being 27 as hell for many years. It’s full of little touches that still delight me, like when they kinda morph into the Proclaimers for a bridge on “The Night of the First Show,” or the way the raincloud pacing of “Dreaming Solo” finally cracks open into the most amiable outro jam imaginable.

Giving your record a punny name is a risky choice, and as a phrase Whine of the Mystic skirts the edge of dorkiness. But in the end, I come down on it as an apt synopsis of the album’s charms. Chapman’s plaints linger on the humdrum, yet they paint the experience as intoxicating, Halifax as the backdrop for an ancient mystery cycle that repeats itself wherever life’s taking place. It brings to mind an exchange from Louis Malle’s The Fire Within, a superficially dull but emotionally feverish movie I haven’t thought of in ten years. The main character, a suicidal alcoholic who feels drained by what he perceives as the world’s absence of meaning, talks to an old friend, who has settled into a steady life as an academic and a husband. I don’t remember much of what they talk about, besides this:

Alain Leroy: Dubourg, what will you do tonight? Dubourg: Tonight, I'll write a few pages on my Egyptians, then make love to Fanny. I fall into her silence as into a well. At the bottom is a great sun that warms the earth.

All life is quotidian, but the primal and transcendent lies within that quotidian life, if you can truly immerse yourself within your own. Good luck.

274/365

[shivunin]

HELLO AGAIN!!! for the wip ask game: 🌤️

Wellll, Zen, since it's you c: Here is something not-Dragon-Age for once.

(wip ask game)

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

The door to the room slid open while she was still considering the pile of objects on the far side of the room. 

“Shepard,” Garrus said. 

“Garrus,” Shepard said. 

She tried to be casual. Tried to be like she had been, before. It was hard when he was one of two people she actually trusted here, but she tried. 

“The thing about this place,” he drawled, ambling past, “is you actually need to touch the weights to lift them. You know, use your muscles and all.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asked, crossing her arms and cocking her head. 

This was an easy one—she’d had to push hard to do it before she’d gotten the amp, back when she was still a street kid. Now, it was cake. 

One of the weights lit with blue, floating gently above the rack. Garrus had been reaching for it before—it was one of a set shaped for turian hands—but now he dropped his arm and turned to shoot her a sardonic look. 

“Well, would you look at that,” she said, deadpan. “No hands.” 

“Shepard, you have biotics?” he said, equally deadpan. “I never would have known. You keep it so quiet.”

[kingscyrus]

♛with @lunaferrous

The day felt off, a tingling in his soul as if a warning bell was going off. He couldn't put his finger on the sensation, yet it seemed familiar to previous situations he found himself in... could be compared to déjà vu. When was the last time an attempt on his life was acted out? Perhaps a few years ago or so, and this itself felt the same. He'd never understand those who harbor so much evil they wish to crush a blooming flower whose purpose is to bring beauty & vibrance, only to wither at the hands of evil. Cyrus strolled with worry in the back of his head, body tense and alert for any unexpected occurrence. At first, he summed that perhaps it was stress that was starting to wear and tear on his body, so taking a step out of the castle was a possible solution to this dreaded emotion. Yet, upon ambling through the royal garden, it only seemed to grow heavier. Colorful hues glanced around his surroundings, trying to spot odd behavior, people, or out-of-place objects, yet nothing screamed to him to investigate, all until a sudden sparkle caught his attention. Gleaming momentarily from the tower above, now that was out of place. An armored forearm raises in front of his face, hitting the sun perfectly to cause a reflection, hoping to disrupt whatever was staring him down from the high tower. Cyrus was always one to listen to his instincts, for his instincts are what has saved him countless times beforehand. Seeing the tight predicament he found himself in, the best course of action would be to find cover. The King amped up his pace, keeping mindful of retaining his forearm up and angled to ensure the shot or spell -- whatever it may be didn't get a perfect target on him, but not only that, he started to abruptly change his pace by stopping, resuming, moving side to side, anything to try and throw off the assailant. This movement was swift and clean, almost like he was dancing with death. One false move and it's over, or it would put him at a considerable disadvantage. If anyone had the balls to assassinate him, he was sure not to underestimate them; they had to be strong, and he was going to apprehend this figure that lingered in the shadows, one way or another. As he continued to strafe, he was getting closer to the entryway of the castle, which led out into the garden. A robust voice announced his concerns toward a few guards who hastily gathered and routed their destination toward the tower. Even if this gleam or darkened aura that shrouded the tower came to be nothing, it was in his best interest not to take any chances.

[444namesplus]

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Kinne Kkehar Klahomacit Kro

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T Tac Tace Taffor Tahis Tamfor Tanle Tanto Tar Taurakio Teel Tefani Tei Tell Tephan Tephani Tephe Tephen Tephenso Tev Teve Teven Tevenso Tewar Th The Then Thma Tienn Tkin Tkinso Tlant Tockto Toke Ton Tou Tricklan Tron Tt Ttoma Tuar

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V Va Van Vansvill Ve Vely Velyneachi Venj Ver Veret Verlandpar Vett Vetteaemilia Vil Vitu Vonn

W Wal Wanso Wayn We Wee Weene Wen Wendoly Wigh Win

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Zequie Zucen

[tccicomputercoaching]

10 MOST USEFUL EXCEL TIPS

What is Microsoft Excel?

Excel is more than a brand everyone knows: it is powerful data visualization and analysis software, which uses spreadsheets to store, organize, and track data sets with formulas and functions..

Where Excel is used?

Microsoft Excel is the most widely used software by businesses.

Excel is used by Students, Faculties , Industry person , marketers .

Almost Excel user does not know enough about Excel.

So, TCCI has tried to give some tips to the Excel user.

Following Tips for Beginners:

Use Cntrl + R

To do Copy & Paste data both at a time.

How to separate data from given text?

Use Left Formula to extract character/text from left side easily.

for example , "mili shah" is given text and want to separate mili then use =left("mili shah",4), mili will

Will be separated in new cell.

How to separate data from given text?

Use Right Formula to extract character/text from right side easily.

for example , "mili shah" is given text and want to separate shah then use =right("mili shah",4), shah

Will be separated in new cell.

Use alt + 7 / alt+ 8/alt+9 to insert Bullets in Cell.

Use Series: To enter date in series enter first date in cell, then drag that cell until last date . You

can use this for weekdays and month also.

6.Use series: To enter number in order, enter first 2 numbers , select them and drag + sign until last

number.

7.How to remove blank rows?

Select all data, press cntl+G, select special ,choose blank , press cntl -(minus),choose entire

row, all blank rows will remove.

How to convert number to word in Excel?

- Use =NumToWord(cellreference) ,you will get result instant.

Add Multiple Rows

Probably one of the most frequently carried out activities in spreadsheeting. Ctrl Shift + is the shortcut, but

actually it takes longer than just right-clicking on the row numbers on the left of the Excel display. So Right

Click is our recommendation. And if you want to add more than one, select as many rows or columns as you'd

like to add and then Right Click and add.

Auto fit column and rows:

Select all of the data then press alt+ H+ O+ I then alt + alt + H + O + A

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[mamamittens]

Promises to Keep (Sneak Peek)

I'd like to put more words down before posting on AO3 for this new little fic. Yeah, lol, another pokemon fic. This one Sword/Shield into Scarlet/Violet.

Still workshopping some stuff and I'll hopefully finish a few other stories before posting, but we'll see. I'm terrible at keeping plot bunnies to myself.

Warnings: Pokemon violence against a child, blood, mentions of divorce and infidelity.

Feolette (Ten, Female): pronounced Fee-oh-let

Kladenet (Sixteen, Male): Kla-de-net

Word count: 1,667

Klad smiled as he pitched the tent just outside of Wyndon, certain that he’d be able to see the city itself if he traveled up the steep hill. But it was late and, frankly, they’d traveled quite fast as the reportedly weak blizzard began to pick up. He still had plenty of time to make it to the gym and register for the finals.

