#so excuse me if this moment means everything to me

[taasgirl]

espresso - lando norris

summary: y/n is a famous singer who also happens to be a massive f1 fan. when she mentions a liking for a certain driver, it's only fate that he tries everything in his power to get her attention.

a/n: no face claim! the outcomes/order of races are altered to fit the story, it's just a fun time!!

liked by oliviarodrigo, oneruel, pedri, and 1, 376, 227 others ynusername my new interview with wired is out now!

user64973 Stop you're gorgeous

user89322 do i wanna be her or be with her??

user09384 so who r u crushing on huh

ynusername it's a seeeecret 🤫

user44172 This entire vid is so chaotic omfg

user03638 Please let y/n enter her wag era

liked by user55736, user89842, user73903, and 10, 652 others user33973 HELLO???? LANDO LITERALLY LIKED THIS TWEET I'M CRYING

user98301 brother personally knows who y/n's next bf should be

user40440 HAHA NO LITERALLY

user34593 God please let this be lando shooting his shot after watching y/n's recent interview

user43982 NO WAIT UR SO FR BECAUSE SHE LITERALLY MENTIONED LIKING AN F1 DRIVER WHAT IF IT'S HIM??

user12871 lando and y/n 🙏🙏

view ynusername's story...

liked by oscarpiastri, lorde, gavi, and 782, 774 others ynusername what a race! lovely to see you again @ oscarpiastri, maybe aim for a podium next time though?

oscarpiastri I'd like to see you try in a f1 car

user49949 Wait is oscar the guy y/n was talking abt in that vid? user53004 i hope not, i love him and lily

user20833 Okay so did y/n and lando interract or not? 😭

user61221 hot girls support mclaren (confirmed!) liked by ynusername

user89483 y/n slowly integrating herself in the f1 scene, we see u girl

liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant, ynusername, and 2, 459, 383 others landonorris A lot to learn from this weekend, but we keep pushing. Also great to meet a lot of new faces and the incredible fans🧡

user58273 SORRY WHAT THAT SECOND PHOTO...

user89894 is the new face y/n perhaps??

mclaren Great weekend Lando! liked by landonorris

user92702 I genuinely tweak whenever u post bc u look so fine

user53982 not y/n liking this post 😭

user66359 AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN FOLLOW HIM user98123 miss girl is stalking her crush i bet

user17263 please let this year be your year

user52209 Did anyone see his response to that post race interview?

user28732 YES AND HOW HE HAS HIS EYE ON SUM1

user87229 oh he trynna thirst trap (y/n) liked by landonorris

liked by lilyzneimer, oliviarodrigo, pedri, and 334, 938 others ynusername remember that one bitch ass ex I had? yeah well I wrote another song about him! 'feather' is yours now, but best enjoyed when you have an ugly, cheating, lying dick of an ex to think about. have fun with this one!! 😘

lilyzneimer STOP I'M ACTUALLY DYING I WAS NOT EXPECTING OSCAR OMG I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING liked by ynusername

user82983 i was like wow normal post! and then boom. oscar.

oscarpiastri Okay that seems a little mean

lilyzneimer already on repeat

oscarpiastri Um excuse me???? Did you read the caption...

user68297 NEW Y/N MUSIC YESYESYES

user26321 omfg i've been waiting for an angry y/n song

user72639 this sounds really familiar?? song of the summer maybe?

ynusername ahhhh thank you bb

view landonorris's story...

liked by user58273, user98004, user63874, and 10, 376 others user44938 Y/N papped in Monte Carlo today! Rumours are circulating that she was visiting F1's starboy Lando Norris, however there is no official confirmation.

user99812 ohhh y/n we see you

user89283 Okay everyone shut up abt lando, let's take a moment to appreciate y/n's beauty omf she's gorg

user23294 I SECOND THIS !!

user12834 hmm i wonder why she's in monaco...

