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lay-z · 6 months ago

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I'm sorry, but this is so self-indulgent, it hurts. I've been thinking about it since it happened...So, here goes nothing. Also, this took a turn while I wrote it, because I have no control over myself and usually change plotlines mid-writing. MINORS, DNI - 18+ only !!! Pairing: f!reader x John 'Soap' MacTavish Warnings/Info: German reader 🇩🇪; trash talk; banter; cussing; Scottish slang (I feel like that should count as a warning...); German language; fuckbuddies to lovers; sexual tension; explicit smut; unprotected sex; some jealousy; dom!Soap; fluff

“Ach, ye gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me, lass!" Soap scoffs loudly as soon as he sees you swagger in to the private 141 rec room inside the HQ with a smug smile on your lips and that popular pink football jersey of the German national team adorning your body.

Soap is wearing his new cobalt blue Scotland jersey himself; fabric straining around his bulging biceps, stretching over his broad chest, and fitting snugly around his narrow waist like a second skin, because he's bought it a size too small on purpose.

Captain Price and Gaz are both showing off their support and colours by wearing their white England jerseys, naturally, while Ghost doesn't seem to care much because 'our bloody team isn't playing tonight anyways'. Keegan is wearing a vintage looking Portugal jersey, because 'Cristiano is still the fucking goat', and Roach is just happy to be there, really. He's more into American football, but he doesn't dare to speak that thought out loud tonight.

The atmosphere is light-hearted, riddled with boisterous laughter, crude banter and the smells of Price's cigar smoke, savoury snacks, hefty beer and hard liquor, while the group is gathered around the sofa in front of the large flat TV screen mounted on the wall, either sitting on its plush cushions or on one of the office chairs borrowed from one of the nearby meeting rooms.

Tensions are high, especially between you and Soap as the group waits for the preliminary reporting and interviews to end and the match to finally begin.

Germany vs. Scotland, the first opening match for this year's European Football Championship tournament.

Soap chokes up during Scotland's national anthem, overwhelmed by the sheer pride his fellow countrymen display in the stadium in Munich, while you merely stand with your hand over your heart as the German national anthem is sung next – singing your own national anthem and showing any kind of patriotism for your country, always makes you feel weird somehow; many thanks to inherited generational shame.

Still, you feel a tiny bit of pride as you witness your own compatriots sing the anthem just as noisily as the Scots.

"That a rare smile I spy on yer lips, lassie?" Soap teases after the anthems are finished, nudging his elbow against your upper arm while he's holding a bottle of beer in his hand. He loves to tease you with stereotypes that don't even apply to you most times, but he does it, nonetheless.

"Ye like how yer fellow Krauts have shown some pride in their country, eh?" He snickers, earning a sharp, scolding glare from Captain Price.

"Careful, MacTavish," the Captain chides from his chair next to the couch, his voice muffled by the cigar he's currently chewing on, while the others chuckle and snort among each other, "Keep the bloody banter above the belt, son."

However, you simply click your tongue and roll your eyes at him as Soap continues to grin at you. Both of you know that he doesn't mean any menace by it, and you've said way worse stuff to each other in the past anyway – all in the name of good-natured, friendly banter, of course. Besides, you live for the constant banter and bickering between you two. It's pretty much the main foundation of your friendship, and what inevitably lead to your affair.

"Very proud of my Krauts, yeah," you retort eventually, completely unfazed by the "slur", poking his large biceps with your forefinger harshly as you shoot him a mock glare, "I'll be even prouder when our team has completely annihilated yours, Scotch."

Soap's chest rumbles with a low grunt at your name calling, and he loves how you defy him easily, as he lets his dark blue eyes roam over your figure appreciatively. He notices how the fabric of your jersey clings to your upper body, accentuating your delicious curves and ample chest, and how the thin collar hugs your pretty neck, making him want to wrap his hand around your throat just like he did last night.

Gaz chuckles at your comment and even Ghost snorts quietly behind his balaclava, while Soap narrows his eyes at you playfully, now towering as he takes one more step towards you; close enough for you to tilt your head back slightly to keep eye contact with him.

Gods, you love how tall he is compared to you; how he could easily bend you to his will if he wanted to.

Soap notices how your pupils dilate as you hold his gaze fiercely and he can already feel his blood heat up in his veins with excitement, rushing south. He clenches his jaw as you bat your eyelashes up at him with that bratty smirk of yours and his fingers tighten around the cold beer bottle in his hand, the other one stuffed into the pocket of his jeans, to keep himself from grabbing and bending you over the couch in front of everyone, including your superiors.

The tension between you two is becoming more noticeable to everyone present now, all thick and palpable.

"Is – is that behaviour considered normal for them?" Roach enquires in a hushed whisper as he leans in to speak to the other men, shoving another handful of salted and roasted peanuts into his mouth while his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Soap. He's more interested in whatever is going on between the two Sergeants than the goddamn soccer game on TV.

Keegan simply nods with an affirming hum as he lifts the rim of his beer bottle to his lips, eyes glued to the TV, while Gaz answers verbally, also not taking his eyes off the screen.

"Aye," the latter confirms, "Just ignore them, Sanderson. We don't interfere, unless they get physical. Right, Captain?"

The older male nods firmly in return, his face a mask of seriousness as he watches the kick-off with intrigue, taking a slow sip of his glass of bourbon.

"And even then, only if it's not sexual." Ghost adds gruffly, though one can practically hear that he's smirking beneath his mask. The Lieutenant has never said it out loud yet, but he is very much aware of the thing that has been going on between his Sergeant's for a while now.

Soap manages to stay cocky after the first two goals for the German soccer team, despite his teammates and, especially, your teasing. The third one, a penalty goal, makes him break out in a sweat with both anger and devastation, all hope for a win now gone at once.

The Germans don't stop there, though.

You're tugging at Soap's arm, his jersey, jumping up and down like some excited bunny, laughing and cheering hysterically after having had a few drinks at this point, celebrating with the rest of the team, while the Scotsman looks on with a sour, stony expression.

He doesn't even know when everyone else suddenly became a fan of the goddamn Germans, all he knows is that his team is losing, and he's currently outnumbered by impostors. Creepin' Jesus, even Roach is cheering for them! He should've known better than to watch the bloody game with you and the lads.

"Aw, come on, Soapey!" You coo at him condescendingly, grinning widely as he crosses his arms in front of his chest with a huff, rolling his shoulders coolly as if he's not incredibly vexed, "Are you not enjoying the game, huh?"

"Ach," he scoffs, shrugging off your hand from his shoulder like a petulant child, "Away an bile yer heid."

"English, MacTavish!" Ghost scolds from his seat on the couch, having heard the insult despite the noise in the room, and you can see how badly Soap wants to flip the Lieutenant off.

"Ah, ah, ah, Johnny," you butt in a with a smug tone to your voice, "Be nice now. Your boys can still win thi–"

Your voice is cut off by loud cheering as Germany scores their fourth goal.

"Fuckin' sore winner, hen," Soap grunts as he bullies his cock deeper into your quivering cunt; right up to the hilt, stretching your velvety walls and hitting your g-spot repeatedly while you're burying your face into the soft pillows on the mattress beneath you, muffling your desperate noises as you take his fat cock like the good little bonnie you usually are behind closed doors.

In this position, he has the best view on your delicious curves and soft skin, now adorned with his deep blue Scotland jersey after he’d swiftly pulled the German one off you once you were in your bedroom; the fabric now rucked up to your shoulder blades, one hand of his fisting the stretchy fabric tightly to keep you exposed.

"Teasin' me all fuckin’ night," he huffs through gritted teeth as his blunt nails dig into your skin, tightening his grip around the fat on your hips with his other hand, so you can't escape him, "Over some fuckin' football game."

While Soap rolls and thrusts his hips in a steady, brutal rhythm, positioned between his spread knees behind you, you're grabbing fistfuls of your blanket as you moan and whimper helplessly, dampening the white sheets with your drool, taking everything he's giving you in retaliation to your bratty behaviour back at the rec room.

Soap had immediately grabbed a tight hold of your wrist and pulled you out of the room, towards the 141 quarters, as soon as the final whistle had rung out, ending the match with a terrible loss for Scotland. He didn’t bear to stand a minute longer to listen to his and your teammates mockery, and he didn’t care about the confused looks everyone, except Ghost, were shooting you and him as you’d left together.

He doesn’t care much anymore that Scotland lost to Germany – 5:1; it just so happens to be the perfect excuse to completely wreck you tonight, and Soap keeps telling himself that it’s not at all because he’s witnessed Keegan getting friendly with you over the past few times the team went out to the pub on base. You two might not be official, but you’re still his – and his only.

His friend, his fuckbuddy, his lover.

"You're jus'.... mad they– a-ah~" You slur, but your words are cut off by another pathetic moan that is ripped from your throat when Soap grabs you by the nape of your neck suddenly, like a dog would grab her puppies, squeezing your flesh and muscle with his calloused hand to keep you in place, then pulls his thick cock out up to its angry-red tip only to pound back into you with determined fervour to finally shut you up for good.

No, Soap is not mad about the bloody game – he’s mad that you’d spent halftime sitting on Keegan’s lap like an obedient puppy when the latter had asked you to take a seat, because the chairs were taken and Ghost took up most space on the sofa – and Soap was too proud to tell you to sit on his lap instead.

The bed rocks and creaks under your combined weight, hitting the wall repeatedly with a very telling “thudthudthudthud–” for your surrounding neighbours, your teammates, while the warm glow of your bedside lamp casts a lewd shadow of your current activity on the white walls of your bedroom. Fuck, Soap hopes Keegan can hear you two going at it in his apartment.

“What was that, bonnie? Ye said sum’?” the Scotsman grits out mockingly, biting his lower lip, nostrils flaring with exerted breaths as he squeezes your neck tighter, forcing you to arch your back and your pretty ass up into him as he pounds into you; skin slapping skin as his balls tap against your clit with each deep and rapid thrust.

Meanwhile, you don’t even register his teasing words anymore as you’re fully focused on the mind-blowing pleasure Soap is giving you; hard and dominating and the opposite of how the usually treats you during sex.

Your eyes roll back, toes curling as the tension of your impending climax begins to build up, up, up then; heat blossoming in your lower abdomen as he keeps pushing you towards the edge with each delightful rock of his powerful hips and his girthy cock ramming into your sweet spot.

However, Soap knows those sounds you’re making all too well already; the way you’re breathing pattern changes, the higher pitch of your wanton moans and sweet cries of pleasure, the way your walls begin to clench harder around his thick length, practically sucking him in deeper into your silky heat – he can read all the signs like the bloody morning paper, knows you’re about to cum on his dick...

And despite his own pleasure licking and tingling at his lower spine, making his burly muscles tense and twitch and his balls tighten with the inevitable – he stops his movements at once, ruins both your orgasms, and pulls his throbbing cock from your soppy, warm cunt. Glancing down briefly, Soap sees his bare cock glistening with your slick, creamy arousal and his pearly pre-cum gathering at the base of his cock, and the sight makes him shudder and groan with excitement.

He can’t have you cum like this tonight, though, fucking you doggy – Gods, no. Soap needs to watch you fall apart on his cock, needs to see your gorgeous features contort in pleasure and your reaction when he spills his thick load into you for the very first time without anything holding him back and separating him from you – knowing he’s the only one able to have you like this.

“Up,” he grunts out next, simultaneously pulling you upwards by your neck while he feels your rapidly fluttering pulse under his fingertips, until your back is flush with his sweat-slicked and bare, heaving chest while his rock hard cock rubs and pokes along your ass cheeks, “Gimme yer mouth.”

Cranking your neck towards him obediently, Soap reaches out and cups the side of your jawline to angle your face to his liking, capturing your mouth in a sloppy kiss and swiftly plunging his hot tongue past your lips. Your eyes flutter shut as you moan into his mouth while his other large hand snakes around your body, slipping beneath his jersey you’re wearing, cupping and groping your plump tits greedily, pinching your stiff nipples with the rough pads of his thumb and forefinger.

Soap goes on to shift and manhandle you into a different position and you gladly let him.

He pushes you down onto your back, smirking to himself when you spread your legs for him all too eagerly, making grabby hands with a frustrated pout to have him on top of you again – it’s adorable, really, and he appreciates the view of your pussy, all puffy and wet for him, before he nestles himself between your thighs – the place that has easily become his favourite over the past few months.

