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My sixteenth photo featuring Prince Gladion✨
(FINALLY GOT HIS SUPER FAN TITLE 🗣️🗣️)
#gladion#pokemon sun and moon#pokemon ultra sun and moon#pokemon masters#my screen recording#also just got Hop’s Super Fan title yesterday but gotta hafta say Gladion > everyone else#next I’m prioritising Hugh & Blue#altho I don’t always focus on them and prioritise trainers with reward/strength bonuses in various events#as for scouting current banners#part of me wants to get Hop & Lillie to complete my collections of them#but SCs are also running and I only have Hilda & Lillie so far#the struggles of a f2p 😔
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do i want to do this to myself
#i already have 5*s for both eichi and sora but sora's card is so beautiful..................#i have the dia but................#and im still mentally drilling holes into the current scout banners.#ill probably end up pulling but i don't even know for Who#probably nazuna but .#like i think i have the dia for everything but the mental effort that all those events r going to take .#need to look at card attributes and meditate#mar's midnight rambles
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DENIAL | JJK (Part 1)
➵ summary; it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's mad.
➵ pairing ; idol!jk x (f)actress!reader
➵ word count ; 5.3k
➵ rating ; 18+ minors dni
➵ content ; jealous (& possessive 🫣) asffff kook, mutual no strings agreement / fwb au, older (just a lil) reader, taehyung sister reader, secret-ish situashionship, smut/fluff-ish/angst-ish, this is FILTHYY i even shocked myself.
➵ warnings ; teasing, swearing, kissing, fingering, spitting, nipple play, dom!jk, oral sex (f rec.), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it UP. don't be silly), sexy stuff starts a lil later on in the story so basically pwp.
➵ a/n ; while i'm working on the next chap of my fic i come bearing a gift! this is a oneshot but if y'all enjoy it i have a bunch of ideas for this pairing i could work on and maybe make an additional part! thanks sm for reading, hope u enjoy <3 also this is my first time writing smut, so any feedback is insanely appreciated and encouraged! mwah
masterlist | denial pt2 | join my taglist | banner credit
Jungkook's room was quiet, the only noise being his soft humming as his thumb dragged down the expanse of his phone screen, scrolling mindlessly through his private Instagram feed. He's already passed a few of his bandmates' photo dumps, leaving a like on a few and a teasing, sarcastic comment on the others. But, then, smirking at his remarks that he finds absolutely priceless, his thumb grinds to a halt as he comes across your latest post.
There you are, in all of your glory. You're posing prettily with an overfilled cup of ice cream from a popular parlour in Seoul Central. A spoon rests against your lips; eyes closed gingerly for the snap. The side of Jungkook's mouth pulls upwards before he can stop it, a soft, dazed smile coating his lips as he stares at you for longer than he'd like to admit. However, the daze ends as abruptly as it began when his focus shifts to the person seated on your left. He recognizes the guy sitting next to you as the leading male in your latest drama, Jae something.
A hot, uncomfortable feeling bubbles in the pit of Jungkook's stomach as he stares at the classically attractive male in your photo. The feeling intensifies tenfold when he notices the spoon clasped in Jae something's hand, and his eyes search every pixel on his phone screen, begging to find this dirtbag's own cup of ice cream. Finally, he scoffs after scouting every inch of your photo for the third time. So you're really sharing a cup of ice cream with this guy? And it's not even for work. And you posted a picture of it on your Instagram. Your public Instagram.
Jealousy claws at Jungkook's throat with vigour, and he has to lock his phone and put it next to him on his bed before he stands up and hurls it at the wall. Of course, he knows he shouldn't and has no right to be jealous. But he can't help it. He can't control his actions and feelings when it comes to you. He's been infatuated since day one, and though you both have the mutual no-strings agreement as your blooming careers don't allow you the time or freedom to commit to something like that right now, he can't help but feel fucking sick looking at the photo of you and someone else.
The stadium is boisterous; fans hastily rush to get to their seats in the various sections surrounding the stage as if the concert would start without them. You were currently on your way backstage to visit your brother before the show began. After five minutes of weaving around equipment and dodging the stressed crew rushing around doing last-minute preparations, you finally arrived at your destination.
Knocking thrice on the dressing room door, a muffled "Come in!" has you twisting the handle and walking through the threshold with a cheesy grin. The seven men—six of which you've become good friends with since your brother introduced you—come into view as you enter the room, each of them beaming a mixture of greetings.
"Happy first show!" You exclaim as you walk towards your brother with a bouquet of mixed flowers. Taehyung takes the gift from you with a smile before placing a kiss on your forehead as thanks.
Jungkook's eyes haven't left you since you stepped foot in their dressing room. He swallows harshly, hoping to rehydrate his mouth as all his saliva has apparently decided to dissipate. Jungkook takes in your outfit, the short Chanel dress hugging the curves of your body and showcasing your smooth, slender legs. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he suppresses his smirk when he sees the long-sleeved white undertop you're wearing. Images of you withering beneath him as he marked the top of your breasts a few nights ago flash through his mind, and he has to blink a few times in an attempt to return back to Earth.
Your gaze meets Jungkook's for a split second, watching him drink in your figure before you look back at the rest of the guys with a smile. Then, stepping back to your original position after breaking from the hug with your brother, your arms motion towards the man that you dragged in with you. "This is my friend, Jae Lee."
That's enough to crash Jungkook back down to Earth as his focus shifts to the tall brunette on your right. Jae Lee offers a quick bow with a smile as the rest of BTS chorus a polite greeting in return. "Nice to meet you guys; I'm a big fan." His voice is deep and rugged, just like it is in the drama he starred in with you. The drama that Jungkook binged in one sitting on release day, but he wouldn't tell you that.
"Likewise," Tae returns with a nod and his signature toothy grin before setting the flowers on the tabletop by one of the mirrors, "we're on in ten—do you know where your seats are?"
You nod at your younger brother's question, patting the pocket of Jae's faded jeans, "Jae's got our passes; we'll go there now and let you guys finish getting ready."
Jungkook is fucking fuming at this point as he watches the interaction, tongue pushing against his lower teeth to stop himself from spewing something that would embarrass the both of you.
You bid them one final good luck before spinning on your heel and exiting the room, a cloud of your sweet perfume trains behind you in your departure, invading Jungkook's senses and rendering him dazed as Jae follows you closely, shutting the door gently behind him.
"God, you guys were insane." You arrived back at your brother's apartment (that he shared with Jungkook) a few minutes ago, the three of you piling through the door as you beelined straight for the couch. "Hoseok has the stamina of a horse, I swear. I'm always shocked whenever I watch you guys perform."
Taehyung laughs from behind you as he shrugs off his jacket before jumping over the back of the couch and landing next to you with a huff. His best friend opts for a different route after ridding himself of his coat, walking into the kitchen to grab a drink of water and hopefully clear his head a bit.
It's bad enough that he had a foggy grey cloud glooming in the back of his mind during the concert, but then he had to sit in an enclosed vehicle with you and your brother on the way home because Tae wanted to spend more time with you. Of course, Jungkook doesn't blame his friend; you have a week off before your next shoot, and you're headed to Gwacheon in a couple of days to get settled in. Usually, you and Jungkook would be utilizing this time off in a very different way, but unbeknownst to you, Jungkook is not in the mood right now. And he's always in the mood.
The bottle of water is downed in seconds, and the crunch of the now-empty plastic bottle in his hand pulls him out of his thoughts. Stepping on the pedal of the garbage can, he disposes of the rubbish and listens to the sound of soft padded footsteps entering the kitchen.
"You needa put that in the recycling bin."
Your teasing is gentle as you approach the ink-covered man, brushing past him lightly as you lean against the island opposite him. His lips pull into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and your eyebrows furrow, leg lifting slightly to nudge him with your sock-covered foot.
"What's wrong, grumpy?" You poke, watching as he shakes his head before pushing off the counter and heading out of the kitchen. Your hand reaches out for him a liiiitle too quickly before he can slink away, "Kook? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, ____. I'm good. Exhausted from the show, that's all." He removes his hand gently from your grasp before continuing his departure and leaving you in the kitchen by yourself. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you head back to the living room, not surprised when your brother is the only one there.
"I'm going to go and pick up the pizza; they shut in 20, and delivery's off for the night," Taehyung informs you as he chucks his jacket back on, "Kook's headed to bed, so we'll just save him some."
You nod at him before falling back onto the couch and reaching for the TV remote. "Drive safe," you call, and he assures you he will, the sound of the apartment door shutting behind him echoing in your ears. That's all you need to hear before you carelessly throw the remote aside and scramble off the couch towards a certain grumpy cat's bedroom.
"Koo?" Your tone is soft, one hand on the door handle of his room, the other rapping gently at the wood.
His low hum from the other side reaches your ears, and you twist the handle, stepping inside quietly before closing the door and leaning against it. You're not entirely sure how to approach this situation. Most of your interactions with the gorgeous man sitting at the edge of his bed with a somber look have had quite a different vibe. Extremely fucking different.
"Tae's gone to pick up dinner, " you try, "I'd say like twenty minutes or so."
He sighs and nods at your obvious hinting, lifting his gaze from the ground and watching as you saunter towards him. The little black dress he first saw earlier today still has him rattled, and your scent getting more robust with each step you take enhances his stupor. You lift one of your legs over his thigh when you reach him, the bottom of your dress riding up as you settle in his lap.
Shoving his dreary subconscious to the side, Jungkook leans forward into you before burying his face into your clothed stomach and inhaling as deeply as he can. Your stupifying, sweet, familiar scent invades his nostrils, and he knows he can always count on that to distract himself. You run your hands through his hair with a mewl as his head rises at an achingly slow pace before it's level with yours.
His eyes are hooded as he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his own, and you drink in the soft moan that escapes him when your fingers clutch his hair tighter in your grasp. His mouth is sinful, his tongue delving deeper into your mouth to connect with your own. Instead of your usual teasing fight for dominance, you let Jungkook take control of the kiss, hoping it will soothe the unease you've noticed in his demeanour as of late.
His hands are gliding over your hips, fingers squeezing at the meat of your middle, and you can't help but purr at the feeling, almost as if he's trying to grab as much of your body in his hands as he can. Suddenly the reminder that your brother would be home at any moment returned to your mind, and you reluctantly broke the connection. Climbing off his lap, your feet shakily meet the floor, and your hands reach for the hem of your dress, ready to slip it over your head before you notice the look on his face. He's fighting another internal battle, and it makes you release the fabric in your hands, your dress falling back into place.
"Please tell me what's wrong, Kookie." You mumble, standing in front of him with your hands slumped to your side in defeat. He blows out a quiet breath, shaking his head for what feels like the fifth time tonight before he reaches out for you. Finally, you give in with a deflated sigh, letting him pull you close towards him before he continues your previous actions and clutches the hem of your dress. Dragging the fabric up slowly, he lets it ride just above your stomach before he uses one hand to slip your panties down your legs.
Your eyes flutter shut as the finger hooked into the waistband of your underwear drags across your inner thigh on its journey downwards, his other hand still full of your dress, the thumb on said hand rubbing soft circles against your skin. "Are you together?"
Your eyes snap open at his question, still in a hazy fog from his touches but coherent enough to make out the undertone of his question. His hand doesn't falter in the slightest, your panties hitting the ground with a soft thud, and he drags his hand back up the underside of your thigh when they fall. "No."
So you knew who he was talking about, he thought. "Hm," is all he mutters, the hand on your hamstring bending you at the knee and pulling you abruptly onto his lap. You swallow a yelp as he guides you back over him, unable to help the motion of your hips grinding down when you feel him through his sweatpants.
The feeling that brews inside you when your now bare heat brushes against the fabric of his pants is euphoric, the small wet patch you leave behind being first-hand proof. "10 minutes," you remind in a whisper, leaning forward to attach your lips again, needing additional contact with him more than your next breath.
Jungkook ends the kiss quickly, and it has you pouting when he pulls away. He reaches between you, shoving his sweats and underwear down in one motion, his erection jutting out on demand and hitting his stomach once free. He leans back a little but doesn't allow himself to lie down entirely, and you usher him backwards before his grip on your waist tightens, and you stop your action. You look at him in confusion, his intoxicating chocolate brown eyes lifting from where you're seated to meet your gaze. "Sit on it."
Your breath catches in your throat at his demand, but you follow it nonetheless, his readjustment allowing you to plant your knees on the bed and lean forward slightly. You look down for a split second to grasp at his hardened length resting against his stomach and guide it to where you need it most. You look up before letting it enter you, your eyes flickering over his face and realizing he's already staring at you. He doesn't say anything verbally, but his features give everything away without the need to.
Jungkook leans forward, his hands sliding around your stomach before they reach your back. The flats of his palms cover almost the entirety of your back as his head falls into the crook of your neck. He places a single restrained kiss on your sweet spot, his lips finding it easily as they've visited the area hundreds of times. "Baby," he mutters into your neck, "sit."
And you do.
You finish lining up the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole before letting go and fully sinking onto him. The mangled breath that he chokes into the crook of your neck paints a devilish smirk on your lips, waiting until you feel his entire length submerge into you before lifting up and slamming back down, harder.
