#instead of waterboarding you with ''it gets better''

[slutdge]

my psychiatrist admitted he's unsure about how to advise me in our session today cause my situation is so horrific there's no drug or therapy he can prescribe to fix it so lets pop bottles cause i won the gold medal in mental illness wooooo!!!! 🍾 🥂

#dont fucking talk to me aboit ''it gets better'' no it doesnt ill be trapped in hell forever what kind of a fucking life is that #just shut the fuck up i dont care yes im satisfied dying miserable and alone #if at least thats the first time ive ever had autonomy and dignity #anyways no im not gonna do it right this second but i really cant take another ''youll get better'' message #when theres no guarantee #why cant toxic positivity mfs ever get a grip and say ''what youre going through is bad and abusive'' #instead of waterboarding you with ''it gets better'' #k i need to go drink myself into a coma now goodnight yall ✌

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2022

Welcome to Whumptober 2022, in its fifth year of running!

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone new, WELCOME!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

With that being said, we’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators, see what juicy whump they’ve created too! We wish you all the fun!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2022 Prompt List

No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY

Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

No. 2 NOWHERE TO RUN

Cornered | Caged | Confrontation

No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH

Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled

No. 4 DEAD ON YOUR FEET

Hidden Injury | Waking Up Disoriented | Can’t Pass Out

No. 5 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS

Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

No. 6 PROOF OF LIFE

Ransom Video | “I’ve got a pulse” | Screams from Across the Hall

No. 7 THE WAY YOU SHAKE AND SHIVER

Shaking Hands | Seizures | Silent Panic Attack

No. 8 EVERYTHING HURTS AND I’M DYING

Stomach Pain | Head Trauma | Back from the Dead

No. 9 THE VERY NOISY NIGHT

Sleeping in Shifts | Tossing and Turning | Caught in a Storm

No. 10 POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS

Taser | Whipping | Waterboarding

No. 11 “911, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?”

Sloppy Bandages | Self-Done First Aid | Makeshift Splint

No. 12 WHAT COULD GO WRONG?

“Mayday, mayday!” | Cave In | Rusty Nail

No. 13 CAN’T MAKE AN OMELETTE WITHOUT BREAKING A FEW LEGS

Fracture | Dislocation | “Are you here to break me out?”

No. 14 DIE A HERO OR LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO BECOME A VILLAIN

Desperate Measures | Failed escape | “I’ll be right behind you.”

No. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

Lies | New Scars | Breathing through the Pain

No. 16 NO WAY OUT

Mind Control | Paralytic Drugs | “No one’s coming.”

No. 17 HANGING BY A THREAT

Breaking Point | Stress Positions | Reluctant Caretaker

No. 18 LET’S BREAK THE ICE

"Just get it over with." |  Treading Water | "Take my Coat"

No. 19 ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

Knees Buckling | Repeatedly Passing Out | Head Lolling

No. 20 IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY

Going into Shock | Fetal Position | Prisoner Trade

No. 21 FAMOUS LAST WORDS

Coughing up Blood | “You’re safe now.” | “Take me instead.”

No. 22 PICK YOUR POISON

Toxic | Withdrawal | Allergic Reaction

No. 23 AT THE END OF THEIR ROPE

Forced to Kneel | Tied to a Table | “Hold them down.”

No. 24 FIGHT, FLIGHT OR FREEZE

Blood Covered Hands | Catatonic | “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

No. 25 SILENCE IS GOLDEN

Lost Voice | Duct Tape | “You better start talking.”

No. 26 NO ONE LEFT BEHIND

Separated | Rope Burns | “Why did you save me?”

No. 27 PUSHED TO THE LIMIT

Muffled Screams | Stumbling | Magical Exhaustion

No. 28 IT'S JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG

Anger Born of Worry | Punching the Wall | Headache

No. 29 WHAT DOESN'T KILL ME…

Sleep Deprivation | Defiance | “Better me than you.”

No. 30 NOTE TO SELF: DON'T GET KIDNAPPED

Manhandled | Hair Grabbing | “Please don’t touch me.”

Alternative Prompts List

No. 31 A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

Comfort | Bedside Vigil | “You can rest now.”

Ringing Ears

Whimpering

Dazed and Confused

Touch Starved

Ambushed

Sensory Overload

Protective

Made to Watch

Quicksand

Adrenaline Crash

Stabbed

Carried to Safety

Crutches

Emergency Blanket

Tears

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask - A link can be found at the end of this post. ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “bee”, you can create something about bees, about yellow and black striped baseball bats or bees on bandaids. It’s up to you.

Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2022 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us, if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.14, #underpressure). If you post works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :) Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters using one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like to whump.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes,  but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst focus ok?

Of course!

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start writing early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

Just tag the word, ex. emeto

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

If you want your work archived on the blog, then yes. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.  

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2022 tag

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box :)

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, tags are your best friend.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

#whumptober2022 #promptlist2022 #event info 2022 #event info #whumptober

[makethatelevenrings]

Torture and Trust // S. Riley x f!reader

warnings: waterboarding, reader is physically hit and tortured, reader is threatened with sexual assault in one (1) line, canon-typical violence, swearing

A part two to this but also doesn't need to be read before this. I'm kind of making a little universe in my head but idk. We vibin'.

It was the shock of cold water smashing against your face that woke you up. To be honest, you weren’t really asleep. You had been drifting between the space between consciousness and sleep, lured there from a few nasty hits to the head and exhaustion.

It was supposed to be a simple recon mission before the rest of the team came in to aid the retrieval of an asset. It was a warehouse tucked away in the streets of Tokyo that was apparently the hub of a human trafficking ring. MI5 had tasked the military to dispatch a SpecOps team since British citizens were targeted, something that had you grumbling under your breath because it shouldn’t take someone’s fucking citizenship to determine if they needed help. Explosives would be a bad idea considering how metropolitan the area was, even if it wasn’t very busy in this area. So you and Lieutenant Riley were tasked with figuring out a solid entry point and a tally of guards.

Simon had agreed to split up so he could canvass the west side of the building and see how many guards were stationed while you took the east side. It just so happened that the second-in-command to shithead in charge himself spotted the flash of your rifle scope and the next thing you know, you were strapped to a chair in the middle of the warehouse.

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath and you let out a small laugh as you regarded the two men in front of you. Being in the SAS, you were no secret to torture. Everyone knew that one step of the training was to go through seventy-two hours of pure hell and sleep deprivation to see who broke and who didn’t. This was child’s play compared to that.

“Your swing is getting better,” you said through bloodied teeth. “But that follow through is what we need to work on.”

A hand fisted in the back of your head and shoved your forward, directly into the trough of water they had placed in front of you. Waterboarding was always an interesting exercise. You knew it was coming and had inhaled sharply, focusing your attention on anything but the air slowly leaking from your lungs as he held you in there for maybe a minute. Your thoughts drifted to other things, like the ramen you and Simon split in the safehouse the night before. It had been a few months since he grew comfortable enough with taking the mask off in front of you so now you savored the few moments you saw of his face. He seemed almost tentative without his mask, as though he was aware of how beastly his scars made him look.

You pondered over if he knew just how beautiful he was.

They yanked you back out of the water and you didn’t know what time it was. It was certainly darker than it had been when you were first nabbed from your lookout point. Certainly long enough that Simon was aware of your predicament. So that meant you were running out of time. Two in front of you, three guards behind. Your hands strained against the rope and duct tape mixture that bound your wrists and ankles to the sides of the chairs.

“Who do you work for?” the boss hissed. You blinked up at him innocently through the water that clung to your lashes and shrugged.

“Can’t a girl just chill around here? God forbid women do anything.” You braced yourself for a hit that never came. Instead, he grabbed your jaw and squeezed, forcing your teeth to clack together with a sharp jolt and a bite to your tongue, adding more blood to mix with the cuts already present from the lackluster punches delivered earlier.

“Not with that level of weaponry. Try again.”

“You got me. I’m one of Santa’s elves and he wanted to make sure you were being a good boy this year. I’d hate to let him know that-” Your words were cut off as you were shoved back into the water. Ramen. How many meals had you two shared at this point? He had even started bringing you dinner to your office since he could take his mask off there rather than in the chow hall. You wouldn’t lie, you were starting to get tired. Your lungs burned from the fight to breathe and inhale the water, but you tried to shut off the small part of your brain that sent up signals of panic.

You didn’t need to worry, you reminded yourself. Just hold on a little longer.

“If you don’t start giving me real answers, maybe I’ll let some of our clients get it out of you. They’d love that,” the boss snarled when you were let up for air. Your gut tugged uncomfortably at the implication. It was always something that you had to keep in the back of your mind. Being a woman, military or not, always meant that it was a threat held over your head, simply for existing. It was why you were so eager to destroy their whole operation.

“How about you go fuck yourself?” Gathering up the blood and spit in your mouth, you forced your tongue back and then spat the putrid mix all over his face and the pristine white collar of his shirt. Rage flickered across his face and he stood up straight.

“Get me the pliers. If she won’t talk, we’ll make sure she screams.”

Well, you mused, what was a few less nails and teeth except less maintenance?

As his little goon walked off to whatever evil lair table of doom they had set up, your ears tuned into the silence around you. The typical sounds of the city met your ears, along with…there.

“I’m afraid, boys, that you’re out of time,” you said softly. A smile tugged painfully at your swollen and cut lips but you pushed past the pain. “This has been fun, truly, but I can’t lie and say I’ll miss you.”

The boss’ hand was heavy on the back of your neck as he held you down into the water. Even through the distorted splashes and fuzziness in your mind, you could hear five audible pops. You knew what they saw in their last moments. You knew that the Ghost emerged from the shadows, steps silent despite the fact that he was more muscle than man, and you knew that these men felt fear seconds before a bullet silenced their cruel minds.

He tugged you up out of the water and you inhaled deeply, the sound harsh and grating on your sensitive ears. Blinking the water out of your eyes, you came face to face with a mask that most said elicited a bone deep terror in them.

But not you.

“Right on time,” you panted. He said nothing as he cut the bindings holding you down and inspected the way that they had rubbed some of your skin away, leaving it tender and bleeding. Simon turned to look at the leader of all of this and you realized that he didn’t kill him. The man was dragging himself towards his discarded gun on the ground, blood oozing from his ruined kneecap. Ghost stalked towards him and lifted him up and away from his weapon. He regarded the little weasel coolly and then glanced back at you. You tried to push yourself up and out of the chair but your legs shook under you and instead, you collapsed back against the metal.

“Warehouse is clear,” Soap announced as he, Gaz, and Price entered. “Christ, bonnie, you look like shite.”

“You charmer,” you muttered. Gaz rushed to your side to help you up and you were grateful for your team. Your friends.

“This him?” Price asked as he joined Simon.

“Yeah.” It was the first time he’d spoken since he entered the building. “Keep him alive. I want to be the one to interrogate him.”

If it were anyone else, Price would agree. But seeing the slight tremor in Simon’s hands where he gripped the man’s suit jacket and then looking over to where Gaz was supporting your half-conscious form, he knew that putting Simon alone in a room with the man would result in a very messy clean up.

“We’ll worry about that when we get them back to base,” Price said. “We need to get her to medical.”

Four days into your medical leave and you were growing antsy. Soap and Gaz tried to keep you entertained and Price offered you an opportunity to yell at some cadets, but you were bored. You missed moving your body more than just the walk from your room to your office to the chow hall and back. But the doctor had threatened to strap you to a bed for a week while you let your body get back to normal after, and her words were, “you got your shit rocked. I know you SpecOps bastards think you’re invincible but anyone would need to take a fucking break after being tortured.” So, here you were, sitting in your office and writing up a mission plan for another team because Price knew you were getting twitchy without anything to do.

Two knocks, sharp and perfunctory, caught your attention. You called for whoever it was to enter, but you already knew who it would be. How many times had he laid that same knock upon your door? You once said that he might as well move into your office and he had regarded it for a moment thoughtfully, as if he was genuinely considering it.

“Four days of silence from you. Thought I did something wrong,” you commented lightly as Ghost entered and shut the door behind him. He didn’t take his usual seat, the plush wheelie chair you invested in when you joined the team and realized that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Simon dropped a tray onto your desk and then stalked away, his shoulders tense and bristling like a scared cat.

A quick glance at the time confirmed that your trap had worked. He always noticed if you missed a meal, usually because you were invested in something you were working on. Everyone had their own quirk or vice and that was yours.

He brought you beef stew over rice, a quintessential British meal that was surprisingly appetizing despite the cook’s minimal care. A shiny red apple sat beside it and, as if he read your thoughts, Simon whirled around and yanked it off of the tray. He extracted a knife from his pocket and started to carve the apple into slices that he dropped onto the tray and then turned around and began to stare at the wall once more. You simply grabbed one of the slices and chewed on it while waiting for him to speak.

“That was stupid,” his rough voice broke the silence. You scoffed and stopped chewing.

“What, getting captured? I didn’t fucking plan on it.”

“No. For not trying to escape.”

A dry, startled laugh escaped you and you scrubbed the heel of your hand over your forehead. “Five men with guns and me with nothing, tied to a chair. Yeah, fair chance of running without a bullet in the back.”

“You didn’t even try.”

“I didn’t have to. I knew you were coming.”

He turned to glare at you from behind that infamous mask and you cocked your head to the side. “That doesn’t scare me, Simon, and you know it. Take the mask off.”

He hesitated and then reached up and yanked it off, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the scars around his mouth, and those freckles that speckled across his nose and cheeks. You could see him better and, therefore, read him better. His eyes told you he was angry. His tight jaw told you he was scared.

“You can’t just sit there and fucking die because you’re waiting for me, you can’t do that.”

“Why? You’re my teammate. I trust that you would come for me.”

“What if I hadn’t?” You shook your head at his question, at the absurdity of it. Was he hearing himself? Was he that consumed by whatever foolish notion that had somehow worked its way into his head? You pushed away from your desk and stood up so you could cross the floor to stand toe to toe with him. 