“Yer such a brat,” Soap chuckles darkly as he grabs one of your legs by your calf to hike it up over his broad shoulder, then the other, before he spits into his palm and gives his cock a few good pumps with his fist, tapping and rubbing the swollen tip on your sensitive clit teasingly until you let out a needy whine, one hand of yours reaching up to hold on to the back of his neck, tugging at his short Mohawk.

You’re his brat, though. Emphasis on his.

“And you’re such an ass tonight, Johnny,” you mewl in return and suck in a breath when Soap aligns his thick tip with your slick hole, pushing in halfway with one languid thrust and leaving you both breathless again.

“’m not an arse,” he objects with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he watches you bite your lower lip raw to keep your lewd noises at bay, “Ye just have a way of drivin’ me doolally, hen.” He counters, and then leans in to crash your lips together once more, folding your legs up even further while his cock sinks into your cunt fully, followed by a guttural moan of his when he feels your walls clench and tighten around him, squeezing him until his muscles tremble with restraint.

He groans against your lips; the feeling of your throbbing heat and the taste of your soft tongue flicking and lapping against his is nearly enough to make him cum on the spot. It’s almost like he can feel your heartbeat through your snug, perfect pussy, and it nearly drives him to the brink of madness each time you let him fuck you.

“You can’t say shit like doolally and not expect me to laugh,” you snicker softly, nipping at his lower lip as you lock eyes with him, batting your eyelashes, “Sounds fucking ridiculous.”

Soap grins in return and continues his deep, deliberate thrusts into your delicious cunt. His heart always flutters giddily whenever you gaze into his eyes with that cheeky look of yours, especially when his cock is buried to the hilt inside you, stretching you out with every inch he has to offer.

“Say some in German then,” he croons lowly, nudging his nose below your chin to make you tilt your head up to give him better access to your neck before he begins peppering wet, hot kisses along your pulse point, sucking a purple love bite into your creamy skin to mark you up. “I wanna laugh, too,” he grumbles between nips and pecks.

You click your tongue in mock annoyance, enjoying his ministrations and the way his beard tickles your skin too much to be mad at his teasing, and you tug on his short hair a little harder before raking your nails over his scalp until he purrs against your skin in pure bliss. Soap can feel how you swallow hard as he licks a long stripe from your collarbone up your throat, then your walls clench tightly around his cock and he grits his teeth as another pleasant shudder runs down his spine.

“Say. Sum’. To. Me. Lass.” He demands, this time punctuating each word with a sudden deep and sharp rock of his hips that makes the bed’s headboard hit the wall again.

Your eyes flutter shut with a breathy moan and your brain short-circuits while each of his thrusts makes a jolt of hot searing pleasure shoot right into your core, making your spine tingle and your body tense with bliss.

“Ich liebe dich,” you blurt out unintentionally instead of an insult, your speech slurred and unintelligible as he presses his weight further into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs in this position. Your eyes widen as soon as you realize what you’ve just confessed and you pray he didn’t understand that.

Soap doesn’t speak German, but those words do sound familiar.

His stomach tightens, his heart skips a heavy beat while his mind begins to race, and his rhythm falters momentarily before he picks up his pace again, fucking into you fast, deep and thoroughly to drown out the sudden wave of foreign emotions on the brink of overwhelming him.

“Again,” he demands against your ear, gripping your body tightly and keeping you in place on the mattress as he ruts into your cunt with newfound vigor and goad, his pelvis stimulating your clit with each sharp snap of his hips.

“Say –“ He gets a hold of your jaw, curling his large hand around it to make you look at him while he grits his teeth, huffing like some feral bull. “– that again.”

Reaching one hand out behind you, you brace your flat palm against the headboard while your other hand keeps holding on to the back of his neck, fingernails digging into thick muscle and skin as you cling onto him desperately.

“F-fuck, Johnny!” You cry out. “Ich liebe dich, du Vollidiot!” you repeat in between breathy, high-pitched moans, though more confident this time, before your eyes roll back in pleasure with another loud moan of his given name.

Soap can barely keep it together then. His heart nearly bursts out of his chest and his jaw clenches so hard, the veins in his neck start protruding and fluttering with his rapid pulse as he feels you come apart around his cock; your tight, soppy walls convulsing and clenching, pushing and coaxing him to his own sudden release.

And he lets go of your jaw, clutches the pillow next to your head tightly as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, groaning and moaning shamelessly as his body seizes up, balls tightening almost painfully before he spends his thick cum into your perfect cunt.

You wince and exhale a hiss when Soap leans back to look at you and lowers your legs at last, letting you stretch out your sore muscles while he stays buried inside you, moving his hips almost lazily and caressing your burning leg muscles soothingly while both your bodies keep twitching and shaking with small aftershocks. You can feel his warm cum and your own wetness leaking and dripping down your ass crack, ruining your bed sheets below – and you remember that you did actually let him fuck you raw this time in a fit of frivolity.

Your blurry vision becomes clear again once you blink away the haziness and then you already feel Soap’s calloused fingers tracing your jawline, his deep blue eyes drinking in your gorgeous, flushed features almost reverently.

“What?” You ask defensively, looking up at his ruggedly handsome face, now squirming under his uncharacteristically tender gaze and the feeling of his softening cock still resting all snug inside your cunt, acting as if you haven’t just professed your love to him, after weeks of dancing around the topic.

“Well,” he begins, clearing his throat after another beat of awkward silence as he can feel his cheeks begin to heat up with a burning blush,

“Ye cannae finally confess ye love me an’ not expect me ta combust, luv.”

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #call of duty #cod mw2 #soap #soap cod #tf 141 #task force 141 #soap x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley #keegan p russ #gary roach sanderson #kyle gaz garrick

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addicted-to-dc · 8 months ago

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Jekyll/Hyde - Taskforce 141 x Reader

Okay, didn't like the first fic I wrote so here's this one instead lmao. Still figuring out team dynamics... but I can't wait to explore moreeee.

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this. Thank you!!! @greeniegreengreen @aeilani @poetslastdeath (Thanks for the writing prompt!! Imma go crazier with it soon)

Content Warnings: Typical CoD violence, ptsd, reader is going to be unhinged (even more so in the next chapters).

“She’s not a good fit.” You were waiting for the line; another iteration of the same denial you’ve encountered everywhere you go. “It’s all solo work, can she even work with a team?”

Your throat burns at the statement. Despite the stabbing pain with each demeaning sentence, you can’t help but continue eavesdropping. Your file has lies written on nearly every page, all the ‘solo missions’ redacted and sealed so tightly even you couldn’t read them.

“John.”

Laswell is too kind to you, too stubborn, somehow seeing right through your heavily defended psyche. Playing matchmaker with the 141 is a mistake. These men don’t need you. You’re disposable, belonging nowhere yet everywhere. They already have a psychotic on the team, the position has been filled since the damned taskforce was created.

“Ignore the files, look at her.” The fucking PowerPoint. It’s like you’re a mutt she’s trying to adopt off. As if a photo of you would convince them to accept. You’re a liability. It won’t be long until you’re sent off on another suicide mission, doomed to survive and repeat the process over again. Laswell sighs. “She’s never been assigned a solo mission.”

“Lone survivor?” Says a new voice. The Scottish accent tells you it’s one of the sergeants, Mr. Mohawk. “Sounds familiar, eh, Ghost?”

There’s no response, a barely discernable grunt takes the place of an answer. Then this ‘Ghost’ speaks: “Jekyll and Hyde?”

“She’s a completely different person on the field. Jekyll specializes in intelligence, sabotage, and infiltration. A screw loose, yes, but Hyde…” You don’t belong here. They know it. You know it. It seems like Laswell is the only one out of the loop, but you will never doubt her stubbornness. Your stomach drops. “Hyde is unstoppable. She flips that switch… you have a wildcard that will turn the tide.”

Maybe you should just leave. Maybe you should take up Graves’ offer. He’d gladly take you, but you’re not sure what’s holding you back from finally pulling the trigger… you should really work on your wording.

“She’s survived alone for so long; she needs a team that can survive WITH her.”

You eye the window, admiring the view of the forested area that claims most of the land. This building is commercial, an office building repurposed for government use… and it seems they forgot to lock the window. It slides open with ease, and the 2-story drop is nothing. You’ve fallen from deadlier heights.

“JEKYLL!” You don’t bother turning around, Laswell’s voice ushering you to make a break for it into the forest.

Turning around, you salute them, sarcastically of course, and bolt into the forest as the group rips their own window open. Serves them right for talking shit when you can clearly hear everything. Your eyes flick around, spotting a sturdy enough tree to climb up. The forest is old, old enough to be your perfect personal playground. It’s been a while since you’ve been in one. It screams “HOME!” in your brain, but you shove that thought down. That home is across the world, your claim etched into the tops of the trees.

It’s not difficult to climb into a spot, it’s nearly as easy as breathing. The ambience of the forest is enough to take away the pain in your chest, the wind grounding you with its bite. Sighing, you slump against the bark and look upwards. The clouds look extra poofy today. A great contrast against the bright blue sky.

You close your eyes. It’s as if you’re there, survival being the only goal in your mind. Nothing weighing you down…

“Jekyll!”

You look down, disappointed that they found you already. War never changes and peace never lasts, including your own. Captain John Price glowers at you from below. You’re starting to feel a bit better, especially since this perspective is too damn hilarious. What a little, angry dude.

Ignoring the man, you slowly move from branch to branch. Running won’t solve anything, they chased you for a reason. Laswell did this on purpose. The revelation makes you freeze. Scowling, you whip around to face the men. “Look, I don’t appreciate Laswell meddling with my shit either, but mention anything about my teams again and I’ll cut your fucking tongues out.”

“Fair.”

Your eyes flick to Ghost, the darkest thing in the forest. It’s almost as if darkness clings to him. You could easily disappear, this forest is vast, yes, but it would be a walk in the park to a nearby town compared to your previous unsavory experiences. You know this, but it seems Ghost knows too. He’s tense, watching you closely for any tells. It’s funny, you’re doing the same thing. Great minds think alike.

“How’d you like the PowerPoint?” you lean against a branch, scratching a scar on your chin. “Was it the maroon or grey themed one?”

Silence, but then an answer from one of the sergeants, Mr. Mohawk. “Grey.”

You frown, allowing yourself to swing to a lower branch. “Funny, she said she changed it. Liar.”

“Laswell a liar?”

“All of you are liars,” you immediately throw back, sizing up all the men. “To others… to yourselves.”

“And you’re not a liar?” The other sergeant asks. Curious man, a seeker of truth. His determination is difficult to ignore, a sense of justice that could rival yours. Good. There’s not many left in this world. He shall henceforth be Sunshine.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Lies kill in our line of business, even the small ones, Sergeant. Not my weapon of choice. Now, are you rejecting me or not?”

“No.”

Now that’s interesting. You descend a few more branches. “Why?”

“The PowerPoint.”

You scoff, landing softly onto the forest floor. It takes only a few steps to close the distance. Hesitance invades your mind. This group will be different. You’ll just have to place your trust in Laswell and her mysterious ways. “Next mission?”

“Not much to go on, we’re waiting on Laswell for intel.”

Nodding, you glance at the team. “You going to bother introducing yourselves? Don’t bother, big boy, I already know who you are.”

Ghost looks like a challenge, very throwable. Maybe you’ll get a chance in the field. The Sergeants exchange glances. Aren’t they cute.

“Too late, you’re Mr. Mohawk and Sunshine now,” you state, adjusting your vest and walking away. “Give me 24 hours, Price.”

And with that, you leave the men alone to focus on your favorite task… digging for intel.

“Jekyll.”

You halt in your steps, turning around. “Yes, Captain?”

He steps forward. “You’re 141, we work as a team. You haven’t lost us yet.”

The pain returns, the ringing in your ears reaching a crescendo despite the forest’s calming aura. Blood, so much blood, gasps for breath and- Your jaw tightens, any more pressure and you’re sure you’ll shatter them. “Conference room 2.”

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Thanks for reading! I really want to you (the reader lol) to pitch in and decide where to go! I think a little choose your own adventure would be cool. I'll start it up within the next chapter or two. I'm so exciteddd to write again. I hope my writing muscles aren't too decayed XD

If anyone has suggestions, do not hesitate to comment! I need more unhinged mutuals on here pls

#taskforce 141 x reader #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader

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daughterofheartshaven · 21 days ago

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A Virgin New Adventures reading guide

I told @gotyouanyway that I'd give them my reading guide for the Virgin New adventures that I made for a friend a while back and posting it publicly was easy and also means other people can use this too. I wrote this back in 2021, but stand by it from what I remember. It has been like 5-6 years since I read some of these books, so if I rated your favorite too low lemme know and I'll give it a re-read.