Ocara, his steadfast inteleon lingered near the cooking fire, not overly fond of the weather but keeping an eye out anyway. Slick, his low amp toxitricity ambling in the snow in feigned boredom near his sister. Madam, ever watchful hattrene she was, assisting in building a snowman fondly. Tweety preened her feathers with a regal menace only a corviknight could manage as snowflakes dusted her back.

His sister, Feolette, laughed. Bundled in a warm winter coat, bright red against the white snow. Fuzzy hat pulled over her long silvery hair. Tan skin flush from the cold as she sought Madam’s approval—not that she was ever denied by any of his pokemon.

Truth be told, Klad… honestly resented her going with him at first. This was supposed to be his journey. Finally striking out from Postwick to see what he was made of. Not having his ten year old little sister following behind him. But given the frigid ass household they had left behind, he quickly set aside those feelings.

Their mom was trying hard enough to hold it together in the wake of her pending divorce. Klad’s exciting adventure would always be tainted by that—but at least now he’s gotten to share it all with his little Feo. It made the journey less… lonely. Constantly butting heads against Bede and Hop’s internal crisis. Whatever the hell was going on with Hammerlocke. With his sister, Klad had to be mindful of how hard he pushed himself on his journey. Resting often and letting his pokemon explore.

He could honestly say he wouldn’t be half as impressive if it hadn’t been for these unexpected detours. Taking both of their minds off of their dad.

His affair.

Total disconnect that had been growing for years now.

Klad huffed, turning back to his curry. One good meal and bonding before they braved the city and the constant eyes. Settle both of their nerves. And older lady pitched a tent nearby but she had turned in already, offering him her sides she ‘simply couldn’t possibly finish before they went to waste’. Her eyes lingering with fond delight over his little sister.

She knew who they were. Impossible not to given how he’d charged through every last gym with his own little shadow cheering him on. He never let her out of his sight without one of his pokemon to escort her around. Just to be safe, though she always had her rotom phone.

The wind picked up, sending a flurry of snow into his curry as he let it simmer just a little bit longer. The blizzard was mostly to the south of them, but the food would be ready in time for them to turn in for the night, warm and safe in the tent from the natural elements. His team would appreciate the meal before the finals too—

And then heard Feolette scream.

--*--

Gillian huffed, pulling her jacket closer. She’d dragged Cam out here to see if they could get some B-Roll and perhaps catch a few hopeful challengers on the way to Wyndon. But she underestimated how cold it would get as the blizzard rolled in. Still, it provided some lovely scenic shots to set the mood for any interviews. She settled on getting one last shot of the Wyndon glowing in the fading light before calling it a day. The top of the last hill a perfect vantage point.

Cam cursed, tugging on his gloves before steadying the camera on his shoulder and slowly panning across the horizon. Breath puffing out in thick, white clouds as he turned to the path behind them, down the steep slope where a few people slowly made their way to the city and out of the blizzard. A couple of tents visible by their lamplight despite the billowing snow.

“Oh, Gills, I think I see that kid! You know, uh, Kladenet? The one with a little sister traveling with him?” Cam called out softly. “Heh, looks like they’re bunkering down for the night—mmm, curry. Looks good.” He mused distractedly. Gillian smacked his shoulder.

“Then we’ll have to be out here first thing tomorrow to catch them before they get to Wyndon. It’ll be impossible to do an interview in the city with all the hype that kid’s been getting.” Gilliam noted, quite pleased. “That other kid—Champion Leon’s brother, Hop? He should be nearby too. They’ve been pretty close—ah, Miss Marnie too, though interviewing her is out of the question. Piers had her sign exclusives ahead of time.” It was a bit of a bummer, considering how all three—pardon, four—seemed to be close. Kladenet and Hop were understandable. They were practically neighbors. But Miss Marnie was a shock, the girl a bit standoffish and Team Yell… a very good deterrent for unwanted attention.

“Wait… is that?” Cam breathed out in horror. Gillian leaned over to see the preview screen as he looked through the viewfinder.

Her heart stopped as a fucking massive shape cut through the snowy sky. Swooping down with fury and landing right on top of a small, red shape. The camera lens struggling to focus as a child’s scream cut through the twilight sky.

“SHIT! CALL AN AMBULANCE!” Gillian shrieked, trembling as her rotom phone obediently dialed the number.

“Wyndon Emergency line, how may I—”

“A wild corviknight just attacked a kid—just outside of Wyndon. She’s going to need immediate assistance! O-Oh, Arceus—” Gillian watched through the shaking camera lens as the poor girl was given a brief reprieve, the corviknight lifting just enough for her to turn over.

It happened so fast—a feral pokemon cry ringing over the distance as the little girl sobbed, trying to protect herself. A thick, vicious burst of water slamming into the shiny corviknight as a noticeably smaller corviknight shoved it further back with sharp claws. Blood spraying across the snow from dirtied talons. The young man—just a boy aiming to be champion—ran over and pulled the flailing child to his chest. His voice all but lost to the wind, though the tone of worry carried regardless.

“Emergency services are on their way—is the wild pokemon being taken care of?” the alert service worker informed Gillian. Cam wrenched his camera away from the heartbreaking scene and watched as an entire champion-ready team harried the vicious bird pokemon. No escape in sight, nor mercy to be found.

“Y-Yeah… S-She’s sustained some sort of injury, we’re too far away to see what exactly, but she’s definitely losing a lot of blood.” Gillian turned towards the city and saw a specialty craft ambulance flying their way. Desperate, she waved towards them and signaled down the hill.

Trembling and feeling sick, she watched as they loaded the poor girl onto the cab, a lady from the other tent waving the boy away as he retrieved his victorious team and clambered in to join his sister.

All that was left was an overturned pot of curry, a weather safe tent for two, and a smear of blood in the snow. Splashed across the white and making Gillian feel… dirty.

“…Keep the footage for the police report. But only the police report.” Gillian whispered, shivering as Cam wrapped his arm around her shoulder. They both trembled. After a long moment, several adults who happened to be nearby cleaning up the sight for Kladenet’s return, they turned around to return to Wyndon city. Where they promptly gave their eye witness testimony to the chief officer Jenny.

She looked as disturbed as they were.

A shot of the pokemon was carefully edited to remove any trace of the girl, Feolette, and handed to the authorities to look into.

The area was a bit rough, high level pokemon quite common, but never had Gillian seen one go after someone like that. Especially one so big. It had scars all over, grooves deep in it’s steel body.

Unusually aggressive even for corviknights, it would need to be tracked and brought in for research. To ensure this was a quirk of the pokemon—to be so vicious—and not an underlying issue in the area.

“Thank you for bringing this in… as difficult as it must have been to witness it like that. Will you be seeking quotes to report on the incident?” Gillian hesitated.

People needed to know of the danger…

But the idea of breaking the news before even the kid’s parents could hear about it… and it wasn’t like she had any right or relationship to break that before Kladenet could.

“Sort of. I’ll keep the details vague. But people should be on the lookout for that pokemon.” Gillian finally relented. “At the very least, I’ll withhold anything more in depth until after the finals. No one is going to be listening to anything but that… and that poor kid… he doesn’t need people asking about his sister in the middle of his matches.” Gillian sighed, picturing it already. Less reputable reporters would chomp at the bit to have even a clip of him reacting to such questions.

Chief officer Jenny nodded, relieved and approving.

“Good call. Assuming he doesn’t drop out entirely.”

Gillian hadn’t thought about that.

She likely would under the circumstances.

But to come so far… and those pokemon. Yikes.