“What if what if what if, fuck the what ifs, Simon. You. Wouldn’t. Leave. Me. Behind.” Each word was punctuated with a jab to his chest.

“And what if I had been injured, yeah? What then?” God, he was insufferable.

“You really mean to tell me that you wouldn’t crawl through broken glass to get to one of us.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Would you have this conversation with Soap or Gaz or Price? Then why are you so insistent about it with me? I was doing my job. Are you saying I can’t trust you? Trust my team? Because I can. I do. Don’t start telling me I shouldn’t.”

“You can. For fuck’s sake, you can.”

“You said it yourself, Simon, this job is dangerous and I knew the risks going in so I don’t know why you’re so insistent on thi-“

He tasted like nicotine and mint gum with maybe a hint of gunpowder, something so uniquely him. His lips pressed against yours with surprising gentleness and he cradled your face between his hands like you were the most precious glass figure he’d ever held. You fisted your hands in the lapels of his uniform jacket and sank into his touch. His fingers traced the skin of your cheeks, careful to not irritate the cuts you sustained days prior, and down to cup the back of your neck to draw you closer. A soft whimper escaped you at the sensation of his strong body pressing against yours.

You could easily hold your own in a fight, but the knowledge that this Adonis of a man was by your side through the hell of war was a comfort.

You needed to breathe but it wasn’t the painful reminder like it was when being tortured. His hands slid from your neck to cradling your jaw as you pulled away, settling back down on your heels.

“Don’t make me bury you,” he whispered, his forehead still pressed against yours.

You nodded, too dazed to say anything noteworthy. His thumbs stroked over your jaw and you blinked up at him.

“Was that a one time thing to shut me up or…”

“Fuckin’ insufferable, you are,” he grunted but leaned down to kiss you sweetly. There wasn’t much you could associate with Simon Riley and being sweet, but the tenderness in his touch made you want to hold him and keep him away from the world that had hurt him.

You felt his fingers brush against a nasty bruise on your jaw from a well aimed hit and saw his eyes darken.

“Did you question him already?”

“We’ve got a list of buyers that MI6 and Laswell are confirming right now,” he affirmed. Good. The mission was a success then.

“And how did you get this information?” you asked.

You met the gaze of the Ghost and didn’t flinch. He chuckled low and deep in his chest and tilted your chin up so he could see one of the cuts better.

“I did everything he did to you,” he said fiercely. "But I made sure it was permanent."

You moved your hand up to tangle with the short hair at the base of his neck and pressed your lips against his. Pulling back so just a small gap separated you, you murmured out a single sentence.

"I trusted you would."

#simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #cod imagine #cod x reader

[flowence-writing]

hi! could you write a Johanna x fem!reader fic where the reader is a tribute from district 11? She won the 69th games when she was 12-14, and during her game, she became very close friends with an older tribute from District 5 (they were like Rue and Katniss). the older tribute died for reader.

Johanna and reader know each other from the few years where they had been dragged to the capitol to "mentor" for the games. they became very close.

when reader was also reaped for the quarter quell, johanna was there to comfort her as soon as she could.

johanna and reader protect each other in the arena, and reader gets captured by the capitol instead of johanna.

afraid to love you - j.m.

pairings: johanna mason x reader (romantic), platonic katniss everdeen x reader, platonic finnick odair x reader, platonic peeta mellark x reader

summary: Johanna Mason loved you, she loved how passionate you are and how kind and caring you are. When you got dragged to the capital to mentor the tributes a few times, at first you hated Johanna, but then you grew to love her. What happens when in the quarter quell of the 75th hunger games you’re captured by the capital and Johanna is left alone in District 13?

a/n: i changed some things ^^

warnings: graphic volence, graphic torture, angst, some fluff

You hated this, hated the unknown of it all. A part of you was glad that it had been you and not Johanna. At least you were semi liked by the capital so they would not kill you at least. You sighed, you’ve been unable to close your eyes ever since you woke up here, in this disgustingly bright white room.

“Are you Y/N L/N?” A man in a white coat and a badge asked, walking into the room with an air of confidence. You scowled at the man. You didn’t answer his question.

“It would be better for you to answer my questions. Are you Y/N L/N?” He repeated the previous question. You grit your teeth, still not saying a word.

“Alright then, you’ll learn to talk eventually.” He said, his hand hovering over the plethora of tools in front of him. You looked at him in silent horror, a plea in your eyes but nonetheless that did not stop the man from picking up tweezers and placing them under your first finger nail.

CRACK!

You closed your eyes tightly, biting your lip to stifle your scream. The man chuckled at you. Muttering something about how you’ll start screaming soon.

He went to your other finger nail. Ripping the nail out of its nailbed, you groaned but the scream was muffled back down your throat again.

You started to lose track of time, the hours seemingly endless and the torture nonstop. He’d ask the same questions, while taking each nail he could.

“Are you Y/N L/N?”

“Where are the rebels hiding?”

“Were you in on the plan?”

“Who is the leader of the rebels?”

Over and over and over again.

You don’t know when you started screaming or when your voice became hoarse. The lights beginning to truly make your eyes hurt.

The man decided eventually to move onto another type of torture. He put a rag over your head, and then came the water.

You weren’t expecting this, you weren’t expecting to be waterboarded. The water seems to be endless, soaking into your nostrils, your mouth, and your eyes. You gagged, choking on the water and coughing but having no break with it. Water getting into your lungs causing your chest to heave painfully.

You don’t know when you passed out or if you ever did. Time became nothing more than torturous. Tick tock, the clock would go, you supposed the clock is there to make you feel insane.

When that wasn’t enough they’d inject something into your veins, it made you scream and writhe in your bounds. It felt like your bones were on fire, like your stomach acid is burning through your fat, skin, and muscle.

Sometimes you would get a hallucinogen. You’d see Johanna, but it wasn’t her. She’d come to save you, hold you, and then you would wake crying.

“Oh my god…” You heard her, you heard Johanna. Unsure if this is just a trick or hallucination you cracked your eyelids open. When did you get here? It wasn’t as bright, it definitely was not the capital.

You wriggled a bit, bringing your hand to your face. You gazed unsurely at your own hand, unsure if this is real. Your eyes shifted to Johanna’s figure, you didn’t feel anything, not relief, not happiness. You’ve been through this too many times to get hopeful only to have everything ripped away the next second.

“You’re not real. You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re not real.” You chanted over and over again, shaking your head you refused to believe this was real. Too many times you had the hope, had Johanna, ripped away from your grasp.

“Dove?” You shook your head again, tears stinging at your eyes.

“It’s me, I.. I’m real. I swear.” This was different, the hallucinations never demanded that they were real. A spark of hope fired into your chest.

“Jo?” You replied tearfully, hopefully even. You sounded so unsure that it broke Johanna’s heart. You then spotted Katniss and Finnick behind Johanna. A sob broke through your pale cracked lips.

You were muttering incomprehensible words to yourself, rocking back and forth.

“It’s me, they can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let them.” Johanna murmured, stepping to your bedside. You looked up, tears streaming down your cheeks, raw emotion in your eyes. You tentatively reached out to her, to Johanna.

Johanna took the hand that had shakenly been moving towards her. She brought your hand to her lips kissing it.

“This is real…” You muttered in disbelief. Jo finally let a few tears fall.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry… I tried to get you three back sooner. I am so sorry.” Katniss said, her voice cracking. You looked up at the woman, a woman so brave for someone who’s just a kid.

“It’s ok. They didn’t break me.” You said, albeit emotionally but you’re not hundred percent ok right not and that’s fine.

The five of you huddled into a hug. Peeta somehow snuck into the hug as well. and you all laughed, you were all together again. You might never be the same but at least you were alive and had everything you needed.

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #finnick odair #katniss everdeen #jena malone

[glowstick-cafe]

♡ATSV: Couple shenanigans♡

Genre: Fluff, Established relationship

Warnings: Reader is poc

Summary: Just some couple things that I'd imagine these little guys would do for their partner.

A/n: I stand by my headcanon that every single Spiderman in a relationship would absolutely melt for their partner, I don't care who they are.

_______________________________________

Hobie Brown

When you first met Hobie you thought he was quite intimidating. Now that you're practically dating the guy, you've come to realize that he just has a permanent resting bitch face and you love that for him, but from time to time you still get intimidated by him.

Like the time when he spaced out mid conversation to admire your face. "-And he just kept going on and on about his new motorcycle like, did I ask? I just wanted to buy some chips man, weird right?" Looking up to wait for your boyfriend's answer you were met with his blank stare, and his face resting in the palm of his hand. It only took you a minute for you to realize that your boyfriend wasn't in fact angry at you, it was just his face. "I admire your beautiful face and this is how you repay me?" He laughed, then placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

God forbid this boy show affection in public, the amount of begging it took to get him to hold your hand in public is something no one will be able to waterboard out of you.

"Hold my hand…" You whisper to him as to not bother the other people on the train. Hobie's face lightly scrunched up upon hearing your request. "We're almost home, we can cuddle there, and it's better than holding hands." He tried to bargain, but seeing your mood suddenly shift was enough to make him hold out his palms towards you, which you gladly took.

—

Pavitr Prabhakar

Pavitr is the type of boy to buy you flowers, there doesn't have to be a reason. If he feels like it(and that is most of the time) he'll just have them delivered, no matter where you are.

It was especially bad when you two had just started dating, once a week a different bouquet of flowers were being sent to you. One day when he turned up at your house with a bouquet of lavender flowers, which had felt like your last straw.

"I can't keep accepting your flowers…" You say apologetically, he tilts his head in confusion and worry. "O-Oh…I understand." He responds, and anxiously looks down at his feet.

"I don't have enough space in my house to keep them all, please chill out." You finished. Pavitr paused, then took a moment to laugh, "Ok love, I'll keep that in mind." He said with a smile. After that, the boy instead opted to help you make a garden, though you still do receive flowers from him every now and then.

Since Pavitr's hair is in a permanent swoop on his face, you find yourself unconsciously tucking away loose strands that obstructed his vision. The first time you did it he thought you were going in for a kiss, to which he ended up kissing your hand.

You still tease him about it to this day.

—

Gwen Stacy

Gonna be honest with you, people already thought you two were a couple way before you guys actually became one. Gwen told her band that you both were dating and they were confused as to what she was talking about.

"Wait…you guys weren’t a thing before?" Was the general consensus.

Gwen hated the rain, while you absolutely loved it. It would be hard to get to where you were going if it was raining, because she would often rather wait for the rain to stop than actually use an umbrella.

One day the stars aligned for you and water had begun pouring from the sky. Your girlfriend had the dismay of being over at your house when the sky decided to screw her over, "Wanna go play in the rain?" You asked even though you could see her grimace at the very thought.

"What are you, five? Besides, you'll get sick" Gwen reasoned. You then held her face in the palm of your hands, making her eyes focus on you. "You're the only girl I'd want to get sick with." You spoke, holding onto her hands and pulling her towards the door that leads to the outside. Gwen scoffed at your words, "As cute as that is, no."

"Guess you'll have to miss out." You say with a cheeky grin plastered to your face, you open the door and walk backwards into the open rain while making eye contact with your girlfriend.

Though she tried to pull you back inside, the cold air of the rain made her shudder. The rain droplets soaked your clothes but you couldn't be any happier. Gwen became very protective of you ever since you both lost Peter, so you getting sick would send the girl into a coma….but it was nice to see you happy for a change.

The blonde sighed and slowly walked into the rain to join you, she felt her clothes sticking to her skin as the rain poured. The girl joined you. "If we get sick, you're so dead!" Gwen yelled, but her voice sounded quite playful. You couldn't help but giggle and danced with her in the rain.

(You guys did end up getting sick)

—

Miles Morales

Being in a relationship with Miles was great, but ever since he transferred to that other school you could tell that he grew more tired. Rarely did both of your schedules ever line up to see each other, but that never stopped you from loving the guy.

So now when you had time to see him, it would just be a relaxing few hours of watching him draw until your parents texted you to come home.

Everything was great for the first few months of the same thing. In that time, you met some of his friends that he said were from his school, Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie. "We only came over to see you!" Was their excuse to come by, when in actuality, you knew that they were only here to eat Mrs. Morales's food.

Today was spent like any other day when you decided to visit Miles, but something was different.

The both of you were going shopping! Well, you were the one actually doing the shopping, Miles just tagged along because he liked being around you any chance he got.

"Oh! What if we got matching cups?" You asked excitedly, holding up two glass cups with small Spiderman heads printed on them. Your boyfriend couldn't help but cringe at the sight of the cups.

Taking note of this, your excitement slowly diminished, "No matching cups?" You say, slightly disappointed.

Miles quickly looked panicked, "No, I like the matching cup! It's just…can't you pick a different design?" He tried explaining.

"I thought you liked Spiderman, he's super cute!-" You looked back at the glass cups with Spiderman's black suit. Miles paused, not sure if he should be jealous or happy.

"It's just that we haven't done anything together recently and I thought this could be a cute thing for us. Also, this Spiderman is my favorite…" You say in a somber tone, your voice sounding a bit heartbroken.

Miles knew you were trying to guilt trip him into letting you buy the glasses, how many times has he been letting you get away with this? No comment….

"But I- There is no way…"

Miles playfully glared at you and took the cups out of your hands to carry them to the check out, "Oh you suck! You need to stop doing that." Miles said playfully.

"Not my fault you have poor taste in tableware." You say as a smug grin makes its way to your face.

#glow;atsv #reader is a poc #atsv x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x you #gwen stacy x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

I KNOW THERE'S SOMETHING RIGHT IN BETWEEN US!