This might not be that helpful if you want to pick just a few books - I designed it more to streamline VNA experiance

The key:

1 - I'd recommend skipping

2 - Eh. You can skip, but there is at least something to be gained by reading it

3 - I would recommend reading this. It's not plot-critical, but it is a good read or useful setup

4 - Read this for sure. It's either plot-relevant, or just that damn good (or both).

Timewyrm: Genesys - 4 (introduces the timewyrm and the series; unfortunately it's also not great.)

Timewyrm: Exodus - 3 (continues the timewyrm story, and is a fairly straightforward but interesting story)

Timewyrm: Apocalypse - 2 (eh. Not much for or against it either way)

Timewyrm: Revelation - 4 (concludes the timewyrm arc with style)

Cat's Cradle: Time's Crucible - 3 (Good if you can wrap you head around it)

Cat's Cradle: Warhead - 2 (depressing as all get out, but very well written)

Cat's Cradle: Witch Mark - 3 (just plain weird. Does finish the current arc and sets up Return of the Living Dad)

Nightshade - 2 (kinda weird. Notable as the first Mark Gatiss story)

Love and War - 4 (plot-relevant. Also awesome)

Transit -4 (Introduces important recurring character. Hard to follow but really good even if you can't follow it)

The Highest Science - 3 (good story, but ultimately not amazingly important)

The Pit - 1 (I did not enjoy)

Deceit - 4 (Not a great read, but important to the plot)

Lucifer Rising - 4 (Amazing, with important character development for our protagonists)

White Darkness - 2 (first David A. McIntee novel, but not especially gripping)

Shadowmind - 3 (good demonstration of where Ace and Benny are as characters, vaguely interesting plot)

Birthright - 3 (good character piece for Ace and Benny, shows a darker side to the Doctor without being dumb about it)

Iceberg - 2 (plot is messy and weird. Only read if you need the Doctor's half of the story from Birthright)

Blood Heat - 4 (starts alternate universe arc, important developments for the Tardis)

The Dimension Riders - 2 (gonna be honest here - I don't remember a thing about this one either way)

The Left-Handed Hummingbird - 3 (first Kate Orman novel. Pretty good, although a little weird and hard to follow)

Conundrum - 3 (Be prepared for weirdness. And superheroes. Helps setup for No Future and Head Games)

No Future - 4 (concludes the alternate universe arc with style, establishes Ace from here on out)

Tragedy Day - 3 (dark, but good. Worth a read)

Legacy - 3 (Kinda dark, but it works. Be prepared for over-continuity)

Theatre of War - 4 (Pulls off one of the best plot twists I've seen anywhere, and introduces Braxieatel to the Whoniverse)

All-Consuming Fire - 4 (Not plot-relevent at all, but is very good, especially if you are a Sherlock Holmes fan)

Blood Harvest - 4 (Major plot point in the Whoniverse)

Strange England - 2 (takes strangeness to an art form. Can be freely skipped)

First Frontier - 4 (plot relevant for spoiler-y reasons)

St Anthony's Fire - 2 (dark and weird, but well written)

Falls the Shadow - 1 (Just... no)

Parasite - 1 (Written by Jim Mortimore, therefore depressing as all get out)

Warlock - 2 (I did not read. Sequel to Warhead, so only read if you liked it)

Set Piece - 4 (major plot developments for multiple characters)

Infinite Requiem - 2 (like The Dimension Riders, I remember nothing)

Sanctuary - 3 (a pure historical. Not really great on its own, but helps set up Human Nature)

Human Nature - 4 (The story that was adapted to TV. One of the best New Adventures by itself, becomes even better by having fun comparing it to the TV version)

Original Sin - 4 (plot-relevant)

Sky Pirates! - 2 (Only if you like Douglas-Adams-esque dark humor)

Zamper - 3 (Somewhat interesting follow-up to The Highest Science)

Toy Soldiers - 2 (Adds pretty much nothing, but not painfully bad)

Head Games - 4 (a worthwhile look at where the Doctor has been going and who he is)

The Also People - 4 (probably my favorite New Adventure, although Theatre of War and Human Nature are also up there. Also resolves a recurring character's arc)

Shakedown - 3 (Fun, but ultimately fluff)

Just War - 2 (Weird and ultimately unimportant)

Warchild - 2 (Same situation as Warlock. Starts Psi arc, but can be skipped)

SLEEPY - 4 (Generally good story, sets up Psi arc if you skipped Warchild)

Death and Diplomacy - 3 (only worthwhile as setup for Happy Endings)

Happy Endings - 4 (Plot relevant. Ultimately fluff, but plot-relevant)

GodEngine - 4 (not plot-relevant, but an excellent story)

Christmas on a Rational Planet - 2 (part of Psi arc, and lays groundwork for Faction Paradox stuff, but I couldn't really follow it)

Return of the Living Dad - 4 (cleans up old plot threads, and is a great story in its own right)

Cold Fusion - 4 (Not plot relevant, but an excellent, gripping story)

The Death of Art - 2 (part of Psi arc, but not great)

Damaged Goods - 2 (Russel T. Davis's first Who work, but very dark and nasty)

So Vile a Sin - 4 (finishes Psi arc and has other plot relevance)

Bad Therapy - 2 (deals mostly with repercussions of previous story, but not great in and of itself)

Eternity Weeps - 1 (Jim Mortimore's writing is too depressing for me. Technically plot relevant in that Benny and Jason get divorced but not worth it)

The Room With No Doors - 4 (setup for Lungbarrow, good story in its own right)

Lungbarrow - 4 (concludes the new adventures of the seventh doctor in a surprisingly meaningful way)

The Dying Days - 4 (a nice little coda to the series that sets up Benny's adventures as well)

#doctor who #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #dweu #virgin new adventures #doctor who vnas #doctor who virgin new adventures #dw vnas #dw vna #dw virgin new adventures #seventh doctor #ace mcshane #bernice summerfield #chris cwej #roz forrester

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ellewritesalright · 2 years ago

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Nine Long Years - Part 1

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Masterlist --- Part 2

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Notes: Hi Hello Hi! This is my first time publishing my writings so here goes nothing. I wrote this with the books in mind, though you could still imagine the characters from the show. In my head, this story takes place sometime between Crooked Kingdom and King of Scars. I have much more of this story written including more fluffy Nikolai content than the scraps in this chapter so I will post it if y'all want it (I'm talking about there's-only-one-bed content, mutual-pining-in-silence content, Nikolai being a sophisticated dumbass at times content; it's all great I assure you).

Warnings: Minimal Fluff, Much Angst, Jordie and Kaz's (not really tho) deaths in the past, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of firepox and the Hertzoon con, reader oscillating between super excited and absolutely devastated.

Word Count: 2,800

..........

NINTH YEAR

The Crow Club was a new establishment since you had last walked the streets of the Barrel many years ago. You could remember going past the front of the building on your way to the exchange, but you couldn't recall it being anything but vacant. Back then there were no tourists and gamblers crawling about the place like there were now. It was just as empty as the coffee shop where a dreadful man conned you and your brothers.

You tapped your fingers against the table. In your glass of kvas, you could see your false reflection. This voyage aboard the Volkvolny was the first time your face was tailored to appear unlike your own. At first, Tolya did not make the drastic differences that he employed with your husband; he made more subtle differences with you. Shifts in the eyebrows and the cheekbones, the reshaping of your jaw. Nikolai hadn't been convinced that you looked different enough to be safe, though, so the colour of your eyes and hair were changed and your nose was just slightly offset for extra measure.

Nikolai was staring at you now with the green eyes of Sturmhond. His appearance as the privateer did not make you uneasy, not in the way you assumed your altered appearance was making him, and you smiled as he squeezed your knee beneath the table.

You had met him first as Sturmhond, so you were used to the red hair and crooked nose. After many months at sea on an assortment of ships, you got a permanent spot on the crew of the Volkvolny. It was the ship's first time docked in the Ketterdam harbours, and its captain was a young scoundrel, or so your coworkers had said during the first week at sea.

"He looks too young to be captain of a ship. How did he get his money, eh?" A crewmate bristled as you stood on the deck. This man looked as weathered as some of the sails on the boats in the shabby fifth harbour.

"Heard he stole his wealth off a Zemeni gunsmith," another crewmate said.

"Yeah? Well, I heard he was a Ravkan mercenary who did contract killings for their king." The older one turned to you. "What do you think, kid?"

"I think that I don't care where he made his money as long as he pays my wages." You drew your eyes up from your knot. "Besides, you shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"A very wise sentiment, Rietveld," Sturmhond boomed from behind you.

He snuck up without a word, and now your crewmates stood wide-eyed as they stared at their captain. You turned to see him watching the others, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"You might have heard I made my money in magical deer shit, but that doesn't mean it's true."

Then he peered at you with a smirk, called on the others to get back to work, and walked away.

Nikolai gave you that same look now, his gloved hand secure on your thigh. You knew the raised brow and quirked lips all too well. More often than not, the combination spelled trouble. Yet you supposed trouble wasn’t difficult to find in the Barrel.

A bouncer approached your table and spoke only briefly, “Brekker will see you now,” before escorting your group across the floor of the gambling den.

Sturmhond entered first with you second and Tamar behind you. Your husband smiled as he looked towards a figure seated behind a desk. He approached diplomats, noblemen, and criminals in the same way, with charm, eloquence, and a warm smile. You held back your amusement at that thought, suppressing a smile of your own as you glanced around the room. The paintings and decor looked expensive, and you had to wonder how much of it was stolen.

“The guy’s a ruthless thief and con,” Nikolai had said when he got home after meeting Brekker for the first time.

You were stuck in Ravka planning your wedding during his trip; it was a dreadful time, and you guilted Nikolai into explaining every little detail of his little journey across the True Sea.

“You might like him, though. He’s got more honour than the merchant council and the rest of those Barrel bosses combined.”

And now you were here in his office. The figure at the desk got out of his chair, and the movement caught your eye. The cheery expression on Sturmhond had not rubbed off on the man, and he stood with his features as hard as a rock. You examined his face, noted the scars that no doubt came from street fights and brawls in the dead of night, and then you looked at his eyes. There was something about them. The dark brown was something you had seen before, perhaps when you were first here in Ketterdam. You met so many people during that time.

When his stare fell on you your throat felt dry. He had the eyes of a calculating lynx, a predator about to ensnare his prey. You knew he was aware of Sturmhond’s true identity, but you weren’t sure if he would correctly assume your position in Ravka. You had only been the queen for a few months, and bills with your likeness had not yet been printed. Few people outside of Ravka could identify you, and fewer still could when you were tailored to fit your new sea-faring alias.

Still, his eyes made you uneasy. You knew them somehow, you just had to know them; but how?

“Tamar, Bos,” Sturmhond said, springing you from the trappings of Brekker’s eyes, “meet my associate, Kaz Brekker.”

There it was, and it hurt as much as being attacked by a volcra. You had taken blows to the gut that didn’t make you as sick as you felt now.

The pain was twofold. Firstly, when either of your dead brother’s names was mentioned you always felt a bitter pain in the pit of your stomach, an acidic burning that twisted your insides like a poison you would quickly succumb to. Your littlest brother was named Kaz, same as the Kaz before you. Seven years your junior, Kaz was too sweet for the cutthroat world around him. Back at the farm, you used to tuck him under your arm and read him stories so he would fall asleep. He was a bright and enthusiastic boy who always made sure to share his sweets with you, even if Da rarely bought them.

But the pain of hearing Kaz’s name was nothing compared to the crushing realization that this was him standing in front of you, all grown up, and very much alive.

His birthday was last week, and you celebrated it alone with a moment of silence below deck of the Volkvolny. At that moment you thought to yourself how he would have been eighteen by now, how he could have attended the university and gotten a better education than anyone in your family ever had, how he could have had a full life if he didn’t succumb to the pox.

Yet here he was; eighteen and looking worn beyond his years, his life in the barrel undoubtedly having treated him with the cruelty it kept in vast supply.

“Bos?” Sturmhond patted your shoulder. “Are you listening?”

You turned your attention to him. “I might have missed what you last said, could you repeat yourself?”

“Perhaps your friend should wait outside if she can’t pay attention,” Kaz suggested with a scowl. Was it really him? You had never seen Kaz make such a face at you.

“No,” you rushed to say. After almost nine years of thinking he was dead, you needed every second you could get with your brother. “It was only a momentary lapse. Please, continue.”