They’ll probably appreciate the opportunity to vent against strong opponents.

Either way, Gillian wouldn’t blame Kladenet one bit. Just goes to show that even champion-ready trainers need to keep an eye out for danger.

She just hoped it wasn’t the kid’s sister that paid the price for that lesson.

[writtenbydenim]

@nanlanmo continued!

Jessica's hands are shaking. There's blood, sticky and turning dark, up her arms and her eyes are wide as she ambled into the main room of the dining hall from where she'd been hiding in the pantry. She'd heard Jacob's voice and at first, she'd thought it might've been a trick. The killer that'd murdered her roommate trying to bait her out of her hiding spot by sounding like Jacob, but that was insane. No more insane than the night they were all trapped in, but still. "I'm sorry--" She murmured, turning her attention up to Jacob's face, her bottom lip trembling as she allowed relief to wash through her. She wasn't alone.

"He--" Her voice cracked, "He killed Sarah right in front of me." The redhead had wanted to fight, had actually managed to pull her dying friend away from the killer for a brief moment before the other girl was tugged away from her. It was her blood that was smeared on Jessica's arms and clothes. "I didn't know what to do so I hid, I'm so sorry." Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as her breath hitched, "Why is this happenin'?!"

Jacob doesn't know what's happening; All he knows is that the camp has gone freakishly quiet. It was the weekend before camp, which the counselors always spent in preparation- though most of the time was spent partying, and enjoying the lack of responsibilities the outside world forced upon them. It was his home away from home, and suddenly he found that many of the people were missing. Some stupid prank amping up to its big crescendo he figures.

As he scanned her, taking in the scene he realized it was not just some sick prank. That the blood he'd seen on the docks was real, not some FX that one of the other counselors thought would make for a good stunt. "There.. was blood-" He shook his head. "Sarah's dead?" He repeats and the disbelief was apparent in his tone. "Fuck.. Uh.. We should get to the office." He states. In the office, there was a radio- if it hadn't already been sabatoged.

[empatheticampersand]

I think tonight was maybe the best night of my life. Quick exposition - I saw a musical that I was so enamoured with that I made some fanart that ended up reaching the writer/lead who invited me back to see it again, where I met the cast and was absolutely starstruck. But the thing that really pushed the whole thing to eleven was they were all calling me D’mitri, and dude, and man. 

At the start of this year I was terrified that I’d be buried in a dress and they’d call me a sweet girl at my funeral. For the last four years I just wanted to survive and didn’t even think a future would be possible for me. I didn’t have a concept that I could ever be an adult man.

Things get better, they get so much better, you just have to wait and hold on. 

[talkspriteedits]

An Equidansprite fusion talksprite?

I... love him

Mod A

[pxppinmolly-archived]

I write and say Molly isn’t much different in her Overlord verse personality wise --

However.

That really depends on her company.

When Molly is dealing with her work she is much more cold and ruthless. She bares her fangs and will not hesitate to rip someones throat out. As mentioned she got where she was for a reason.

Molly had decades of pent up rage and the build up of intolerance toward everything she’s ever dealt and been given with and she finally let it loose and unleashed the potential she had.

Not only did her rage and carnage escalate, but truthfully, her other feelings of carnal desires rose. She does have a few close confidants that are rather on her hand and foot -- putting it simply honestly she has a few close simps that she definitely use for personal pleasure as WELL as business protection.

But, Molly still is ‘the same’ when dealing with certain people. She still holds a compassion and kindness, she’s still sweet and caring. That can never change from Molly. She still holds a big heart. But that heart is wielding a fucking knife.

Molly, as usual, uses her sweet and kind nature to make her seem rather unassuming. Sure, other people would know better, but it’s still something she always found useful. That isn’t to say either she isn’t sincere, because she is! But she refuses to show all her cards unless she has to put down her hand, if that makes sense.

[mysticofseven]

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[heygerald]

OLD HABITS DIE HARD - PART 5/8

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x oc

Storms totally fucking suck. But some people make them a little bit better. 

Catch up here: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / *bonus chapter* / part 4 / ... / *bonus chapter* / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / *say yes*

Wind and rain howled outside the window, smattering the tarmac with pools of puddles that the crew would have to avoid come morning if the storm really did last until then like the weather reports predicted. A few palm trees swayed in the distance, illuminated by a sparse shock of lightning every twenty minutes or so. Zoe imagined that the lawn would be extra green come sunrise. Though, knowing the California coast, it would burnt a golden brown before the weekend. 

Before she would get to enjoy it. 

The lamp in the corner flickered with a rumble of thunder. 

She settled her head onto the couch cushion to eye it listlessly. It barely lit anything in the room up as is, and so part of her hoped that it would stay on just so she didn’t bang her shins when she finally convinced herself to get up off the couch, but part of her also selfishly wanted to be swathed in darkness so she could just sleep in the common room instead of her own bed. 

Another shock of lightning, another rumble of thunder. 

The lamp stayed on. 

She sighed, settling deeper onto the couch cushions, eyes drifting over the  memorabilia as if that would miraculously lull her to sleep. It was a pointless endeavor, she knew, but still better than admitting that she likely wouldn’t sleep at all tonight. 

Zoe was too amped up to do much of anything other than stare at the ceiling in misery, wishing that the storm would pass before too long, hoping to forget about the upcoming mission but knowing that was an impossible ask given how close it was now. 

Blerg.

She hated nights like this; when she was stuck with nothing but her thoughts. 

As if hearing her silent cries, someone flicked on the overhead lights, startling her upright. She groaned and threw her arms over her face. Almost just as quickly the person realized that the room wasn’t empty, and shut them off. 

“Oh, shit, sorry.” 

Darkness swallowed them both whole, and with nothing but the dull corner lamp, Zoe had to squint to make out any features. She saw blonde hair, green eyes, and a square jawline; all she would recognize even in her sleep.

“Jake?” she asked. 

“Oh,” he ambled a little closer, squinting down at her. “Zoe? What are you doing?”

“Enjoying the calming sounds of the roof being ripped off its hinges, obviously,” she quipped in a ragged, sleep deprived voice. The joke didn’t quite land like she had hoped it would, and Jake scrubbed a hand over his features as if trying to rid himself of his sleepiness. Clearing her throat, she frowned. “What are you doing? It’s, like, midnight.” 

“It’s almost two am,” he gave her an odd look.

Not having expected that much time to have passed, Zoe glanced at the clock on the wall. Big, blurry red letters blinked down at her with something that felt awfully judgmental for an inanimate object. She sighed realizing he was right, before depressing back onto the stuffy couch cushion. 

“Oh. I didn’t even realize that… what are you doing?”

Jake grunted. Not quite awake but not quite asleep either, and bumbled through the darkness towards the fridge. With an ineptness that she wasn’t used to seeing in him, he managed to hit his shin on the counter. 

He cursed, hopping a little on his other foot, before opening the fridge. 

“I was hungry,” he told her while blearily riffling through its contents. He was quick to pull out a water bottle and only after gulping down half of it, did his voice sound a little less sleep-ragged; smoother, like she was used to. “The storm woke me up. You want something?”

Her stomach twisted in knots. “No,” she told him wisely.

“There’s not anything in here, anyways,” he sighed, sounding eerily annoyed for having just woken up a few minutes earlier. Eventually, he settled on a bowl of grapes. Shutting the fridge, she could barely make out his bright eyes peering over across the room. They squinted a little, discerning, and she was suddenly happy for the darkness. “Have you slept at all yet, tonight?”

Zoe blushed, glancing out at the storm. 

“Not really.” 

“Oh... do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s just one of those nights, I guess.” 