His breathing is heavy as his hands slide down your back before resting on your ass and grabbing a gluttonous handful when you rise. A strangled moan escapes your lips as he squeezes, spreading your cheeks and listening to the elicit sound of your walls sucking him in. You throw your head back in ecstasy, your clit throbbing every time it comes in contact with his balls, the feeling igniting a fire in your belly, arousal coursing through every cell in your body.
"Fucking. Hell," Jungkook curses; his eyes are slits as he glances down at his lap, watching your centre swallow him whole and mercilessly. He lifts one of his hands to his mouth, tongue swirling around his thumb before it presses against your clit, rubbing against it expertly and causing you to spew another strangled moan. "That's it, baby," his tone is low and filthy, and your hands grab onto his shoulders to balance yourself as the pleasure is getting too much.
His torture on your clit doesn't stop, not even when your hips stutter momentarily, the abuse to your cunt pulling at the rubber band holding you together harder and harder with each passing moment. "Stop playing with my clit," you cry, "or I'll fucking cum."
You almost regret opening your mouth because his hand pulls back instantly, and a soft whine leaves you at the loss of contact. You don't think twice before lifting your hips again, about to resume your action of riding him, when all of a sudden, he lifts you slightly, flipping you around until your back hits the mattress. "Wha—" your excuse of a question is cut off abruptly when he kneels down and drags you closer to the edge of the bed, mouth attaching to your clit with vigour.
"Fuck. Fuck." Is all you can mutter, your hands automatically going to his head, fingers threading through his hair and tugging when his tongue hits that part of your cunt that blurs your vision. Jungkook is lost in it, his tongue wrapping around your clit, relishing in the moans spilling from you. Lifting his head slightly, he gathers the saliva in his mouth before he spits on your pussy and dives back in. "What the fuck," you scream as he devours you like he's on death row and your cunt is his last meal, "Gguk—"
"I know, baby," he nods after pulling away for a split second, "just let go." He punctuates his words by sliding a finger, and then two, into your hole, and that's the knot in the fucking noose. His fingers are relentless, pushing all the way into you until they reach that spongey part before sliding out and repeating the same torturous routine. He knows you're close; he knows everything about you at this point. He's proven right when he feels your walls clench around his fingers and shoves his face deeper into your heat in response. His nose is buried in your cunt, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit feverishly, and you lose it. Your moans are silent, your throat not having the power to produce noise anymore as your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Baby," you manage, "I'm fucking cumming."
Jungkook moans into your pussy; its vibration is the tipping point as your vision blurs, flashing white as your orgasm washes over you. Your knees shake, closing around his head as he doesn't relent, your body convulsing and grinding into his mouth as he works you through your orgasm.
Your head is slumped against the pillow as you crash back down to Earth, Jungkook eventually pulling away from your core as you shudder, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh as he detaches from you. Pulling himself up, he makes his way onto the bed, lowering his strong body over you. He's hungry on his journey upwards, lips dragging against every inch of your skin, his tongue dipping out to wet them when the skin of your leg absorbs their moisture. He explores your stomach, his bunny teeth grazing against your belly button as he gets higher. It looks like he's where he wants to be when he's levelled with your chest. He pulls at the dress that you're honestly still surprised that he's left on you for this long before he lifts it over your head, chucking it to the side without another thought. A grunt leaves his lips when the white long-sleeve you had on under your dress is still there, and he rids it the same, just with more furrowed brows.
A giggle leaves your lips at his frustration before it's replaced with a content sigh as he latches onto your left nipple. Your hand runs through his dishevelled hair; lip caught between your teeth as his tongue wraps around the bud, his teeth grazing at it softly. "T-Taehyung will be back soon," you warn through a moan, "need you inside of me."
A string of spittle drags from your nipple and his mouth as he pulls back, his head tilting slightly as his gaze catches yours. "Still needy," he hums, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before lifting his hips and grabbing hold of his hardened length. He drags it between your wet folds, the sound of your slickened cunt music to his ears. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, still sensitive from your orgasm, but the need to feel him inside you outweighs the overstimulation.
"Beg for it." He says simply, the length of his shaft still firmly in his hand as he drags it through your sticky folds. Your eyes snap open, eyebrows ruffled in astonishment as you stare at the cocky piece of shift above you.
"Jun—" you start, "beg for it." He finishes, his focus lifting from where you're almost conjoined to your face. His face is hard, and you know better than to fight him on this. Your breaths come out shortly; his tone should not be turning you on this much.
"Please." You mewl, your chest heaving once as he presses his cock deeper into folds, not quite yet at the hole you need him to fill. "Please, Jungkook. Fuck me. Fuck me. Ruin me." You spit, losing all sense of self-worth as the heaviness of his lower body against you turns you into a pathetic mess.
His smirk is taunting. It's the last thing you see before your eyes roll back to the back of your head, a disgustingly loud moan booming from your throat as he thrusts into you with one motion. A strangled gasp blows from your lips as he pulls out before slamming back into you twice as hard. Sweat is gathering at the base of his brows, a moan of his own chorusing with yours as he slams his cock deeper with each thrust. You're at a loss for words as the pleasure intensifies, the coil in your stomach bubbling ferociously for the second time tonight. "Does he fuck you this good?" He can't stop himself, the words spluttering from his lips before he has a chance to stop them.
He's leaning a little further back now, his hand pressing against your belly slightly, feeling the motion of his cock sliding into you through your fucking skin. How he expects you to respond right now is beyond you, the only noise you can possibly muster being a high-pitched screech as his pace increases. "Huh?" He spits, spreading your legs wider, lowering slightly to delve his cock deeper into your cunt.
"No." It comes out as a mixture of a gasp and a moan, "Nobody fucks me like you do." A stupid wave of relief rushes over him as he hears you speak, the sound of your squelching walls suctioning him in parading through the room. Your assurance ignites something inside him, and you're surprised you can keep your eyes open long enough to see the transformation. He secures one of your legs around his waist, his hand holding your other open as he plants one of his knees firmly on the bed. He stares at your pussy in awe, watching your clit glisten with slickness before spitting harshly at it; his thumb reaching down to spread it over you. A choked sob leaves your lips at the action before an even louder scream cuts it off; you don't even recognize your own voice.
Jungkook is ravenous. His hips are pulling back at record speed, every inch of his cock sliding out of you until just the tip remains before slamming back inside brutally. "Oh my fucking god, Jungkook!" You screech as he hits that spot deep inside you on every thrust like he's been training for this his whole life.
"You fucking love it, don't you? This what you wanted?" He spits as his cock splits you in two, "You know I hate seeing people touch what's mine. Knew I'd fucking lose it."
"He never touched me. Wouldn't let him." You choke, your back lifting slightly as you feel him push in just that much deeper at your words, "I'm fucking yours, idiot."
Jungkook's hips stutter as your words catch him off guard, cracking his cocky persona for a millisecond before he recovers and grips the meat of your thighs even harder and drills back into you. You're fucking dripping at this point, and Jungkook groans at the feeling. His cock drags the juices out of your hole, and he watches as it slides down your ass, filthily pooling at the sheets beneath you.
You can't do anything but reach your hands out, and he understands immediately, releasing the hold on your legs before leaning down and falling into your arms. Your hands are on the back of his neck as you pull him closer, needing to feel his full weight on top of you in hopes of it taking some of the pressure off your abused cunt. He doesn't stop, even when his face falls to the side of your neck, plastering soft, wet kisses to your skin and pulling a soft moan from you.
Tears are welling in your eyes as he continues snapping his hips into you; the new position you're in means he's permanently in contact with your clit, and it's brutal. The room begins to spin as the familiar feeling coils in your stomach harder than you think it ever has. "I'm so fucking close," he heaves into your neck, and all you can respond with is a nod, the tears that pool at your waterline threatening to spill.
Your hands fall from his hair to his back, fingernails digging into his smooth skin as you try to cling to the last string of coherence you have, "cum in me, Gguk. Fill me up. Fill me." You moan, fingernails dragging down his back just how he likes it, and that's his fucking end. A low growl leaves his lips, goosebumps flooding your arms at the noise.
"Fuck." He curses loudly, hips pulling back in one final shaky thrust before he pushes all the way, your walls clenching tightly around him as he convulses, his release spilling from him and painting the walls of your cunt. He moans tenderly as you milk his cock, trying to pull every last drop of his orgasm from him.
Ten seconds or so pass while you both catch your breath, and you smile giddily beneath him; his heavy body feels comforting on top of you, like your own weighted blanket. You're ready to roll off the bed once he recovers, your hand drawing lazy circles across the expanse of his back before you hear him let out a deep, heaved breath. Lifting his hips back up, he ruts gently, resuming his movement inside of you. Your eyebrows furrow in shock, ignoring the burning feeling that immediately resurfaces as he shifts, "No, Jungkook, you don't have to—" He cuts you off with a kiss, hand reaching up to caress your cheek in a much softer manner than the majority of your night.
"When have I ever not let you cum?" He muses after breaking the kiss, his thumb slipping from the edge of your jaw to press against your lips. Your heart is beating at the fucking sweetheart above you, your lips parting slightly to take in the finger of his inked, calloused hand into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, gathering as much spit onto it as you can, just as he taught you, before using your tongue to push it out of your mouth. He smirks at the action, shaking his head as a train of saliva runs from his hand to your mouth. "Fucking filthy," Jungkook hums, his hand falling between you and connecting to your clit before the spit falls off his thumb.
Not that he needed the extra moisture, because you are fucking soaked, he flicks at your nub gently, satisfied as you shudder slightly at the contact. His overstimulated cock pulses inside you, the heat of your pussy making him release a strained breath before he pulls back out and begins to fuck you again. You can't even be shocked at his stamina at this point, many nights before having proven that he is fucking insatiable, pulling four of five orgasms out of you before turning in.
It doesn't take long before you're teetering on the edge of bliss again; the crude sounds of Jungkook's cum inside you, squelching around his cock as he slides in and out of you, are fucking erotic, arousing you even further. "Listen to thattttt," he groans at the noise, his overstimulation long forgotten as he gets lost in you again.
"Oh," you cry at his nasty words, "my shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!" You can't even form a sensible sentence, the pleasure becoming too much. Your back lifts off the bed slightly as Jungkook's hand follows your cunt when it tries to cower away. "God! Please!" You wail as his hand slips, the juices coming out of you causing his hand to slide around messily. He chuckles at the absolutely filthy sight; it's the best thing he's ever fucking seen.
"Good fucking girl. My gooood. Fucking. Girl." He praises as you grip his bedsheets in anguish, your body shaking, breath stuck in your throat as your head lifts toward the ceiling. Your mouth drops open as the band breaks, the tears that were sitting idle beneath your lashes finally spilling out, a loud sob spewing through your lips as you cum. Your orgasm is intense, ears ringing as Jungkook drags it out as much as he possibly can before you're shrivelling away, falling back into his mattress in exhaustion.
You groan lowly as Jungkook slowly pulls himself out of you, grabbing the shirt he discarded halfway through your activity off the floor and using it to capture the liquid that drools out of you. You giggle at the sight, swatting him with your foot as he wipes, "That's disgusting," you cry at his use of a dirty t-shirt to clean you up.
"It's clean! I chucked it on just before you came in," he assures with a smirk, continuing his action and ignoring the eye-roll you throw him. Then, suddenly, your eyes widen, and you all but scramble off his bed, diving for your clothes on the ground before shoving them over your head. He laughs softly at your haste before pulling his own sweatpants back on, minus the underwear. He's about to head to the shower, an invitation to you dangling on the tip of his tongue as he watches you fix your hair and makeup in his mirror. He watches in amusement as you manage to tame your hair but fail to fix the smudged eyeliner at the root of your waterline, giving up with a huff and looking over to him with a teasing glare, "This is your fault."
His shoulders rise slightly, and his mouth is pulled into a faux pout when you deliver a soft smack to his arm, making your way to his bedroom door. He turns to finally head into his ensuite and shower before your strangled gasp meets his ears. He spins around quickly, confusion coating his features before his eyes trail to what you're fixated on.
Taehyung is sitting on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, AirPods in his ears as he munches on a slice of pizza. Your brother looks up when he feels your presence and nods in greeting. Then, fishing one of the earbuds from his ear, he waves the piece of the pie in his hand toward you. You're frozen in your spot, every word in your vocabulary flying out of your head as you're rendered speechless. Your brother pauses the show on his phone before swallowing his mouthful, "Pizza's here."
part two out now💗: click here
#📁DENIAL.docx#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook fluff#jungkook imagine#jungkook x oc#jungkook x you#bangtan#jungkook fanfic#bangtan sonyeondan#bts smut#bts fluff#jungkook bts#bts jungkook#smut
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A Little Fresh Air
Title: A Little Fresh Air
Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI
Pairing: Walter Marshall x Female!Reader
Word Count: 1.3K
Prompts: Walter Marshall + Female Reader + Public sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut, requested by @enchantedbytomandhenry
Summary: Walter fulfills your fantasy.
Warnings: mentioned oral sex (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), public sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids
A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.