They did, and you tried your hardest to listen. You caught snippets of what they were saying, enough to piece things together if your mind strayed, but you were only giving half of your attention. Your eyes kept wandering off course, studying the boy you thought to be dead.

He stepped up to a map on his wall as he spoke with your husband, and you didn't miss the limp in his step. Was that something he got a long time ago or was it new? Did he sustain it when he was taken by the reaper's barge? And how had he survived? You held him and Jordie as they died, but if Kaz was here before you, was Jordie alive too?

No, you shouldn't get your hopes up. And you shouldn't let your mind race with questions like these. Surely you could approach him, ask him whatever you could think of. But you were frozen as you took in the revelation. There was no way you could approach him with it now--you would be incoherent.

Still, as you sat there you had no other thought in your head besides the boy you'd played parent to after Da died.

It was a miracle that Kaz was standing in front of you, breathing and with the flush of life in his healthy–if a little pale–skin. It was a miracle, and a miracle was more than you thought your family could ever have after all the misfortune you'd suffered. But if there was anyone who deserved a miracle, it was sweet little Kaz.

..........

The meeting finished, Kaz dismissed you from his office, and you felt the disappointment sink in. There was no reason for Kaz to recognize you while you were tailored, but you still hoped he would somehow know anyways. He was your brother, and he knew you better than many. Though perhaps, like him, you had changed as well. It had been almost nine years, after all.

Either way, you followed Nikolai back to the Volkvolny, elation in your step, and nervous dread splashing in your stomach. Nikolai was a few paces ahead--busily engaged in conversation with Tolya--while Tamar kept step beside you, seemingly in silent argument with herself every time you glanced at her. As you reached the harbour, she finally spoke up.

"Bos," she started, maintaining your identity despite the absence of witnesses around you. "Your heartbeat has been erratic since you saw Brekker."

You gulped, a move you regrettably realized the heartrender would know of.

"It keeps speeding up like a racehorse then lulling below your usual beats per minute. In the meeting, I kept thinking you might pass out."

"I'm alright, Tamar," you assured her, though you felt your heart speed up a bit as you kept away the truth. "I feel better than I have in a while, actually."

"Is that so?" Her eyes were skeptical.

"It is."

She dropped the topic as you reached the Volkvolny.

You went right to the captain's cabin, eager to have Nikolai to yourself so you could share the exciting–if not bizarre–news. You wasted no time stripping off your heavy coat and tugging off your boots. Nikolai would take his time as captain of the ship, checking with the crew to make sure everything was in shape before he joined you, so you sat down on the bed, face in your hands as you considered your evening at the Crow Club.

"He's alive," you grinned into your palms. "My baby brother is alive."

The thought was all you could think of, and even as you heard Nikolai's boots coming down the hall, everything besides Kaz was so distant to you.

"The meeting went rather well, I think," Nikolai said as he shut the door behind him. He came to sit with you. "But you were very quiet all night. Are you alright, my love?"

"Better than alright."

"I'm glad to hear that. It didn't seem like that earlier; you looked like you'd seen a ghost."

You looked at Nikolai. "That's because I did." You played with the most ornate of his rings, bringing his hand to rest between yours. "I’ve told you about my brothers, Nikolai. Do you remember their names?"

"Yes, Jordie and… Kaz." He looked at you, realization dawning in his eyes. "You don't think–"

"I don't think, I know. It’s him, I just know it. He’s my baby brother, Niko." You grinned and flopped back onto the bed. It was firmer than the one in your palace suite, but you’d grown accustomed to the roughness again on this voyage after a few years away from this cabin. "Saints, I need to see him again."

Nikolai glanced away from you, silent for a moment as if in debate with himself. "My love, I don't think that’s a very good idea. I know Brekker, and he’s nothing like the stories you’ve told me of your brother. I think seeing him again--seeing how he’s changed--would only upset you."

You sat up again, staring directly into Nikolai’s eyes.

"What upsets me is that my husband doesn’t think I should reunite with the only family I have left," you scoffed.

"I know you want to see him, I'm just afraid you'll be disappointed."

"I thought he was dead, but now he's alive. There is no way he could disappoint me.” You grabbed your husband's hands, squeezing them gently as you faced your body towards him. “He's alive, Nikolai."

He sighed. "People can die in many different ways, not only when they stop living."

"You think he's so vicious of a criminal that I would rather he be dead?"

"Well, no, I just…"

"You just what, Nikolai?"

"I don't want you to get hurt." He brushed his thumb over your knuckles. "I know the nightmares you used to get about your brothers, I know how helpless they made you feel. I’d hate for you to feel that way ever again.”

Your stare fell to his most gaudy ring. It sat in place of his usual wedding ring, which was safely tucked on a chain beneath his shirt just as your wedding ring rested on a chain beneath yours.

He wasn’t wrong about your nightmares. He’d seen you on your worst nights, held you close as you sobbed into his chest. He watched you in the depths of agony, your lungs on fire and your stomach knotted so tightly you probably wouldn’t feel a bullet tearing into your flesh. And although the nightmares weren’t as frequent or debilitating as they once were, you sometimes still woke up crying from a dream of two boys that deserved more from their short lives.

But there was nothing that would make you want to abandon Kaz again. This meeting was a chance to redeem yourself. You could make amends for not protecting Kaz or Jordie as you should have. You could hold Kaz and never part with him unlike when you let the bargemen roll your brothers’ bodies away. This was a second chance you wouldn’t give up.

“Nikolai,” you began, sturdy in your words, “I know you’re concerned for me, and I understand why, but this is something I have to do. I can’t walk away from this trip without as much as a word to my brother when I’ve thought him dead all this time. Even if it turns out that he isn't what I remember, at least I’ll get to speak with him again, to tell him I love him and that I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him.”

“The firepox wasn’t your fault,” he murmured. Nikolai often repeated this to you whenever you felt guilty or woke up trembling in the night.

“I know.” You rested your head against his shoulder. “I know, but I was still supposed to be the big sister; I was still supposed to keep them safe.” Peering up at him, you said, “I just hope he can forgive me.”

“Why would he need to forgive you?”

“Because I left him for dead in a place crawling with liars and cheats. Saints know what he went through without anyone around to care about him.”

You said this as though the saints deigned to look after anyone in the barrel. No higher power was seeing Kaz through his years here, you were sure of that.

“We can go to him again tomorrow,” Nikolai said. “But for now, we should rest.”

There was no way of knowing how Kaz would react when he learned who you were, but you stayed optimistic as you readied for bed. You imagined hugging him, holding him in your arms again for the first time in so many years. You’d exchange stories of your lives without each other. Perhaps he would be amused that you had somehow gone from a farmer’s daughter to a pirate to the queen of Ravka in your time apart; saints knew you were still a bit bewildered by it all.

You tossed and turned quite a bit, and you knew you were keeping Nikolai awake too, but you couldn’t help your excited mind. Eventually, you sidled up to your husband–who was ready to wrap his arms around you in an attempt to keep you still–put your head on his chest, and listened to the familiar pumping of his heartbeat.

Tomorrow could not come soon enough.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more! Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Part 2

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fanfic #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x sister!reader #sturmhond x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #nine long years

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bamsara · 9 months ago

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A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

#sara shush

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evercelle · 10 months ago

Note

i really love your lineart!!!!!!

sometimes in the inking stage i kind of mess up about the thickness about the lines and such. and in general it looks stiff in comparison to the sketch. any advice for a novice?

thanks!! wow it's been two years since someone asked me about lineart :') in addition to the stuff i wrote in that post, some ways my process has changed since then:

using a pen at lowered opacity w/ velocity variation:

(example used is ciro pen!) if you draw a fast stroke it thins out, but consistent speed/pressure gives you a uniform width. it took me awhile to get used to bc developing speed + control just takes practice, but i like how pens with velocity make it quick to vary line width easily. (it might be a placebo effect but i also feel like drawing with these types of pens forces you to have more line confidence, bc it's very visually apparent when you go slow or unsteady...haha)

2. sketch vague, draw detail in later

for pictures that i draw separate lineart for, i usually do rough bodies/shapes and then draw in details while inking. if there's too much detail in the sketch, i think it's easy to focus too much on following the sketch perfectly with your lines, so it gets really stiff and loses the motion in the original sketch. example sketch -> lineart

3. the "this is fine" or "eh fix it later"

try not to overwork it! its fine if there are holes... and the lines dont connect... and the width is weird... it is okay.... employ the time honored techniques of "it's fine" it or "ill just fix it later" lol i tweak or add details as part of coloring to correct places where the lineart got weird. you can probably see it better in this process vid i posted before, but i also drew an example today ft. my boy gaming

like any other skill, i think developing skill + speed with lines follows with time and practice, but i totally empathize with the struggle against it looking too stiff... getting past the mental block of trying Too Hard and losing the charm is tough. you can do it!! i hope this helps!

#ASK EVER #i love u gaming genshin impact... ur joie de vivre and kindness are so charming....#fun fact the first character in gamings name is the same as in mine. a rare irl ever fact

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invisibleicewands · 10 months ago

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Bringing revolution to Port Talbot - by Michael Sheen

On a recent February morning, I woke up to find I was wrong. Not a particularly uncommon experience in itself, but unusual to discover that on this occasion I was being publicly accused of it by the Secretary of State for Business and Trade. “Michael Sheen has said that ‘the people of Port Talbot have been let down’,” Kemi Badenoch wrote in the Daily Mail. “But he is wrong.”

It was a big day. I spent all of last year directing a three-part drama series for the BBC called The Way, which was to air that night. It begins in my hometown of Port Talbot, where a strike at the local steelworks becomes the spark that ignites a violent descent into national chaos. Clearly, Ms Badenoch had been given a sneak peek of the series before forming quite a strong opinion on it. But no: reading her article, Ms Badenoch admits that she hadn’t watched it at all. Why let a total lack of information prevent a full-throated denouncement, eh? Presumably, she also assumes that we managed to write, film and edit the entire series after Tata Steel announced the imminent loss of some 2,500 jobs at the steelworks mere weeks ago.

While the winds of change have only been blowing in one direction for many years, the events in our story were dreamed up some years ago and act as a fictional catalyst for all that follows. Surely even Tory ministers understand there is no VIP fast lane for making a TV series. This isn’t a PPE contract, after all…

Nothing to see here

After that episode aired, it occurred to me that such shenanigans in the right-wing press could have been about a couple of things. Since the ITV drama about the Post Office scandal, Mr Bates vs The Post Office, caused public outrage, I imagine the government has a new fear of the impact a TV show can have. A pre-emptive strike against a series it perceives to be criticising its actions around the steel industry must have seemed a useful tactic. And, having seen Breathtaking – based on Rachel Clarke’s memoir of how the Covid crisis unfolded in the NHS, which aired on ITV the same night as The Way – I wonder if her piece was an attempt to distract attention away from more dangerous territory.

It gave Ms Badenoch a chance to trot out her line about how the people of Port Talbot should be grateful for all that the government is doing to save the steel industry, not moaning about the impact job losses will have on their community. But the people of Port Talbot have been let down, no matter what Ms Badenoch wants us to think. Not by any single entity, but by years of neglect. That she immediately assumed my comments referred to her and her government tells its own story. In the words of a much older drama than mine: the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Then and Nye

“This crisis is a privateering racket with your friends lining their pockets!” No, not an accusation against Boris Johnson, but something I currently say to Winston Churchill every night. We opened a new play called Nye at the National Theatre this week. I play Aneurin (“Nye”) Bevan, who attacks the prime minister for turning a wartime crisis into a money-making scheme for him and his cronies. It’s one of many moments in the play that seem to speak to past and present at the same time.

The entanglement of “now” and “then” is heightened by the fact that I am wearing pyjamas. Nye is lying unconscious in his hospital bed at the end of his life, and we follow him through a dream of his past. He wanders from childhood memories of overcoming his stutter in Tredegar library to his meteoric rise through local politics, to becoming the youngest member of Clement Attlee’s pioneering postwar cabinet. And, of course, as minister for health, his tumultuous birthing of the NHS on 5 July 1948. It’s an extraordinary, surprising and moving experience telling this story on stage each night. That shared space between actors and audience, where all is felt but unseen, crackles with electricity.

Once more, with feeling

It seems that exploring the motives of politicians, the uses and abuses of political power, and the quest for justice that saw the creation of the NHS taps into deep wells of emotion. Like the pockets of gas that miners feared within the coal seam, their release brings risk and reward. At a recent show, we had three instances of people needing to be helped out of the theatre, the final one forcing us to pause the show moments from its end. Thankfully, it was nothing more serious than someone fainting. But emotions are running high.