“Aw, c’mon, Buzz,” he said, sounding more and more like his flagrant, smug self with every minute that he was with her even though his voice still had that croaky twang to it from just waking up. He nudged her legs aside with the back of his hand before promptly plopping down onto the opposite end of the couch. Zoe didn’t even bother protest; just let him stretch out, socked feet bumping her bare knees, shoulders wiggling as he adjusted into a more comfortable position.  “I know you better than you think. It’s two am and you sound exhausted. And, if I remember correctly, you like your sleep.”

“Who doesn’t like sleep?”

“You like your sleep like a mother bear likes its cubs. Aggressive enough that everyone knows not to get between you and your bed.” 

“You sure do know how to flatter a girl, Seresin.” 

There was a gleam of light that she figured was him rolling his eyes, before something bounced off of her forehead. Zoe plucked a grape out of her bra.

“Did you just chuck a grape at me?”

“No,” he said. Then did it again. 

“Will you—stop!” 

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he simpered, popping a handful of grapes into his mouth to punctuate the point. Zoe might have punched him if she had more energy, but being angry this early in the morning took more effort than was worth the outcome. So, instead, she rolled her eyes at him before eating the grapes she had in hand. Jake watched her for another moment before softly nudging her with his foot. “You can talk about it, if you want. That always helped back during school.” 

It did. 

And, in some ways, it didn’t. 

Especially when she didn’t know who he was right now; didn’t know what sort of shoulder he was offering to be, if it was just a ploy to get into her pants or something more. They definitely weren’t enemies, and ever since he had apologized to her on the beach they had fallen back into old patterns from when they were friends. He would save her a seat at lunch, she would offer him some water after a hot run on the tarmac. There was laughing and jokes like there used to be, but there was also something that there didn’t used to be. 

Side eyeing and gentle touches and, dare she say, almost intimate conversations where he actually seemed interested in what she had to say. But she definitely wouldn’t say that they were more than friends because he was still him and she was still her and Zoe wasn’t about to throw herself back into that situation just yet. 

Not that there was a situation to begin with because Jake was quieter now, stared at her more, frowned a little bit tighter when she joked around with Rooster but he didn’t flirt or make sexual innuendoes or ask her to bed. So there wasn’t exactly anything to think about except the fact itself that she was thinking about him constantly. 

Which left her feeling like her stomach was in her throat. Like she was dive bombing in her jet. Like she wanted to punch him just as much as she wanted to kiss him. 

“You’re gonna get picked, you know,” he said quietly, mistaking her moment of overwhelming thoughts as hesitation. Zoe furrowed her brows at him all the same. He looked at his hands, fiddling with a stem of grapes, before continuing. “For the mission. You and Stitch are shoe-ins. I’d bet that you’re Mav’s first choice for a wingman on this thing.” 

She shook her head, eyes darting to the window where she watched raindrops streak down the pane. “Phoenix and Bob did way better in the timed exercise this week.” 

“He takes two teams.” 

“There’s still Fanboy and Payback. They had a better record than us today.” 

“Maybe,” Jake shrugged. He was wearing nothing but a loose fitting tank top and a pair of gray sweatpants, and if she didn’t know him better, she might have thought that he was the epitome of comfort right now. But his smile was small and his eyebrows were pinched in the middle. “But Payback can’t handle the G’s that it takes to climb the hill. He’s passed out once already. And Fanboy has been struggling with getting a lock on the target.” 

“Hm,” she pulled her sweatshirt tighter around herself. “Maybe.” 

“You will,” he reaffirmed. 

It was nice to hear that he had so much confidence in her; maybe more confidence than she had in herself, and not wanting the moment to be unbalanced, she nudged him with her pink toes. “You’re gonna get picked too.” 

For once in his life, Zoe would have described his smile as bashful. 

“Maybe,” he said. 

She smiled softly at him, liking the way that he was quiet and shy in the dark when there was no one else to see, but also not liking the way it felt so familiar to all those years ago. It had been easy to fall in love with Jake. So easy that she cursed herself for it in the time that followed, wondering why she hadn’t seen the red flag, why she hadn’t caught on, why she had been so stupid. 

But here, now, she realized that she wasn’t stupid. 

Jake Seresin was just someone that was easy to love, even when you knew that you shouldn’t. 

Zoe turned away before she could think about it anymore, roving her gaze to the ceiling where she watched lightning streak across the shadows every couple minutes. Jake didn’t say anything else, either. In fact, he fell so silent and still that she thought he might have actually fallen back asleep. But, when she glanced at him, he was just munching on his grapes with a thoughtful look on his face. 

She pulled a lip between her teeth, chewed on it, then started, “hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you—” 

A clap of thunder shook the entire building to the point that Zoe wondered if the foundation hadn’t splintered in two, and she jolted upright on the couch with a mangled squeal. Luckily, it wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the storm still raging outside, but the opposite end of the couch shook from Jake’s incredulous laughter.

“Jesus,” he wheezed. “What even was that noise?”

“Shut up,” she kicked him.

“No, seriously, is your throat alright? Because I know you’re scared of storms, but I think you might have just permanently damaged a vocal chord or something, Preston.” 

“Oh, shove it,” she chucked a pillow at him. It hit his face with an indelicate thud, but did nothing to wipe the smile off of his features. Huffing, Zoe wrapped her arms around herself and tried to lie back down. Though, her gaze flickered to the window before she could stop herself when another flash of lightning peeled across the stormy sky. “I’m not scared of storms. I just… don’t, you know, enjoy them. No one does.” 

“I don’t mind them.” 

“No one with a brain then,” she harrumphed. 

“I thought you liked the rain.” 

“I do,” she said. Then, momentarily paused to glance at Jake. “How do you know that?”

“Seriously? Anytime it was raining back during training you always get this cute little smile on your face. You would drag me to sit with you outside on the porch so you could listen to it. I even went running with you one day during a fucking monsoon.” 

“It wasn’t a monsoon,” she rolled her eyes. 

“I had a cold for, like, a week.” 

Zoe frowned, considering the memory. “I forgot about that.” 

Really, what she meant was, she was surprised that he had remembered that in the first place. Or the fact that she liked listening to the rain. Their relationship hadn’t ended well, and Zoe had done everything she could in her power to forget about the days they spent talking to one another about nothing, wrapped up in bed, sharing their hopes and dreams with each other. Memories like that were too painful to consider when she lingered on how Jake had broken things off between them as if it were nothing. 

But, if it were nothing, would he still cling to those memories?

Deciding she didn’t want to linger on that particular thought, Zoe nudged him with her toes, amending, “oh, yeah, I do remember. You complained about it for the next month. Something about how you thought you were gonna die.” 

Indignation swept the smile right off his face. “I had a fever, Preston. People die of the flu every year, you know.” 

“Not in April.” 

“My bones were cracking every time I moved,” he popped another grape into his mouth, chewing through it while still arguing, “I was pretty sure there was fluid in my lung. You could have killed me. Maybe that was your plan all along.” 

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have by now,” she huffed. 

“There’s still tomorrow.” 

She almost laughed. At him, at his humor, at how easy it was to fall into an intimate atmosphere when around Jake. But another clap of thunder boomed in the sky, effectively ruining the moment before he might have said something stupid enough to ruin it himself. With wide eyes, she glanced through the window nervously. 

“The storm’s passing, Zoe. It’s gonna be fine.” 

“It doesn’t sound like it’s passing.” 

“The thunder is getting further apart,” he pointed out, all rough voice and tired eyes as he watched her. Still, that did little to quell the queasiness in her chest. She felt his weighted stare for another, long moment. Then, Jake set his empty bowl aside before waving a hand to her with a sigh. “Alright, come on.” 

She glanced away from the window, furrowing her brows at him. “What?”

“You’re practically shaking the entire damn couch.”

“Okay, well, I was here first,” she said, nose in the air, if only to help her ignore the fact that she was shaking as much as he said she was. “But, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna cuddle you. Go bug Payback if you want someone to spoon.” 