Dividers by me
Support/Reblog banner by me
Cover Art by me
Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist
My Masterlist
When you woke up this morning, you did not think you would be in your current predicament. Your knees are scuffed from kneeling on the rough ground, your hair has a few stray leaves entangled within, and your arms and hands are rubbed raw from holding onto the oak tree for dear life. His grip around your hips is almost too tight, but you don’t dare tell him for fear that he will let up on you. You are enjoying this animalistic act far too much to risk changing it in any way, let alone having it end.
Walter has you up against a tree in the woods, far from any prying eyes, fucking into you from behind. All because you had casually mentioned that you had never had sex outdoors. The man’s urge to satisfy all of your fantasies and curiosities is never-ending. He said nothing more other than instructing you to get in the truck. Within twenty minutes, he leads you through a thick brush to a hidden spot he scouted earlier.
He has already had you on your back, making sure to make you cum multiple times on his tongue before he pulled you into his lap to ride him. In the lotus position, he makes out with you while you slowly rock in his lap. The position, mixed with his tongue in your mouth, has your spirit dancing.
With every orgasm he pulls from you, you grow less and less aware of the fear of getting caught. You look over your shoulder and make eye contact with Walter while you squeeze your walls around him. He fucking growls at you, pushing your skirt up even more so he can slap your ass. The sharp sting only drives you harder to push back into him, so he goes even deeper inside you.
“I’ll finish when I finish, darling,” he grunts.
“I’m so close. Want you to come with me,” you breathe.
“Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” He tangles a hand in your hair, maneuvering you to kneel and stare up at him while he towers over you. His slick-soaked cock bobs in front of your face, and you look at it hungrily. “Why don’t you take all that energy and suck your cum off my cock?”
You waste no time in getting to the assignment. Swirling your tongue around his leaking tip, you savor the taste of yourself before swallowing him down in one swift motion. You relish when he gasps as you take him into your throat, closing your eyes. You keep your hands to yourself, half thinking that Walter would just push your hands away and say that he didn’t permit you to touch.
His groans as you slide him in and out of your mouth tickle your ears, and you pull back until just the tip is in your mouth. You look up at him, letting his cock slip from your mouth so you could lick the underside of his shaft. You glide your lips along the large vein until you rub your nose into his sac. One by one, you take his balls into your mouth and suck on them while he jerks himself.
“Unless you plan on wearing my cum all over that beautiful face of yours, I suggest you get that pussy back up here so I can fuck it,” he warns, his voice soft yet firm.
You smile thinking of your fellatio skills, almost making him blow his load from just your mouth. But then again, he was always into blowjobs from you. The way he moaned for you, how he held your hair back, and when he praised you for swallowing it all like a good girl. You know you’re good at it, but the fact that you love doing it makes it fun for the both of you.
You resume your position, standing with your upper torso against the tree and your ass poked out. Walter is crowding in behind you, landing a few well-placed slaps. He nips at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder while he reinserts himself. Once he bottoms out, he growls in your ear.
With his hands on your hips, he picks up where he left off by thrusting into your wet heat. You don’t know how long you’ve been in the woods, but you realize dusk has replaced the golden hour and more blue hues fill the sky than orange. The slight breeze that twilight brings is comfortable, tickling your skin and causing gooseflesh.
Walter has you moaning his name soon enough, his hips slamming into yours echoing in the distance. He hits a rather sensitive spot inside you and revels in the way you keen when his hand moves to play with your ignored clit. His chuckle in your ear sent shivers down your spine.
“Look at you, trying your hardest to hold on to that tiny sliver of hope that would let you maintain any semblance of control. You’re not in control, darling,” he sighs, picking up the pace on your button. “Now, come for me. Just let go; I’ll be right here to catch you.”
That fucker.
He knows exactly how to talk you into coming all over him and yourself. Your thighs clamp together, trapping his hand and his cock inside you. While your walls flutter around his shaft, he pushes through what insane sensations he feels and fucks you through your orgasm. Talking you through it with cooing words until he can barely form words, let alone sentences.
Your juices cover your inner thighs as his hips stutter, expletives leaving his mouth amongst gasps of air. He coats your insides with his thick seed, still moving inside you until his softening length slips from your folds. You both hiss; you, from the sudden emptiness, and him, from the cold air hitting his sensitive, wet bulge.
Stuffing himself back into his pants, Walter catches his breath. You do the same while you adjust your skirt and then remember your panties are in his pocket. He pulls them out and hands them over when you ask nicely for them, but he just had to hold them out of your reach for a bit to watch you get riled up and huffy. You think about getting angry, but he did just fulfill a fantasy that you’ve had for quite some time. Instead, you just put them back on and stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek.
“You’re welcome,” he says, stealing a kiss from your lips before grabbing your hand and pulling you in the direction of his truck. “As fun as this was, I think we both need a shower.”
“Agreed, I bet I smell like a woodland creature now,” you laugh, pulling out a leaf from your hair.
“A cute woodland creature though. Like a bear cub or something?” He chuckles when you swat at him.
“I guess it would make sense; you’re my big bear. I’m your little bear now, then,” you joke, not expecting his reaction.
His eyes soften, his smile widening more than you’ve ever seen it. “I think that’s perfect. You’re my little bear. I didn’t think you could get any more adorable. But like always, you surprise me.” He pulls you close, kissing your forehead and tugging you back to the truck.
On the drive back, you hold hands as if he hadn’t just railed you in the woods. But the twinges you felt in your sex and the foliage you pulled from your clothing told you that it was indeed real. And if that wasn’t enough, he makes you talk about all your fantasies on your way home. You had finally found someone who not only matched your sexual energy but who wanted to explore with you.
You can’t wait to check more things off the bucket list.
A/N: I love doing new and exciting things with Walter. Love this man and what he does to my kinky side lol.
#henry cavill#henry cavill characters#walter marshall#walter marshall x reader#walter marshall x you#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill fanfiction#walter marshall fanfic#walter marshall fanfiction#walter marshall smut#walter marshall fic#night hunter#night hunter fanfic#ellethespaceunicorn fanfic#a little fresh air#sweet treats event 2024#nomis
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Aot Characters - Nicknames
What nicknames the Aot Characters would have for you!
Also, enjoy the new banners. I like using them more than I thought I would :)
cw: canon verse, slightly ooc, Implied female reader in half of Eren's and Jean's, but the rest are gn readers, no y/n, some cringey nicknames with good reason, Fluff <3!
wc: 1.7k
Characters: Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe
Eren Yeager - Sweets, My girl
Eren is the type of person to see a couple while out as a kid and overhear them calling each other pet names, and one of them that he heard once was Sweets. He found it cringy at first, but after hearing it a couple more times, he came to like it. a lot. So naturally after finding a partner, or even once he realizes he has a crush on you, he just starts to call you it. He didn't even realize it at first, but when you gave a questioning look his way when he first said it, he explained why he did. Safe to say that even if you didn't like the nickname, you sure as heck like the story behind it and the man calling you it.
Another name Eren would give you would be my girl. He wouldn't say it in a possessive way though, he would just say it as if he was infatuated. If he was able to get you to be his partner, then maybe this life could be a little better, so he was just so happy that you two were actually dating. He would take every chance to remember it too, so he just started calling you his girl. Most of the time you wouldn't even be the one he would be talking you and he would still call you it. "Yeah, did you see how my girl did in training today? It was so cool."
(I just realized that I used the word 'would' 3x in one sentence, but I'm too tired to fix it now)
Mikasa Ackerman - Middle/last name
I do not think that Mikasa would be much for nicknames, it just doesn't seem like her. She would end up just trying to find something she could call you because she probably overthought about how you would want her to give you a cute nickname, and got a little insecure about it. However, she one day overheard someone talking about how they like to go by their middle name, and she got an idea. She decided that she would call you a shortened version of your middle name. But she decided to make some versions of your last name too because she overthought on how you might not like the ones she came up with for your middle name, so she decided she should just be safe. She has so many thoughts and she just can't seem to express them through words.
Armin Arlert - N/n, angel
Okay, Armin is definitely the type of person who is too embarrassed to call you any of the classic pet names, but he does often like to call you by a nickname he thought of one day. He figured that it was the safest option, it showed that he wanted to call you that stuff, but wasn't too much that he would cringe at himself.
Another thing he calls you is an angel. 100%. No doubt in my mind. Especially if you are kind. He would just be listening to you talk and when you would ask for advice on the situation that he was totally not listening to. He would reluctantly say something like, "I'm sorry you are like an angel, could you please repeat that?"
Technically he doesn't really call you it, he just compares you to one so often to the point where he just catches himself calling you angel in normal conversations. It would just become one of the many ways that he showed his affection for you.
Jean Kirstein - Doll, Woman
Doll is a name that Jean would only refer to you as when you two are alone. Whether you two were out training alone together after the rest went to lunch, or chatting when you both could in the Scouts, he would call you it. I don't think he means it in the current way the pet name is romanticized (currently most fics refer to the pet name as something associated with sexual acts, or mean/rude characters ex: Toji from jjk). I think he would mean it in more of a gentle way, like you are so precious to him like some people's dolls. Despite the faux tough guy act, deep down, sometimes deeper than he would like, he cherishes the people closest to him, friends, family, and you. He cherishes you all, and Doll is the easiest way he can tell you that without saying it.
Jean is the type to act entitled and call you 'woman' to seem like he is this big macho type of man. However, in his mind he just likes calling you it because you often become sassy with him. (Also it gives him a small ego boost that he is the only one who could call you that because to him you were his Woman)
Connie Springer - Your Name, joking pet names
Connie, oh Connie. This guy normally just calls you your name like a normal person. He likes your name, that is all he can really say about it.
HOWEVER, this man sometimes feels like being such an annoyance, lovingly of course. If he felt like it, he would randomly start calling you the cringiest pet names possible. Like I'm not talking sweetie or sugar, I'm talking shit like lovebug and cutie patootie. And he would have no shame in doing this either because he knows that you will break from embarrassment first.
Sometimes you would try to get him back by calling him things like sugarlips and baby boy, but it would fail most of the time because you would just end up cringing at yourself. This would often make you wonder what it would take to make the infamous Connie Springer cringe in embarrassment.
Levi Ackerman - Brat, Your Name + Bonus
The first nickname that I think Levi would call you would be brat, classic, I know. He would just call you this out of annoyance, or sometimes if you were doing something a little too reckless. It was just second nature for him to call you a brat, and even after you two got closer, he just kept calling you that. In all honesty though, sometimes he calls you that, and not in an endearing way. It would probably happen when you have a little too much energy for whatever reason, and he just called you that because you were be annoying to him at that point in time. Most of the time though it is meant in a nonserious manner.
Levi loves to call you by your name, he does not show it that much on his face, but he absolutely loves it. It is slightly weird to get called by your full first name by Levi, and the first time definitely startled you. However, you soon got used to it. Levi, on the other hand, somehow got happier every single time he called your name. He didn't know how just saying your name could make him feel that uncomfortable feeling of happiness, but it did. He would say it any chance he could, without making any feeling he had obvious. Soon he was addicted to it like it was a drug to him. He was not a big fan of it. He loved, and hated, how it made him feel.
Bonus (platonic nickname): Kid
Levi would call you kid even if you were just a month older than him. Why you may ask? Because he found it funny to annoy you, and that nickname definitely would. You had been in the Scouts longer than him, you were taller than him, and you had almost the same amount of respect from Erwin, so why was he calling you kid? It irked you so you ended up calling him kid as well.
When you first did this, you were met with a questioning look, and you defended yourself, "You call me a kid all the time, but I'm not the one that is built like one." This may or may not have earned you extra cleaning duties for the day, but the next time you did it he just gave you an annoyed look. Soon enough, you both tried to come up with simple names to call each other to try to piss the other off. Sometimes you could swear you could see a small smile on his face after you both went back and forth with nicknames.
If you ended up dying, he would never call anyone else kid though. He would be too scared of making the same connection of love, and having them die again, again.
Hange Zoe - My love, Darling
Hange 100% will call you 'my love.' Their reasoning? You are. They would even call you this before you two started getting close because Hange already knew they had a crush on you.
'My love' will be used to refer to you more than your actual name. Hange would even refer to you as that to the other Scouts. Like they would be reporting results to Erwin, and just casually say, "Yes, and my love even recommended the idea that….." This would leave Erwin very confused the first time around until after the meeting he asked an annoyed Levi who the 'my love,' Hange was referring to was. When he learned that it was you, it all just clicked for him, and he didn't even blink an eye when you were called by that name the next time he heard it. And he heard it a lot. Hange just loved calling you 'my love.'
Another thing that Hange loves to call you is Darling (Ex: that one scene where a titan almost bit them and they say, "You almost got me there, Darling"). Hear me out.
Hange would call you this anytime you got even slightly snippy, brash, or fed up with something. It would just come out of their mouth like second nature when seeing you upset. You would have said something a little harsher than you meant to, but you were getting really annoyed with someone in the Scouts, so you were put on edge. When you went to say something to apologize for being rude, Hange cut you off with, "You alright, Darling?" with a perfect mix of concern and playfulness in their voice. That line made you entirely forget about being annoyed and made everything in the shitty world feel even just a little bit better. You would just respond with a quick shake of your head, give them a hug, and feel a little happier for the rest of the day because how could you have a bad day with Hange in your life?