I’m more than happy to invite Ms Badenoch to a performance. But I realise, of course, there’s no guarantee she would make it to the end.

#Michael Sheen #The Way #Port Talbot #politics #Nye #the man knows how to write

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 6 months ago

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Baby Driver: Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

I lost the image from my inbox, but it was first time with Leon with a fem reader.

It's been a while since I wrote a first time fic, eh pookie bears? :)

Contains: Car sex, condoms (contraceptives are cool, kids), blowjob, light choking, light hair pulling

The air was thick like crystalizing honey. The radio was all but a murmur, some local news station was starting to crackle from being just on the border of its broadcasting distance. The deep rumble of the engine nearly drowned it out, but you still focused on trying to make out what the two news spokesmen were saying through the static.

However, it was beginning to become apparent that your heart was adamant about deafening both noises. It pounded inside of you, quickening in its pace, beating against your ribcage like it was trying to break out of its cage. You could feel it throb against your skin beneath your clothes.

It was safe to say you were nervous.

You weren’t a virgin, but you aren’t exactly experienced yourself. It’s been a while since you last had any intimate encounters, it made you even more anxious when you saw Leon’s hands slide down the shiny curve of the steering wheel. He knew about you, not being experienced and all. Despite your worrying, he didn’t seem to be bothered by the newly splayed information and still insisted on this date.

Leon is a smart man. Brave, loyal, charming, you couldn’t list all of his dazzling traits, but one you could state firmly and boldly was that he was patient. He wasn’t going to do anything you weren’t ready for.

You briefly looked over to your date, your boyfriend of nearly three months sitting in the driver's seat. He was peering out of the windows out of the corners of his eyes, making sure you both were alone. He had taken you to some secluded little patch of woods, a long-forgotten hiking trail evident in the fact that the parking lot was covered in fallen leaves and the small ranger cabin had been left barren and dusty, nature reclaiming its land.

You did the same as Leon for a brief moment, trying to occupy your wandering mind, staring into the lines of trees when he cleared his throat softly.

You felt him place a gentle hand on your forearm, crossed in your lap with your hands clasped together. You turned to look at him, finding him already looking at you, his stormy blue eyes shined in the low lighting his display put out. He wore an unreadable expression, but his brows slightly knit together in slight worry.

“You’ve been quiet the entire ride up here,” his words were soft. You shrugged your shoulders sheepishly, a soft apology rolling off of your tongue. Your cheeks were lit aflame, your chest felt like it was being beaten against like a drum, you suddenly felt very hot despite the air conditioning blowing gently. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do,” he reminded you once again.

He had mentioned it a couple of times already. The first before he picked you up, the second after the lavish dinner he had taken you to as he helped you get in his car, and then once again just now.

Ever the gentleman.

“I want to,” you found your voice. You winced internally when your voice wavered at the end. You repeated again, more firmly, “I want to.”

His thumb rolled over the skin of your forearm before he dragged his hand down to grasp at your own. He squeezed your hand a little tight, giving you one last out, but you didn’t back down.

Leon shut his car off, the engine cutting but the radio still kept going. Leon’s eyes studied you, noting your obvious anxiety.

He leaned in slowly and you found yourself doing the same. Both of your eyes fluttered shut as your noses grazed each other. The second your lips connected, it felt like life had crackled inside of you like fireworks. It always did with him since the first time you both kissed and it was something you always looked forward to with him.

His lips were warm and soft. He took charge gently, pressing his lips more firmly against yours, guiding your jaws to move as you both sucked at each others faces. He felt so warm and he smelled so good, and fuck, he was so handsome. There was a very light scratch against your chin, his facial hair barely scratching your soft skin, the light stubble needing to be shaved in the morning. The remnants of dinner lingered on both of your tongues, the after-dinner mints didn’t seem to do much for the aromatics, but it just added to the moment.

You moaned softly into the kiss, Leon pushing a little deeper into you. You felt his tongue briefly dance across your bottom lip, softly begging for you to part your lips for him and let him enter. When you hesitated, he nipped at the delicate skin making you gasp and obey. Leon’s hand that was just caressing the back of your hand suddenly gripped at your thigh, fingers twisting the material of your dress into a tight knot in his grasp. You brought a hand up to rest on the side of his neck where it connected to his shoulder, toying with the collar of his jacket as his tongue quickly explored your mouth.

He suddenly broke the kiss, a disappointed whine left you when you hadn’t meant it. You barely opened your eyes to be a half-lidded gaze when you heard Leon unbuckle both of your seatbelts, allowing him to move over the center console better. Your lips locked together once again, moving at a faster pace as you both swapped spit. He brought his other hand up to the side of your face, cupping your jaw, bringing you closer into the kiss before he urged your body to press against the center console like he had done with his.

Your hands fully grasped at his jacket, grabbing onto his open collar and pulling him as close as you could. He was so warm under your touch, a comforting heat rolled off of him in waves. There was a faint scent of his cologne that reached your nose; it was gentle, not too overpowering, it reminded you of fresh rainfall in a pine forest. It helped to calm your heart down, but you could feel his own beating away very steadily inside of his chest.

You were the one to pull away this time, needing air as your poor lungs begged for relief. You both were panting, cheeks hot, hearts hammering. Leon’s pupils were blown wide with lust, but he kept in control.

“Do you-”

“Yes,” you cut him off rather eagerly.

A cocky grin ghosted over Leon’s lips before he eyed his backseat, nodding in that direction.

“Get in the back,” he ordered softly.

Your body worked faster than your mind, quickly getting out of the front passenger seat. You barely had enough time to close the door behind you when you felt Leon grab a hold of you, pulling you directly into his lap. He had you straddle him, his strong hands holding onto your thighs to keep you in place as he urged you to settle. Your lips connected once again, both of you now fighting for who would be in control. Your hands snatched onto the back of the seat on either side of Leon’s head, nails digging into the fabric before you grasped Leon’s head and carded your fingers into his thick hair. He growled at the contact, jerking his hips up, causing you to gasp again.

His clothed erection was resting right against your concealed cunt. You shivered in anticipation. You had a feeling he was big, but for it to be confirmed so soon in your relationship? You thought it would’ve taken you a couple more months to work up the courage to do something like this.

You grinded against him slowly, sinking your hips down and shimmying your hips ever so slightly. It drove him mad. Leon’s hands came up to your ass and gave each cheek a good squeeze. You pressed yourself as close to him as you could, your breasts flushed with his chest. A soft cry escaped your lips at his rough touch. One of his hands came up from your ass to squeeze and paw up your hips, trailing up the curve of your spine and eventually tangling in your hair.

You brought one of your hands down, confidently slotting it between your persons, and gently squeezed him through the material of his pants-

You suddenly seized up and loosened when the back of your head was pressed firmly against the backside of the driver’s headrest with Leon’s fingers wrapped around your throat. There was a feral look in his eyes that made your mind go nuts inside. He was panting as though he had just ran an entire marathon, a few locks of his hair had fallen in front of his steely blue eyes, his lips were a little swollen from your kisses.

“Leon,” you moaned softly.

His thumb was right on your pulse. He could feel it pounding away right under his fingerprint like a rabbit’s. The pad of his thumb massaged your throat gingerly, slowly working his fingers down until he was no longer choking you. The first breath was something else otherworldly, it crackled new life within you despite barely losing any oxygen to begin with. Your heart was beating against your ribs as though it were an animal trying to break out of its cage. He could feel it beat through your skin, he could smell how divine you were, he could see that little twinkle in your eyes as your pupils swallowed up that gorgeous color of your eyes.

Although Leon’s hands kept you still, you managed to scoot back a little bit, sitting beside him on the backseat. Your hands returned to his person, first starting off splayed out across his broad chest before they ventured down his jacket. Both of your hands fumbled with his belt, trying to focus of your target when his own hands lightly scratched up your spine until he knotted his fingers into your hair once again. Your fingers trembled with excitement, unlatching his belt buckle and slipping the shiny dark leather loose. Your eyes never left the tented erection teasing you right in front of your face, it was barely three inches away from your nose as your unhooked the buttons of his slacks and drew down his zipper. He groaned softly, finally free of the constraints of his tight slacks but still in the elastic cotton comforts of his underwear. The heather gray that you could see was thin, you could see an enticing long shadow of a vein running along the underside of his cock.

You hesitated for a second, hypnotized by the was Leon was scratching circular motions into your scalp while also tugging on your locks before your fingers slipped under the taut waistband. Leon audibly sighed in relief as his cock sprung free, the thing nearly smacking you in the nose from how erect it was. Though it was dark, you could make out all of the delicious details of Leon’s cock, eyes running up his thick shaft right to his head that leaked a little precum from his reddish tip.

You don’t know what came over you.

You found yourself gently grasping at the base of his dick and steadied him before your tongue ran up his shaft and followed the vein. It was Leon’s turn to audibly gasp. You could see the way his abs fluttered from underneath his jacket and dress shirt and how his broad chest swelled at the intake of air.

You focused on his head for a moment, tongue swirling around the swollen tip. The salty taste of his cum sat heavy and delicious on your tongue. You barely massaged the tip of your tongue against his slit when Leon whimpered.

It made you still ever so slightly.

It made you want to hear it over and over again until the end of time.

You took his entire head in your mouth, working slow, you lowered your head at a snail’s pace at first. Leon fisted the back of your dress, nails biting through the fabric and scratching at your spine. His other hand nearly snatched at your hair, almost fisting your hair and locking his hand in place. He didn’t pull, not yet at least, just kept you still as you took him in your mouth.

He cursed softly, the words barely spilling over his lips at you worked your way down. You bobbed your head, trying to ease your mouth open just a little wider, take him just a little deeper, work your throat open just a touch more. He sat heavy on your tongue. The angle you were taking him in made your jaw start to ache. You started to slow down a bit when his head hit the back of your throat, a short muffled moan was barely audible but it reached Leon’s ears perfectly fine. He pulled at your hair a bit, just enough for you to feel a slight burn at the scalp before he pushed against your skull. He urged you to swallow more of him, to take him down to the root before starting over. You followed along, tightening your hands at his waist, going with his short rotations. Each time, you nearly swallowed him fully only to start to gag, pulling you away maybe an inch or two before repeating it.

He cursed again, this time louder. You looked up at him from under your lashes only to see him staring at you. He looked so riled up. His pupils swallowed his stormy blues, his hair was just a tad messy to the point a few locks fell in front of his face, a very faint blush had spread across his chiseled cheeks. You stirred up the courage to bat your little eyes at him and moan around his cock when it tickled the back of your throat again.

You felt him twitch in your mouth before he completely pulled you off of his cock, hauling you up by your hair. Your cry was silenced, swallowed by his hungry lips as he tasted himself on your tongue for a brief moment. Your hand absent-mindedly wrapped around his glistening dick and squeezed lightly, thumbing his slit and teasingly rubbing soft circles against the head. Leon hissed, biting your bottom lip before one of his hands enclosed around yours and his cock.

He pumped his cock a few times, rutting slightly each time your hand graced his crotch before you both parted.

You both found yourselves staring into each others eyes for a moment.

For a little while, the world didn’t seem to be important. You no longer felt nervous, not because you hadn’t had sex in a while nor because you were about to do it in public.

All that mattered was how your, for just a brief few seconds in time, your hearts synced up.

You drew yours hands back to your body, fingers quickly reaching the wrinkled hem of your dress and started to bunch it up. Leon watched like a man starved, looking on in sheer intent as you revealed your thighs and eventually your underwear to him. His hands found your body again, cupping at the curve of your ass and trailing their way up to the waistband before he started to slowly peel them down your legs.

He hesitated for a brief moment when they were halfway down your thighs, a familiar gleam in his eyes as he stared up at you.

One last out, yet you didn’t take it.

You made to get closer to Leon, shivering when your slickened folds met the chilled air, when he stopped you. He sat up quickly, reaching around to search in the center console before he withdrew a familiar looking black paper box. He plucked one from the box and tossed it back in the driver’s seat to deal with later.

It glistened in his hand, reflecting the low lighting the radio’s screen gave off. He was about to tear the packaging with his teeth when you plucked it from his fingers. He scoffed a short laugh, sitting back once again as you tore the thin foil and pulled out the glistening condom from its packaging. You leaned in and close to him, lips barely touching, noses brushing against each other. You carefully rolled the condom on over his head before wrapping your fingers around him. You pushed the condom down slowly, jerking him and squeezing him in the process before he was fully hilted into it.