“I don’t wanna spoon anyone,” he said. Then added with a look, “and if I did, it definitely wouldn’t be him. Coyote is more my kinda guy. Or Bob, maybe.” 

“Seriously?”

Jake shrugged harmlessly. “What can I say? The kid’s cute. Something about the glasses I think. Maybe the accent too.” 

Zoe thought about how weird that sounded coming from someone like Jake. Someone that screamed masculinity and bro-code when he was strutting down the beach with sun-kissed shoulders because he refused to use sunscreen. Then again, he was an easy going guy who liked to joke around more than anything else. And he actually cared about his friends; despite what he said that might prove the opposite. 

The oddness of his comment distorted with another crack of thunder. 

“Seriously, Preston,” he waved at her. Almost impatiently. Almost because his tone was soft and encouraging, rather than annoyed or bored. His eyes gleamed in the darkness with something she couldn’t quite place, but that she selfishly hoped to remember come morning. “It’s not a big deal. I cuddle my friends all the time. But it is almost three am and we both need to sleep at some point.” 

“You don’t have to wait around for me,” she argued, voice weak at best. “Plus, it’ll be... weird.” 

“It won’t be weird,” he stated with a sigh. There was something vulnerable in his voice, though. Tomorrow, she would wonder if he did it reflexively or if he was trying to cover up something else. “Come on.”

Zoe bit her lip and looked at the storm outside, considering how much she did want to crawl into his arms despite everything. He had always made her feel safe, his arms tight around her, his breath hot on her throat as a reminder that he was real. And with her nerves fried from weeks of training and stress, she considered the possibility that doing so might actually get her to relax. 

Sighing, she relented. “Okay. Just until the storm passes, though.” 

"Just until the storm passes,” he said quietly. 

He smiled a little when she looked at him, but it was tight at the corners. It matched the stress ringing his eyes, the slight furrowing of his brows. An odd thought; she rarely saw Jake stressed about anything, let alone something as trivial as asking a girl to cuddle. 

“Okay,” she said again, this time more to herself as she tried not to linger on the look or the sound of his voice, the couch creaking beneath her as she moved. 

It was a little awkward at first; bumbling. 

Zoe tried to remain as small as possible as she fell into the space between him and the back couch cushion; him trying not to move her too much as he tried to put an arm beneath her shoulders; both of them struggling to remember the last time they had done something as intimate as this. 

“I told you,” she muttered. “Weird.” 

“So weird,” he replied. “It’s like we’ve never seen each other naked before.” 

They blinked at each other. Him almost in disbelief that he had just said that and her stunned that she didn’t really mind the joke all that much. And when Zoe shook her head with a laugh, Jake did too.  Something washed over them in the next moment. Something, not quite familiar, but peaceful. Not quite understood, but wanted. 

Together, their bodies seemed to mold to one another like muscle memory. 

Jake pulled her a little further onto his chest. She settled a knee between his legs while draping her free arm over his torso. His fingers skimmed where her sweatshirt had ridden up, shocks of warmth tingling along her spine from the simple touch. When she hitched her hip into a more comfortable position Jake settled his other hand onto the smooth indent of her leg. And when they were finally comfortable, they let out a deep, long breath in unison. 

Suddenly, the storm didn’t feel so near. 

“See?” he mumbled into her hair. His tone was breathy, and lacking the normal smugness that she had grown to hate over the years. “Better, right?”

There was a crack of thunder. 

Zoe held her breath until she realized that it was, in fact, getting further away, and as Jake pulled her a little tighter against his chest, she nodded. 

“Yeah,” her own tone was breathy. “Better.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence like that. The storm growing further and further away, their eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room, the rain playing a staccato pitter-patter on the window pane. Somewhere behind them the clock ticked away. However, for the first time that night, Zoe didn’t seem to mind. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“Nothing.” 

“Liar,” his chest rumbled underneath her ear. “You have that look on your face.” 

“Look?” she frowned up at him.

Jake said nothing though, gave nothing away about which particular look he was talking about or how he could recognize it in such a poorly lit room. Maybe that was a question she didn’t want answered anyway.

He arched a brow and she relented. 

It never did take much prompting from him. Sometimes, when it came to Jake Seresin, she wondered if there was anything that she wouldn’t give up should he ask. 

“I’m thinking about how I hope it’s still raining in the morning so I can go for a run. Even if the tarmac is wet, I still like to run in the rain,” she told him, only the barest sliver of joking in her voice. She would like to go for a run in the rain. But, seeing as how they still needed to perfect their flight maneuvers, rain was not something that she wanted to deal with slowing her down. That thought alone had the humor leaching from her voice. “And… I’m thinking about the mission.” 

“Are you scared?”

She frowned. Was she?

“No,” she told him after a moment had passed, shaking her head against his shoulder. His breath hitched at the movement, and she forced herself to stop, assuming that her hair was tickling him. Instead, she cleared her throat while toying with the strings on her sweatshirt. “Not for myself, anyways. I guess I’m more worried about everyone else.” 

“It’s going to be okay.” 

“Maybe. Maybe not,” she admitted. Maybe everyone would be totally fine and they could all go out for drinks afterwards. Or maybe something would go wrong that would result in the loss of a teammate. Or maybe everything would go wrong resulting in no one making it home. “Do you think that…” 

He shifted, peering down at her through the darkness. “What?”

“What do you think is gonna happen when the mission is over? I mean, everyone is gonna get new stations; we’ll all get scattered. Probably around the world. Which sucks.”

Jake’s eyes tightened for a moment before his gaze darted to the window. “Rooster will visit you anywhere, you know. He’s made that fairly clear. He never stops talking about you when you’re in a training exercise without him.”   

“I know. But it’s not just him. It’s Phoenix and Bob and Yale and…” 

You. 

The word caught in the back of her throat. Unsaid, unspoken, but somehow still floating in the air between them before she was able to stop it. She felt Jake go stiff beneath her, and suddenly Zoe wanted to disappear into the couch cushions so that she wouldn’t have to face what was coming next. 

The flirty grin or sexual innuendo. The snarky comment. The rude rejection. 

Eyes shut, she didn’t notice the way that Jake’s gaze darted over every inch of her features in shock, or the way that he licked his lips nervously, or the way that his hand tightened ever so slightly on her hip. 

When he finally did speak, he said none of those things.

“You and Phoenix have been friends for years. She’s pretty committed to keeping you around, so she’s not just gonna forget about you. And neither will Bob. He’s a Southern gentleman, afterall. He’s probably been raised to write thank-you letters to every person he meets. Yale is an idiot, but he’s always on his phone. And as for…” Jake paused, licking his lips once more, before settling on, “the rest of us, we’re gonna miss hanging out with you. Miss the way that you get so fucking competitive at darts or sing completely off-key during workouts or obsessively knock your hand three times on the table before leaving for good luck.” 

Zoe frowned. Did she do that? She didn’t even know. 

“I’ll, ahem, we’ll miss you more than you could probably even realize. It’s not gonna be the same without you around. So don’t worry, you know. We’ll keep in touch.” 

“Yeah?” she blinked up at him. 

“Yeah,” he smiled. Toothy, but just a little bit cautious. “Definitely. Plus, everyone comes back to see Penny a couple times a year and she’s not even a pilot. You’re definitely better than her.” 

“Then Penny?” Zoe shook her head with an uncharacteristic giggle. She blamed it on the sleepless nights and the passing storm. “Not so sure about that. She gives you beer.” 

“A close second then.” 

She snorted. Jake winked. 

They didn’t argue it any further. Perhaps the only time in their history that she had let him call her second best without Zoe really minding all that much. 