Okay random ramble from me-
Okay so I hop from fandom to fandom a lot, right
Recently, the past two years, I have noticed that in every single fandom there are patterns. Like characters will have the same personality trait, and if you are not careful you might confuse a fanfic for being for one character, but it really is for another character in an entirely different series.
You will have the classic main character personality that is either overly sexualized for their own good, or not taken seriously at all, or both. Ex: Izuku in mha, Ittadori in jjk, Tanjiro in demon slayer, Naruto in naruto
Then, you will have the stoic side characters who have more fanfiction than most other characters. Ex: Shoto Todoroki and Aizawa in mha, Choso and Megumi in jjk, Mikasa and Levi in aot
Also, there is the type of character that made me realize this trend, the 'dumb' side characters that are mostly used to make the watcher laugh. Ex: Connie in aot, Denki and Sero in mha, Nishinoya and Tanaka in Haikyuu, Zenitzu and Inoske in Demon Slayer, and maybe some others that I am missing.
Please tell me that I am not alone in noticing this. Like please tell me this is a normal experience and that I am just going through this realization embarrassingly late in my fanfiction life.
Also, I feel like I only noticed this when I was fandom hoping recently and it just clicked in my head that Smau writers tend to write Nishinoya and Denki similarly. Anyway, thanks for coming to my ted talk. Enjoy this small writing while I start to, hopefully, work on some angst works so I can lure in the other half of the aot fandom bc a lot of you love yourselves some good angst. Like the show wasn't angsty enough already
#aot#snk#aot x reader#aot x you#snk x reader#snk x you#attack on titan#eren yeager#eren jaeger#mikasa ackerman#armin arlert#jean kirstein#connie springer#levi ackerman#hange zoe#eren yeager x reader#eren jeager x reader#mikasa ackerman x reader#armin arlet x reader#jean kirsten x reader#connie springer x reader#levi ackerman x reader#hange zoe x reader#aot characters#nicknames#pet names#fluff
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F.W.B : where are they now?
jj maybank x fem!reader
content warning: mentions of sex; alcohol; violence
word count: 1.4k.
read F.W.B | Thank you so so much for 1000 followers!!! Since starting this blog in May of 2023, I have written so many characters and storylines. I get so many lovely anon messages telling me about their favourite universes and wondering what happens next after my fics have ended. So, I thought to celebrate 1000 followers, I’d indulge. Here’s the (current) where are they now for all of my fics so far…
You land on the mat with a smack. Blood fills your mouth, sticking to the guard, and you spit it onto the floor. It’s an ugly swirl of pink-ish saliva. The referee is going to start counting you down any minute. Your head is pounding, body aching, ears ringing. It’s one of the biggest matches of the school year so the room is packed to the brim. People are cheering and chanting and it creates a dichotomy of pandemonium. For you, it’s the biggest match of your career. The college that could supply you with your dream scholarship and ticket out of a trailer-park life has sent a scout here tonight. They’re here to see you. Clinging onto that, you rock onto your knees and spit once more. The ref has started to count. You close your eyes and try to steal yourself. That’s when you can make it out.
JJ’s voice carries over everyone else's, singing to you like a siren. He’s hollering like someone’s house is on fire.
“Come on, baby! Let’s go!”
Your eyes shoot open and you seek him out. Front row - stood settled between the Pogues who are egging you on - JJ’s clapping his hands and nodding emphatically. He meets your gaze and it hardens you. Ignites you with newfound vigour. You grit your teeth and give him a barely-there nod, and then you’re hopping back onto your feet. A new wave of cheers crashes around you as rock on your toes and heels, readying your fists. You settle your gaze on your competitor. She isn’t that big. Isn’t that strong. You can take her. Picture her face morphing into Kelce’s. Into every person who’s ever wronged you, made fun of you, looked at you the wrong way. Growling, you waste no time in throwing the first punch the minute the ref allows. As your gloved fist meets her skin, you hear JJ shouting.
“That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s go, mama!”
JJ’s endless support energises you for the rest of the night like an endless line of cocaine. And when your competitor finally taps out, on the brink of blacking out, and the ref holds your arm up in victory, JJ’s celebration is louder than an erupting volcano.
The second you’re free from the ring he tackles you in a hug.
“That was fucking insane, baby! God damn! That was hot as hell!”
You laugh as he practically wrestles you in his enthusiastic embrace. He breaks apart from you when you’re ushered into the changing rooms. You speed through the post-match clean-up and emerge in a pair of his sweats (tied double at the waist to keep them from falling down) and an oversized t-shirt from a competition you won a couple of years back. The look on JJ’s face would make someone think that you’re dressed to the nines for the Oscars, though.
He hooks an arm around your shoulder, grinning proud, and the two of you load into the Twinkie with the other Pogues who share their congrats on your win. You still haven’t shaken him when you pull up to the Chateau. Loud chatter warns of your coming as the six of you walk up. It looks the same as always aside from the makeshift banner hung along the porch. It’s made of an old fitted sheet; you can recognise JJ’s handwriting from a mile away. In his familiar scrawl, it reads Well Done to the Sexiest Girl on Earth.
Amused, you look at JJ and quirk a brow. “Sexiest girl?”
“Just stating facts,” he shrugs with a grin.
“He needed my help on how to spell it,” Pope chimes in as he walks past, heading for the cooler. JJ prods him in the chest before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. Leaning your head back against his chest, you sigh and let JJ sway you in his hold as the other four chatter.
“That was a hell of a fight, huh?” JJ says, just loud enough for you to hear.
Looking up at him, you find his eyes already trained down on you. Smiling, you reply, “I know. I’m pretty impressive.”
“And modest,” he says, squeezing your body teasingly.
“And sexy, apparently,” you add, referring to his banner.
“Like that’s a surprise?”
“Mm, you got a point,” you say, playing along. “You might’ve mentioned it a few times.”
“Happy to mention it a few more,” JJ grins boyishly, dipping his head down to meet your lips with his.
You easily twirl in his embrace, coiling your arms over his shoulders to deepen the kiss. His tongue shamelessly slips into your mouth and his fingers slide under your t-shirt.
“Knock it off love birds,” Kiara calls.
There’s no hurry to break apart.
“You guys make me sick,” Pope mutters, collapsing into a chair.
JJ gropes your ass before walking away just to irritate his friend further. Your cheeks flame hot despite biting back a smile. Your boyfriend flashes you a grin and tosses you a beer. The two of you settle into seats and join the conversation with the others. John B starts up the music and the six of you get to celebrating.
Beer pong and wrestling and impression-offs and dumb drinking games. You and JJ shotgun a beer and once downed, JJ slaps your hand into a bro-like hug and plants a kiss to your lips. The juxtaposition is the perfect summarisation of your dynamic. Jesting and casual in front of others, and sweet and sentimental behind closed doors. He knew the deepest and darkest parts of you, and you him.
“Thank you,” you say to JJ at some point in the night. “For all this.”
“Course,” JJ replies. He says it like it’s obvious; like it’s ludicrous to think that he wouldn’t go all out to celebrate your success.
Finishing your beer, you look around the night-casted scene and find your eyes settling on the banner once more. Something occurs to you and you begin to laugh.
“Wait, what would you guys have done if I didn’t win?” you ask.
“I guess we would’ve taken that down,” John B says, nodding to the banner, “and made it a feel-better-soon party?”
“I mean, celebratory beer and sad-times beer are the same beer, so,” JJ agrees, tipping his bottle up as he makes his point.
“We knew you were gonna win though,” Sarah says from John B’s lap.
“The odds were literally stacked in your favour,” Kiara adds. “With the winning streak you’ve been on lately? Girl!”
“That’s actually a common misconception,” Pope says. Everyone groans and JJ tosses a handful of grass at him. “I’m just saying! It’s called hot-hand fallacy!”
“Dude. Not the time,” JJ says.
Pope shuts down his spiel with that. You shoot him an apologetic smile, appreciative of his Pope-like support. A yawn slips out and suddenly the exhaustion from your earlier fight hits at once. JJ seems to notice, always hyper-aware of you.
“Wanna head home?”
“I’m beat,” is your reply.
“A’right, we’re off,” JJ announces, finishing his drink with two swigs and ditching the can. He takes your hand to help you out of your seat and the two of you make your way to the drive. The others holler their farewells and final congratulations on your scholarship win. Their indefatigable conversing fades into the soundscape of the night as you and JJ walk back to your house, fingers intertwined.
“So, college, huh?” he says.
“College,” you hum.
“What’d you think that’ll mean for us?”
You smile and glance up at him, and for the first time in your life, realise that you’re not afraid of losing him. “Same thing as always. Great sex and great company.”
“Just in another city?”
“It’s only Raleigh,” you hum. “Two hour drive tops.”
“Sides, not like I’ll be going to college anytime soon, so I can just come visit you,” JJ agrees.
You nod and lean against his arm as the two of you continue to walk. “I love you, y’know? I wanna make this thing work.”
“It will,” JJ assures. “You’re the best sex I’ve ever had. I’ll chase that to Raleigh.”
“Spoken like a poet,” you sardonically return.
His ambush of wet kisses to your cheek has you laughing, pawing him away. His hand finds yours and the two of you finish the journey to your house, hearts intertwined like your fingers, the future unclear aside from the fact that you and JJ would face it together.
#jj x reader#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#jj#obx#outerbanks#outer banks#1000 followers#thank you!#obx fic#outer banks fic#outerbanks fic#jj maybank fic#jj maybank x reader fic#fem!reader#jj x fem!reader#sequel'
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and you were more beautiful when you could fly ~ ★
hey there! you can call me maggie! (or babna lol) i have mentioned my irl first name a couple times tho
they/she/he pronouns page :3
please use gender neutral/fem terms. im okay with and use stuff like dude and girly in a gender neutral way, lmk if you don't want me to :)
everything is platonic!! i say things like "<3" and "ily"platonically, so if you're uncomfortable with this lmk :)
also i swear sometimes quite a bit, i don't usually tag it but i might if there's a lot or smth
legacy of apollo ☀️🎶🏹⚕️✍️
my timezone is est (maybe...) i am in the us tho
i am a minor. adults are okay but no 18+ or big nsfw please
everyone is loved here (unless you're a homophobe, transphobe, terf, aphobe, racist, sexist, map, maga, etc.) 💖
not really any dni's, unless you're someone listed above or a weirdo (you know who you are)
more under the cut!
interests, hobbies, and fandoms
music ~ ☆ taylor swift, olivia rodrigo (shes literally me yall), conan gray, chappell roan, ajr, tx2, noahfinnce, cavetown, eminem, mcr, green day, måneskin, lots of broadway musicals, and MUCH more
im always looking to broaden my music horizons, so lmk if you have any suggestions! my music taste is crazy i like basically anything so i'll probably love any of y'all's recs lol
musicals (yes they get their own section) ~ ★ EPIC: the musical, hamilton, in the heights, SIX, dear evan hansen, be more chill, heathers, (kinda) wicked, les miserables, and beetlejuice, but the list is always expanding
movies/tv shows ~ ☆ the owl house, gravity falls, mean girls (movie and musicals), house md (not done yet, on season 7? i think), hazbin hotel, helluva boss, percy jackson, bluey, all versions of tmnt (especially rottmnt), the hunger games, metal family
video games ~ ★ minecraft, animal crossing, splatoon (2 and 3), kirby, pokémon, stardew valley
i have my own pink switch lite :3
books ~ ☆ pjo, hoo, toa, tsats, mcga, kane chronicles (not done yet), the iliad, hopefully the odyssey eventually, circe and tsoa (not done yet), the hunger games, wof, kinda lotr and hobbit, probably more that i can't think of
im currently reading circe, tsoa, and the iliad (huge greek mythology phase rn lol)
i'm a musician! i play clarinet in my school band and flute, piano, ukulele, and guitar in my own time :)
i am also a scout (bsa), my rank is tenderfoot :3
my favorite colors are purple and yellow!
#1 icarus supporter
i LOVE making new friends, if you wanna be moots you can dm or askbox me :D
alts:
@/babna-arts: just an art acc
@/apollo-god-of--like--everything: etm apollo rp/ask blog
@/the-greek-pantheon: general greek gods rp
@/katsika: etm oc rp (not rly active)
@/not-the-musician: pjo oc rp (also not rly active)
and some secret others :3
☆~ credit ~★ babna origin 😨 @/saradika and @/saraduka-graphucs – the beautiful dividers and "introduction" banner my pfp and header are from pinterest and the lyrics are from beetlebug's "lepidopterist" ♡
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🎶 [for roy and dick >w> what could go wrong]
Roy pursed his lips tightly, chewing on his bottom lip for another moment before fishing his phone out of his quiver, checking his messages. Still no reply. Damn it, Grayson.
Roy sighed in annoyance and put his phone away, frowning as he looked over the city from the rooftop he currently lurked on, bow at ready. He heard something bad happened to Dick, but he wasn't given any details and his questions went unanswered—and Dick wasn't answering.
It was just like him. Something bad happens and he balls up, either blaming himself or not willing to supposedly burden others. Everyone had a different reaction when something terrible happened, but sometimes it was like Dick completely forgot he had friends who were there to support him, and it wasn't just a one way support from him when needed.