Leon’s hands once again firmly situated themselves around your waist. He drew you in close, guiding your body close and helping you position yourself in his lap. You felt it beneath you as you sank down, suddenly pressing between your folds, splitting your lips before you felt a familiar sudden pressure.

You latched onto Leon’s broad shoulders and sighed and cried in his ear. Pressure built up into pleasure when he entered you, his cock stretching you oh so well. He shushed you softly, holding you in place as your cunt squeezed around him. You both moaned in sync, shoulders sagging and chests swelling as you both found it a little hard to breathe.

He let you go at your own pace, allowing you to move when you felt comfortable enough to do so. He held onto you, keeping you close, whispering sweet nothings into the small space between your bodies.

You eventually started to move when the stretch no longer became too much. You started slow, working yourself along his thick shaft, swallowing your sighs and moans and whimpers. You’ve never been stretched like this before, you’ve never felt so full.

“Oh, come on pretty girl,” Leon tutted, “don’t be so shy. Lemme hear you.”

His voice was all dark and sultry, it scratched an itch in your mind that you’ve been trying to scratch for years. It only added to the experience of fucking in the backseat of his car where the windows have been fogged up for some time now. You couldn’t help the moan that left you as your walls fluttered around his girth. You locked your hands behind Leon’s head, nails digging into the headrest as you rocked your hips along his length.

You rode him, as best as you could really with what little space you were given. But you rode him, nonetheless. He met your hips with enthusiasm, panting when you did, ghosting sweet words over your lips before kissing you. He urged you to be louder, to let him really hear you, smiling ever so brightly when you gave in. He loves the taste of the salt on your body, loves the smell of sex in the heavy air, loves the feeling of your velvet walls clamping down on his big dick.

For a brief second, he wished he wasn’t wearing a condom just to feel how hot and wet you are right now, because he could tell you were absolutely dripping with liquid sin.

It would just be a matter of time before you both took it up a notch.

#resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader

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another-lost-mc · 1 year ago

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Hii, first of all, i love your writing 💕 and I hope you're doing well.

How do you think the bros would react watching the movie Se7en?

I think it would be interesting to see their reactions since the theme surrounds the seven deadly sins.

a/n: I love this movie! I re-watched while I worked on this since it's been a while. I wrote the blurbs in order of the sins as they're portrayed in the film.

➤ watching the movie se7en | the demon brothers

1k words | x gn!reader | nsfw | violence and dark/disturbing themes, demons thinking about demon things, movie spoilers

BEELZEBUB | the gluttony scene

Any other time, he'd be joking that if he had to die, he wants to die eating. He understands that now's probably not the best time to tell you that.

He feels a bit sad for some reason. He's not sure if it's the poor bloke's death on screen or the movie's gritty atmosphere in general.

Ravenous hunger has its downsides, but most of the time he enjoys eating food. He can understand why being forced to eat would be emotional and literal torture for someone.

He knows he could eat that much pasta without breaking a sweat, but he doubts it would be comforting to you so he doesn't say it out loud.

He wonders how much he'd have to eat for his body to break down in protest of finally being too full, but he keeps that to himself too.

MAMMON | the greed scene

It's not a horror movie but the dark vibe still gives him the creeps.

He hasn't had to look away (yet) but he tucks you closer to his side so you can cuddle. You can hide your face in his chest for the gross parts if they bother you, he won’t tease you.

He sorta gets an inkling about the greed motif— something about a scummy lawyer and money trading hands is his first guess about why this guy was targeted.

Eh, close enough.

There are a lotta ways to kill someone with greed without actually killing them, y’know.

(He doesn’t wanna talk about ‘em though. He doesn’t want you to think badly of him.)

BELPHEGOR | the sloth scene

What the actual fuck.

He was feeling a bit sleepy watching the movie up to this point, but he's not anymore.

He understands the interpretation of his sin, but he's surprised to see such an ugly version of it in a human world movie like this.

If he senses that you're uncomfortable, he tries to distract you until the scene ends.

Now seems like a great time to pause the movie so you can both get up and get a drink, or stretch—or maybe go for a nap if you're tired and don't want to finish it right now.

(He's going to make sure you don't have bad dreams after this.)

ASMODEUS | the lust scene

He's had custom sex toys made before, but something like this? Yeesh.

Literally fucking someone to death seems so brutal, so unromantic. This isn't how he would do it, but he doesn't tell you that; he doesn't want to scare you.

(If he had to kill someone using his sin, he'd fuck them before ripping them open from stomach to sternum.)

(If he had to kill you with his sin, he’d make love to you until you eventually fall asleep. Your death will be instant and painless before he cuts out your heart and eats it.)

He notices that this part of the movie made you squirm in your seat more than the others so far.

Maybe a warm bath and cuddling in his bed will help you relax once the movie's over. He’s suddenly overcome with the urge to hold you.

LUCIFER | the pride scene

It feels anti-climactic compared to some of the other portrayals of sin so far, but he appreciates the simplicity. He was afraid it would be needlessly gruesome like the others.

Pride is insidious, the mother of all sins, the first deadly bloom that causes all others to fester and rot on the vine.

He can’t help the way his mind wanders after this. As an angel, he tried to resist sin. As a demon, he embraces it. Humans are weak and he knows for many, pride is their downfall.

You might not believe you could be pushed to make such a fatal choice, but Lucifer senses the way your own blend of pride lingers within you too.

He keeps silent about those thoughts and he wraps his arm around you for the rest of the film.

LEVIATHAN | the envy scene

He’s unusually quiet. He doesn’t complain or whine about how boring it is, and he doesn’t reach for his handheld either. Sometimes he looks puzzled by what’s on screen, and other times he seems contemplative.

He’s a little surprised by the ending. Speechless almost. He understands envy, but to do all this?

And the part with the wife, well...he thinks it's just a bit of an overreaction, don't you?

He can’t help but glance at you once the movie's over. He thinks about life before you and life with you now; he can't imagine life without you in it anymore.

Would he be capable of that type of jealousy if you didn't choose him? If he had to watch someone else live their own happily ever after with you while he suffered alone?

Huh.

When the movie ends, he distracts you with an impromptu game night in his room and he cuddles with you in his tub after.

His tail curls around your leg as you drift off to sleep, and he realizes he'd do so much worse just to keep you by his side.

SATAN | the wrath scene

For the most part, he's been less interested in the portrayal of sins. He's totally wrapped up in the mystery aspect of the movie instead.

Throughout the entire film, he's muttered under his breath about certain things he noticed or his guess about what might happen next.

(He’s read all the books mentioned in the library scene too.)

He figured that the cop with the short fuse was going to be involved somehow with wrath. He actually thought the character was a bit annoying.

He does sympathize with the cop's behaviour at the end—all he has to do is think of someone hurting you and it makes him seethe with rage.

The reveal about the wife caught him completely off-guard but thinking about it later, it seems so obvious.

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onlyrains · 5 months ago

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[11:34pm]

—t/w: angst, mention of death and alcohol

watching someone slowly lose themselves is probably the last thing you would ask for.

it's been an hour since you noticed jay was in the same room as you. knowing his true nature while watching him hitting on random girls at a bar like this makes your heart ache. this wasn't him at all.

having sudden mind reading power, you knew he was still grieving on his ex—who also your sister—unexpected death. because so were you. that's why you ended up at this bar alone on a weekday night.

from not too far away, you saw him gradually closing the gap between him and the poor girl. they were kissing mindlessly. she even held him so tight, without any sign of wanting to let go soon.

his messy slicked back hair was still as beautiful as ever. you always praised him for his looks and fashion choices since you used to see him around your house almost everyday. but tonight, seeing him with his collar sticking out, rolled up sleeve, and smirk plastered on his lips was really something. it was new to you.

you turned around and chugged your drink. you just realized losing someone could cause a huge impact like this.

a moment later, you overhear him, “can i call you her name?”

you turned. your heart almost sank then you see her palm going so fast to slap him with all her guts.

he froze before standing up. he nodded a few times as a sign that he understood the situation—without a significant change in his expression. “okay, okay.” he said, raising both hands.

so he walked in your direction.

you turned to face the bar, pretended to be busy ordering a new drink with the bartender.

“a whisky, please,” he ordered, taking a seat next to you. you held your breath when his perfume hit your nose, bringing back memories you didn't want to remember.

“hi?” he greeted, like nothing just happened to him a few seconds ago.

“hi?” you replied with the same tone.

“eh? you do really look like her.” his hazy eyes stared at you deeply. you watched him place his head on the bar.

he scoffed. “sorry, maybe it's the hallucination again.” he laughed, probably for expecting another slap.

but you laughed with him, for silently wanting to hug him while he didn't recognize you.

“you still refuse to believe we've lost her.” you mumbled, head bowed weakly so he didn't hear you.

“are you okay?” he asked.

you glanced, only to met his eagle eyes.

“i'm not.”

“ah, c'mon. let's have some fun then.” he stood up and offer his hand for you to take.

you looked up at him. “'m sorry?”

“dance with me.”

you bit your inner lip, contemplating the nice offer before finishing your newly-served drink. you thought you just need to be as drunk as him to do this.

“okay.” you held his rough hand to let him led you to the dance floor.

you were melted with the background music for a moment and let your body moved the way they want it. jay, on the other hand, busy to maintained his eyes at yours. his hand wandered around your back before finally took its place on your waist.

“aren't your head spinning?” oh, you used to ask your sister that question too. you held your sweated fist tightly.

he smiled. “a little.” he paused. “where did you know that?”

you frowned, feeling the palpitation in your chest. “uh?”

“the 'head spinning' question. how do you know?”

“is that something i supposed to know? it's just you look so wasted? i don't know, just wondering,”

he lets out a soft chuckle, “thank you. that's make me feel better,”

your knees almost lost its strength.

“do i know you?” he asked again.

“no, you don't.”

“but you do really sound like her.”

“am i?”

“…can i ask you something?”

you nodded hesitantly.

“can i call you her name?”

a single tear dropped from your eye.

“yes.”

you swore you never seen him with this wide smile before.

a/n: sorry if this too angsty. its inspired by a song <iykyk> and i barely awake when i wrote this so please bear with me ><

#enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen jay #jay angst #park jongseong #enhypen park jongseong #enhypen park jay #jay fanfic #jay x reader #enhypen jongseong #jongseong x reader #jongseong imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #jongseong angst #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen timestamps

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coimbrabertone · 3 months ago

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The Best F1 Season For A Non-Contender?

Well, the biggest story coming out of the 2024 United States Grand Prix is without a doubt the Verstappen/Norris thing.

To recap, Lando is coming after Max hard, gets run on the backstraight after run on the backstraight, but keeps going to the outside and can't pull the move off.

Finally, on lap 52, Lando has a good enough run that he's ahead, on the outside, but ahead. So what then?

Well, Max Verstappen is on the inside so he just divebombs to get the apex, goes wide, pushes Lando wide with him, and Lando has to pass around the outside in the runoff.

He's finally ahead.

Except no, fuck you, this is F1 and fun isn't allowed.

So the stewards are investigating this move where no contact was made, nobody got hurt, and there was enough runoff all around to land an Antonov AN-225 in.

And Lando gets the penalty. Lando.

Why? Overtaking off track.

Lando is 4.1 seconds ahead at the end of the race, gets dropped behind Max in the standings, everyone on social media is pissed. Some people - who are wrong - think that Max had the right because he was in front at the apex, others think Lando should've just given the position back and retaken it on track, which probably would've been the smart play in retrospect.

It's also kinda the racing equivalent of cuckolding though, isn't it?

Like, are we really watching for someone to have to give up a position to avoid getting a penalty?

"Ah yes sir, you drove me off track like a prick sir, but here's the position sir, have a good one sir."

Ridiculous.

Anyway, I'm sure this is the 97th different place you've heard about this incident, so I'll leave it there. Instead, I'm gonna talk about something overshadowed by all the petty bullshit going on between these two championship contenders.

And that's the fact that Charles Leclerc is quietly putting together a dream season.

First, he wins the Monaco Grand Prix. Winning Monaco is already a feather in the cap for an F1 driver, but it's also his home race, so that might just be one of the most special wins imaginable. Especially when you consider how miserable Charles' luck at Monte Carlo has been before now.

Then, he wins the Italian Grand Prix in a Ferrari for the second time, no less. He's won his own home race and he's won his team's home race, what more could you ask for in a season?