And as the storm moved off into the distance, the pair found themselves enjoying each other’s company on the stuffy, common room couch more than they ever thought possible. Zoe liked that he was warm; the hothead took the nickname a little too literally, she thought, and seemed to radiate heat no matter what he was wearing. She also liked to listen to the steady beat of his heart. It played a different rhythm than the rain outside. One that was somehow more soothing to her in the darkness. And she liked the way that his hand seemed to subconsciously smooth circles on her leg. 

Maybe, she thought in a lucid state, she just liked Jake. 

Before she could dwell on that thought, he nudged her in the side. 

“Hm?”

“The storms past,” he told her. 

She didn’t see why that mattered all that much. “And?” 

“You can’t fall asleep here,” he whispered. She realized that he was right and pried her eyes open—not having realized she closed them in the first place—to find him looking at her with soft eyes and an even softer smile. “Stitch will dump a bucket of water on you if he finds you in the morning.” 

“He wouldn’t.” 

“Wouldn’t he?”

Ugh. He definitely would. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “I’m coming.” 

“I’ve heard that before,” he laughed. 

Zoe waved him off as Jake sat up. He was careful not to give her an accidental elbow to the face, and while she pawed at her heavy eyes, he put his bowl into the sink. He returned a moment later to pry her hands away from her eyes. She swore his skin was burning rings around her wrists. 

“Don’t make me carry you to your room,” he said, fixing her with a mischievous look. 

She batted his hand away, actually afraid that he might. 

When Zoe stood, Jake was right there; firm chest pressed into hers, head tilted down as hers was tilted up, eyes gentle as they roved over her exhausted features. She had been thankful for the darkness a lot tonight; it hid her blushes and her screams and her worried looks. But right now, as they stood inches apart, Zoe wished it was a little bit brighter inside so that she might catch a glimpse of what he was thinking.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

She licked her lips, poked her cheek with her tongue, and finally decided the best thing to say was the easiest. “Thanks for… being a friend. This helped a lot.” 

Something indiscernible muddled his face. 

“Yeah, of course. Anything for a, uh, you know… friend,” he said, as if it had been the obvious thing to do, but his voice cracked a little at the end, and his eyes were a little too wide for him to blame it on sleep. Noticing, he cleared his throat. “Now seriously, come on, let’s get you to bed before it starts storming again.” 

He made for the door. 

Zoe frowned at the sudden absence of his warmth, not having even noticed how much she had been leaning towards him until he was gone. Her body almost ached at the loss; a reminder that, no matter how many times she promised herself that she was over him, there were some memories that would forever be ingrained into her muscles. 

Then, she thought about what he said. 

Gaze nervously flickering outside, her frown deepened, as she quickly followed. 

“But… it’s not going to, though, right?”

* taglist (thanks for asking!) @luckyladycreator2 @rosiahills22 @the-winter-marvel33  @chaoticassidy  @ashleyzhu0514 @fulla02 @puriini

[hotwings0203]

HOWDY!! how are u doing?? Its that person who asked if you would write something for that deku imagine that @candy-hime wrote, about you and deku forced to live together and you corrupting him it could be you or reader but I just love that concept of corrupted! Deku 😩🙏🏾💕💕

Thank you, have a nice day/night!! 😪💜

OH HI HAHAHA MASSIVE BET, I think I’ll do a little bit of both. This will probably be a little self indulgent but I’ll still put it as an “x reader”!

Tw:noncon, misogyny, the reader is a bitch, vouyerism

It was a dare by your friends to live with Izuku Midorkya for a month if you really could handle any type of man.

You’ve dealt with Hawks’ cocky nature, Shoto’s bland comebacks, Bakugo’s constant state of rage- you’ve done it all. Any type of scummy or tiring man a girl has to date you’ve seen in all of these men. They’re practically walking red flags.

Until you’re forced to room with Deku for a whole freaking month.

You just don’t get him! Why is he always so cheery? What the fuck is he smiling about? And who the hell is he baking for? There’s only two of you in the house, it’s not like you’re his girlfriend or anything.

You don’t buy it. There has to be some kind of catch to all this facade of a gentleman.

“Hey, Y/N?” He knocks on your ajar door and peeks his cute little face in. “Did you have dinner yet? I was gonna eat but then I thought I’d have some ramen with you-“

“Did I say you could enter?” You slowly lift your head up from your laptop and glare at him. “Are you some kind of pervert? What if I was changing?”

“N-no! I’m so sorry, I should’ve let you answer first, I just wanted to see if you were hungry-“

“God, what are you, my dad? Is that what you want? For me to call you Daddy?” Sneering, you jump up from your bed and stall towards the door.

Deku stumbles over his feet to retreat after seeing the look on your face. “No! Not at all, what? Come on, I didn’t mean any harm-“

“Yeah? Then knock before you enter closet perv.” And with that, you slam the door mere inches away from his startled face as hard as you can, uncaring if the low this on the other side of the wood was his connection to it swinging shut.

“What a fucking brown-noser,” you mutter loud enough for him to hear.

It’s odd how long you wait behind the door before you can hear his footsteps retreat.

A week later you decide to amp it up a notch. There’s no way he’s so fucking green, there’s gotta be some twisted thing inside him that makes him tick.

And so on the day of his turn to do laundry, you decide to dump your fanciest and sluttiest undergarments into the laundry basket.

He’s in some dorky apron when you catch him kneeling over the bag, ruffling through clothes and spraying them with detergent like the good little boy he is.

You perch on the couch behind the laundry room and wait. He doesn’t hear a thing with his headphones blasting some stupid happy-go-lucky songs in his ears.

Eventually he pulls out your lace g-string, and stares at the crumpled mass in confusion. He unravels the lace and stares at it for a good minute or two in surprise you think.

But nonetheless, like the chivalrous man he is, he shakes his head and slaps his reddening cheeks to get over the shock before reaching for the spray.

This was your cue.

You make sure to sound out of breath and extra irritated when you flounce over to his kneeling form and snatch the garment out of his hands.

He jumps a bit and takes his headphones off when he sees your hand descending.

“Oh, it’s just you. You scared me for a sec’ there,” he laughs sheepishly and rubs his neck. “I was just doing the laundry, sorry if that looked weird.”

“Looked weird? You’re fucking disgusting, Dick-u. I’ve been looking for these for days now, and where do I find them? In your grubby little hands.”

His jaw drops open.

“Huh? No, you’ve got it all wrong! It was in the basket, I swear! You must have misplaced it by accident or something.”

“Oh, so now you’re calling me a liar? You think I’m crazy or something? Im not the one sniffing girls’ panties!”

He frantically waves his hands to negate your accusation but you merely spit on the floor next to him.

“Don’t touch my shit again you fucking freak. Go buy a pocket pussy or something since you can’t keep it in your pants.”

At this, he pinches his eyebrows together and starts getting up.

“Hold on, what’re you being so aggressive for? I told you, they were just in here, I’m not that kind of guy.”

He steps towards but you don’t back down. Rather, you jab a finger in his toned chest and bring yourself face-to-face with him.

“Dont fucking walk up to me like that you douche. You’re the one in the wrong here, so I wouldn’t be so aggressive, like you said. Come at me like that again and I’ll fuck you up.”

With the lace in hand, you barely contain your smirk as you storm back into your room, relishing in how Izuku stands like a statue in the same place as you left him, his hands curiously curling into fists and his nostrils inflated.

But behind the safety of your door, he doesn’t continue any shenanigans.

He stays relatively quiet and out of sight for a couple of days, and you start to get bored again.

So this time, you put all your cards on the table and do a double whammy.

One night you call Katsuki, a fuck buddy of yours for a while and use him to help you get off.

You’re not really horny, but the blond side does have a way of getting you there. Luckily, your room is right next to Deku’s so your plan is executed to the best extent.