His foot tapped impatiently on the concrete, scouting ahead on the warehouse below. He was trying so hard to focus on the mission, but his mind was completely elsewhere. He didn't expect Dick to consider Roy the first person to turn to if he had some emotional turmoil to resolve. Roy wasn't the most sensitive person in the world, even if he was doing his honest best to be as considerate as he saw fit.
So why did he feel so left out? He tried to message, he tried to call... Nothing. What was going on?
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Fun fact! If you flip the current scout story (Mirage)'s banner, it can be read as "2wink"!
(Original on the left, rotated 180 degrees on the right.)
Ahh, that's really cool! I love when scout/event titles include little details like this. This one specifically is a type of ambigram!
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[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fic banner in the style of the game's achievement icons--specifically, the "Wetwork" achievement. Spy, shown in a red-orange silhouette, is standing in the rain and glaring up at it, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He is holding his disguise kit, which has an indiscernible figure displayed on its screen. On the bottom right of the banner is the chapter's title in yellow-white text, reading, "CHAPTER TEN: WETWORK" /end ID]
Flickering
Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Scout, and all the other mercs. Warnings: General references to trauma, PTSD, panic attacks, TF2-typical violence Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.
Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.
And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason.
Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve
---~~~---
Chapter 10: Wetwork Summary: In which Spy makes a drastic change of plan mid-match.
---~~~---
Wind screamed against the walls of the base.
The tinge of light through the windows told Spy it was dawn, though the sun was unsuccessful in piercing through the cloud cover. Steam from his coffee mug fogged the bottom of the window. After rubbing his eyes, he took another deep swig from his mug, willing the caffeine to jolt him further awake. Creaks from the floor above informed him that he hadn't been alone in his struggle to sleep. He shifted where he stood by the window.
Staying overnight had not been the plan, but the wind storm had forced him to stay, as it had everyone else at the base. (Soldier had initially insisted on leaving, but changed his tune when the wind knocked his helmet clean off, and he, Demo, and Sniper spent an hour tracking down the stupid hat.)
Spy found himself rooted by the window until a warm, savory smell drew him away and into the kitchen.
"Mornin'," Engineer said, not looking up from his cooking. On the large stove were multiple skillets frying bacon, sausage, eggs, pancakes, and hashbrowns, and he worked them as mechanically as one of his machines.
"Omitting the 'good' from it, are we?" Spy quipped.
Engineer did give him a look, then. Even with the goggles hiding his eyes, the thin line of his mouth told Spy enough. Engineer turned back to his cooking.
Spy shrugged, downed the rest of his coffee, and went to light a cigarette using a new lighter he'd grabbed at home a few days ago.
The second he clicked the lighter, Engineer whirled around, holding out a spatula in the Gunslinger. "Not in the kitchen!"
Normally a spatula would not feel like a threat, but it was currently covered in grease, and Spy was wearing his suit. So he backed off, leaving the kitchen with a grumble.
The smell of food gradually drew more people down to the mess hall, starting with Scout, then Heavy, and then a loud, off-tune reveille preceding the arrival of Soldier. Soon the mess hall was filled with the rest of the team, who milled about, most of them eagerly awaiting breakfast. A few stepped into the kitchen to grab coffee, but otherwise kept to the mess hall.
But Spy did not overlook the doorway, where he spotted Pyro lingering in the relatively dark hallway.
A shrill whistle from the kitchen announced that breakfast was ready, and Soldier, Demo, and Scout practically bowled each other over rushing through the doorway. Medic and Heavy followed, chatting quietly to each other, leaving Spy and Sniper to stare at each other from a distance.
Spy held up a hand toward the kitchen in an exaggerated gesture—an offer for Sniper to enter the kitchen next, but not with any intent of kindness. Sniper's look informed him that it was not taken as such, and he passed into the kitchen.
With the mess hall now empty, Spy approached the hallway. "Would you like me to obtain a plate for you?" he asked quietly.
Pyro shook its head, its stance rigid.
Nodding, Spy strode back into the kitchen, moving out of the way of the mercs who carried their plates out into the mess hall. He returned with a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast for himself, and another plate piled with pancakes, sausage, and syrup, as well as napkins and utensils. The atmosphere of the room was warm and the idle chatter friendly, but Spy didn't take a seat just yet. Making certain his steps didn't catch on an uneven floorboard or the foot of a passing coworker, he stepped into the hallway again.
The Pyro had not moved, but it gave a mild start at the sight of the pancakes.
"You'll need the energy, even if you're not hungry." Spy held out the plate.
Pyro looked up at him, and accepted the food, though it made no motion to eat it.
"'Ey, wha'd'you mean, it'll need the energy?" came Scout's voice, partially muffled from a mouthful of food. Spy turned to see the Scout leaning back with his feet on the table and his chair on two legs. "Is it plannin' to set our crap on fire again?" He swallowed, then laughed. "I'd love to see it try, with this wind."
"I doubt it will have time," Spy retorted, "given our match is still on today."
Eyes bugging, Scout jumped up in his seat. "What?! Woah—!" The chair tipped backwards, dumping him out onto the floor, and he scrambled back to his feet to give Spy a look of disbelief. "Are you serious?!"
"Yeah," Engineer said, stepping out of the kitchen with his own plate of food. "No word that it was canceled."
While Soldier gave a hearty laugh at this news, the once-warm mood of the mess hall plummeted considerably.
"This sucks," Scout grumbled, setting up his chair and plopping down onto it again. His fork picked at the hashbrowns on his plate.
Spy tucked a napkin into his shirt and took a seat at the far side of the table next to Demo, who was staring down at his food sadly. No one was speaking, and most of them ate their food with considerably less amounts of energy.
At some point, a syrup-smeared plate and clean fork slid into the mess hall from the hallway, and Sniper, finished with his own meal, rose to retrieve them. He paused at the doorway, peering out around the corner, and grunted. "Well, the wind's stopped, anyway."
Begrudgingly Spy rose from his seat to take a look for himself. He passed Sniper and approached the window again; the wind had indeed stopped, but it was no lighter than it was before. If anything, the clouds had darkened. Frowning, he pulled the window open, and winced at the unusually humid air.
Footsteps creaked beside him, and Spy glanced over, only to jump back as Pyro practically leaped at the window, slamming it shut. Its hands still gripping the window, it drew in a deep breath, which was then released shakily through its filter. Slowly it brought its arms back down to its side, and it looked at Spy.
Spy stared back into Pyro's lenses, an uneasiness creeping up his spine. There was nothing to read in the darkened glass, but somehow Spy knew there was no rage or malice directed toward him. Instead, the air around the two crackled with anxiety.
With no small amount of uncertainty, Spy reached up to pat Pyro's shoulder.
"Let's get to work."
—-
They were not alone in their anxiety.
A quiet had settled over the base, other than the occasional muttering, and the usual rowdy process of traveling to the day's battleground was eerily quiet, particularly when they stepped outside. Where once had been a violent windstorm was now an empty desert landscape, the air still as death.
And humid.
Scout made a noise of disgust the second they stepped outside, but the others mostly grimaced. Pyro was the last to step out, hesitating in the garage before Engineer ushered it into his truck, letting it sit shotgun. Sniper took his van, others took the RED Bread truck, and Spy of course opted to take his own car, deaf to any conversations happening in the other vehicles. But if the team's silence upon exiting their vehicles at their usual hidden parking location was anything to go by, he hadn't missed anything positive.
As the team marched the rest of the way to the abandoned sawmill on foot, Spy shrugged in his suit; it was clinging to him in the humid air. Heavy was already wiping at his brow, Archimedes was ruffling and obsessively preening his feathers, and Scout had a hand under his hat, feeling his frizzing hair with a frown. But even beyond the discomfort, there was a strange, electric tension in the air, one that pulled against everything and nothing at the same time, having no particular direction, but felt by everyone.
The sawmill was quiet when they arrived, as expected, and they were equally as quiet as they made their way up to spawn.
Demo was the first to mount the stairs, and he finally broke the silence with a cry of dismay, followed by a curse.
"What's the problem, private?" Soldier asked, hurrying up the stairs, only to stop. "Oh."
Brow furrowed, Spy followed the others as they all crammed around the top of the stairs, and quickly identified the problem: large portions of the roof had been blown completely away, leaving parts of their base exposed to the elements. "Of course," Spy muttered. "Perhaps our spawn has fared better, at least?"
But when he neared the room, he let out a growl of disgust; the door rattled open at a significantly slower rate than normal, and stayed open—something must have happened to the mechanism. Even the more fortified spawn room had sustained roof damage, with a few of the ceiling tiles also missing and some having crashed to the floor. Wonderful.
Behind him, Heavy stepped into the room. "Hmm. Will have to keep enemies from sneaking in through roof."
"I don't believe so," Spy replied. "They've never sneaked into spawn before, nor have we entered theirs."
"Maybe not," Sniper said, stepping in behind the other two, "but they've fired into spawn before." He let that sink in before stepping over to his locker. "Keep an eye out."
There was a quiet chorus of displeased grunts and groans in response—there wasn't much else to be said, after all, and no one was happy about the situation. Though something else occurred to Spy: "At the very least," he said, "BLU can't be faring much better."
"Nope." The Engineer set down his toolbox with a weighty clunk. "I reckon their roof's blasted off too."
"Hey, sweet!" Scout perked up. "Then we can shoot into their spawn, too!"
Soldier grinned down at his rocket launcher, but Sniper sighed. "Let's just stick to capturin' the bloody point so we can get outta this place before it falls apart."
No one but Soldier could really argue with that, and the mercs went about their business setting up. Though as Spy turned to his locker, he looked back at the others, and frowned at the sight of Pyro staring up at the hole in the ceiling. When he finished readying his tools and saw Pyro still in the same position as before, he approached it calmly. "I wouldn't worry about it," he said, and Pyro glanced back. "I have my doubts the enemy will try to get in through the roof."
Pyro looked back up at the ceiling, gave a barely-audible hum, and shook its head.
"With luck," Spy went on, "we'll finish this match before they even notice."
—-
They had no such luck—at least, not of finishing the match quickly. It seemed the BLU team had the same goal and was just as aggressive in their pursuit of capturing the point. Making the first capture at all seemed to take ages. Every time a team came close, the other was quick to overtake them. Excellent when it was the BLU team losing the capture, infuriating when it was their own.
All the while, Spy was unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, or was about to go wrong. It wasn't difficult to figure out what; every time he was killed—and it was more often than he wished to admit—Spy found himself glancing at the hole in the ceiling, tensing as he prepared for the BLU team to start spawn-camping. Several minutes into the match, however, it had yet to happen, though his fellow mercs cast an anxious glance at it every time.
Throughout the simultaneously frantic-yet-snail-paced match, a crackling tension built between the two teams, neither willing to give in. The tension finally broke when Spy failed to take down the BLU engineer's sentry, instead getting checked by the pyro. He let out a cry of rage as he bolted for safety, only for the sentry to gun him down.
Once he stumbled into spawn, he shook his head and glared up at the ceiling, only to have his view abruptly blocked by an outraged Soldier, followed by a very frustrated Heavy. "What happened?" Spy sputtered.
Soldier charged off with a wild battle cry, but Heavy glanced at Spy. "Enemy medic and heavy came in, fully charged. Took us down. Think they took point."
"Wonderful," Spy growled. Though surprising they did not manage to take advantage of our weakness. He kept the thought to himself for fear of jinxing their already bad situation.
As it turned out, he didn't need to. BLU was aggressive, and maintained their hold on the point, quickly causing RED to lose the first round.
The atmosphere of the spawn room was once again thick with tension as the team prepared for the next round. No one spoke as they patched up their wounds and reloaded their ammo, and a few switched out their weapons. Spy debated on switching to his Dead Ringer, but decided against it—too predictable. His standard watch would do for now.
"Pyro," Engineer said suddenly, and Spy glanced over as the Pyro gave a start. "I'm gonna need some doggone help this time."
"Nein," Medic cut in, looking up from cleaning blood out of Archimedes' feathers. "I have a plan to use it."
"Well, doc, I got a plan for it to use its homewrecker and protect my sentry so we can maintain the blasted point!"
"And how do you propose we capture the point in the first place, hm?" Medic released Archimedes, who fluttered up to perch on an exposed pipe. Pyro's gaze followed the bird. "I can Uber the Pyro and it can clear the point when BLU tries to capture."
Heavy sniffed, crossing his arms. "Heavy can do this."
"Ja, but they will be expecting that, like last time."
Frowning, Heavy nodded. "Is good point."
"You may be useful in providing a distraction," Spy said, taking a step closer to Heavy to join the impromptu strategy meeting. "If the Medic can send us a signal, you can move in on one side, drawing their fire, while I move in on the enemy sentry. Then the Medic and Pyro can move in on the other side." Noting the Engineer about to speak up again, he cut him off. "Afterward, Pyro can help defend the machines."
Medic hummed in thought. "That could work. But as for the signal—"
Scout strolled into the center of the group. "Yo, I'm right here! You're lookin' at the fastest one on the team, yeah? I can send the OK signal, no problem, then join in on some of the action." His final word was punctuated with a swing of his bat.