I'M MOVING CLOSER BABY, WHY DON'T YOU SEEM TO CARE?

synopsis// “you’re going on a date?” “well yeah..it’s not like we’re exclusive or anything right?” “yeah..yes ofc not” “yeah” (prompt from @jasminesfury)

➚ pairing// choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// 3.2k

contents// suggestive—friends with benefits but nothing explicit/no actual smut, no curses!au, unknown mutual pining, both of u r just idiots tbh

notes// MY MAN MY MAN MY MANNNNN i need to get him pregnant soooo bad. on that note here's a low quality one shot from a low quality man. anyway! besides the prompt this was inspired by better by clairo (shivers)

Choso plops down next to you with a sigh, bringing the sheets up to cover his chest, and instead of cuddling up next to him like you normally do, you sit up and look around the room for your clothes. Once spotted, you snatch the sheets away from Choso and cover yourself with them, leaving him exposed instead.

“Y/n cmon,” he whines as the cold air leaves goosebumps across his bare body.

You hum, ignoring him as you slip your clothes back on, which quickly catches his attention.

“What are you doing?” He asks as he sits up and stares at you with half-lidded eyes; you’d almost consider them fuck-me eyes if you hadn’t already just done that.

"I'm getting dressed, Choso. What does it look like?"

“You’re not staying?”

"No, sorry, I know I usually spend the night after we..." You clear your throat awkwardly as you put on the last of your clothes. “...After we check in the benefits to our friendship, but I have plans tomorrow.”

A lazy smirk plays on his face. “You know you can just say after we fuck, right?”

"I'd rather not—I don't have a dirty mouth like you.”

“…are you sure about that cause you were just-“

“Do not finish that sentence if you ever want to see me naked again, Choso.”

“Got it,” he says, nodding curtly. “So what plans do you have tomorrow that are oh so important to be taking you from me?”

“Oh.” You look away, scratching your cheek awkwardly. "Um, I'm going on a date.”

Whatever small smirk Choso had been previously sporting falls—falls isn't even the correct word. It vanishes in thin air, one second there and gone the next, as quick and fleeting as the clap of a butterfly’s wings. “…you're going on a date?”

"Yeah, I mean..." Your head dips down, your hands now awkwardly fumbling with themselves as you look up at him through your lashes and mutter, "It's not like we’re exclusive or anything, right?”

"Yeah," he nods hesitantly, like he's not even really sure he should be nodding at all. "Yeah, of course not.”

“Yeah… Well…” You quickly clear his throat and approach him, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "Bye, Choso, I'm gonna get going! talk to you later?”

“Talk to you later, Y/n,” is all he says before you’re rushing out of his house.

The slam of his front door has him gasping, belatedly realizing he had started holding his breath sometime earlier to begin with. Choso feels like he might just vomit now that he's all too aware of everything that just happened and everything that’s currently happening within him. He practically jumps out of bed, stumbling a bit as he pulls on his boxers on his path toward the bathroom.

He comes to a halt in front of his sink, immediately turning it on and splashing his face with water, as if that would actually do something to stop the way his heart is beating at light speed. Choso stands there, borderline waterboarding himself, for god knows how long, and when it doesn’t feel like his legs are about to give out from underneath him like he’s a baby deer standing for the first time, he turns off the faucet and groans.

He should’ve stopped you.

He should’ve told you that he did, in fact, actually want to be exclusive. And if he couldn’t have done that, then at the very least he should’ve tried to get you in bed again—he should’ve done literally anything just to keep you in his grasp and not in the paws of whatever filthy person you’re off to have a date with tomorrow.

but he knows he was playing a losing game all along anyway. It was only a matter of time before you got tired of this and called it off—yet Choso can admit he wished he had just a little bit more time with you before you went off and found something you didn’t know he was more than willing to give you. Choso has loved you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, and never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d have you in any way—but one day, to his amazement, you suggested this arrangement, and Choso was not about to say no.

He was not about to deny himself the only way he might ever be able to have you.

And now it’s seeming like he’ll never be able to have you in anyway ever again, and there’s nothing he can do about it—nothing he can do to make you feel the same way. But at least this was a nice way to end things, with one last hoorah. Choso can at least be happy at the fact that you gave him one last chance to adore you.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Your elbow is on the table with your cheek resting against your fist as you stare at the person in front of you who's talking about something you can't hear. not because it’s loud. No, your date made certain that it wouldn't be by bringing you to a secluded booth in the corner of a romantically lit restaurant, so that's not the problem.

The problem is you.

You didn’t even want to come on this date in the first place; you didn’t think you were actually going to have to end up showing up. What you thought would happen was last night when you told Choso he’d get jealous or do something, anything, to show you that he’s just as head over heels for you as you are for him, and then you'd cancel this date.

But no.

All you got was confirmation that you two truly are just friends with benefits—nothing more, nothing less. And really, it shouldn’t hurt this badly. It shouldn’t feel like someone’s just ripped your heart out and served it on a silver platter for you to watch as it bleeds out. yet it does. And even still, you can't help but be here thinking about Choso. You’ll probably always be stuck thinking about him. You've thought about him so much that you're convinced he's the only thing on your mind. A head filled with nothing but Choso; it's been that way since before you two had what you have going on, and you're sure it'll stay that way long after.

“You know you could at least pretend to pay attention, right?"

They roll their eyes when you do nothing but stare at them in stunned silence. "If you don’t want to be here so bad, why did you even come?”

"I-uh-" you swallow harshly. "I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Who are they?”

You stare at them blankly. Is it really that obvious? If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you have "I'm in love with Choso!” written smack dab on your forehead.

“You look miserable, and I'd like to think I'm not at full fault for that.” They tilt their head slightly to the side, unamused. "So, who are they?”

“You’re not,” you say, an apologetic smile being the only thing you have to offer them. “You didn’t do anything, really. I just.” You stand up abruptly and quickly exit the booth. "I should go.”

“Yeah,” they agree. “That’s probably best.”

"I'm really sorry again-"

They interrupt your sentence with an impudent wave of their hand, and you frown. But obviously, since this date was doomed from the moment you arrived, you ignore it, pushing their bitterness (though you can’t fully blame them) out of your mind and walking away. As you rush out of the restaurant, you immediately pull out your phone and call Choso. You’re not sure what you would even say; all you know is that you need to hear his voice. Who knows, maybe hearing his voice after that cluster fuck of a “date” will be the very push off the cliff you need to confess. The phone seems to ring for an eternity.

"Cmon, pick up,” you mumble to no one other than yourself and the ghost of the wind.

The line falls, as does your face. Okay. Choso always answers you. So why not now? You shake your head and call him again; maybe he was just in the bathroom or something. This time, the phone only rings once or twice before dropping, and that's when it hits you: he’s ignoring you on purpose. You stop in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at your phone blankly.

What the fuck?

Choso ignoring you?

That's unheard of; Choso would never dare ignore you, yet he is. You rack your brain, searching every nook and cranny for an answer, trying to recall if maybe you did something wrong. You two were fine last night after you left—at least, you think? You can't totally remember if you’re being honest. You’re brain checked out the minute Choso gave you confirmation that he doesn't feel the same about you. You groan to yourself. You have to fix this. First, you just have to figure out what exactly you need to fix, and if you don't have that information, you have a strong suspicion about who might.

☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆

The pounding of your fists on the door falls in tune with the pounding of your heart. You're about to start knocking again when you finally hear the faint grumble of someone from beyond it.

“What the fuck do you-“ He comes to a halt when the door swings open enough to reveal you. "Oh, it's just you.”

You roll your eyes. “Great to see you too, Sukuna!”

He looks you up and down, unamused. “What do you want?”

“Are you gonna invite me in?”

Sukuna looks over his shoulder at something—or rather, someone—before looking back at you. “'m busy.”

“Like the kind of busy me and Choso got going on or...”

"Ew, what the fuck?" He reluctantly nods, though his grimace is still evident. "I mean, yeah, but gross.”

"Okay, fine, whatever, I'll make this quick. Have you talked to him?”

“Choso?”

You nod.

“Uh yeah, I talk to his dumbass all the time.”

You sigh. "I mean recently, like last night or today?…”

Sukuna quickly shrugs before leaning against his door frame, tilting his head to the side as he asks, “Why?”

“I’m like…” You look away and mumble disappointedly, “...pretty sure he’s ignoring me.”

“Bro what?” Sukuna looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. “Choso ignoring you?” He snickers. “You sound fucking crazy.”

"Dude, I'm serious!” You snap, returning your gaze to him. “Watch, call him.”

Sukuna, unmoving, quirks an eyebrow up at you skeptically.

“Just do it, Sukuna.”

“Fine.” He lazily pushes himself up right and pulls out his phone. He dials Choso, and within seconds, Choso answers. "Yo, uh, I just wanted to see if you were alive." Sukuna shakes his head at his own horrible improv skills. "And I can tell you are, so I'm gonna hang up now. Ok. Bye.” Sukuna pockets his phone and stares at you blankly. "Ok, now what?"

Your jaw is dropped, and Sukuna is tempted to reach out and shut it for you. “He fucking answered you?!”

“Is he not answering you?”

“No! Why do you think I'm here telling you he’s ignoring me?” You quickly pull out your phone and call Choso. “Watch.” 

The two of you watch how the line almost immediately goes dead, and Sukuna holds a fist to his mouth to stifle his laughter (though it doesn't do much). "Bro, what did you do?”

"I didn't do anything!” You trail off unsure, "I mean, I don't think I did anything?”

“When's the last time you saw him?”

“Last night.”

“Ew,” he says, a grimace on his face as he shakes his head. "Okay, uh, what was it like before you left?”

“Fine?” You pause for a moment. "I mean, usually I stay the night, but I had to leave because I had a date today.”

“You what.”

"I had a date today."

Sukuna stares at you with narrowed eyes, hesitant. “Did you tell Choso that?”

“Um... Yeah?”

"Y/n, are you a fucking idiot?” He asks earnestly, like he genuinely wonders if you’re actually this stupid and is slightly concerned for your wellbeing.

You stare at him blankly.

Truly not a thought behind your eyes, he thinks.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god.” He begins to explain slowly, enuanciating each and every syllable as if talking to a child. “You tell Choso you’re going on a date, and then suddenly he’s ignoring you, and you have no idea why?”

“Thanks for the recap, Sukuna." You roll your eyes and cross your arms defensively. "What's your fucking point?”

“My point?” Sukuna shuts his eyes closed and rubs his temples, already feeling a headache coming on. “You know he's in love with you, right?”

"That's not funny, Sukuna,” you say, your jaw clenched tight.

Sukuna’s hands fall to his sides, and he leans back against the door frame, rolling his eyes before glaring at you, his head tilted tauntingly to the side. "No, it's not, especially when you're such a fucking idiot.”

“Stop fucking around, Sukuna.”

Sukuna stands straight up again, only to lean forward, his face inches away from yours as he studies it. "Do you seriously think I'm lying?”

“Obviously you are!” You exclaim as you push him back into place.

"Y/n, that dumbass is head over heels for you.”

“You don't know that!”

“Anyone with eyes knows that!” he sighs. “And besides, he’s literally told you he loved you once.”

"Huh?" You blink a few times, trying to remember if he had. "No, he hasn't?"

"Yes, he has.”

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember that, Sukuna.”

"Unless you were—“ Sukuna grimaces as he finishes his sentence,”—too fucked out to remember or hear him.”

Your mouth falls in shock. “He said it during sex?!”

"Man, I don't fucking know,” Sukuna says, his grimace growing deeper. "I didn't ask for the details; I hung up on him. What the fuck?”

“Oh my god, I'm an idiot,” you mumble to yourself.

Sukuna knows you weren’t talking to him, but he still answers anyway. “I know.”

“Fuck.” You take a deep breath and seem to come to a conclusion almost immediately. "Okay, this was very insightful. Thank you. I'm gonna go to his house now.”

"Dude, don't go unless you like him back.” He frowns slightly, and you and him both aren’t sure if it’s actually for Choso or just for the sake of acting nice. “Just give him space.”

“Of course I like him back!” you stress. "I only went on that date to make him jealous in the first place."

In an instant, Sukunas' face falls flat. "I'm not even going to say anything. Fuck you, get off my porch.”

and the next thing you know, he’s slamming his door in your face.

☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆⋆。𖦹°‧★⋆。𖦹°‧☆

It doesn’t take long until you’re at Choso’s front door. In all honesty, you ran here. It’s not like Choso’s is very far from Sukuna’s in the first place, but you’d rather not waste any more time; you’ve wasted enough as it is. You knock softly at first, but when that doesn't seem to work, you full-send it and start banging on his door.

“Choso, open the fucking door and come talk to me!”

He doesn’t.

but you do hear him grumble from inside, “Go away, Y/n.”

“Stop acting like a child!”

That seems to do the trick, considering he flings the door open so fast it gives you whiplash. He stands in the doorway, shirtless, looking as disheveled as ever. You can’t help but stare at the way he makes looking messy like art. like every detail, from his frizzy, sticking-up hair down to the bags under his eyes, is purposeful. You don’t know how long you stand there just ogling at him, but you know it’s long enough for him to notice and call you out on it.

"Did you come here just to eye-fuck me or..."

"Right, uhm," you say, clearing your throat. “You were ignoring me.”

“Dunno what you're talking about," he shrugs curtly, looking away.

“Choso.”

“What?” he asks, turning his attention back to you with narrowed eyes, like he’s challenging you.

You narrow your eyes right back, your voice even as you speak, “You answered Sukuna but ignored me."

“Don't recall.”

You genuinely have no idea how he can stand here and lie straight to your face while looking you dead in the eyes. Does the man have no shame? (The answer is no, but you already knew that.)

“Are you serious?” You gawk before shaking your head; this is not worth it. “You know what? I'm not here to argue with you.”

This catches his attention, and as he stands up straighter, you can make out the slightest of glints in his eyes. “Then what are you here to do?”

"I love you.” After a moment, you add, “Too.”