Well, the first race weekend back from his birthday on October 16th, Leclerc goes and leads home a Ferrari 1-2 at the United States Grand Prix. Now, I'm an American so the USGP is a special event for me - I wrote a blogpost all about its history last week - but I recognize that isn't the case for the Monegasque Leclerc.

Still, a GP win is still an amazing birthday present.

What a way to bounce back considering he was disqualified last year for plank wear as well.

So, that's three wins on the season, each one having something special about it. Does that make it the best season ever for a non-contender?

Well, that's a difficult question.

First things first, what do we consider a contender? In a way, everyone is contending for the championship, so they're all contenders.

Is it a potential shot at the championship then? Eh, probably not, because Leclerc still potentially has a chance at winning the championship.

So how about this: being a contender is having a realistic chance at the championship. So the championship leader and the direct challengers.

This year, I'd argue that's just Max and Lando, since Max has had the best car for years and started the season with easily the best car, while Lando has benefited from a recent surge by McLaren.

For another example, in 2007, I'd argue that Raikkonen, Alonso, and Hamilton were all contenders, but Massa was not.

So how about Massa's three-win season that year?

Well, he won Bahrain, Spain, and Turkey.

Two places without much connection to him, and then a track he already won at the year before.

In that respect, I'd argue 2006 was a more meaningful season for Massa. His first year in a Ferrari, he's far off Alonso and Schumacher, but he takes his first win at Turkey and then gets to win his home race at Brazil, solidifying his position as best of the rest.

Button 2010?

Eh, he's the reigning champion going into a good team like McLaren and ends up dropping away from the championship pack after Korea, and only takes two wins to his name: Australia and China.

I can't think of a reason those races would be special for him.

What about Button in 2011? Is he a contender that year? That's actually hard for me to say. He's second, he was painted as the challenger to Vettel, but he finished more than a hundred points off. Is that much of a rivalry?

Then again, can we really say 2011 only had one contender?

I'm not sure.

Canada, Hungary, and Suzuka are a decent set of tracks if you're gonna take three wins in a season, especially given how Canada went down, with it being Jenson's career drive.

That one could count then, I reckon.

How about further back in history?

What about 1966, when Ludovico Scarfiotti did literally two races - Germany and Italy - and won the latter. An Italian winning the Italian Grand Prix in a Ferrari has got to be special, right? Especially when you consider that this is the last time an Italian won the Italian Grand Prix. Not just in a Ferrari, but at all.

I suppose it's also as close as F1 has ever gotten to that 2006 Valencia Grand Prix in MotoGP where Troy Bayliss returned to MotoGP, filling in for the injured Sete Gibernau at one race at Ducati.

A race with Bayliss proceeded to win.

Troy hadn't won any races in full seasons with Ducati in 2003 and 2004, nor in his partial campaign with Camel Honda in 2005, but he comes back in 2006 as a replacement rider for one race and goes on to win that thing.

It's a wonderful racing moment, and Scarfiotti at Monza in 1966 is probably as close as F1 ever got to that.

Oh here's one.

Jody Scheckter in 1976. The whole world is watching Hunt vs. Lauda, McLaren vs. Ferrari, and here's Jody Scheckter in a six-wheeled Tyrrell casually winning the Swedish Grand Prix, taking four second places, and ending the season as best of the rest.

The Swedish Grand Prix was a great race for these one-off weird winners actually. Scheckter in the Tyrrell P34 in 1976, Jacques Laffite in the Matra V12 powered Ligier in 1977, and of course 1979 with Niki Lauda winning in the fan car.

Ooh, speaking of 1977, I think we have a contender!

...A contender for non-contenders? Yes actually.

Mario Andretti in 1977. He's got the Lotus 78, the first ground effect car in Formula One history, and it's not quite ready to win the championship, but it's still going on a tear.

Winning the USGP West at Long Beach, a home race for Andretti. Then winning at Spain and France, and finally winning the Italian Grand Prix, the other race Mario could call home. That sounds like an awful good season to me, potentially even better than Leclerc this year. He also finished third that year, so it lines up there as well.

How about this? We'll see if Leclerc can win another race or two this year, and if not, then I'll give it to Andretti. 1977, the best championship season for a non-contender.

Feel free to leave any notable seasons I missed in the comments below, I'm eager to hear what seasons y'all can come up with.

P.S

In other news this weekend, we had the Australian Grand Prix in MotoGP. Jorge Martin won the sprint and Marc Marquez the main race. The sprint was pretty uneventful save for a few scary crashes right at the end - particularly Bezzecchi and Vinales in turn one, with both riders thankfully walking away okay - while the race saw a pretty dramatic battle between Martin and Marquez at the end.

I don't exactly cheer for either guy, so it was a bit meh for me, but at least Phillip Island put on a good race.

As for NASCAR...quite frankly I didn't watch this weekend. I was watching F1 and after that I had a headache and I was mad about the Max/Lando stuff, so I just didn't want to bother with it. I hear Logano won though, which means he goes on to the championship four. Cue up the even year memes.

Even Penske tweeted a joke about that.

Penske tweeting jokes. Heh, that's a new one.

#motorsports #racing #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #us gp 2024 #cota 2024 #cota24 #COTA #circuit of the americas #motogp

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delcakoo · 2 years ago

Text

i choose you! ˚ᘒ ˖˚𓈒 n.rk

SUMMARY ! at last, your journey begins on route 1 with your first pokemon by your side.. and your pesky neighbor who somehow angers a flock of pidgeys enough to chase the both of you back to where you started. but don’t worry, riki will be there to protect you.. probably!

PAIRING ! pokemontrainer!niki x gn!reader

WC ! 3.7k

GENRE ! pokemon au (dont need to know that much to understand) frenemies to lovers, fluff <3

WARNINGS ! riki’s nickname for you is dummy, mentions of scraped knews/elbows, bandaged wounds, blood, being attacked by birds

a/n: this has been in my drafts since january cuz i only wrote it for the pokemon nostalgia and im kinda iffy abt it.. i tried to clean it up tho so hope u all enjoy!

ding dong! ding dong! dingdongdingdongdingdongdingdo—

you practically yank your front door off the wall in vexation, the ringing in your ears dissipating the moment your annoying neighbour comes into view. he has a cheeky grin plastered across his pale face as his finger drops from your doorbell, shoving into his short’s pockets mischievously.

he tilts his head, and his black wavy hair bounces along animatedly. “ready to go, dummy?”

you’ve had the misfortune (or fortune) of being glued to nishimura riki’s side since birth.

you were the same age, yet it felt more like you were babysitting than hanging out with a friend during most of the time spent with him. your neighbor was the definition of a dork; an impulsive idiot with no sense of limits or rules that you’d constantly have to take control of before he did something stupid (though, there was no harm in letting it happen and relishing in the entertainment every so often). in fact, you could dare him to lick the sidewalk in exchange for a single oran berry, and he’d do it without hesitation.

reckless or not, you couldn’t deny your vast soft spot for the raven haired boy, considering he’s grown up with you and all.

but today, riki’s grin and visible excitement shockingly held a valid reason.

“hell yeah,” you reply with a smirk, gripping your backpack tighter once you descend down the front porch.

riki’s arm finds its way around your shoulder, smile growing as he stares down at you. “can you believe it, y/n? today’s really the day.”

you chuckle and nod. “yup, all those years at the academy will finally pay off.”

at least, it would for you; it was a miracle riki even graduated, noting that he still didn’t even know what would beat a dark type pokemon if one were to jump in front of him now.

“wonder what type of pokemon our starters will be,” he ponders. “i hope mine’s a dragon!”

“eh.. i think a bug type suits you better.”

in reply, he violently pinches your arm. “ay, ‘bet you’ll get a poison type with that attitude.”

while the bantering continues, the sliding door to your town’s lab eventually parts for the both of you. the high ceiling building was filled with all sorts of strange machines and metal tubes, and it was rather quiet besides the occasional sounds of pokemon chirping and playing in the distance. you vageuly remember being here once before on a field trip, as well as the memory of riki almost releasing a wild pokemon from it’s enclosure and getting your whole academy banned.

ah, good times.

as you trail inside, you feel something enclosed around your hand and carefully lace through your fingers. you glance down to investigate, brows furrowing at the sight of riki’s hand clasping yours tightly.

“..what are you doing?” you mutter with warm cheeks.

he shrugs. “this is a big moment, so i felt like holding your hand.” riki didn’t seem phased nor flustered at all, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. it wasn’t too surprising for him to initiate physical touch, yet for whatever reason something as simple as hand holding was making a strange feeling erupt in your stomach.

though before you could question him further, a feeble voice echoed blaringly through the laboratory. “my my, what do we have here?”

and in walks who you remember as professor bonsai, icy white lab coat nearly touching the ground as her frail fingers reach up to adjust her green glasses. you recall the old woman visiting the academy once or twice, and it was easy to tell she knew a whole lot more about pokemon than any of your teachers or trainers just by how she spoke of them.

to his disappointment, you quickly rip your hand from your neighbour’s, bowing politely. “professor bonsai, it’s an honor!” you exclaim with enthusiasm. riki quickly bows too, following you closely.

the woman’s lips raise, scanning you up and down. “ah, i remember you. y/n, correct?” you quickly nod, smiling. when the professor looks over to riki, her welcoming expression drops, wrinkles deepening unpleasantly. “and you..”

riki’s eyes widened, scratching his neck nervously. he seems to have made a bad first impression with the woman in the past, and you couldn’t say you were surprised in the slightest. “uh, hi again.. professor.”

“lord arceus.. ” she mumbles disapprovingly before clearing her throat. “alright then, both of you this way.”

with that, the old lady turns, walking away and leaving you and riki to exchange worried glances.

“she definitely hates me,” riki whispers as you follow her through the lab.

you raise a judging brow, pinching his side. “probably for good reason. i bet you played some stupid prank on her at the academy or something.”

comically, his eyes widen. “how’d you know?”

as you open your mouth to reply with ‘because you’re riki’, the professor stops, gesturing to a small table under a bright light behind her.

“here we are, i assume you’ve already had the lecture of what it means to have your first pokemon?”

you nod, while riki watches dumbly. “yes professor.”

“then, you may pick one,” she states.

instantly, you freeze up.

there lay three shining red pokeballs, each in their own little capsules on display to the two of you.

that’s when it hit you that this was fully happening. the moment you’ve been waiting for since your first day at the academy; the day you’d get your first pokemon — your partner for life.

you glance over at riki.

when it came to your childhood friend, it felt like you already had a partner for life, as cheesy as it sounded.

you shake your head, riki would tease the hell out of me if i said that out loud.

while you were in deep thought, riki had already walked closer to the three mystery pokeballs, ever so carefully grabbing the middle one.

he glances over to the professor, who’s studying his actions sternly. “do i just- can i..?”

“go ahead,” she deadpans.

you watch in awe as riki throws the pokeball in front of him, red light flowing out of it before a small, turtle like creature with a single sapling coming out of its head plops onto the ground. it was mostly a pale green with a hint of yellow on it’s chin and feet, and a small brown shell adorned it’s smooth back.

“oh my god, it’s so cute,” you squeak in awe, rushing over to pet the pokemon’s shell. riki grins, quickly kneeling next to you to do the same. you fail to notice how every so often, his gaze bounces over to thoroughly take in your beaming expression rather than the little creature before him.

“that one is turtwig,” professor bonsai informs. “he’s a grass type, and the shell on his back is made from soil, which hardens when he drinks water.”

when riki scratches under turtwig’s neck, the creature chirps in delight, leaning into his touch more than yours. “guess i’ll have to buy lots of water,” riki declares, “i’ll choose him.”

without another moment of hesitation, he picks up the small pokemon, holding it in his arms happily. turtwig wiggles around, licking riki’s fingers and making the boy giggle cutely.

you gaze at them in desire, impatience rushing through you. riki observes as you pace over to the remaining two pokeballs, hesitantly taking the left one. the ball feels stable in your grasp, so shiny that you could make out your reflection reflecting onto the red lid. “pick a good one, dummy,” he cheers you on cheekily.

you roll your eyes in fake annoyance, still smirking as you gently throw the ball before you. rather unceremoniously, a small blue penguin flops out of the ball, face planting right onto the hard floor with an ugly chirp.

professor bonsai sighs, and riki bursts into a mean cackle. meanwhile you gasp, rushing over to help the pokemon up and into your embrace. “poor thing, are you okay? i’m sorry, i must’ve thrown it too hard.”

in response, the penguin puffs out its chest stubbornly, yet its expression screams that it’s embarrassed. the creature’s tiny yellow beak was slightly in a pout, and it took everything in you to not boop it fondly.

professor bonsai rubs her forehead. “that’s piplup, her species is rather clumsy yet very prideful. she has a hard time accepting food from humans and bonding with trainers that try to get close to her — and as you can see, she puffs out her chest whenever she falls down, which is quite often due to her poor walking abilities.”

contrary to the woman’s words, piplup seemed to enjoy your presence, peering up at you in satisfaction as you rubbed her tummy. however, when riki walks over to pet her as well, there was nothing to prepare him for when she decides to rudely peck his hand.

riki jumps back, nearly dropping turtwig. “ow!” he whines, and you swear you see the professor snicker proudly in the background.