With a grunt, Demo waved a dismissive hand at the others. "Bah! You lot can do your fancy scheming. Soldier and I have other plans." He nodded at Soldier, who only grinned, laughing.
Everyone's gaze fell on Sniper, who had yet to give his input. He only shrugged. "Well, I saw part of the roof's blown off the main sawmill, so if I can get up there, I can try to keep an eye on things like Soldier does at the Harvest shed."
In spite of himself, Spy smiled. "Well, gentlemen, it seems we may have a solid strategy to win us this round. Engineer will set up his machines, Medic and Pyro will step back until ready, and give the signal to Scout, who will move in with Heavy and me. Once we have successfully drawn their fire, Pyro and Medic will come in the opposite way to clear the point for capture, and Sniper will cover us from above." He cast a sideways glance at Demo and Soldier. "Those two will hopefully not ruin things for us."
"Nope. We'll improve on your silly little plan!" Soldier insisted.
Spy stared at him, deadpan. "Are you planning on rocket jumping ahead of us to take out as many of the BLU team as possible?"
"That is classified information, private!" Soldier exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger.
"Very well, so long as it does not interfere with—"
"Mission begins in ten seconds!"
Everyone scrambled to ready their weapons, while Spy called out over them: "Stick to the plan, men, and we might be back in time for supper." Pausing, he looked over at Pyro, who was still staring at Archimedes. When Medic gave a whistle, the bird fluttered to its owner's shoulders, but Pyro was still staring at where it had been. "Are you all right, mon ami?"
Pyro gave a start and turned to face Spy, but neither confirmed nor denied his question.
"You heard the plan, non?"
After a moment, Pyro nodded.
"Good. Then—"
"Start fighting!"
Spy nodded. "See you at the point, then."
Everyone rushed out of spawn in much higher spirits than they'd started with. Demo and Soldier did indeed wind up literally blasting themselves forward, while Sniper went to see about climbing atop the sawmill. Medic, Scout, and Pyro hung back, looking for a hiding spot while they prepared, and Heavy, Spy and Engineer headed for the mill. Engineer took the high road to position his sentry up above, while Heavy and Spy hurried down the stairs to take the lower road.
Even as Spy hung back, waiting for Scout's signal, he couldn't help smiling to himself; if all went well, this would be a quick victory. Granted, they would need to win yet another immediately afterward, but... one thing at a time.
Yet in spite of their strategy, in spite of the team's enthusiasm, in spite of the fact that they were sure to win this round... something felt off. Spy checked his watch, his knife, his sapper, his gun, his disguise kit—no, they were all there. There was nothing he was forgetting, and yet...
He squinted at his disguise kit, suddenly realizing it was harder to see the buttons than it should have been, and looked up.
When had it gotten so—
The darkened sky was abruptly lit by jagged forks, which were quickly followed by a threatening roar of thunder.
And the clouds burst.
There was a unanimous cry—of surprise, of disgust, of horror—from both teams as the wall of rain collapsed upon them. Spy found himself immediately drenched, his suit clinging to his skin even worse than it had in the humid air. He snapped his disguise kit shut—groaning at the realization that his cigarettes were already thoroughly ruined—and shoved it into his pocket, exchanging a miserable glance with Heavy.
Over all the roaring, hollering, and overall cries of displeasure, there was no announcement postponing the match.
But there was an odd shriek in the distance that sent a chill up Spy's spine, and Heavy gave a shudder. The latter hefted Sasha up, grimacing. "Should we still wait?"
An explosion wracked the sawmill, but this was not unexpected, especially when followed by a whooping cheer from Demo.
"It seems the plan is still on the table," Spy confirmed. "Scout should be here any moment. Admittedly, I thought he would be here sooner, but—"
He broke off when he realized Heavy was no longer listening, but was instead staring, wide eyed, at something in the sky. Brow furrowed, Spy followed his gaze; a streak of lightning illuminated a small white bird, its feathers partially stained red.
Without another word, Heavy bolted back in the direction of the bird, which immediately looped back the way it came, away from the sawmill.
"Mikhail!" Spy cried, furious when Heavy made no acknowledgment, if he'd heard at all. He grit his teeth, preparing to ditch the plan and head into the sawmill alone, when a memory struck him—waking up in the middle of the night, and overhearing a very specific arrangement...
Sucking in a breath, Spy charged after the bird as well, easily outpacing Heavy. Up ahead, they heard a gun fire, followed by the wet thunk of a body hitting mud. Spy's head snapped in the direction of the gun fire, only to see Soldier blasting toward the enemy sniper with a wild cry. It didn't take long for them to pass Scout's corpse, which Spy looked well away from.
Archimedes swooped downward and around a corner, landing awkwardly on Medic's shoulder. The man was panting, his hair hanging over his glasses. His saw was held limply in one hand, his eyes wide and staring blankly at a spot on the ground.
"Doctor!" Heavy cried, approaching him before looking around. Spy did as well; Medic must have taken care of any attackers, but Spy did note with surprise that Medic's medi-gun was not strapped to the man's back, but rather, lying on the ground in a few pieces.
"Seems BLU caught onto our plan faster than we expected," Spy muttered, but Medic shook his head.
"It... it was not BLU," Medic gasped, pushing his hair away from his glasses.
Spy's brow furrowed, but Heavy suddenly perked up. "...Where is Pyro?"
Medic slowly looked up to meet Heavy's gaze before looking Spy in the eyes.
A second later, Spy straightened, his eyes wide as the gears clicked in his mind, and he cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. The notes, Pyro's anxiety at the weather, the fact that it had gone berserk in a battlefield with a running stream... He lunged forward, grabbing Medic by the front of his coat and ignoring Heavy's cry of fury. "Ludwig, tell me—the Pyro. It's injured by water, isn't it."
"Y-yes," Medic stammered, "but it... it's never—"
"It's never had shellshock until now," Spy snarled, dropping Medic and bolting for spawn.
It all made sense—Beatrice had probably figured out that it was hurt by water, and used that to torture it. And then of course the rainstorm had triggered a violent episode of some sort.
Well, their plan was shot, now. But at the very least, he could try to get Pyro to calm down long enough to finish the match so they could get out of this. He just had to—
Spy reached the stairs, and a familiar scream reached his ears.
All thought of the plan fled his mind as he bolted the rest of the way up the stairs, only to stop dead at the sight beyond the spawn door.
Scout was backed up against a wall, his shotgun on the floor several feet away, his bat in his hands (one of which was bleeding). Before him, standing with its back to the door, was Pyro. Its head was lowered, its axe in its hands. Both mercs were drenched, rainwater dripping off of their uniforms, and Pyro was growling, but the sound felt... wrong, for reasons Spy could not immediately place.
"G-get away from me, you freak!" Scout cried, brandishing the bat. "I'll bash your creepy head in! I'm warning you!"
Right then and there, Spy nearly stepped in to call out to Pyro, to draw its attention away, but another sound stopped him: a wild snarl.
Spy froze, his blood turning to ice, as two realizations hit him simultaneously: that the Pyro was making sounds at all... and that they weren't muffled.
Pyro lunged at Scout, who swung his bat to block Pyro's axe. With a dull thunk, the metal head of the axe embedded itself in the wooden bat, and Pyro yanked its weapon back, ripping Scout's remaining weapon out of his hands and flinging it across the room.
"Oooh that's—that's not good—" Scout stammered, looking between the bat and Pyro, who held its axe up silently. After a tense moment, Scout bolted around Pyro, aiming for the door.
For less than a second, his eyes met those of Spy, who was still rooted to the spot.
And at the end of that second, Pyro swung its axe, cleaving Jeremy through the middle.
Abruptly Spy's body was capable of movement, and in one quick motion he raised his gun and shot Pyro through the back of its head. It dropped on the spot, collapsing forward with a loud CLANG as its axe hit the floor.
Spy still stood, frozen in place, his gun still held aloft as he panted, his mind still seeing that look in Scout's eyes before he was killed, his nose still smelling smoke and blood. An old pain radiated through his left knee.
By the time he willed his legs to take him closer to the spawn room, the corpses had already despawned, leaving the floor sleek and slippery with blood and water, the former being washed out by the latter as rainwater continuously poured down from the hole in the ceiling.
...Wait.
Realization hit him, and he darted off to the side of the door just as Scout, still holding his bat, stumbled into existence just beneath the damaged ceiling. Scout buckled, his free arm clasped around his uninjured stomach and his face twisted in phantom pain. A moment later, Pyro spawned directly next to him, and immediately put its hands over its head, shrinking in on itself and giving a strangled cry.
Hearing that, Scout's head snapped over, and he scrambled back, both hands gripping his bat. "Oh, no, no, no, not again—!"
Spy's mind raced—this was just going to turn into a hellish loop of death and respawn if he didn't do something. Even if he stepped in, at best he would kill Pyro, who would just respawn in the rain that would set it off all over again. At worst, Pyro would kill him, and go directly back after Jeremy. There had to be something—something he could do to stop the Pyro from attacking—
A very, very foolish idea leaped into his mind, and without a second thought, Spy whipped out his disguise kit.
While Pyro was cornering Scout once again, someone else stepped into the room, hovering in the doorway. Neither combatant took notice until the figure spoke:
"I like a challenge."
Pyro froze.
Beatrice stood before the doorway, smirking at Pyro. While Scout met her eyes with a look of bewilderment, her own eyes narrowed and glanced from Scout to the door behind her. Scout's brows shot up in recognition, and he bolted for the door.
Pyro swung around to follow him, only to stop when its lenses fell upon Beatrice. While Scout fled the scene, ducking behind Beatrice and out the door, the woman stared Pyro down.
At first, the two stood perfectly still, looking each other in the eyes. But slowly Beatrice began to realize that Pyro was not still; it was trembling, slightly at first, but then its shaking grew in intensity, its grip on its axe tightening until Beatrice began to wonder if the handle would crack. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, in spite of the chill in the air, but her smile never wavered.
Finally she chose to break the silence: "Are you really scared of a little rain? You're more pathetic than I—"
Pyro's face split in half with a room-shaking roar.
Before Beatrice could fully register what had happened, Pyro was charging at her full-tilt, readying its axe. With more flexibility than would be expected from someone of her age and build, she swerved out of the way, trying to keep her eyes on Pyro all the while.
Its face had indeed split down the center, revealing a vertical maw lined with yellow fangs, aside from the very tip—the filter. Its breathing was loud, ragged, and clear, steaming the air around it.
Merde.
No matter how terrified she was inwardly, Beatrice refused to lose her composure; her brow furrowed, her teeth grit. "Is that all you've got?" she taunted, grabbing a weapon of her own—a knife. "Fight me!"
Pyro hardly needed the provocation, snarling as it swung its axe.
Yet Beatrice sidestepped the attack again, countering it with a swipe of her knife that barely missed its target. She grimaced, knowing that it wouldn't work for her to keep dodging. At some point she was going to have to experience pain, as much as her brain was screaming at her to avoid it. Gritting her teeth, she allowed herself to remain an inch too close as Pyro brought down its axe again, this time grazing her left arm.
Sp—Beatrice's cry of pain was strained as she tried to focus her brain on maintaining her appearance. Not yet, not yet, not yet—! Blood trickled down her gloves and dripped down to join the rainwater on the floor, and she swore she saw Pyro's lenses—eyes—whatever on heaven, hell, or earth it saw with—glint at the sight of red.
It swung at her with all the more vigor, and she kept up with the motions out of pure instinct. It was only when her elbow banged against a locker that she realized Pyro had backed her into a wall. Frantically she looked left, then right, before fighting the urge to dodge and clamping her eyes shut. Her body tensed, waiting for the feeling of the axe cleaving her in half.
It never happened.
Just as she opened her eye, a large hand grabbed her by the collar and hoisted her into the air. She gasped as her feet left the ground, and as she stared into the lenses and gaping maw of the Pyro, she realized just how much stronger it had been than she'd realized, and how restrained it had been previously by comparison.
Its jaws closed and opened once, twice, as a shaky breath filled its lungs. "I..." Its voice was shaking, hoarse, and quiet. Beatrice's eye widened. "...will use your blood… to paint a rainbow."
Before Beatrice could fully process this, she was hurled to the ground, cracking her shoulder against the floor. With a gasp, h—she tried to push herself up onto her good arm, straining all the while to not change. Just as she raised her head, Pyro's axe came down on her wrist, and she collapsed again, leaving her hand behind with a shriek.
The axe came down again, the blunt side crashing down into her back and knocking the wind out of her. Before she could hope to regain her breath, Pyro's boot collided with her side, flipping her over. Dazedly she wondered at the fact that Pyro had not turned its flamethrower on her, when the CLANG of the axe hitting the floor broke through her thoughts. The sound was followed by two wet thwaps, and Beatrice turned her head slightly to see Pyro's gloves lying beside her.
"Wait—" she wheezed, struggling and failing to push herself up with her missing hand and busted shoulder.
Instead, something else lifted her, grabbing the front of her shirt and slamming her back into the lockers. Vapors rose from the Pyro's grip, and for a fleeting moment S—Beatrice was terrified that her appearance had faded, only to realize it was not smoke, but steam. Pyro's gloveless hands trembled as it held her, smearing wet soot onto the outfit and exposing the glowing flesh beneath the protective layer—flesh that was turning white-yellow on contact with the water.