Choso stands there, star-struck, his eyes as wide as saucers, and although you can't hear him breathing over the hammering of your own heart, you can see just how his chest heaves. You shift uneasily in place, his gaze piercing, and under different circumstances, you usually adore having his eyes on you with the way they make you feel like you're the only thing in his universe, but right now? Right now, it only serves to make you alarmingly aware of how you just laid out your heart to him, and he hasn't said a word.

"Choso, did you hear me?”

"Am I asleep?”

Despite your better judgment and jelly-like legs, you take a step forward and wrap your arms around his neck, answering with a small, breathy laugh. "No, Choso, you're not.”

You watch mesmerized at how his adam's apple bobs as he swallows harshly and mutters, "I'm not..."

“Nope.”

“And you love me?”

“Always have.” You look down and notice how languid Choso is in your hold, his hands at his sides rather than on you, and that just won't do. Choso does not keep his hands to himself, especially not around you. You make quick work of untangling your arms from his neck and grabbing his hands, placing them on your hips before returning your arms to their original state as you speak lowly, "I went on that date to make you jealous. I thought it didn't work."

Bringing up the date was apparently all it took to break Choso out of his trance; all of a sudden, his hands are exploring up from your hips to your waist, softly squeezing and pulling at the flesh as if making sure you’re really there—that he really isn’t asleep and having the same dream that he’s had for forever now.

“It worked a little too well, Y/n,” he says, chuckling.

"Yeah, I guess it did, didn't it?"

"Wait, how do you even know that I love you?” His face scrunches up in confusion. “I didn't-“

You cut him off with an awkward laugh. “Sukuna gave you up and called me an idiot for not seeing it before…”

"Well..." he half-shrugs innocently. “He’s kinda right.”

You roll your eyes. "Haha, you're so funny.” You clear your throat before subtly glancing to the side and over your shoulder, mumbling,

"Can you let me in now, though? Cause I'm pretty sure there's people staring at us…” 

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #bimbo's one shots #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #bimbo’s one shots; jjk #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen one shot #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso #choso jjk #choso kamo x reader #kamo choso #choso x gn reader

[i-cant-sing]

Platonic Yandere Gojo with sister reader is also plaguing my mind. Just the absolute control he has over her life because he is the most powerful being in the universe, so everyone must listen to him if they want to live. If Gojo tells his clan to lock you in your room, they do. They don't even ask questions, don't bat an eye when you cry and beg to be let out. No, they stand outside and wait for their next command. If Gojo tells them to get rid of so and so person because they looked at you for a second too long, the clan does it with efficiency. If Gojo tells them to make sure you drink enough water, it doesn't matter if you're hydrated, the clan will make sure to hold you down and unintentionally waterboard you as they make sure you drink.

No one is allowed to talk to you, interact with you, not even smile at you unless Gojo tells them. Its all a part of his plan- to isolate you in every way possible until you start becoming insecure and feel like an alien, and then when dear old brother Gojo comes to visit you, you all but wrap yourself around him and practically beg for his attention.

You have an s/o? Maybe he's some poor servant of the clan who fell in love with you and starts dating you secretly. Boy, he was dead meat the moment he had thought of you romantically. But this time, Gojo brings you out to the backyard with him to see how he tortures your s/o to death, holding you tightly when you struggle against him. He knows its cruel, far too gore for your pure mind to see, but he must force you to watch if he wants the lesson to stick.

Never go against ni-chaan's orders.

Big brother Gojo who forbids you from leaving the estate unless he permits you to leave with his most trusted servants or with him. He just wants to keep you safe and allow you to have fun under his watchful gaze. Big brother Gojo who has strictly told you to never use your cursed energy, especially not without him? He says its because he doesnt want you or anyone else to get hurt, but its really because he doesnt want you to be able to leave him.

You try to run away from him, try to leave to country? Hell, Gojo has you on a no flight list, and he even has people at the airport holding you in a room as they wait for Gojo to come and collect you. You can go along with him crying and screaming as he drags you out and make a fool of yourself or you can go quietly as he brings you to his chest, thanking the officers for keeping you safe. Either way, no one will come to your rescue.

The sooner you realise that there is no escaping from him, that he is your only knight in shining armour, your captor and your protector, the only one worthy of your attention, the only person who will give you his attention and love, the only one who will hug you and wipe away the tears (even if he was the who made them spill), the better it will be for your sake (and everyone else's). He may have locked you in your room, chained you up and yes, he will be a jerk to you as most brothers usually are, but once you give up and apologise (you dont know what for, but u apologise), Gojo will free you and let you cling to his arms, shushing you as he allows you to stain his clothes with tears and snot, telling you that he's oh so proud of you for finally coming to your senses and realising your mistake.

"Y/n, shh its okay now. Stop crying, cmon. You know I'm not mad at you. No, you're my little sister. I only have your best interests in mind. I'm the only one who loves you, Y/n."

But while the idea of Gojo not allowing you to date is delicious, what is more intriguing than Gojo trying to set you up with Megumi, a child who he raised/groomed and sweet boy Megumi also has yandere tendencies for you. So, Gojo brings you to Jujutsu High with him so that you can fall in love with his protege Megumi.

You however must be blind because you fall for himbo boy Yuji instead and honestly, a little bit for Sukuna too.

Gojo is just trying not combust into flames, even if he's smiling as he beckons you to come with him (abd away from Yuji). Megumi is just trying not have a meltdown and kill his bff Yuji in jealousy but he forgets all about that when you ask if he'll join you and Gojo for lunch?

Oomph imagine Gojo's reaction when he sees you kiss Yuji for the first time, and you and Yuji remain unaware of Sukuna sticking his tongue out from Yuji's cheek and mocking Gojo. Like unhinged Gojo appears way earlier than he was supposed to, ripping Yuji off you and blasting him off while dragging you to your room to lock you away and its actually more for your safety than his because Gojo is trying very hard to not actually harm you. He needs to blow off steam and what better way than to make Yuji allow Sukuna to take over his body and fight him. And now its upto Megumi to hold back Gojo and stop him from killing his best friend, but perhaps... Megumi could hold that off for a bit so that he could console you. I mean, he needs to be there physically to wipe your tears away. He could always wipe off the blood later... if Yuji's still alive.

Yeah, Gojo wont kill him. Maybe.

#yandere gojo #yandere gojo saturo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere megumi #yandere megumi fushiguro #yandere jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #gojou satoru x you

[jinkicake]

Washing His Hair

Diluc, Kaeya, Tighnari, Xiao x Reader

A/N: I was tots excited to write this bc i wanted fluff,, happy belated birthday to tighnari (whats your name b.o.b so they calling you bob) yay bath time!