user48463 Y/N u ain't slick 😭

user35273 she saw lando's story and ran straight to him

user16282 "how far u go for a sneaky link? I'd fly"

user52883 I know damn well she ain't in monaco for a holiday

liked by landonorris, gracieabrams, laufey, and 483, 995 others ynusername it's exactly like selena gomez's 2011 film

user73948 I KNOW LANDO'S HOODIE WHEN I SEE IT

user63762 ur the genuine it girl

lilyzneimer Monte Carlo reference, I love it liked by ynusername

user11928 landoooo

landonorris oooooo

user40948 oh hey lando user29830 Fancy seeing you here user73984 He wants her so bad

oscarpiastri I think I've seen that hoodie before

ynusername hmm i wonder where 🤷‍♀️

user49283 girl saw his story and flew out IMMEDIATELY

user53984 y/n l/n wag era loading 😏😏

user92874 So pretty

liked by oscarpiastri, ynusername, mclaren, and 3, 469, 848 others landonorris Calm before the storm #raceweek

charlesleclerc Good to see you with some company

user76483 CHARLES HASFGUEH

ynusername omg invite me next time

user42761 Girl bfr we know where u were at

user52739 THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE

user19820 y/n and lando are a match made in heaven

user82637 I wonder who you were hanging out with 🤔

oscarpiastri Wow I feel like I've seen that girl before

ynusername me too

user61542 not lando soft launching y/n as if we don't know it's her

user82736 I mean technically we don't

user19823 @ user82736 No I think it is confirmed, she was heard on his twitch stream the other day

liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer, danielricciardo, and 1, 254, 982 others mclaren Our drivers and their partners after qualifying! Lando and Oscar will begin P4 and P5 respectively in Monte Carlo 🧡🤍

user82638 AND THEIR PARTNERS??? Y/N AND LANDO?

user52761 admin really said if they won't confirm it, I will liked by mclaren

user52839 Please lando and y/n are adorable

user82636 lily & oscar >>>

user48273 Sooooo they official...?

user27163 guys stop with this y/n x lando madness, i need a double mclaren podium

user82638 y/n really manifested her wag era huh

liked by ynusername, logansargeant, lilymunhe, and 3, 716, 372 others landonorris Monaco '24. Thank you to everyone who came out, and showed me support this weekend. I promise to be better next race. tagged: oscarpiastri & ynusername

ynusername my racer 🧡🏎️

user62538 HELLO? user82776 i'm gonna be sick

mclaren Papaya boys! liked by landonorris

user72538 Y/N is so beautiful I can't even

user16529 HIS EYES

user52863 him hard launching y/n >>>>

user98276 This is MY victoria and david

ynusername omg we're definitely not as cool as them

user41752 i won't get over this ever

liked by landonorris, phoebebridgers, mclaren, and 967, 837 others ynusername i think i need to buy more orange clothes

landonorris I've already offered up half my closet to her...

landonorris nice shirt though 😏

user62538 oh i'm living for their hard launch

lilyzneimer Welcome to the team!!

user22817 STOP THIS IS ADORABLE PLS WE NEED Y/N AND LILY CONTENT IMMEDIATELY

mclaren Our favourite pop star liked by ynusername 🌟

user52763 Y/N THE WAG YESSSSSS

oscarpiastri It's actually papaya

ynusername okay sassy man apocalypse lilyzneimer @ ynusername feed him to the zombies

liked by oliviarodrigo, landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 583, 872 others ynusername oh and btw, my new song espresso is out and it's a @ landonorris certified 'banger'. his words not mine. listen on all platforms now!!

landonorris She's working late cause she's a singerrr

ynusername haiii

user72637 y/n really walked in and said that she's the best lando ever had and ever will have

landonorris I mean it's true sooo

user62537 Okay lando I didn't know u had game like dat

lilyzneimer oh I love you

ynusername LILYYYYYYY i love u so much oscarpiastri I think our gfs are gfs... @ landonorris

view landonorris's story...

please let me know if you guys liked this! i love doing lando fics so much. as always, my reqs are open so feel free to drop suggestions!!

here’s a cute oscar smau i just wrote

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando #lando norris x #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #mclaren #formula 1 #ln4 #mclaren f1 #smau #lando norris f #lando norris f1 #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 2024 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x oc #f1 x #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #mclaren racing #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #quadrant

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Hungover: knight!price x princess!reader

"Do you need a bucket?"