"You're... hurt," Beatrice said, forcing herself to smile.
Pyro's eyes flashed, and its grip went from her shirt to her throat, its palms burning hot against her skin, claws digging into her neck. When she gasped for air, nothing entered her lungs, and Pyro's maw angled itself oddly, a dark chuckle emanating from its throat. "What's... the magic... words...?"
Beatrice gagged, kicking out her legs, only for Pyro to kick her in the shin as its grip tightened. Darkness popped into the corners of her vision as blood dripped down both her neck and the Pyro's claws.
"Wrong... answer."
It squeezed tighter, and darkness clouded him. He barely felt himself hitting the ground as Pyro dropped him, and his vision cleared enough in time to see Pyro hovering over him, its flamethrower at the ready... and smoke rising around the both of them.
The murderous gleam in Pyro's eyes flickered, then faded.
"...Spy?" it whimpered.
Managing a weak smile, Spy looked into the Pyro's lenses. "Congratulations," he wheezed. "It seems… you have... killed her."
Pyro dropped its flamethrower, but Spy never heard it hit the ground as the world faded around him.
#tf2 spy#tf2 pyro#tf2 scout#team fortress 2#my art#my writing#fanfic#flickering fanfic#WOO! penultimate chapter!!#sorry for the delay but I hope you guys enjoy this one
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Heyyyy! :D
this is @scrunckled_idiot (obviously) and ummm… just information about myself here I guess?
About me!
has the incurable bisexual sickness 😔
i am genderfluid so please refer to me with any pronouns you like i really dont mind :3
I like to draw silly little doodles of my favourite fandoms, which is mostly tf2.
I don’t like racists, homophobes, pedos yada yada yada blah blah blah you know the drill ladies and gents.
I’m a bit challenged and I’ll leave it at that.
has crazy procrastination. so if you see a new post, it was probably supposed to be posted a week ago.
i like g/t content cus it makes me feel happy and safe and silly
i do NOT GIVE A FUCK about this "euuugh minors dni" bullshit like dawg DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT. I DO NYATT CONTROL WHO SEES MY BLOG. ITS THE FUCKING INTERNET I HAVE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO BE WORRIED ABOUT.
FANDOMS I WILL DRAW FOR:
tf2 (obviously)
spooky month
batim/batdr
profile pictures or banners for these fandoms
Favourite fandoms:
Team fortress 2
Bendy and the ink machine/dark revival
Half life
Portal
monkey wrench
amazing digital circus
sonic the hedgehog
spooky month
cuphead
don't starve
favourite musical artists:
weird al yankovic
imagine dragons
the happy fits
rare Americans
the hatters
will wood
jack stauber
mother mother
saint motel
tally hall
cosmo shelldrake
tom cardy
fish in a birdcage
the Orion experience
People i consider family on here because I'm lonely irl
@tf2addictedmann-deactivated2024
@melondaskelet0n
@canisxx
@another-delta-lover
@scouts-cosplays
@darkcloudsatnight
@ionlypostmymeemocs
@rainderthesomeone
@tf2-pony
@moon-0f-m4rs
@bluespace-skull
@circushaven
current ocs! (in order of apearence):
mary hall (the first oc)
Sunny Agafonov
pocket merc
✨my AO3✨
current progress on my g/t helmet party fanfic "rusted iron helmets"
planning: 95%
chapter 1: 33% 9 pages
⬆️current word count: 5711
*cough cough* my YouTube but idk if i'll post anything- *cough hack wheeze*
Ghastly little thang - YouTube
current (some not so secret) anons:
🚬anon
🪶 anon
@back-flipping-anon
🍭 anon
🌟💜 anon
💀🌌 anon
🌺 anon
🐰 anon
ASK ANSWER PROBABILITY TEIR LIST!:
🪨common🪨: text posts. one sfm render.
💚uncommon💚: shitty little sketch.
🪻💎rare💎🪻: mini comic.
✨🌟epic🌟✨: polished traditional sketch. 9 page+ comic
⚔️❤️legendary❤️⚔️: gif by me
🎞️🌌mythical🌌🎞️: video by me
tags i own:
#g/t merc shenanigans
#scrunckles collage sketches
#scrunckles fanart
the fanart board 👇
EVRYTIME I GET FANART I GET SO FUCKING EXCITED LIKE- FOR ME??? REALLY??? NOT JOSHING??? YOU LIKE ME TO THE POINT OF CREATING... – @scrunckled-idiot on Tumblr
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HEY! LOOK OVER HERE! AT ME!
Do ya even know who I am? I’m Jax, aka Scout.
Well, my full name is Jaxson but I’d rather ya not call me that
I know what you’re thinkin’, ya only eva see the red and BLU guys around here.
But I’m different, I’m 🟩green🟩, aka the best color
Go ahead and talk ta me, I already know everyone wants ta
Who wouldn’t? Just look at me!
Oh, my current pfp was made by @brokensenseofhumor!
They seem pretty sick, ya should check ‘em out
This image was made by @jysian, they’re also really cool!
Ooc and rules below cut
Hey, it’s Atlas. This is like my 5th blog so I already got the gist of it. The only rule is no straight up nsfw, also no spyxscout
That’s really it
Magic anon is allowed and encouraged
If there’s anything im uncomfortable with im just going to delete it and go on with my day
Scout might bully y’all sometimes btw, I promise that’s not me talking I’m just trying to stay in character
My main blog is @iaminyourbones if you wanna check that out
Btw if someone wants to make me a better banner then I won’t stop ya (def not me hinting that I really want a better banner)
#tf2#team fortress 2#team fortress two#tf2 scout#scout tf2#scout team fortress 2#team fortress scout#tf2 rp blog#tf2 ask blog
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Thank you so much @talentpiper11 , @monbons & @mooncello for the tags! I'm currently waiting on butter to come to room temperature so I can make cupcakes for a Girl Scout bridging ceremony. I also stayed up way too late last night sewing all of the badges on Little Purple's vest.
I'm so excited that COBB is drawing closer! I can't wait for everyone to see what my writing partner and I have been doing. I'm working on a banner and part of me wanted to do something quick and simple, but the other part of me wanted to try out a more painterly style instead. So that's what I'm trying out 🤣 I'm so proud of the lemon peel! It was a moment that I legit felt like an artist
No pressure tags and hellos below!
@messofthejess @blackberrysummerblog @valeffelees @artsyunderstudy @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @thewholelemon @larkral @run-for-chamo-miles @roomwithanopenfire @fiend-for-culture @cosmicalart @that-disabled-princess @cutestkilla @noblecorgi @iamamythologicalcreature @best--dress @emeryhall @ileadacharmedlife @drowninginships @supercutedinosaurs @whatevertheweather @rbkzz @ebbpettier @whogaveyoupermission @theimpossibledemon @katatsumuli @thehoneyedhufflepuff @theearlgreymage @theotherhufflepuff @onepintobean @orange-peony @hushed-chorus @fatalfangirl @ic3-que3n @bazzybelle @nightimedreamersworld @martsonmars @aristocratic-otter @shrekgogurt @alexalexinii @prettygoododds @ivelovedhimthroughworse @raenestee @skeedelvee
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The TF2 Mercenaries in D&D
(for @tf2heritageposts)
So I'm in a smash bros. inspired campaign that revolves around throwing characters from disparate video games together and seeing what happens. But that's where all of these sheets come from, and it's why all of their sheets are currently at level 9, which affects their amount of available feats.
To start with: homebrew! Don't worry, it's not a lot. It's just a little bit for custom firearms, actually. Specifically it's The Greasemonkey's Handbook, a glorious supplement that I recommend to everyone who will listen, but alas we are not here for giant mechs today, just a couple of guns! I'll point them out whenever necessary, but this is a general overview of their builds, just to save time.
All of them start as Variant Humans so they can have the Gunner feat from Tasha's Cauldron of Everything, and I think I gave all of them except Spy the Mercenary Veteran background. Spy gets, well. Spy.
Scout: Swashbuckler Rogue with the mobile feat, 5e has no finesse weapons that deal bludgeoning outside of one (1) setting specific ball, so he has a bat (regular club) but you'd be better off flavoring something like the three-rune blade as a dagger or shortsword. Custom gun from Greasemonkey's, to represent his Scattergun, is a Shotgun with the Lightened Frame modification.
I went with Swashbuckler because it is THE annoying little shit subclass. Run in, hit things, taunt your opponent, and run out before they can do anything about it. That's the Boston Bitchboy alright. And the Sneak Attack damage means when he does hit ya, he hits ya where it hurts.
Soldier: Oath of Glory Paladin. This does not mean he has good mental stats. He is not an optimized Oath of Glory Paladin. In fact the only reason his Charisma is a 10 is because I needed him to be able to cast some spells and have an Intimidation modifier that wasn't complete ass. I do however feel obligated to tell you he has an Intelligence of 7 and a Wisdom of 5. He also has a custom Greasemonkey's weapon and. well. it's the rocket launcher.
As for making him a Paladin to begin with: the auras and support spells are used to mimic the effects of the banners! Because I love support soldier and think he doesn't get enough love. Pyro: Phoenix Sorcerer. I know it's a UA. But. I mean. Come on. Fire spells. Fire subclass. Sometimes it's not that deep, you know? The unauthorized fucking thing does get a Greasemonkey's weapon though. You get three guesses as to what it is and the first two don't count.
Demoman: Ok now we're getting into one of the more interesting ones. Demo stumped me for a while because there's equal claim to build around either explosions or haunted sword. In the end, I went with a mixture of the two, 3 levels in Hexblade Warlock, 6 levels in Draconic Soul Sorcerer, which gives him the ability to go wild on fire spells similar to Pyro, but also granting him a solid HP boost. And of course the Hexblade stuff is for the good ol' Eyelander. If at any point Legendary tier items become available in this campaign you bet your ass I'm getting him a Vorpal Sword. No custom weapon though! Grenades already exist in 5e :)
Heavy: You know his ass has to be a Barbarian with the Tough feat for as much HP as possible, but I decided to not go with Totem Warrior. If you're building your own, the Bear Spirit is certainly a valid choice, but I decided to go with Zealot Barbarian instead, which is the subclass themed around being God's Specialest Little Warrior That's Not Allowed To Die. You may be able to guess where that's going. His custom Greasemonkey's weapon is also predictable: Heavy Machine Gun with the Drum Magazine modification. I also considered the Weighted Frame mod, but because I built him with middling dex (it's not optimal for his subclass, no, but I didn't want to make Heavy feel like he was dodging things left and right) it would've made his to-hit modifier even worse. Still, worth bringing up! And of course, I can't go without mentioning the fact he uses the most expensive (and deadly) ammo
It should be noted this server allows for very lenient flavoring, so for melee I use a greatclub but it's flavored as regular punches, so he can still do decent damage with it being on-theme
Engineer: Probably the most predictable Artificer in the world, especially when there's a subclass literally themed around having your own funny turret (Artillerist). He also uses a Shotgun, with no mods this time, and has a whole lot of damage spells he is very much not afraid to use. It should be noted that the Artillerist can actually make their turret do damage or support, which works very well for flavoring either a Sentry or a Dispenser, and Artificers get access to spells like Blink and Vortext Warp which can work for Teleporter shenanigans if you want to get real sillay with it. He uses one of his Infusions for Replicate Magic Item: Prosthesis, to account for the Gunslinger hand. I also gave him War Caster so it's easier for him to hold concentration on his spells.
Medic: Life Cleric, but in the most fucked up way possible. The way I like to describe it is that through a chain of theological loopholes he has become his own god and thus fuels his spells through believing in himself. This is why Heavy's build is Zealot over Totem, he's God's Specialest Little Test Subject! Also has War Caster, but uses it for concentration support spells this time.
Sniper: Ohhh, here's a fun one. I'm just gonna send you the gun first for some context:
All of the mods on this thing increase range values, except for one which gives it a +1 to attack rolls. I'm running low on images and that one's easy to describe lol. As for his build: 3 levels in Assassin Rogue/6 levels in Battle Master Fighter, and alongside the baseline Gunner feat, he also has the Sharpshooter feat (any dnd vets probably just shuddered). Why do I think his build is so fun? Let me tell you what Sharpshooter does.
+10 flat damage. ok. that's a lot. but the -5 penalty makes it hard to pull off, right? Well. Sniper here has maxed out Dex, and is proficient in firearms, so at level 9 his modifier to hit is a +8. Then, he has the Archery fighting style, which adds a +2 to all ranged weapons, despite the name, which makes it a +10. And then the weapon mod makes it +11. so even with the -5 penalty, it's still a +6 to hit. And remember those Rogue levels? Assassin Rogues get this fun feature where they have advantage on all attack rolls made against creatures who haven't acted yet in combat. And Battle Master has a maneuver that lets you add your superiority die to your initiative roll. And remember he has maxed Dex. And he has enough Fighter levels to Action Surge on that first turn if he does go early enough in Initiative. While having Extra Attack. And you can use the Sharpshooter feat on all of those rolls. I have made a monster. And I do not regret it. (Because outside of that my man is SQUISHYYYYYYYY)
Spy: Rounding out the builds with one that's exactly what it says on the tin: Assassin Rogue, but as a full build this time. Mixture of combat abilities revolving around ambushes and utility features revolving around stealth and infiltration, it's perfect! It's also fun to me that Scout and Spy both get to be full Rogues :> He also gets a custom gun: A revolver with the snub-nosed barrel mod, which gives it the concealed tag and a bonus to any checks to hide the weapon at the cost of reducing its damage die. I like to flavor it as the Enforcer. If you want more detailed breakdowns of any of their sheets I can go more in-depth, I just wanted to give an overview first!