WC - 2k~

~~~

Diluc R.

Diluc is exhausted, it may not show because of his extreme dedication to maintaining a pleasant facade but, you know better. 

It’s why you wordlessly drag him to the bathroom in the early afternoon, forcing him to sit on the rim of the bathtub as you bend down to place the stopper in it. He silently watches you as you begin to fill the tub with water and sprinkle in a few aromatic flower petals. 

The way you treat him with such kindness baffles him. 

You kiss the corner of his eyes while removing his jacket, you cup his chin softly while easily pulling the ribbon out from his hair. There is a gentle side to your touch as you remove his gloves and kiss each of his rugged knuckles like they haven’t ended countless lives before. 

The man doesn’t understand how any of the archons could have blessed him with such a miracle. Your kindness shines through each of your actions and, for the briefest moment, it physically hurts Diluc. How could he ever measure up to someone who is worthy of your love and affection?

“Come on, get in the tub,” You gently pat the tops of his bare thighs and the action snaps Diluc from his internal demise. He blinks at you before doing as you ask, he lets you direct his body exactly as you want in the small porcelain space. “relax, Diluc.” 

With his hands resting on the rim of the bathtub, chest fully on display and out of the water, you reach over to grab his hand. You offer him a gentle smile before squeezing his hand in your own. 

Diluc can’t meet your own eyes as internal shame begins to creep up his throat, suffocating him. 

He doesn’t see the way your face drops or how you roll your eyes before grabbing one of the nice shampoos from Liyue off the counter (one he got especially for you). You place the container in his hand before grabbing a small bucket from the shower to wet his hair. 

Diluc continues to remain silent as you begin to work through his thick fiery locks. 

“Remember this?” The shampoo becomes his main focus as you grab it, holding it up before placing some of the substance in your hands. “You got it for me because the seller said it works great with thick hair,” 

Must you remember that? Diluc all but turns red as embarrassment flushes his cheeks, he doesn’t need a reminder of how rotten he spoils you. 

“We both have thick hair so we can share it, okay?” You place a kiss against his temple before bringing your hands up to his scalp, the immediate pleasure that your fingertips bring makes Diluc grip the edge of the tub. “You’re always so kind to me, but sometimes I want to spoil you.” 

At this, Diluc finally meets your eyes and uncertainty swims in his bright iris.

Any fear in his heart is squashed by the love pooling in your own eyes. 

“Won’t you let me?"

Kaeya A.

“Kaeya,” 

In such a blissful state, being surrounded by hot water, Kaeya can only let out a hum of contentment at your lovely voice. 

“Stop staring already.” 

He has to tear his eyes away from your soft body, beautifully crafted by each of the archons, to meet your hard glare. The frown on your lips and stubborn furrow of your brows makes his heart skip a beat. There is nothing more that the cavalry captain loves than sharing a bath with you. 

Even when you try to waterboard him by pouring a bucket of water over his head. 

“Angel-” Kaeya sighs before moving his large body, too big for the tub, so that he can rest against your chest instead of staring at it. His fruitful efforts are followed by a splash as water escapes the edges of the tub and falls onto the marble floor. 

“You’re cleaning that up,” You scold as your husband closes his eyes once again, resting his head against your shoulder. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to hide the shiver of pleasure that runs down his spine as your hands run over his shoulders. Your touch is gentle and delicate, lighting dancing across his smooth skin before dipping towards the front of his body. You tease him by sneakily running your fingertips along his chest, tracing random patterns solely to get a rise out of him. 

Just when Kaeya opens his mouth to say something, to insinuate that you should further lowering your hands, you instead reach for his head. He doesn’t open his eyes but he hears the light pop of a bottle and the puff of air that comes from it as you squeeze the container. There’s a wet noise that comes with the way you rub your hands together, causing the shampoo to soap up before you bring your hands to his scalp. 

Kaeya nearly moans at the feeling of your fingertips massaging the top of his head, he falls limp into your hold and completely relaxes into your touch. 

“My star, I adore you,” He groans as your talented fingers continue to knead circles against the root of his hair. The delightful feeling of your lips against his ear graces him and nearly causes Kaeya to gasp.

“Mhm, I know,” The soft kiss you leave against his jaw makes his heart clench painfully, it’s as if the worship he dedicates to you is finally starting to show. If you understand this mere fraction of love he has for you then Kaeya will continue working to make sure you see it all in its glory. 

Warm water runs over his face as you cup your hands and rinse the shampoo out of his hair. The suds fall all around him and Kaeya continues to keep his eyes closed until you finish. You reach for another bottle now and choose to condition the ends of his hair, forcing him to sit up in the tub after placing a kiss on the back of his neck. The man internally sighs. 

Being pampered by you is something Kaeya will never take for granted. 

Tighnari 

Whenever Tighnari has to suffer the bitter fate of being separated from you, he promises his return with a gift. He likes to pick flowers that are native to the area he is exploring, flowers that match your beauty and ones that you will be sure to like. Oftentimes, he brings back pieces of nature with him but this time he decided to repurpose what he found for you. 

Locals told him of the secrets that salt possesses, if combined with the right ingredients it could be turned into a substance used while soaking. 

Tighnari knew you would love to try it. 

He placed the pebbles in a wooden box and locked it for safekeeping until giving it to you. And just like he predicted, your face lit up upon sight of it. 

“Oh, what is it?” The sweet aromatic scent grew heavier as you toyed with the tiny rocks against your fingers. 

“Salt, it’s for the bath,” Tighnari can only watch as you immediately get up and head for your bathroom. Seconds after, he hears the sound of the faucet and the sweet call of his name.

“Come on, let’s take a bath together!” It doesn’t surprise the forest ranger to see your pants discarded on the floor, all that you’re left in is one of his shirts as you impatiently wait for the tub to fill up.

“Put a little bit of the salt in there,” Tighnari reaches around you to pick up a few of the pebbles and scatter them into the water. Not a second goes by before you mimic him and do the same. His large hand guides your own to sprinkle in more until he grabs the box and closes it. Tighnari places it on your counter before removing a few layers of his own clothing. 

“I’m getting in now.” You don’t wait for him or for the water to finish rising before you get into the bathtub. The liquid sits just below your chest and you cup some of it with sincere fascination as you bring it up to your face. “It smells so good, Tighnari!”

He’s quick to join you and sits on the opposite end of the small space, making sure that you’re both facing each other. 

“You brought more of the oils too, right?” At the chance of seeing such a hopeful look on your face, how could Tighnari not? “Thank you!” His nod causes you to squeal and at the sight of the tiny bottles, you lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. It’s a sweet action that causes his ears to relax downward, folding over at the shower of your praise. 

Tighnari only hopes his tail doesn’t create too much tension against the water as it thumps against your tub. The new feeling of your hands in his hair always makes the ranger happier than anything. He lives for your delicate touch, how your fingers comb through his hair and avoid his sensitive ears perfectly. 

Although he’ll never say it, he adores having you wash his hair. 

Xiao

“I can wash my own hair,” Xiao softly grumbles but, makes no effort to swat your hands away. He doesn’t move a single inch and continues to sit perfectly still while you continue to gently tug at his hair. 

Sometime during his travels, Xiao came across a vacant hot spring and it quickly became one of his favorite spots in Liyue. Not because he enjoys the relaxation but for the sole reason of how your face lights up every time you step in the bath. 

The chilly outside air pairs perfectly with the hot water and you make a point to sit on the stone outside of the tub to get the best of both features. 

From where he rests in the water with his arms crossed over his chest, Xiao moves each time you tilt him back to rinse the shampoo from his hair. 

“I think I’ll shampoo you twice today,” Your quiet hum makes Xiao slowly open one of his eyes as he turns to look at you. His subtle side-eye makes you laugh. “your hair is thick and I want to make sure it’s all clean.” 

All it takes is a simple peck against his cheek to get Xiao to tilt his head back and give you full reigns to his scalp. Right now, it would be a waste for the adeptus to not look at the open night sky. His dim eyes look over the stars, connecting each one while your presence calms the ongoing torture within his soul. When you’re near, not even the most powerful presence of his karmic debt could bother him. 

“Tilt,” You place your fingers under his jaw to lean his head back and rinse his hair once again. Xiao waits patiently to finish before he stands up from the hot spring and sits beside you on the stone. “wait, I’m not done yet.”

“You’re not?” Xiao watches curiously as you grab another bottle from your bag, like before, you place the substance in your hands before distributing the product along your fingers. You reach up and lather the ends of Xiao’s hair, focusing on the two long strands framing his face. After, you grab a comb. 

The assortment of toiletries you brought tonight makes Xiao want to laugh. 

“I have to condition your hair,” Your voice is soft as you concentrate on combing his hair and once you’re happy with the results, you rinse off your hands and slide back into the hot water. “now we wait.” There’s a content look on your face as you place your head in his lap and stare up at the night sky. 

Well, you would be looking at the starry sky if not for the adeptus looking over you. 

“Wait for what?” Xiao stares intently down at you as some of his conditioner falls in droplets against your face. You immediately reach up and push his head away so that he sits up straight. 

“We have to wait for the conditioner to condition before I can rinse it out.”

Xiao just softly sighs, he couldn’t understand you even if he wanted to.

#diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #tighnari x reader #xiao x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #tighnari x you #xiao x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n

[loveindefinitely]

00. prologue

༊*·˚ ALWAYS HAVE, ALWAYS WILL — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, slow burn, friends to lovers, drama, action, hurt/comfort, mystery, polyamory, angst, mental health issues, minor character death, angst w a happy ending

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

You’ve been to more funerals than you can count on your blood-stained hands.

Family, friends, teammates, superiors – at the end of the day, you’ve always found yourself staring at a casket being lowered into the earth. Or an urn.

Sometimes, there’s not enough of the body to bury, or burn. Just an arm, a jawbone, a blood splatter with a trace of ripped hair. Even then, the ceremonies are similar – morose and stagnant with the tension that only comes with grieving humans, merely waiting for the moment that their hourglass will fully tip. For when, they too, will be grieved. Lowered into the ground. Cremated.

If there is such a thing as an afterlife, you’re not too sure that you’ll want to endure more living, when the end goal is such a cruel one.

To love, to cherish, and then to wither away into nothing.

A fucked up joke.

The muddy ground squelches as you take a step back, hands tightly clasped together in front of your chest. Not a prayer, but a gesture similar enough to the patrons around you that you won’t be given a second glance.

Rain falls in thick sheets, but there’s no wind, and most of the people around you are underneath the dark grey marquee set up in front of the ceremony.

You aren’t. There’s something familiar about the clothes soaking your body, your body trembling just slightly from the chill, the dampness. A small punishment for your actions, small enough to not be noticed, but enough to repent just a thousandth of what you owe.

The Funeral Director gives his speech. Some religious nonsense, you’re sure, and the words wash over you like the torrents of rain.

You almost wish they could wash the guilt off of your mind, wash the blood that still feels sticky in your hands.

When you look down, they're pure and clean.

There’s crying. You’re not sure who from, how many, where. All that you register is the sound of gut wrenching heartbreak in the most raw, most physical of forms.

You swallow, once, your throat dry and tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth.

Needles, drugs, passing out, cells, torture –

“Sergeant.”

Even years of military training doesn’t keep you from flinching at the title. Turning your head, you’re greeted by a man that’s never failed to make your blood run cold.

His grey hair sticks to his forehead, his wrinkles highlighted by the dreary, bleak sky.

“General,” you incline your head respectfully. He stands to your right, arms folded behind his back. He’s suited in full black, and your stomach roils at the idea of this man grieving.

“You have been assigned a new unit,” he states, as one would discuss last night’s game over morning tea. “You’re set to leave at eighteen-hundred.”

You nod.

What else is there to do? Get down to your knees and beg for some time off, when you know that’ll leave you rotting in your bed for two weeks? Ask for him to be kind in his placement, because you’re not sure you can handle more of the emotional torment you’ve dealt with over the past three years?

Instead, no words fall from your cold-bitten lips, and your legs don’t buckle.

General Shepherd walks away without a simple ‘I’m sorry for your loss’. You’re sure that even if he had said as such, the words would’ve held no earnesty, no warmth.

It’s perhaps better this way.

So, you stand, and the rain hits your body in a relentless rhythm. So different to the torture of waterboarding, the cruelty of drowning.

Although, you can’t say that the mental whirlwind you’re stuck in the eye of is any less impactful. If you open your mouth, you’re sure that water will flood every crevice, leaving you to scream soundlessly for eternity, death sweeping you in with the turn of the waves.

You wonder, for a single moment, how many grievers would attend your ceremony.

By the time the rain stops, if only for a short period, everyone has left. The marquee’s been taken down, and there’s only you and your guilt left behind to stare at the stone. It takes everything in you to walk to it, your legs almost as weak as your will.

The headstone and rectangle of dirt dedicated to the fallen are both covered in flowers.

Bending down to your knees, you softly place a single blue hyacinth at the base. You allow yourself just a moment to close your eyes, deeply exhale, and revel in your guilt.

When you stand once more, it’s with a renewed strength.

Your Captain would have been proud.

The other seven fallen men – the ones that were under your care to heal – would’ve laughed in your face. You would’ve let them.

Now, you can only hope that their bodies will be found soon, so that they too, can be put to rest beside your Captain.

a/n. jus a VERY short prologue/teaser. this is by far my fav piece i've been writing yet. each chapter will be about 7-9k words long, so it'll take much longer to update, but i'm SO excited for it!! i hope u all will enjoy this journey as much as me :)

#love : series #call of duty #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #mw2 #simon ghost riley #soap cod #tf141 #tf141 x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz garrick #cod #kyle garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #soap x ghost #soapghost #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod smut

[whateveriwant]

Heads or Tails

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression, some uncool boundary crossing, my attempt to sound Bri'ish

A/N: Hello! So this is a new endeavor for me! I've never written for Ghost or CoD/MW before, but I've recently become obsessed with interested in the characters, and so wanted to give it a go. I was rushing a little to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy! :)

"Bet it's a fetish or somethin'."

Your neck nearly snaps as you swivel to the left, your eyes bugging at the Scot's words.

"Probably humiliation kink… Maybe breath play," Soap ponders aloud, eyes trained across the room pensively.

"Nah, mate. I reckon it's a bad trim, or some bad ink," Gaz adds from your right, making you pivot in your seat. "What'd you think? Tribal or teardrops?" He gestures to his own face, attention also drawn straight ahead.

As the two go back and forth positing ideas, your own eyes are finally steered to the figure in question. This conversation, like seemingly all the ones as of late, is centered around one topic and one topic only.

That damn mask.

While Ghost's signature masks are nothing new to the members of the 141, this one in particular has had you all scratching your heads for weeks. Much like his other balaclavas, this one is dark with a contrasting white skull, only this mask has one minor addition that none of the others have ever included: A big, bouncy puffball right on the top of his head.

When you first saw it, you honestly thought it was a joke; you were on a mission in the tundra, after all. But as you started to laugh, the sharp, deathly glare the Lieutenant gave you had you immediately snapping your mouth shut, averting your eyes out of respect.

Where he got that mask, you hadn't a clue, but you figured it would be just a one time thing anyway. However, that assumption turned out to be entirely wrong as Ghost continued to wear it again and again, no matter the mission conditions. Not only that, but he's also been exclusively wearing it around the base too; that is, whenever you do see him around the base. 

It's been weeks now and you haven't spotted him without that ridiculous mask once. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wears it 24/7. But that can't actually be the case unless he likes waterboarding himself with every shower, which if he does, then good for him, you guess.

Though you have a lot of questions you'd like to ask the Lieutenant, the one eating at you the most is why. Why the switch up? Why the obsession with this specific mask? Why all these little changes you've noticed about him over the past several weeks?

Because that's the thing. Beyond the pom pom, there's something about Ghost that's been… different. Better, even, in some regards, but there's also been a massive decline in others. 

Out in the field, he's shown significant improvement. His aim has been sharper, his knife skills cleaner, hell, even his walk has been more sure-footed. While Lieutenant Riley has always been the cream of the military crop, for the last several weeks, he's been on another level.

Off the field, however, is a different story entirely. Instead of the man you thought you knew, it's like you hardly recognize Ghost anymore. He's been much more curt, closed off, and dare you say, a downright cunt to you all, and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the other discrepancies you've noticed with his character. 

Like why has he been avoiding the team much more than he ever used to, or why does he immediately shut down any attempts at getting close with him? He's never been an incredibly open or approachable man per se, but it's like he's gone full blown antisocial recluse now.

The sudden switch in his behavior just didn't make sense to you, so you tried casually bringing it up to Price one day, hoping maybe he had an explanation that would help piece things together. In response, however, your Captain simply shrugged his shoulders, dubbing the mask Ghost's "good luck charm" that must've just gone to his head. 

While you didn't necessarily have a better answer yourself, Price's conclusion wasn't good enough for you to accept as the truth. Maybe a lucky rabbit's foot or good luck coin or whatever could explain away Ghost's overnight tactical improvements, but it didn't answer the why of everything else. 

Why has Ghost changed so much?

As you reflect, the sound of Gaz and Soap's continued discussion slowly brings you back to the present, making you blink out of your stupor.

"...been acting all off. Like he's… paranoid or something," you hear Gaz say regarding Ghost. "Like, the other day for instance, when we got dropped off back at base, I swear, as soon as his boots hit the ground, he was booking it like he was about to get shot." 

Well, that's certainly a relief. Not that Ghost is acting strange, but that at least you're not the only one to notice.

"I thought maybe he was just sensitive to the floodlights – those things were ruddy blinding that night – but when I tried to catch up and ask him, you'd think I was chasing him from how fast he ran," Gaz adds.

Though that's a bit unexpected on Ghost's part, you suppose it's not all that uncharacteristic anymore. He's been increasingly aloof nowadays, and while you're not totally sold on Gaz's paranoia claims, you definitely see the cause for concern.

"Y'know, I think you're on to somethin'," Soap agrees with Gaz's conclusions. "Just the other night, 'round two in the mornin', I caught him rummagin' around the kitchens like he was afraid to get caught."

"Hold on," Gaz interjects, craning his head to face the other Sergeant. "What were you doing in the kitchens at two a.m.?"

"Mind yer business, that's what," Soap huffs, waving his hand dismissively. "But anyway, even then he was still hidin' beneath that bloody mask. I cannae even remember that last time I saw him without it," he says, almost dejectedly.

You can't remember the last time you did either, though you're not as beat up about it as Soap is. The man seems to have a certain fascination with staring at his Lieutenant's bare face that you can't say you totally relate to. 

As Soap continues thinking to himself of when last he saw Ghost without his mask, he suddenly snorts, smiling as he tells you, "Y'know, I once tried to break in his room and steal that thing while he slept, but the lad has some unpickable locks on his door, I tell ya," he chuckles.

"Oi, you mental or something?" Gaz's voice pitches up. "Trying to steal his mask? You'd be lucky if he didn't string you up by your bollocks just for thinking it."

Soap scoffs, peeking over from the corner of his eye. "Oh, come on. Like you've never?"

"I'd like to keep my boys securely attached, thank you." Gaz shifts his weight at the uneasy thought, grimacing slightly.

That has Soap turning fully in his seat, making to confront Gaz head on. "So you're tellin' me you like the new mask? That you don't want to see the fucker gone?"

Gaz shakes his head, mirroring Soap as he similarly turns to face him. "I didn't say that. I'm just as tired of looking at it as you are."

At that, Soap throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated breath. "So let's do somethin' about it!" he exclaims, calling back to his attempted theft.

"Like what?" Gaz huffs. "You want me to ask nicely? 'Ghost, would you please lose the mask? There's only room for one ugly hat around here, and Price has already filled that niche. So sorry.'"

As the two Sergeants continue to bicker over the top of your head, you keep your eyes on Ghost who's still in the room. Thankfully, he appears to be completely oblivious to the animated discussion happening around you. You don't think he'd enjoy hearing how his teammates want to throw his mask in an on-fire garbage bin.

Gradually, your attention starts to drift away from the conversation at hand until you're right back at your earlier conundrum: trying to figure out Ghost's deal. 

Why has he been acting so different as of late? What could have brought on such a drastic change in his behavior? As you think, Soap and Gaz's words lightly filter through your mind, and suddenly, the answer becomes blatantly obvious. 

What's the common denominator in all of this? What seems to be the root cause of all this discourse? It all comes down to one thing and one thing alone.

That fucking puffball mask of his.

Ever since he got that new mask, there's been a never ending stream of changes with Ghost, most of which you'd argue are for the worse. You know it's silly to cast blame on such a normally inconsequential scrap of fabric, but at this moment, there's nothing else that makes sense in your mind.

Maybe the change is because his brain is being squeezed too tight or maybe he's been having a constant bout of heat stroke these last few weeks. Whatever the reason, you can see how wearing that mask has negatively affected him, and you're eager to see that rectified.

"I've got it!" you pipe up for the first time, interrupting the Sergeants who are still verbally going at it. You look between them both before once more bringing your gaze back to Ghost. "I know what to do," you say confidently.

Though the old Ghost you knew has been M.I.A. recently, you don't think he's truly gone, not permanently anyway. He's just been squirreled away for the time being, trapped in a cage of woven black thread. You just hope that, with a little luck and a lot of planning, soon…

You'll be able to set him free again.