“that’s what you get for laughing at her,” you declare, sticking your tongue out teasingly. piplup, who was now completely relaxed in your hold, sticks her small tongue out as well, making you burst into laughter. “if it’s okay, i’ll gladly take her, professor.”

she nods, nudging her glasses up with the tip of her finger. “very well then. do you both know where to go from here?”

“yeah,” “no,” you and riki blurt in sync.

unsurprised, you roll your eyes. “don’t worry, i have him under control.” with piplup sitting carefully on your shoulder, you grab riki’s forearm, quickly leading him out. “thank you professor, we’ll be sure to repay you!”

———

“i wanna be the very best, that no one ever was! dun dun du-dun, to catch them is my real test, to train th—ow!” riki pauses his serenading, cradling the arm that you’d pinched rudely.

“shut up, i’m trying to read this useless piece of shit,” you bark. “seriously who drew this thing? even you could make a better map than this!”

it’s quiet for a moment as the four of you continue wandering to who knows where, piplup fast asleep on your shoulder while riki and turtwig searched around cluelessly. there were freakishly large trees surrounding every mile of land, and lots of patches with wild grass that you both made sure to steer clear of; the last thing you needed was to fight wild pokemon before you could even buy pokeballs at the next town.

originally, you suspected that going from the lab to route one would be a piece of cake, but clearly not everything could go perfect in a day. unless you were reading it wrong (which you probably were), your map sent you in repetitive circles — and of course, the boy next to you didn’t provide much support.

abruptly, turtwig lets out a small chirp of his name minutes later, gesturing backwards with a prompt nod. riki follows his pokemon’s guide, eyes widening a fraction. “hey dummy, we’re looking for route one.. right?” he suddenly inquires, tapping your shoulder.

you roll your eyes, “yes, i told you that like an hour ago—“ you finally look up from your map and follow the boy’s gaze, jaw hanging off your face when you see a giant, obnoxious white sign reading ‘route 1’ on it.

you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. you were supposed to be on map duty while he kept an eye out for the destinations you read off. “you’ve got to be kidding me! riki, you were supposed to be looking for that humongous thing right in the middle of the forest for the past hour, are you blind?”

“i don’t know, turtwig didn’t see it either! i was just.. excited,” he defends.

how on earth am i supposed to survive with this idiot? you huff, folding up the map and throwing it into your backpack’s side pocket. next to you, riki has a small, discouraged pout on his lips, walking with his head slightly down.

his posture makes your eyes soften, guilt rushing through you as you reach up to pat his shoulder gently. “it’s okay, ki. sorry for yelling,” you apologise quietly.

riki kicks a rock into the air out of impulse, and you watch as it rockets all the way into a near patch of grass with no mercy. “nah, i deserved it anyway.”

then, an angry squak rips from the grass in front of you, right where riki had booted that stone.

you grip his shoulder in concentration, patting piplup awake with your other hand. “riki..”

“no y/n, seriously,” he insists, “i really do need to start focusing. we’ve only just left and..”

while he blabbers, you’re busy witnessing a raging flock of pidgeys fly up from the tall grass, furiously glaring down at the two of you.

“riki!” you holler, yanking him by his backpack. piplup is chirping frantically, holding on tightly as you grab riki’s hand and pull him behind while you sprint for your life.

the wavy haired boy has barely processed anything; nearly tripping on his own sneakers. when he looks back and realises the situation, riki’s eyes double in size comically. one pidgey hurls a small whirlwind right at him, and he narrowly dodges out of the way milliseconds prior with the help of turtwig’s warning chirp. “holy shit! what the hell do those ugly pigeons want!?”

“that rock you kicked must’ve hit one of them!” you scream your reply, anxiously feeling the birds getting closer. they were all scowling aggressively, clearly not up to discuss or show mercy.

just as you prepare to speed up even more, you feel the warmth of your neighbour’s hand get pulled away as a strong, angry gust yanks you away and down to the ground, piplup rolling off your back in the process and leaving riki screeching to a halt. your elbows and knees burn from scraping against the dirt, and the spinning in your head emits a groan from your lips.

nonetheless, you turn yourself onto your back in determination, sitting up on your palms again achingly. “get out of here!” you order riki, “me and piplup can deal with it.” the blue penguin chirps in agreement as she gets up herself, stretching her tiny arms and puffing up her chest again in an attempt of intimidation.

the pidgeys have almost caught up to the both of you, yet riki refrained from standing down; instead rushing to stand in front of you defensively. “no y/n, i have to do something helpful today,” he snaps. “turtwig, use razor leaf!”

riki spoke confidently as if he’s done this a million times before, yet it wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that this encounter was both of your first ever real battles.

your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets at his command. “what— but— riki no! grass types are unaffective against flying types, we learned this in—“

it was too late — turtwig had already jumped in front of you in obedience to his owner, throwing an attack at the brown creatures with an angry howl.

but just as you’d explained, the normally sharp leaves had barely any effect on the pidgeys, only infuriating them further as they grouped together to summon another giant whirlwind at you.

right as the tornado spins towards you, you feel riki rush over and wrap his body around you protectively, shielding you for whatever’s to come. his arms felt surprisingly sturdy and warm, opposing the powerful body of wind firing your way.

at the same time, a new voice breaks the silence of your accepted defeat. “watch out, you two!”

you feel riki squeeze you tighter just before everything turns black.

———

it takes you a couple tries until your eyes fully open. the peaceful silence keeps you calm as you slowly but surely wake up, taking in the white hospital room accompanied with a quiet beep of a monitor next to you.

at your awakening, piplup coos in greeting from the pillow beside you. “hey cutie,” you greet with a smile, patting your pokemon’s head affectionately.

“oh, thought you were talking to me.”

you quickly turn over to your other side to see a dishevelled riki in a bed of his own, raven hair sticking up in all directions and a blue hospital gown adorning his figure. he has a couple bandages wrapped around his arms, and your chest tightens when you see slight hints of blood seeping through then.

at his words, you sigh. it amazed you how your neighbour managed to joke around even in a situation like this. “how’re you feeling?” you ask with worry.

riki looks away, staring up at the white ceiling emotionlessly. “useless, stupid, a failure.” you frown further. “besides that, just peachy.”

“it was just a mistake—“

“i’ve made enough of those, don’t you think?” he snaps, now completely turned on his other side to avoid eye contact. “and that time it wasn’t just another fuck up, y/n. you could’ve got hurt.”

your brows furrow, mind flashing back to how hard riki tried to protect you throughout the entire attack, no matter if he was endangered in the process. “and what about you, ki? sure, you messed up, but instead of running away like some people would, you tried your hardest to fix it and take responsibility.” the boy remains motionless, breathing slowly against his white pillow. “even when those pidgey’s nearly swept us off into a damn tornado, you still tried to protect me instead of yourself for some stupid reason.”

he scoffs. “c’mon y/n, you know damn well what that reason is.”

“what? no i d—“

“i care about you, like, a lot. i fucking like you, dummy.” at last, riki sits back up to face you, casually smoothing his hair down as if he’d just commented on the weather or what he had for breakfast. the boy scoffs as you freeze, rendered speechless with your lips parted dumbly. “geez, you’re acting like this is new information,” he deadpans.

in his head, you’d always known of his little-not-so-little crush, but just decided to stay quiet in hopes of not breaking his heart — which he secretly appreciated, even if it was the complete wrong approach to take.

meanwhile, you were spiralling. riki, as in nishimura riki — your idiotic neighbour, lifelong childhood friend, the boy who didn’t know that grass pokemon are useless against flying ones — liked you?

suddenly, you feel a demanding peck on your arm, which happens to be piplup sending you a ‘stop sitting there uselessly before something flies into your mouth’ glare.

you gulp, making hesitant eye contact with him. “i- i really didn’t know, how- when?” you exclaim desperately.

before your answers could be retrieved, the hospital room’s door is pulled open, revealing a handsome young male with jet black hair and sunglasses. a varsity jacket covers his built figure, along with a navy backpack thrown over his left shoulder. his features and demeanour were all extremely sharp and intimidating, which you suppose matches the charmeleon that follows close behind him.

the boy removes his eyewear, surveying you up and down before doing the same to riki and releasing an amused chuckle. “finally. you newbies were out all night.”

riki grunts. “who are you?”

“call me jay, the one who saved your asses.” he explains, leaning up against the wall with crossed arms. “which reminds me, you little dorks owe me big time. took me and my buddy here lot’s of energy turning those pidgeys into dinner.” his tone was too difficult to read to assume he was kidding around, no matter how aggressively charmeleon growled in agreement.

you and riki shared a disbelieving look while jay lets out a yawn, completely unaffected by your lack of response. “y’know, i wouldn’t mind a cash reward too.”

“sorry for the trouble, and thank you,” you gulp. “i had some in my bag i think, you can—“

another round of laughter cuts you off. “i’m playing with you guys, it’s all good. how about you repay me by accepting the poor guy’s confession? i heard there’s a great first date spot up in sandgem town.” riki’s eyes widen at that, an embarrassing tint of red reaching his ears at the idea of the older male listening in on the past few minutes.

relievingly, a doctor shows up moments later. “sir, i’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to check on these patients in a minute.”

before his fortunate departure, jay sends one more glance between the both of you, winking at riki and leaving a teasing salute behind.

it was awkwardly silent once he was gone.

until once again, piplup delivers a gentle but demanding peck to your arm, snapping you out of your daze. you swallow in determination, attempting to build your confidence as you sit further up in bed. “riki, i—“

“it’s okay,” the male swiftly intervenes, “you don’t have to say anything, i already know you don’t—“

“riki!”

he flinches slightly at your raise in volume, sending you a bewildered glare. “what?!”

“geez, i like you too, idiot.” you get a blank stare in response for a good minute, which only comes to an end once a proud, approving chirp from piplup snaps him out of it. riki swallows, clearly not prepared for such an outcome judging by his hands that fidget with each other endearingly.

“oh,” he replies uselessly, ignoring the headbutt turtwig punishes him with moments after.

of course that was all he had to say.

you roll your eyes, hopping off your bed to begin searching through your backpack. it’d be better to simply change the subject if he’s going to react like this, isn’t it?

“jay mentioned something about sandgem being the next town, and that only means one thing. we’re all the way back in twinleaf. so i guess we’ll have to—“ when you look up from the map, you freeze at the view of riki standing in front of you, holding a look in his eye that differs from any one that he’s given you previously. he reaches for the map and places it gently on the bed, taking another step closer to your figure.

your breath immediately hitches. despite the messiest bed-head imaginable, bloody bandages, and his outfit being nothing but an unappealing hospital gown, your best friend never failed to look good, and it was about time you pointed it out. “y/n, do you mean it?”

you didn’t need to ask to understand what he meant. “yeah.. do you?”

before you knew it, your jaw was being cupped ever so softly by his palm, and when you didn’t reject his touch, riki leaned down to connect his lips with yours. it wasn’t rushed or frantic — no, your reckless best friend managed to kiss you so gently, you think he’s imagining you poof-ing into the thin air if he moved any rougher. his other hand attempts to bring you closer by the waist, but the action only results in a pained hiss due to the bandage-clad injuries decorating his skin.

pulling away reluctantly, you reach up to squeeze his shoulder while desperately attempting to hide your giddy smile. “y’know, i always imagined you’d be a messy kisser.”

riki smirks. “i can be if you want me to, dummy.”

at the sound of his nickname that you’ve annoyingly got accustomed to, you pout. “you’re really still gonna call me that?”

his lips press against yours once more, effectively shooing your pout away. “of course, you think being your boyfriend would make me change or something?”

huffing, you reach down to put the map back into your backpack, accepting defeat. “whatever, we should get out of here before the doctors come.”

“okay.. wait,” riki’s eyes brighten mischievously, immediately sending a worried expression to your face. “so.. you’ve imagined kissing me?”

shit.

“…piplup, use water gun.”

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