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i fill my calendar with stuff i can do maybe if i'm busy it could keep me from you and i'm pretending you ain't been on my mind but i took an interest in the things that you like, ah
— "usually people want autographs, this is a first." loading. . . oikana !!
◟volleyball setter x volleyball setter (canon), idols (au), golden retriever x black cat, flirty x shy, cocky x humble, both perfectionists with inferiority complex, heavily misunderstood together, gets out-of-hand x puts him in his place, sunshine protector x sunshine, actively playing x retired player, high school sweethearts, younger rival's older sister.
◟tooru, kawa, ruru, ru, baby, sir, asshole (jokingly) // ana, sia, baby/babygirl, princess, darling, sweetheart, kitty.
◟first meeting. anastasia and tooru had a.. kinda rough (official) first meeting. as kageyama tobio's older sister, anastasia also attended kitagawa daiichi junior high in tooru's year, serving as one of the girls team's setters. outside of class, tooru never really noticed her until she turned up to one of the boys team's games to support kageyama. they officially couldn't see eye-to-eye and it only got worse at aoba johsai.
◟current situation. after they graduated from aoba johsai, anastasia was scouted by japan's national womens volleyball team and was their starting setter while tooru went abroad to play for club athletico san juan in argentina. they stayed as a long distance relationship until tooru told her he was going to denounce his japanese citizenship and in turn, anastasia retired from volleyball and moved to live with tooru in argentina. she now coaches volleyball at a nearby junior high.
◟playlist. out of my league, fitz and the tantrums / someone to you, banners / do it for me, rosenfeld / come my way, plvtinum / espresso, sabrina carpenter / don't you know, jaymes young / hold your breath, chase atlantic & more.
◟artwork.
@/stopisa
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Oathsworn brainrot: Soma
This doesn't even scratch the surface, and there's 2000 odd words under the cut. This entire AU was built around Soma. I am unwell. As a big supporter of women's wrongs, the fact that in the game's canon, she allegedly managed to piss off the entirety of Mercia within a couple of years of being in England appeals to me greatly. That's a nefarious feat. Her hands are bloody.
The whole Oathsworn premise post is linked here.
The King isn’t a tactful man, and managed to piss off a very powerful nation overseas just a year after his coronation. They’re cunning merchants, and equally as cunning on the battlefield. The Danes are governed by a war council, led by Guthrum Jarl, with formidable politicians and warriors seated beside him.
Guthrum does not like the acting King. But neither side would profit from an all-out war. Your kingdom has money and connections from trade that the Danes (creatively named) didn’t want to compromise. And in terms of prowess in battle, your army didn’t stand a chance. Tensions were high, with neither side willing to escalate things past sanctions, a few shot messengers, minor sieges of neutral territory, and a lot of threats.
Three years ago, the King – bored of current circumstances – acted against the advice of the court and ordered a disproportionately sized infantry unit to attack a very small encampment flying a Dane banner on neutral ground, breaching the peace. He smiled while the council were left to develop one hell of a contingency plan. Thirty men sent to kill three or four Danes, according to the scout.
One soldier returned, his right leg dragging limply behind him, utterly harrowed. He trembled, wide-eyed and halfway retching as he recounted how the one Dane who survived the ambush sprinted into the swamp with thirty men on her tail. With a single axe, murky water and the darkness of the night, she cut down the infantry. She sliced the sole survivor’s heel and forced him to watch her butchery of the twenty-ninth soldier. Then she escorted him back to her camp. Cleaned and dressed his wound, purely so he’d live to tell the tale.
The court froze with dread as he gave a description of the woman. Specifically at the scar, ragged and deep, cutting through her face from her ear to her nose. That woman was Soma: one of Guthrum’s most trusted councillors, and something of a nightmare to your kingdom’s soldiers.
Your court anticipated full retaliation. However, they were met with diplomacy. Despite the breach of unspoken contract, Guthrum had no intention of returning the gesture, still believing that the price of a war wouldn’t be worth its rewards. He arranged to visit the kingdom with his war council after sending a draft of a new peace treaty, full of mutually beneficial trade outlines, but pending one unfinalised condition.
Soma, looking like Soma does, caught your immediate attention upon the Danes’ arrival. She immediately recognised you as the crown princess without introduction, despite the King’s children also being present. She knew something, and that was unsettling, but she was courteous nonetheless. Her smile was warm, her eyes betraying her calculation. You weren’t completely in the dark yourself, though – the scar was unmistakable. This woman could likely take on all the Kingsguard in the room without the help of her colleagues. Whatever their game was, she was an integral player.
Guthrum said he was content to forgive the King for his misdeeds, and while the phrasing angered his Majesty, the animosity was silenced by the treaty’s very generous terms. The Danes saw profit in an alliance, but needed a reason to believe the King would honour it. After this, Guthrum nodded to you and bowed politely; word of your stride towards free public education had reached their shores, and he found it an admirable goal indeed. No wonder your kingdom spoke fondly of their heir, he remarked.
His caveat to the treaty was simple. Your court, by now, was familiar with the capabilities of Soma. Guthrum had heard of the Oathsworn tradition. Soma was prepared to abandon her port and her seat at his council in favour of swearing the Oath. This way, if the King was to lash out again, she would be within striking distance to take the life of the kingdom’s crown jewel – and your death wouldn’t be painless. The oath would be sworn with him and a noble of your choice present as witnesses, and it would be sworn.
Very few people in the court were aware of the King’s intention to eventually dethrone you, and he was in no position to refuse the treaty. The Danes did not come without reinforcements. He agreed to the terms, signed the papers, and you asked your queen mother to bear witness. She was sickened by the thought of the Oath being sworn under these circumstances, suspecting her husband’s intentions regarding his succession, knowing your life was doubly at risk here. But she agreed, because it wasn't up for negotiation.
That same evening, yourself, Soma, a priest and the two agreed-upon witnesses took to the chapel. She recited the sacred vow, never breaking your gaze. Her tone was steeled, but there was no mistaking her contentment to abandon the tenet, should it be asked of her.
The first attempt on your life occurred a mere month after the Oath ceremony. The assassin concealed the family crest of one of your kingdom’s nobles on a cufflink. He struck when you were checking in with the headmaster of a school you recently built, dealt with swiftly by Soma, who shadowed your public appearances. She was professional – positioning herself between you and the attacker in a suit of armour she had yet to adjust to, incapacitating him. The visit was cut short as she wrapped you in her cloak to mask your identity, leaving the other guards to formally arrest the assassin.
She had an authoritative, no-bullshit attitude about her as she used her newfound influence over the royal guard – a perk of the position given the politics – to organise an inquiry, presenting to the King the engraved cufflink found on the assassin. No doubt, she took pleasure in getting information out of him, but how she handled the inquiry made it clear that your life was paramount, and you took peculiar solace in this. The conspiring noblewoman who sent him was soon tried and punished accordingly. Soma insisted upon standing in as her executioner.
You cursed yourself as your defensive, wary demeanour around her cracked over time. There were other attempts on your life, and she took her role as your Oathsworn seriously, seemingly more so with every new perpetrator. Beyond duty, though, she showed you kindness. And as you learned about one another in your close proximity, you grew fond of each other. A profound respect was building, and it was mutual.
At one point, you both had problematic revelations. You had never felt safer around the woman tasked with taking your life, should the causal circumstance arise. And Soma realised she had no desire to act on that kill order. You made a promise to her: when you were queen, you would grant her deeds to the kingdom’s port, because she had once confessed to you how she mourned that part of her old life, and the gods knew she could bloody run it. She pondered the promise being empty, but dismissed the thought. You listened to her in a moment of vulnerability. This changed things.
A dalliance was inevitable, but this was neither fleeting nor inconsequential. Your affection for one another, your devotion in all its intensity, was a secret well-kept from all eyes, ears and quills.
And it was intense. Fast. Hasty, even. The threat of a sudden awful change loomed over you both, leaving no time for courtship. Butterflies were reserved for the newfound gesture in Soma’s hand on your back as she escorted you through crowds. Her solitary company was filled with dizzying kisses, passionate rendezvous under the moonlight and unbridled laughter.
At first, your mutual desire for physical intimacy was overwhelmed by a sudden anxiety in your closeness. There was the persistent fear that the kill order had been given, and that Soma was waiting for you to be at your most vulnerable before she ended your life. It choked you, frustrated you, but you were honest with her. The first time it happened, Soma assured you that she would sooner cut off her hand than lay a harmful finger on you. She thanked you for your candour, bidding you goodnight with a comforting smile and a chaste kiss to your knuckles. She would not lay with you until you felt safe enough to trust her with your body, and she wanted you to realise this safety on your own. With time, that safety came about. You made love, and confessed that love shortly after.
Your relationship introduced a new variable to the political equation. Until the present, you tried your best not to question any loyalties. Foolish as it were, you were content in the illusion of security.
With his reign coming to an end, though, the King is under pressure to secure the line of succession for himself and his children before he’ll be forced to abdicate. Never having had a penchant for patience, this urgency is beginning to seep into his actions in court. None of the assassination attempts were successful. His co-conspirators are dwindling in their numbers; those who haven’t been convicted of treason are succumbing to fear.
Truthfully, he never anticipated Soma would honour her vow, nevermind with such ferocity. He had hoped one of his carefully organised, bloody fates would befall upon you, and her subsequent execution would bury the evidence of his crime. But she complicated things terribly, and in his frustration, he begins to suggest processions that would put the treaty at risk. Gambling merchandise due to be exported form your kingdom to Guthrum. Proposing a mandatory armistice for all Danes in the kingdom. Inquisitions, the likes. All fortunately talked down by the court, but not without rapidly building concern.
You and Soma begin to see through the cracks. The King isn’t intelligent, but he also isn’t naive enough to accidentally compromise the kingdom’s safety. As your step-siblings begin to look at you through a different gaze, you're forced to navigate court with a pit in your stomach. Conversations with Soma following the string of conspiracies only reinforced the idea that foul play is at work.
Soma caught word some weeks ago that Guthrum’s war council had undergone a few changes of seats, and not all of the new councillors share his ambitions. They seek conquest. She suspects they’re in contact with your King, most likely manipulating him into pushing for political moves that would spiral the kingdom into a war you would certainly lose.
Her fears reside in whether Guthrum could have a change of heart, or if he would be willing to isolate you from the actions of the King with your coronation inbound. There is every possibility that the King could overrule the democracy of the court regarding one of his rash decisions, and the kill order would be given. There would be war, and if she refused to take your life, she’d be an enemy of her people – her family – as well as your own.
Yet when she confides in you, distressed, it’s abundantly clear that Soma doesn’t see a dilemma in all of this. She paces about your quarters and thinks aloud, knowing you’ll always lend your ear and comfort to her. If all negotiations failed, she would rather live as a pariah than betray you. The idea of taking your life is unfathomable.
Amidst a sea of uncertainties, you’re unable to avoid doubt. Those panicky feelings from the early days of your relationship are resurfacing, as much as you want them to stop. Your heart yearns to trust Soma. You hear the truth in her words, the humanity in her voice, but you can’t shake the fear that it’s an elaborate act. Your apprehension hurts her. It wounds you both.
A bitter few days pass by. You’re sick with worry, unable to sleep. Questions of if she’d do it bleed into how she’d do it. Your mind lingers on poison, to the extent where you employ somebody to taste your food and before you so much as touch the plate.
Soma knocks on your bedchamber door one night with a goblet in hand. She lets out a pained breath when you flinch away from it. It’s a sleeping aid, she tells you gently. It’s agonising to watch your health deteriorate under paranoia. You are her heart, after all. As difficult as it is to acknowledge your wavering trust in her, her love for you has not lessened.
You’re exhausted. And scared – not just for your life, but for the future of your kingdom. Apologies flood from your lips as you crumble before her. Soma can’t stop herself from holding you. Tears of her own escape as you sob at the sensation of her embrace, trembling in her arms as your sleep-deprived, anxiety-riddled mind tries desperately to refute that immediate feeling of safety.
It dawns that neither of you have the luxury of certainty in anything but each other.
Tenderly, after a small eternity in each other's arms, Soma asks if she can renew her vow, right here. She wants you to hear her Oath anew, her tenet solemn, devoted, and devoid of political motivation. Fuck the chapel, the priest, the gods. Witness be damned. The only blessing that matters is yours.
You give it to her.
#not a word of this was written at a reasonable hour so excuse my linguistics i beg#god i fucking love soma#soma jarlskona#soma x reader#❀ sugar and spice ❀#oathsworn au
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