~~~~~

You peek impatiently around the corner, seeing Gaz standing at the end of the hall. When he notices you, he shakes his head, turning back to keep watch like directed. 

Annoyed, you check your phone again. Soap said they were on their way five minutes ago. You know it's a maze of passageways between here and there, but still, they should've shown up by now. 

At its core, your plan is simple, but so many pieces have to come together for you to pull it off successfully. One screw up and it all comes toppling down, and you doubt you'll ever get a chance at a redo.

Another 30 seconds pass before you're checking on Gaz again, the man keeping a silent sentinel against the wall. The trap's been set, all you have to do is sit back and wait. But you're not sure how much longer you can handle until you go mad.

Just as you're about to text Soap for confirmation again, Gaz perks up, turning and nodding over at you. Before he can be spotted by anyone else, he slips into the room at his back, quickly closing the door shut.

Finally! It's time. Operation Unmask is a go.

You stoop to pick up one of the items at your feet, counting down from 20 as you hear a pair of heavy boots slowly approach your position. When you finally reach zero, you suck in your breath. It's now or never, baby.

Right before the figure can descend on your hiding spot, you pop out around the corner, colliding directly with the man you'd expected to find. Ghost grunts in surprise at the blunt contact, that damn pom pom on his head bouncing as he stumbles slightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you call out innocently. "Didn't see you there." It's not exactly a lie. You struggle to peer around the tower of boxes in your arms, stacked high enough that you can hardly see a thing ahead.

Ghost grunts again as he takes in the scene you've laid out, thankfully seeming to accept it at face value. "Careful," is all he says, moving to continue in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, uh, actually—?" you stop him before he can escape. "Sorry, but… Do you think you could…?" You shift the boxes deliberately in your hold, hinting at the favor you mean to ask. "If you don't mind. They're really heavy."

This plan all hinges on whether or not Ghost will take the bait. Though he's been less than charitable recently, in the past, he used to be quite helpful to you in particular. That's why you're the one who had to ask for his help. You knew that anyone else, he'd decline immediately.

But you can tell Ghost is hesitant to agree to assist you now, not only because of his recent change in character, but because he was currently preoccupied.

"Price is waitin' for m—" he starts to give the excuse Soap had fabricated to lure him out of his room.

"Please," you cut him short, pretending your situation is dire. "It'll be quick. I just need to get these to my office." That's where you pulled them from initially, filling them with whatever junk you could find to weigh them down. Soap and Gaz weren't thrilled to have to lug them all the way over here, but you had to make them heavy to be convincing, you'd told them.

As if on cue, out of the corner of your eye, you see Soap finally make his appearance at the end of the hall. He turns the corner Ghost had come from earlier, having successfully tailed the Lieutenant all the way from his room undetected. Gaz's timing is also stellar as not a second later, he carefully opens and exits the door Soap passes by.

Luckily, Ghost doesn't seem to notice the two Sergeants quietly lurking behind him – a blessing since, sometimes, you swear he has a pair of eyes in the back of his head. 

He considers you for a moment, staring at the stack in your hands, glancing at the others still by your feet. Though you can sense he's warring with himself, another light 'please' from your lips has him caving with a sigh.

As Ghost bends to grab one of the box towers, that's when Soap really makes his move. The Scot creeps forward until he's within arm's length of Ghost, hand outstretching as he reaches towards the Lieutenant's head. Just before he can close his fingers around the mask – intending to snatch and run, the fastest of you three – Ghost does something that surprises you all.

Without even looking, Ghost suddenly jerks away from Soap's grasp, ducking at an almost unnatural speed and angle. At first, it's like he doesn't even realize what's happened himself, but then he turns and sees Soap standing there, hand caught right in the cookie jar.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing, MacTavish?" Ghost asks roughly.

Soap blinks dumbly, shocked by Ghost’s quick reaction. "S-Sir," he stutters, his brain trying to catch up with his mouth. "Just… thought… I… saw a piece of lint," he makes up the fib on the spot, then boldly reaches towards the mask again.

Once more, Ghost evades his reach, leaning far back like he's in The Matrix. He growls and slaps Soap's arm down. "You wanna keep that hand, Sergeant?" he rumbles.

In response, all Soap can do is nod his head, baffled into a state of silence. 

"Then fuck off," Ghost warns him not to try again. He then nods towards the pile at your feet. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and pick up a box." 

Still in a trance, Soap immediately complies with the Lieutenant's order. The two grab a respective stack, Ghost directing Soap to walk ahead as he no longer trusts him where he can't see him.

Fuck! This is not at all what you envisioned. This train is rapidly going off the tracks, heading straight over a cliff.

But thankfully, you have a potential backup in place, and Gaz quickly makes his way over as he sees things running amok.

"Ghost?" he captures the attention of the growingly irritated man, who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. "Uh… your shoe's untied," Gaz mumbles once he's under the intimidating gaze of Ghost, and your eyes fall shut at the lame excuse.

Christ, this is all going to shit. There's no way you're going to pull this off.

Somehow, though, Ghost chooses to check Gaz's statement, and he cranes his head down to inspect his boots. "No," is all he says, seeing his laces clearly intact. But before he can stand back up, head still down turned, Gaz takes his opportunity before it can slip away.

Gaz tries to grab for the bloated puffball wobbling in his face, but just like before, Ghost seems to have a sixth sense for it. Again, he bends out of the way, spectacularly agile, and shoots a glare at the Sergeant's gall.

"You out of your fuckin' mind? What's gotten into you lot?" Ghost accuses the three of you, turning to look at you all, becoming increasingly suspicious of what you're doing.

Shit fuck ass balls. You need to act fast. He's starting to catch on. 

Panicked, you do the first thing that pops into your head, dropping the boxes to the floor with a thunderous thump. Ghost's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide in confusion, and they only widen more as you purposefully knock the boxes out of his hands too.

"Whoops!" you exclaim and swiftly crouch down, starting to pick up all the bits and bobs that spilled out.

Gaz realizes your intent and quickly follows suit, stooping down to help you clean up the mess. It's a few seconds before Soap catches on as well, and then all three of you are on your hands and knees, crawling around like a pack of vermin.

"The fuck's the matter with you bunch?" Ghost exhales, unable to make sense of the unfolding chaos. Nevertheless, though, he begrudgingly lowers himself down, electing to assist despite his growing skepticism.

As you go about cleaning up the mess you made, you try to covertly catch the eyes of your accomplices. Without words, you ask them which one is going to make a move, who'll grab for the mask next, but both seem a little reluctant at trying their hand again.

Ugh, whatever. You'll just do it yourself then. Really, how hard can it be?

Slyly, you creep around until you have a good vantage on Ghost, his back partially turned to you. You edge closer and closer until you're nearly bumping into him, pretending to still pick up the items scattered around. Then slowly, so incredibly slowly, you raise your hand up, reaching towards the back of Ghost's mask. Just as your fingers graze the fabric, pulling it up a mere centimeter, Ghost jolts, springing to his feet with a start.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"What's wrong with you?!" you fire back, your frustrations boiling over. You pop up to mimic his stance, throwing all stealth to the wayside as you figure the jig is up anyway. "We're just trying to help you."

"Help me?" he sneers. "Like hell. You're out to fuckin' get me."

There he goes again with the paranoia Gaz proposed. Though maybe, in this instance, he's not entirely wrong.

"You think we haven't noticed the differences with you? How much you've changed recently?" you continue. "We can see what that thing's doing to you. You'd be better off without it."

Ghost shakes his head in wild perplexity. "The hell are you on about?"

"The mask, L.T.," Soap rises to his feet. "Take it off," he implores.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are giving me orders, Sergeant?"

"It's just a mask, sir, and we've all seen you without one before," Gaz joins the showdown. "What have you got to lose?"

Ghost looks between each of you angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at you all in turn. "You're all way out of line! Get the hell back," he urges as you three start to close in.

"Why d'ya always hide from us now? I thought we were friends, L.T." Soap reaches forward, his hand immediately swatted away.

"Ghost, really, the thing's a bloody eyesore. Just get rid of it." Gaz tries his luck, only to be met with the same result.

Again and again, you all try dislodging the mask, descending on Ghost like a pack of rabid animals. With each swipe and stretch, he expertly dodges your attacks, bending and batting you away like pests.

"Quit fuckin'—!"

"Just let me—!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

The scene is total, unbridled chaos – voices raised, arms entangled, rubbish littered all over the ground. You three push forward on Ghost until he's backed into the wall, trapped with no way out. He fights and fights, the pom pom jostling around perilously, until finally, bitterly, he's overcome.

Soap gets his fingers hooked under an edge of the mask, and he yanks, pulling it all the way off. For the first time in weeks, Ghost's face is revealed to you all, and you'd be ecstatic if not for one detail that has you freezing.

Is that a…?

No, it can't be. You must be imagining things.

Actually, that looks kind of real. Holy shit, that's definitely real!

Oh my God! Is that a—?

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

You, Gaz, and Soap all jump back in horror at the sight before you: a plump, little, white rat nestled atop Ghost's head. The rodent seems just as shocked to see you as you are it, and it lets out a small squeak as you lock with its beady eyes, tiny fingers clinging to Ghost's hair.

"Aaaahhh!" Soap unleashes a girlish shriek, dropping the mask as he rears back.

"What the fuck, Ghost? No really, what the fuck?!" Gaz asks dumbfounded, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Before anyone has a chance to fully process what they're seeing, the rat tugs on Ghost's hair, moving him to scoop up his mask from the floor. He's guided to shove the fabric back on his head, perhaps a little more roughly than intended, because you hear a pathetic squeak ring out as he does.

He points his index finger at you in a threatening manner, the holes over his eyes slightly askew. "Not a word," he grumbles, spinning on his heel. "Not one fuckin' word!" 

And just like that, he takes off down the hall, a fat, pink tail sticking out from under the back of his mask. It takes a moment before you even realize your mouth is still wide open, and you close your jaw with an audible thud. 

Vaguely, you hear Soap muttering behind you, near tears as he cowers against the wall. "Steamin' Jesus, I think I touched it! Did— Did it bite me? Am I bleedin'? I think I'm bleedin'!" he blubbers hysterically.

"Nah, you're alright, mate! You're alright!" Gaz tries to comfort him, unsuccessful as he’s also rattled.

As the two huddle together in the corner, you're left staring after Ghost's rapidly fleeing figure, trying to pick up the pieces of your newly fractured reality. 

That… was… 

Honestly, you're not sure what the hell that was.

A rat? That rides on Ghost's head? Controlling his every move and muscle? You guess that explains a few things about his behavior recently, but mostly, it just leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where the hell did he get that thing? How the fuck does it work? Why did he even think to test it out in the first place?

Actually, on second thought, no, you don't want to know. You've seen enough for one day, or really, one lifetime. 

At the start of this, you thought you had such a great plan to unveil – one that would simply reveal the "true" Ghost again. You didn't realize that in the process of trying to set him free, you would release a whole other beast, literally. And while at your core you still believe your intentions to help were good, you realize now that, perhaps…

Some things are better off hidden.

__________

A/N: Squeak squeaker squeaky squeak! [Translation: Happy April Fools!]

It figures that my first venture in this fandom is a crack fic. I expected nothing less lmao. But anyway, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #cod mw2

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

SUBBY IZZY. I'M TALKING MOMMY KINK. EVERYTHING. PLEASE SUBBY IZZY.

A/n: I love subby men, they're just so pretty, so I hope I made this good for you <3

Warnings: Smut, face sitting, bondage, squirting, sub/dom dynamics, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

I need to talk about this picture for a second Idk why there’s a dog but I it makes it better, the dog looks like it’s trying to make Izzy proud??? Is it scared of him??? Is it trying to be like him??? idk and idc, it’s just aksjsndh. thank you for coming to my rant

You and Izzy met after a Guns N’ Roses gig, one in a bar since they were just starting out. You and Izzy got to talking by the bar after, he offered to buy you drinks but also mentioned that he didn’t have any money.

Your relationship was friends with benefits, and more than one. Since Izzy didn’t have a house you let him live with you free of payment. Any money payment, that is.

Instead of money he’d pay by being your little toy once a week, sometimes more. You had rules set in place so no one got hurt, of course, but you had more than enough fun with him.

Guns had gone on a quick tour and Izzy left without a final payment, meaning he was late and you were needy. He came right back as if nothing was wrong, unlocking the door ready to tell you of all the fun he had when he paused.

You were standing in the doorway to the bedroom in a set of black red lingerie, holding black rope in your one hand while the other rested on your hip. The sight alone had Izzy hardening in his pants and he rushed into the apartment, eager to make it up to you.

You tied his wrists behind his back and laid him down on his back on the bed. “You remember our safe word, don’t you?” You asked, tilting his head up to look at you with a finger under his chin. He nodded excitedly with a wonky smile. You gave him a light slap across his face, not enough to really hurt him. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes! Yes, I-I remember.” You nodded and rubbed the pinkish spot on his cheek.

“Good boy, now be good for mommy.” You moved to hover over his face, having already taken off your panties so he could eat you out properly.

His tongue delved into your, his nose hitting your clit every time you moved your hips. You kept most of your weight off of him at first but as you got closer, needier, you let yourself use him.

Izzy was whining beneath you, tears trickling down his cheeks. Your one hand was in his hair, the other held onto the headboard for stability while you rode his face. “Fuck! Fuck, good boy, such a good boy letting mommy have her way with you.” You moaned, feeling your high getting closer.

You took your hand out of his hair and used it to rub your clit, bringing you over the edge. You pulled yourself off of him, Izzy gasped, finally being able to breathe again. It was short when you squirted on his face, essentially waterboarding him.

You laughed at his wet face, moving down his body and kisses over his neck and chest. He looked up at you with nothing but love and lust. He didn’t care what you did to him so long as you weren’t ignoring him, he loved everything you did to him and he couldn’t get enough.