“Katsuki, oh Katsuki, please. Fuck, fuck yeah, ‘wanna hear you cum for me baby, I want you to bruise my cervix,” you babble loudly as you shove two fingers in your pussy and use your thumb to press on your clit.

“Yeah, you fucking whore, you like that? You like knowing that a shitty nerd like him’s prolly getting off to you calling my name like a slut? I bet you do, keep fucking yourself to my voice, do it otherwise I’ll bruise your ass black and blue when this month’s over.”

“Kat-Katsuki please fuck meeee dadddyyyyy oh fuck-Kacchan!” You cry out and cum violently around squelching fingers.

You put the phone down for a moment to catch your breath, but hear nothing from the other room.

Your face falls as Bakugo rambles on the other end. You hang up with him mid-sentence and remove your fingers from your legs, licking it off absentmindedly and thinking of your next move.

The next morning, you don the tiniest pairs of shorts you have in your closet that accentuates the shape of your ass and the skimpiest bra you can find that shows a peek of the top of your nipples.

You tie your hair up and amble out into the kitchen where he already is, reading something on his his phone and sipping form a black mug.

He barely darts his eyes and lifts the corners of his mouth in a hesitant greeting when he sees what you’re wearing.

He chokes on his drink and does a massive double take, juice spilling from his open mouth.

You raise an eyebrow and smooth your baby hairs, rolling your eyes and walking behind him to grab your own cup.

“See something you like?” Water trickling is the only sound in the room apart from your quip.

“Uh, n-no. Just swallowed wrong I guess.”

“Wonder why,” you drawl with a bored voice and edge closer to his back.

He’s hunched over, mindlessly scrolling too-fast on his phone to be deemed as actually reading anything. You recognize this form of coping from people like yourself who try to find distractions at parties where you don’t know people, just flipping through tabs to look like you’re actually doing something.

As you walk around him again, you make sure to train your eyes on his own, hounding he out for the moment he slips.

And slip he does, but only after you pretend to stretch and lift your self on your tippy toes in front of him, your shorts hiking up to show some cheek.

It’s only for a moment, but while the cup is against his mouth and his phone in his hand, his eyes dart to the exposed skin, then back up to your triumphant eyes.

“I knew it.”

He sighs and puts his cup down. “Knew what?”

“That you were a sick little virgin who gets off on staring at girls.”

“Y/N, I wasn’t-“

“I also know,” you raise your voice above his and slowly walk over to the table on the other side across from him, leaning forward and making sure that your tits squish together as you drop them on the countertop, “that last night you were totally listening to me on the phone with Bakugo. I heard your grunts and disgusting fapping noises. You don’t have to make it so obvious that you don’t get any.”

And this time, regardless of his indignation and frustration, he can’t stop himself from watching your hands trail up the sides of your bra and slowly drag the material down, down, down until your perfect breasts spill out and embrace the cold granite.

You honestly have no idea if he jacked off to last night’s call or not, but he doesn’t seem to be denying anything.

His mouth opens the widest you’ve even seen it. His face is beet red, and he visibly starts to perspire.

Your hands mold the soft skin and squeeze until your nipples swell and peek out from between your ruthless fingers, but you still look as bored and slightly curious as ever.

“This is all you’re ever gonna get, you sad incel. Take a good long look at them since I know this is what you’ve been wanting this entire time now.”

His mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out.

When he groans and starts to bring his down down between his legs, you strike.

“I guess I really was right. You’re not some nice guy, it was all a facade. Can’t wait to tell everyone how fucked in the head you are.” His vision starts to clear as you sneer at him again and start packing your tits back where they belong.

As you turn around, you call out over your shoulder, “Oh, and by the way? You whimper like a little bitch.”

It’s silent as you walk with your head held high back to your room, sure that you had broken him and that he was going to take his loss with his own held low.

You don’t really expect to hear the thunderous sounds of someone dragging their chair away and positively sprinting towards you.

You turn halfway and your eyes widen as you see him barreling towards you with the most terrifying expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“What the fu-“

But you don’t get a chance to finish your exclamation, because Deku body slams you onto your bed and immediately seized your wrists above your head. You can feel his hard-on rub against your mound as he straddles your flailing body and keeps you pinned between his muscles calves.

“Get off of me, are you fucking crazy?” You scream and toss your head side to side, trying to arch your back to throw him off of you-which only succeeds in pressing your mound against his.

“You teasing slut. All I’ve done is try to play nice with you, but you just had to fucking push it, didn’t you?” He rages quietly, his arms shaking in effort not to snap your wrists in half. You still as his jaw clenches and trembles, his green hair hanging over his eyes that reflect nothing but malice and hate.

You’re scared. For the first time this entire month with him, you want him away from you and off of you.

“Look, I-I messed up, I know, I’m sorry-“

“-You’re sorry?” He laughs high pitched and you cringe when he thrusts his face towards yours, practically brushing noses and seeing his bloodshot crazed eyes.

“Yeah, you will be sorry. After today, you won’t ever fuck with me again. Or at least want to. I’ll do whatever the hell I want with you though since that’s what you’ve been so hellbent on achieving, right?”

His scarred hands waste no time in yanking down your bra the same way you did before, except much less gentler than you did by yourself.

“No, no, Deku please, I’m really sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You whimper and struggle again beneath him, which is promptly stopped with a loud squeal when he pinches your nipple.

“Shut up. Wanton bitches like you don’t get to beg for mercy.”

He smirks and lets his tongue flop onto your strained neck, slobbering like a dog all over you.

“This is what you wanted right? For me to put you in your place and fuck your needy hole? And you had the audacity to call me disgusting,” he laughs and draws back, mocking your wobbling lips.

“Oh, oh baby don’t cry,” he holds both your wrists in one hand and uses the other to caress your cheek, slapping it hard when you turn away from his touch. “You’re just gonna get what’s coming to you.”

He indicates what he means by grinding his hips against the front of your shorts, snickering as you whimper and dipping his fingers below the hem, teasing you cruelly.

“Whose whimpering like the bitch now, huh?”

[zerolostwalks]

Are you still taking character prompts? if so, Reggie & Julie, "would you play your banjo for me?" in-universe

The quiet sounds of a bass greeted Julie as she approached the studio doors. Admittedly she had been inconsistent about holding the guys to the ‘no amps allowed when your alone’ rule. Only because they usually were pretty good about keeping the volume low. Plus if it was just a lone bass that probably meant it was just Reggie in the studio, and that her dad must not even be home.

Reggie actually sat on the stool as he played for once. Although by the way his unfocused eyes stared at the wall in front of him, Julie wasn’t sure if he even realized he was playing. Julie’s nose scrunched as she settled onto the edge of the couch. “Hey, Reggie.”

“Oh.” Reggie’s head jolted back as his eyes refocused yet he still plucked away at his bass. Julie was moderately impressed by that, or maybe this particular song was just that ingrained in him. He turned his sparkling green eyes and a small smile to her, “hey Julie.”

“What’s this one?” She asked with a tilt of her head towards the bass. 

“Orion by Metallica. Oh! I heard this one coming from the car radio when your dad got home the other day” Reggie jumped off the stool. He had to focus a little more as he plucked out this new tune. “Was hoping you could help me figure out what it is, so I could learn the rest of it.”

“Ummm actually” Julie interrupted and she shrugged into herself a little. Reggie’s fingers stilled as he looked back at Julie. She shouldn’t feel nervous for asking, but somehow she wasn’t sure if she was crossing a line. “I came down here to see if you would play your banjo for me?”

Julie knew that look on Reggie’s face. She saw it every time he couldn’t believe the words that someone had just said. The problem with that look is it only ever conveyed his shock, she could never tell what other emotions lay beneath the surface. He quickly spoke, and it was the most neutral she had ever heard him sound, “play my banjo?”