“Mommy-mommy, please, let me cum, I-I’ll be good.” He said, squirming under you. “I’ll be your good boy.” You thought about it for a moment, thinking of all the ways you could deal with him.

“Good boys pay their debt.” You said with a devilish grin. Izzy whined but you could see it in his eyes he couldn’t be happier to have you take care of him.

After all, he left without paying on purpose. He wanted to see what punishment he’d get.

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses smut #gnr #izzy gnr #izzy stradlin smut #izzy stradlin gnr #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin

[suzukiblu]

I just wanted to say, yesterday I sat down and binge-read all your Timkon fics, as well as most of the WIPS, and I BADLY want to write some now. I've never really written Tim, tho, since I'm more used to writing Jason. Do you have any tips, or bits of Tim and Kon characterization you consider especially important? (The WIP I've made on my head, if it helps, is (Daemon AU) comics!Tim ends up on Young Justice!Cartoon universe, and he's very, very weirded out by how different Kon is to Conner, and very pissed off that this Conner gets a Daemon while his Kon doesn't have one.)

tbh it kinda depends on where you're trying to go with the fic idea, I'd say? Also why Conner DOES have a daemon and Kon doesn't, probably. Also-also, does Conner even actually have a daemon or is Tim just confused about Wolf or something.

Generally speaking, though, the thesis of Tim is that he is a ride-or-die guy who really fucking COMMITS when he makes a decision. Sure, he'll stalk Batman. Sure, he'll introduce himself to Nightwing and tell him he knows his secret identity. Sure, he'll put on the suit Jason died in to go save Batman and Nightwing from their own stupid selves. Sure, he'll be Batman's emotional support sidekick and lead Young Justice and the Teen Titans and try to clone his dead best friend and run around the planet solo to save Bruce from the timestream. Why not! SOMEBODY'S gotta do it!!

"Somebody's gotta do it" is a lot of Tim's motivation, from what I can tell, haha. He also comparmentalizes really well, is a very talented and skilled detective as his defining Robin skill, uses a bo staff as his signature weapon after convincing Lady Shiva to train him and was the dude who was smart enough to add pants to the Robin suit, and one of his more iconic lines is I think Cassie going, "you lied to Starfire?" and him answering, "I lie to Batman". Which he does. Frequently. Frequently and a LOT-ly. To be fair, Bruce is also a fucking liar, so he deserves it. Tim, however, actually has friends he will ADMIT are his friends without having to be waterboarded into it during an active apocalypse-level crisis.

The boy has no chill. He DISGUISES his lack of chill, but it is fucking nonexistent and the ONLY reason he looks "reasonable" is because his besties are the teen idol superclone with limited life experience and Stephanie "welp my dad's gone supervillain so I'm gonna go kick him in the dick with my intermediate gymnastics" Brown. And then there's Cassie "I'm just gonna ask Zeus for superpowers, natch" Sandsmark.

Also Bart. Also Bart is a thing. Bart is SO MUCH a thing.

So yeah, Tim is a full-stop no-holds-barred insane person, he's just also a better liar than any of his friends. Like so, so much better. AT LEAST THEY HAVE SUPERPOWERS, TIM. AT LEAST THEY'VE GOT THAT. He figured out Bruce's secret identity at NINE 'cuz he went to the circus as a toddler and Dick Grayson's flips were just that sick, and then just didn't tell anybody for FOUR FUCKING YEARS. Four fucking YEARS!! ACTUAL FUCKING YEARS. He just didn't think it was relevant, I guess?!!? So instead he just stalked them with his camera and took cool pics. So many pics. So, so many pics. And he skateboards.

Also he and Kon fucking could NOT stand each other at first because Kon was used to being a solo act and didn't want to answer to anyone else and Tim lacked the ability to convince him to listen to him and they just had VERY different personalities and priorities, and also for a little while in there Match was fucking shit up by pretending to BE Kon, and frankly it's a fucking miracle Tim and Kon didn't kill each other before they ever got to be Titans together, the way they totally failed to get along for the first YJ run.

Seriously, I think they actually had a literal fucking fistfight on Apokolips once, I think that ACTUALLY happened. In the middle of a literal WAR that happened. Tim. Tim, you KNOW better, buddy.

#anonymous #meta ecetera #long post

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hello! I hope you don’t mind writing this scenario of Illumi protecting his lover from his family. Let’s say Illumi is going to marry reader, but his family doesn’t approve and decide to kill her. Illumi then betrays/ fights his family to protect his lover with his life.

If this is unacceptable, I can send another one. Thank you!!

Hm, while i don't see him fighting his parents, his brothers are a different question. I actually have a really twisted idea but I'll just leave that to the side, here's one of the ideas I had!

Illumi x fem!reader: Family fight

You were formally in a relationship with the eldest son of the Zoldyck family. This fact alone placed you on a high pedestal but also an extremely shaky one. One moment you could be given anything you wished, whether that was an expensive car or a wonderful dress, but you could have all of that taken away (and your life too) if you couldn't live up to their expectations. Illumi had picked you, out of all of the other women he could have chosen - you had to live up to it.

The training was brutal. Though you were a skilled nen user (one who used to work as a bounty hunter), the constant waterboarding and poisoning you went through made you sick. On some occasions, you wondered if it was better to attempt an escape and just get killed off by Mike or a butler. But Illumi made sure you wouldn't, he was constantly around you and "making sure" you were being treated well.

He gave you a twisted form of romance; hugs that were too tight, words of affection that came across as condescending, kisses that made your lips bleed. It was confusing, but you knew he was trying his best. You had agreed to be in a relationship with him, so you had to accept it somehow. It's just that you missed seeing the outside world, something that wasn't accessible to you until you completed your training.

"You know you're going to get married, it's better to just accept your life for what it is instead of trying to run away," Illumi told you one night. How did he read your mind? Who knows, he was always staring as if he could see your soul anyways.

Things got better after a few months, and Illumi was starting to open up to you. You two were able to visit cafes when he had the chance, and you got better at ingesting poison in your dinner. Things seemed to be going well, even Kikyo was delighted she would become a mother in-law. Everyone seemed to approve of your place in the Zoldyck household.

Everyone but Milluki.

He was a regular kid, at least in your eyes. Sure he had weird interests but he was fairly normal. He didn't seem to have issues with you at first, but after a while he started to resent you. The reasoning was unclear, but you assumed it had to do with how you were treated like family when you weren't married yet. He might've been a bit jealous at the fact that Illumi had a wife too.

You didn't know there would be a fight in the house until you heard a loud bang from upstairs. You were sitting with Silva, going over what you had to do for the wedding when the ceiling shook.

"...I'll go check," you bowed at your soon-to-be-father-in-law and ran up the stairs. You were sure Killua wasn't back yet from his walk outside, and Kalluto was with Kikyo. Zeno, Illumi, or Milluki was the culprit behind this loud noise.

"Illumi? Are you there?" You asked when you reached the top floor. That was when an explosive landed right next to your head and latched itself onto the wall. You turned around and quickly jumped back as the bomb activated. The pressure from the attack thankfully didn't reach you.

"Milluki, are you really that dense?" you heard a familiar voice from the darkness in the hallway. It was hard to tell, but you were sure Illumi was holding a few needles.

"I told you, she's not even a Zoldyck yet, she barely passed the flame test last week. I don't see why mama and papa wouldn't dispose of her!"

You bit your lower lip, knowing you weren't in the position to argue. There was a hierarchy you had to follow and he wasn't wrong: you had yet to become a real family member.

"Hold your tongue and I might spare your limbs," Illumi walked out of the shadows, he didn't have a single scratch on him. Though you had to note a slight burn on his arm, likely from an explosion. Milluki was shockingly good at explosives.

"Like hell I would!" Milluki responded. He looked as if he was going to lunge at his older brother, a death wish in your opinion. As you braced yourself for some blood, you felt a woosh of air and someone was running down the stairs.

"He...ran off," you looked at Milluki fleeing the scene. Glancing back at your fiance, you asked if he was alright.

"Hm? Oh, this isn't anything to worry about," Illumi said, pointing at the burns. He also flicked a piece of wood lodged in his shoulder away. "Are you alright?"

It was the first time he had asked that, which made you feel a little uneasy. For some reason, a Zoldyck asking about your well-being felt like a threat.

"Ah, yeah I'm alright," you avoided eye contact and looked at the burnt wall next to you. "I was talking with Silva earlier when I heard an explosion."

"Yeah that was us, Milluki was just acting childish," Illumi said. He moved passed you and told you to get back to your planned schedule, which meant he wanted you to check up on Kikyo. Without a word, you followed his order and left the upper floor.

That incident wasn't really big, in fact the parents laughed it over when you explained what happened. While it was nice to see Illumi defend you, see how the parents accepted you into the family, there was a panic that never left your mind. You place in Zoldyck family could be erased at any given point, so all you had to do was follow their orders. Even as a member of the family, you felt like an outsider.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #fem!reader #anon ask #hxh illumi #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #hxh imagines #hxh scenarios #zoldyck family

[nerdy-the-artist]

Maytroid 2024 is here!

I am so excited to get to work on these new prompts. Last year, my entries for each day were fairly sloppy, and I was new to the series, so I was lacking a fair bit of information. Now, I’m armed with more knowledge and am eager to use it.

For those who haven’t seen what I did for Maytroid last year, what I’m going to be doing instead of art is something more writing focused. These little text entries are mostly styled after the scans from the Metroid Prime series. Matter of fact, this new set of prompts actually lends itself much better than last year’s, as I have a lot more leeway to play to my own strengths than last year (I still don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with Gorea). These are all canon to my own Metroid AU currently, though as things change in development, these may become out of date. They will give the vibe my stories are going for, but these shouldn’t be held to as the absolute canon for them. I’ll be posting these week by week, around 7 at a time, starting today.

Day 1: Ridley

Transcript of Security Footage

Several individuals in this footage cannot be identified at this time. They shall be identified as Pirate 1, Pirate 2, and Pirate Major.

Ridley: What I want to know… is why he is not in custody.

Pirate Major: I gave them their orders, they knew he was to be brought in alive, and instead they killed him.

Pirate 1: You told us to take care of him! We thought you meant an execution, not milk and cookies!

Pirate Major: Insolent Wretch! You say such things about your orders in front of our Commander?! You know how we handle that sort of insubordination!

Pirate 2: Cool it, we’re already in hot water.

Pirate 1: We’re in hot water because of the life of some winy little nobody that begged for his life with money he didn’t even have.

Ridley: While your insolence is… aggravating… I am willing to forgive this misstep.

Pirate Major: What?

Ridley: He was an insignificant pawn. We can always find another. As I was saying, I am willing to forgive this on one condition. Did he die in pain?

Pirate 2: Yes. He did suffer before he died.

Ridley: What methods or torture did you employ?

Pirate 1: Waterboarding. Works wonders on humans. I always liked how they sound when they cough and gasp for air.

Ridley:Mmmmm… was blood shed before his end?

Pirate 2: Yeah. My partner here has… quite the way with knives.

Ridley: Do tell.

Pirate 1: Slashed his wrists. Those arteries gush lots of blood from humans. And we started pulling teeth when he lied.

Ridley: Delicious. You have escaped capital punishment, but you will still be serving as guards for the Metroid containment units. For further forgiveness, you will need to be more creative with your implements. I find Revine’s death, by your account, to be quite dull. Your are dismissed, unless you wish to enlighten me further.

Day 2: Fiery

Scan of Pipe System in Norfair

“These pipes appear be delivering superheated magma into the Norfair region. Given the proximity to Ridley’s personal quarters, likely explanations include terraforming the area for Ridley’s own comfortability, additional protective measures, or the intentional destruction of Chozo artifacts not deemed useful. The latter is most likely, as the immediate area was once a Chozo burial tomb. It is now completely submerged in magma, disintegrating much of the artifacts within.”

Day 3: Winged

Scan of SA-X Mutations

“This X-Parasite copy has suffered some form of destabilization of its copying abilities. Abnormalities include a malformed, beak like structure around the mouth, several atrophied fingers, several hypertrophied fingers, small patches of feathers, and an extraneous structure protruding from its back resembling a Chozo wing bereft of feathers. These unusual deformities could be the result of DNA infusions during childhood complicating the process of anatomical replication within X-Parasite offspring. This individual seems to suffer great stress from its predicament, but it is unsafe to assume that its combat functionality is greatly hampered. Adaptation is this species’s main trait.”

Day 4: Pirate

Scan of Space Pirate Elite

“Subject is a member of an unknown species known only from individuals working within Ridley’s special operations group, The Revenants. This group acts as Ridley’s personal enforcers and assassins, fanatically worshipping their commander as a literal God of Death. They wield melee weapons personalized to their unique fighting styles. Each weapon is charged with electricity, giving them an additional ranged attack capability. They have operated since before the Galactic Federation, making a name for themselves in fighting Chozo warriors. Their endurance, agility, and strength cannot be overstated, in spite of their gaunt appearance.”

Day 5: Mecha

Scan of automaton codenamed Mecha Ridley

“Subject is a battle ready drone, seemingly created by Ridley’s fanatical special forces, the Revenants. Mecha Ridley is heavily weaponized, as there could be no altar to the God of Death without the ability to take a life. Weapons include flamethrowers, guided munition launchers, and superheated claws. Mecha Ridley’s armor is highly durable, but greatly hampers mobility compared to its inspiration. Additionally, as a cult idol of worship, advanced artificial intelligence was not prioritized during production. Mecha Ridley displays average combat intellect for a war drone. Recommend staying moving and outsmarting the automaton.”

Day 6: Fang

Scan of Rundas’s Necklace

“Rundas appears to have begun collecting Metroid Fangs as trophies since last he was approached. Assuming one fang was taken from each Metroid he has eliminated, he has defeated 15 Metroids in the two months since he was last seen. Unfortunately, his ego has grown with his kill count.”

Day 7: Cunning

Scan of Abandoned Home

“Old Bird and Grey Voice’s abandoned home has been left mostly in tact, minus the usual signs of neglect. However, there appear to be a plethora of traps lain around the home. Various grapple snares have been detected, alongside explosive charges, beam emitters, and microphones. Much of these systems appear to be inert, and once reported directly to Mother Brain. It is clear she anticipated you might return here before confronting her. Given her destruction, several trap systems remain completely dormant. Still, any approach must be made with great caution.”

#metroid #samus aran #chozo #metroid prime #metroid au #ridley metroid #fanfic #old bird #grey voice #Rundas #Metroid Prime 3 #metroid fusion #sa x #x-parasites #mother brain #space pirates #maytroid #Maytroid 2024

[goddesspharo]

Seems ill-advised, tbqh.

"You don't want to hear the kinds of questions I've got."

#hannix

[Send me the first sentence and a pairing and I'll write the next five.]

"You don't want to hear the kinds of questions I've got."

Natasha rolls her eyes and warns Jake not to make her regret bringing him home for Thanksgiving. She's still not sure that they're quite there yet, but it's not like she can uninvite him now. He had looked so pathetic last week when he told her that "The Seresin Family Hang-sgiving" was canceled this year because his parents needed to use up the tickets to Venice his sister had gifted them two anniversaries ago before December so he was probably going to stick around North Island and hang out at The Hard Deck with all the other lushes who had nowhere else to go. Natasha had been perfectly content to ignore how mopey he looked – after all, wasn't celebrating Thanksgiving akin to getting waterboarded for a dude who tried to stay away from carbs? – but then Bob flashed her a pointed glare like she owed Hangman something just because he'd dragged her to his family's ranch in Austin for The Fourth.

She didn't, of course, because Jake was so Rah Rah Rah about Texas that it wouldn't take much to get an invite to his hometown so he could wax poetic about Longhorns football and fried okra until the cows came home for tipping. But there was the small matter of Jake getting on top of a coffee table before the Summer Seresin Scavenger Hunt began and declaring to his entire extended family that he was "boo'd up" as if the thing that their relationship was missing up until that point was a heavy dose of mortification. Nat still hasn't forgiven Payback for expanding Hangman's musical horizons even though he's probably right that it's better than Jake donning a cowboy hat so he could make a Patsy Cline reference instead. For that alone, Natasha should've let him flounder in California while everyone else went back home, but rather than disappoint Bob and have to hear about it for the next half dozen training sessions, Natasha went against her self-preservation instincts and invited Jake to have turkey with her family in the suburbs of New Jersey.

She knew it was a bad idea the moment she asked and has only doubled down on that impression now when encountering the wild gleam in Jake's eyes as he looks around her childhood bedroom. Natasha's never been happier than at this moment that she took down the extremely embarrassing boy band posters from her walls the first time she came home from college. All that's left now is a cherry-picked altar of her accomplishments. There are honors society certificates on her walls and her diploma from Stanford, medals from swim meets and a gleaming golden soccer ball perched on top of the MVP trophy she got when their team won nationals after the favorites got disqualified on a technicality. Jake takes in the framed pictures spanning Natasha's life and photobooth strips with her friends taken at a mall kiosk when they cut class to go see Step Up. He looks mesmerized as he practically bounces on the balls of his feet while soaking up all these snippets of who she was before he met her.

The quiet gets to be too much so Nat finally relents and says, "You get one question."

Jake looks like Kevin McCallister let loose at Duncan's Toy Chest, unsure of what to do with all this newfound freedom as his eyes trail along from wall to wall before stopping at the picture of Natasha with her date at prom.

"Where's all your debate team stuff?" he finally asks.

Natasha grins. Sucker.

"I wasn't on the debate team."

"Wait a minute. You made it seem—"

"I'm just naturally gifted at arguing with you."

"Flag on play, Trace! I should get another question."

"Should've gone with a sure thing," she says with an unapologetic shrug. "I really thought you'd ask if I still had the outfit from my very brief stint as a cheerleader."

She can feel him grinning when Jake leans in, his breath hot against her ear as he asks with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, "Well, do you?"

Natasha makes a mental note to kill Bob when they get home.

#ask me things #i lied when i said five sentences #population of one on this island of extremely niche interests #top gun #hannix #* #please note that i am making a thinly veiled reference to yellowjackets any time i make a reference to high school soccer #fic

[not-scared-of-microwaves]

The Tortured Poets Department Review

Now that I've sat with it for a few days, I actually have some coherent thoughts on TTPD, though I won't know where it falls in my overall rankings for a while.

Overall

The thing people aren't getting is that this is Taylor Swift. This is, quite honestly, one of the most quintessentially Taylor albums she's ever released. It has the lyricism of Folklore, the sensibilities of Evermore, the self-awareness of Reputation, the storytelling of Fearless, the specificity of Debut and Speak Now, the vagueness and metaphors of 1989, the synths of Midnights, the rawness of Red. It's American Gothic. It's fictional. It's nonfiction. It's confessional, it's scathing, it's cringe, it's clever, it's more than a little crazy.

She admitted things in this album you couldn't waterboard out of me. People say it's the most unlikeable she's been, but it's also the most human. She's not censoring herself to keep her likeability. That's brave.

Fortnight [feat. Post Malone]

Do I like it? Yes. Do I think it should have been the album opener and the lead single? No, probably not. I'm planning on doing a track by track breakdown later, so I'm not going to go in depth on the lyrics here, but there are some interesting metaphors. You can tell she thinks she's slaying the "I want to kill her" line, and while she is, I don't think she's serving as much as she thinks. A vibe. On my playlist but not on repeat. 7/10

The Tortured Poets Department

The title track. This should have been the opener and lead single. It makes a much better mission statement for what this album is than Fortnight does. Who's gonna hold you like Taylor Swift? No fucking body. The production is.... twinkly? for lack of a better word. She's being specific and metaphorical, making cultural references, and she's self-aware--this is Taylor Swift, people. A vibe. Not on repeat, but only because I have others I prefer, not because I don't love it. 9/10

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

It's a metaphor, it's tongue in cheek, it's self-aware, it's heartbreaking, it's a bop. She knows the relationship is toxic and killing her, but it wasn't always, and so she keeps holding on hoping it will go back to the way it started. At the end, she accepts that it won't be going back. Lyricism? Peak. Beat? Peak. On repeat. 10/10

Down Bad

Incredibly real and human. She's reflecting on the feelings of being love bombed then left behind, how it feels so good until it really, really doesn't. A call back to New Romantics. The lyrics say sob, the beat says dance. 10/10 on loop.

So Long London

A track five. Does it live up to the name? I'm not sure. It's sad, certainly, but it doesn't have the rawness of All Too Well or My Tears Ricochet. It's more resigned and tired. She's accepted that the relationship has fallen apart and now she's just tired, frustrated, and ready to be done. Even if she's sad, she still has some control, and that makes it a little easier. Drags on a little long for me, but the flip of "so long" is definitely clever, and she has some very relatable lyrics, and I see the purpose to it being on the album. 7/10.

But Daddy I Love Him

Love Story's older sibling. Again, I won't get too into it bc I want to do a breakdown. She's self-aware but it doesn't help because she's just desperate to make her own decisions. Calling out conservatives and small-town churches. Cringe in places but that's our girl. Minus a point for the baby lyric being in the chorus instead of like. the bridge. Half a point back bc you SHOULD have seen my face. 9.5/10.

Fresh Out The Slammer

This has some juicy information, but I'll save that for the breakdown. Very metaphorical, but also specific enough we know what's going on. Excellent story-telling. Really brings us into the headspace she was in at the time. I don't have it on repeat but through no fault of it's own. 10/10.

Florida!!! [feat. Florence and the Machine]

Flop. The drug metaphor isn't that creative and while there are a few decent lyrical moments, it's just not that good and the soundscape isn't interesting enough to redeem it. That said, even a bad taylor swift song is better than a lot of other artists. 5/10.

Guilty As Sin?

I don't think I've ever heard a song approaching this issue (emotional infidelity) in this way. It's got all the hallmarks of a Taylor Swift song: pop culture references, references to her past discography, religious symbolism, an outro that matches the intro. It's painfully honest, unapologetic, and human. A bop. 10/10.

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

Mad Woman and Mirrorball are shaking in their boots. It's giving horror, it's giving Salem Witch Trials, it's giving a reflection on fame and its effects. It's terrifying, it's haunting, it's beautiful, it's heartbreaking, it's unhinged. 10/10 doesn't feel like high enough.

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

We're at the saloon and I'm happy to be there. Another song that is quintessentially Taylor: country sensibilities, religious themes, self-awareness, story telling, change in the outro, bad decisions made out of love. Not my favorite but only because I like other songs better, not because I don't like it. 9/10.

loml

This may be the saddest song she's ever written. Two meanings to "loml" as there should be. She's heartbroken and it's breaking me too. Vocals are giving "I'm on the verge of tears." Story telling, religious themes, metaphors. It's scathing, it's haunting, it's confessional. I'm not crying you are. 10/10.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

Lyrics are giving heartbreak, sound is giving bop. So powerful and relatable. Excellent storytelling, and tells us so much about her headspace. We know exactly what she's talking about. It's giving Youre On Your Own Kid. 10/10.

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

The storytelling, imagery, details--all peak Taylor. It's scathing, it's haunting, it's Taylor Fucking Swift. Wild to me that Mattie Healy's family listened to the album and were relieved because it could have been worse when this was in it. This, the take town of the century, could have been worse. Legendary. 10/10.

The Alchemy

If one more person tries to claim this is about Travis Kelsey there will be blood. "Oh but the football metaphor--" she's been doing that for years. Miss Americana, anyone? She's weirdly obsessed with high school football. This isn't about Travis, it's clearly about a rekindled relationship, not a new one. Travis can't spell "heroine" (I don't think he's stupid, but his tweets have proven he cannot spell). Metaphorical, clever, and definitely tells us her mindset. A bop. 9/10.

Clara Bow

This song. The Lucky One, Nothing New, they're both shaking in their boots. A reflection on what it's like to be a pop culture woman, the lies they tell you, and the promises they pull from you. Taylor saying her own name in a song. AND it's the album closer. 10/10 isn't nearly good enough.

Extended Album

The Black Dog

The storytelling, the way she took a single moment of stalking her ex and turned it into a beautiful lament on what it's like to lose someone and imagine what they're doing now, then in the outro brought it back to that one instant--and people say she can't write. Religious themes, references to past songs, this has it all. 10/10

imgonnagetyouback

Before people go around accusing her of copying Olivia Rodrigo, this would have been written before Get Him Back came out, so no copying occurred on anyone's part. They each took the concept and turned it into two very different songs. Imagery, story telling, craziness, a BRIDGE. 9/10.

The Albatross

Story telling, metaphors, literary references, clever turns of phrase, a change of meaning in the outro. Either a reflection on the way she's frequently depicted or is fictional, most likely a reflection on the way she's depicted through a fictional character. Just feels a little distant to me. 8/10

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Heartbreak, metaphors, bisexuals--what more can I ask for? All while she's imagining her ex moving on and thinking about how it fell apart. Objectively good but just not that interesting to me. 7/10

How Did It End?

Another that's objectively good but just not clicking for me. Story telling, metaphors, the lyricism is slaying. Asking how it ended through the lens of a gossip uninvolved in the relationship, but not being sure how it ended herself. 7/10.

So High School

Glitter gel pen. Objectively, not that creative or interesting. It's just a bit of fun. She's not taking herself seriously, she's writing silly song about how she feels like a silly teenager in love, and it does have some interesting lyrics. It's a bop. You know Travis heard this and was like "this is great babe I love it." Objectively, like a six, but this song has a choke hold on me for some fucking reason. 9/10.

I Hate It Here

Everyone's talking about the racists lyric and I swear reading comprehension is gone. Piss on the poor. This is for the girlies who daydream 'too much', who devoured books in middle school, who took things to seriously and too literally. 10/10.

thanK you aIMee

This song is so funny to me. "Here's thirty songs about my mental state and btw fuck Kim K." Serving metaphor, lyricism, and homicide. A mythology reference. A scathing takedown. 8/10 an icon.

I Look In People's Windows

I've not seen nearly enough people talking about this one. It's so relatable, honest, and unhinged. Storytelling, imagery, wondering what if. Heartbreak. I've never heard a song take this approach to these emotions. 9/10.

The Prophecy

The desperation, the feeling of hopelessness, they hit hard. She's reflecting on the repeating patterns of lost relationships, and how it feels inevitable at this point, and how she's willing to beg for it. She's losing hope, and willing to do just about anything to have it again. 10/10 devestating.

Cassandra

I am a mythology nerd at heart, so using Cassandra as a metaphor was a guaranteed way to get me obsessed with a song. She's serving lyricism, story telling, imagery, metaphor, mythology references, anger, sadness, what more could I ask for? Heart breaking. 10/10

Peter

Literature references, lyrics, heartbreak. Objectively, it's very good, but I'm bored. 7/10.

The Bolter

Storytelling, imagery, lyrics, literature references, the Bolter serves it all. I'm not entirely sure what it's about but it's a bop. I think it's fictional, but it's Taylor reflecting on her own life through the lens of this fictional girl. 9/10

Robin

I. Don't care. It's probably got great lyrics or something but I skip before I'm through the first verse because I'm just bored. Sonically, boring. Lyrically, the first verse doesn't redeem it. I've listened all the way through once and it was enough for me. It's not egregious, it's just not interesting. Flop. 4/10.

The Manuscript

I also skip this one but I have more of an appreciation for it than I do for Robin, just because of the subject matter. I have my theories on what it's about *cough* All Too Well Ten *Cough*. I like this as an album closer as well. French press lyric kills me. 7/10.

#microwave talks #ts 11 #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #ttpd