“We’ll never get that country album made if you refuse to play it in front of anybody.” She teased

“You really want to hear me play?” Reggie’s bright smile could not hide the disbelief that tinged his voice. 

“I mean you did tell me you could shred.” Julie smiled back, and fully leaned into the couch, “I might as well judge for myself after I hear pluck away at it.”

“Pick. You pick a banjo.” Reggie chuckled as his bass was replaced with a banjo. She nodded out apologies as he worked on tuning. “Got any requests?”

Julie hummed, “why don’t you surprise me?”

“All right, let me think.” His eyes were almost dancing with how they sparkled in delight. He started to pick away at the banjo as he thought and ambled around the studio.  Julie marveled at how similar it looked to when he was on his bass. She was sure there had to be different techniques involved but from an uneducated outsider's perspective the ways his fingers moved, the way he held himself, it made sense that he played both.

“I got it!” Reggie bounced back and sat on the table in front of her though he faced the piano more than he faced her. 

“Then let’s hear it, cowboy.” She almost snorted when he winked back at her, she definitely still shook her head.

Reggie’s improvisational picking shifted to carry more of a tune. Then he started to sing, “Almost heaven, West Virginia”

She bit back her gasp. She knew he could sing, she’d heard him plenty of times before. It didn’t change the fact that it was a different experience entirely in this set up. She tried not to think too hard about it and focused on enjoying the moment. She let the music wash over. 

As always he lost himself in the music. His body rocked back and forth and his feet tapped like he fought to stay sitting. When he broke out a small banjo solo halfway through the song, the two exchanged a quick smile and small laugh. He finished with a small bow as she applauded. 

“Wow Reggie” she cheered. He ducked his head, but he quickly returned to smiling at her. “That was really good.”

“Guess you better start working on learning that fiddle” He teased. Then laughed harder when she tried to push him off the table.

_________

Accepting prompts - Character Development Prompt Guide

JATP Fanfic Masterlist

[kaunis-sielu]

October Challenge: 13

Fall Asleep in my Lap

There had been another huge fire last night. Thankfully not one that you started because of the fireworks but since Bucky was out Steve had to go in. Becca had decided to stay at her and Bucky’s so Nat and Clint were there with her so Steve had called in Peter and MJ to come stay with you. You’d told him that he didn’t need to but with the rest of the pack still in the city there was no convincing Steve. You like both Peter and MJ though and when the two bleary-eyed 20 year olds show up at your door you let them in and show them to the guest room.

You sit up on the couch, unable to sleep as usual, when he’s off fighting fires. You’ve got a mug of tea in your hands that you’re not drinking and are staring at the gas fireplace when Peter comes ambling down and sits on the other side of the couch.

“You alright?” He asks and you hum softly not looking at him. “You don’t feel alright.”

“You can feel my emotions?”

“Yea, or I can feel Captain Rogers feeling your emotions. I can’t tell which.”

“I didn’t know it worked like that.”

“I don’t think anyone really knows how it works ma’am.”

“Fawn Peter. Please. Ma’am makes me feel old.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you lapse into silence for a while and soon enough MJ comes wandering out of the bedroom she and Peter are sharing.

“You guys good?”

“Yea babe.” She frowns down at you both before clomping down the stairs.

“You don’t look it.” She says looking over at you and Peter sighs.

“Sorry, she’s got no chill.”

“How dare you. I have so much chill.” She argues flopping down on the couch next to Peter.

“Either of you want tea?”

“That’d be great.” Peter says with a smile.

“You guys can stretch out on the couch if you want. I like the loveseat anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” You assure him before standing and heading into the kitchen. You reheat the water on the stove in your grandma’s old kettle then grab a couple of tea bags, another mug and make your way back into living room where MJ is curled on her side between Peter’s legs and is asleep against his torso. You pass him the cup of tea and he gives you a little smile but doesn’t say anything. You sit back in the loveseat where Cooper hops up to squeeze in next to you.

It’s nearly four hours later, Peter has finished his tea and fallen asleep on the couch. You took a picture of the two sleeping, they’re so cute sound asleep together on the couch. The front door opens and you don’t need to move to know that it’s Steve, unfortunately MJ isn’t quite as perceptive to his scent as you are. She’s wide awake and off the couch in a heartbeat before she sees who has come into the house.

“Oh, Steve. Hey.” She says, Peter groans softly rubbing his stomach from where MJ had launched herself.

“I miss a party?” Steve asks sleepily as he makes his way to you. You wrap your arms tightly around him tipping your head back for a kiss which he gives you.

“Fawn couldn’t sleep and her stress was making me stress and my stress was making MJ stress.”

“Influencing people again Honey?” Steve asks looking amused.

“I didn’t do it on purpose. Besides you could be at fault here too. Your Imprinting thing with Peter could’ve amped up his stress levels too. We don’t know.”

“Oh, because I can feel your emotions and he can kinda feel mine?”

“Yea.”

“That’s a good point.” Steve says before kissing the top of your head again. He rests his cheek on the side of your head and takes a deep breath, relaxing against you as he does.

“Hey MJ?” You say softly from where you’re tucked against Steve.

“Hmm?” She hums,

“Why don’t you and Peter head home? Get some sleep.”

“Yea, okay.” You wait until the two are gone before pressing against Steve’s torso.

“Alpha?”

“We lost three people Omega. I couldn’t get to them.” He sounds so broken that it nearly breaks your heart.

“Oh Steve. I’m so sorry.” You tell him rubbing his side, “Alpha, let me take care of you. Please.” You tell him softly and he lets you go. You take his hand and bring him up to your master bath where you turn on the shower and strip him before ushering him into the shower. You go to leave, to make him something to eat and some hot chocolate when he rumbles,

“Omega.”

“I’m going to get you some food and the hot chocolate you like.”

“Need you.”

“More than-“

“Yes.” You given him a soft little smile then strip and get into the shower with him. He holds you tightly as you use the eucalyptus soap on his shoulders, back and arms. Anywhere you can reach without moving from his grasp. You wash his hair too, getting some shampoo on your cheek in the process.

“A couple more minutes okay Alpha?”

“It was an Omega and two kids.” He mutters into your neck, “She was protecting their kids. They had to sedate her Alpha.”

“Oh. Oh Steve. Oh Alpha. I’m so sorry.” You coo stroking the back of his head as he clings to you. You stand under the hot water for a couple more minutes, before you turn off the water and grab Steve’s towel. You throw it over his shoulders then down his back to dry him off. He steps away from you, pressing a kiss to your lips, his hands cupping your face. You grab your towel and then lead Steve out of the bathroom. You take out his grey sweatpants, a pair of underwear and a white tee shirt and lay them on the bed for him. You tug on a pair of underwear, then some leggings and a sports bra and one of Steve’s shirts then kiss his cheek.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready okay? I’m going to make you something to eat and some hot chocolate and then we can spend the day on the couch with Cooper.”

“Kay. I love you Omega.”

“I love you too Alpha.” You tell him kissing the top of his head as he sits on the bed.

You make three sandwiches, two for Steve and one for you and then add some pasta salad to the plates. You put the water on again and when the kettle whistles you pull down the powder mixture with the peppermint in it and add it to a mug. You go to check on Steve when you find him sitting with Cooper in the living room, he’s just sitting there quietly petting Cooper.

“Here Alpha.” You tell him giving him the plate of food then you put his hot chocolate on the coffee table and you join him on the couch. You eat silently then when you’re finished you ease Steve’s head into your lap, he goes willingly, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist and you run your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere Alpha.” You focus on soothing him like he’s done for you before. Soon enough you hear him snore softly, his body finally relaxed but you don’t stop gently stroking his hair and his back. Your poor, poor Alpha.