"Don't speak to me right now."

Sir John Price didn't try to hide his smile as he stood in the solar near the couch where you laid sprawled out. You had called him there so you could out early in the morning, however you ended confining yourself to the couch with a shawl covering your eyes.

"How are you not bedridden like me?" You groaned and he chuckled.

"Because," He began. He walked to the door and opened it, luckily catching one of the servants and asking her to bring you tea before he shut the door again. "I have a tolerance. You've barely drank more than a cup of wine in your life."

"Don't speak about alcohol, I may be sick."

Price scoffed and walked back over to you. He glanced around the room, shutting the curtains enough to where most of the sunlight was hidden but still illuminated the room before he turned to you. He knew there was no way you were going outside today, maybe not even outside the solar.

Because of that he felt a little out of place. You had no need for him, even if he wanted to stay. It would be a very bad look on you if he were stay around when you didn't need him and he didn't want to jeopardize you. There was also nothing he could do in the solar; he couldn't embroider or play chess because you were not capable.

There were the books but he'd rather do something else to torture himself with them.

"Should I leave, your highness?" He wondered but you shook your head.

"Keep me company. I won't fall asleep." You said softly.

"Do you believe that's wise?"

You peeked at him from behind the shawl and saw his concerned look. He glanced at the door again, saying it without saying it, and you thought for a long moment.

"Servants see everything but they seldom speak to anyone about it." You assure him as you placed the shawl back over your eyes. "And if I tell them I want you here, then they won't question it."

Price hummed, unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips as he took a seat. You wanted him here.

"Should've brought my cards." He stretched out in the chair and looked through the crack of the curtains.

"You're free to the books." You gestured vaguely to the room before you brought the shawl down from your eyes. "I know, you could read to me."

Price's eyes widened and he looked at you with surprise. His mouth went a little dry as you stared at him with genuine joy at the idea yet he couldn't return it.

"You want to listen to me?" He wondered and you nodded.

"I'll fall asleep otherwise." You argued softly, though you weren't going to admit he might put you to sleep as well.

As much as he wanted to argue he could see that you weren't going to back down. He knew you wouldn't but now he was trapped, backed into a corner with no way to recover from this.

He could only imagine what you would say to him. What you might think, the crown princess of pure noble blood, would do when you found out the best knight in the realm's secret.

Regrettably he stood and walked to the shelf, staring at the many spines of the books.

"What should I read to you?" He's not sure why he asked, it's not like he would be able to pick out the right one.

"It doesn't matter, I've read them all." You hummed and you situated yourself more comfortably. "Which reminds me, I need to get different books soon."

Price hummed, noting that as he pulled out a random book. He eyed the cover, the engraved words meaning nothing to him as he felt himself grow even more nervous.

Perhaps he could come up with an excuse to leave...no he couldn't. He didn't want to hurt your feeling to save his pride.

"This one?" He held it up so you could see.

"Oh, that's one of my favorites! Good choice, Sir John." You smile and he sucked in his lips as his heart sunk.

"Alright..."

Price sat back in his chair and flipped the book open, pointedly ignoring your expectant stare as he stared at the first page. He couldn't even begin to guess what any of the words meant, only being able to recognize "the" "and" and "a". On maps he just memorized what others called the names on them, for letters he made Kyle write them. Here he had no crutch, nothing to fall back on and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Can you read, Sir John?" Your voice was softer but he couldn't look at you.

"No, your highness." He admitted and shut the book.

"Did your father not teach you?" You titled your head with confusion. "All squires get an education."

He couldn't lie anymore. He shook his head and kept his eyes on the cover of the book.

"I was very fortunate that the lord who took me in did, but I was already of age to start training, so I didn't have the time."

Your eyes widened with realization.

"You weren't born a noble?"

"No."

You stayed silent and Price found it hard not to feel some sort of shame. He hadn't deliberately lied, it was just that everyone had assumed he was fully noble without question. He grew up hidden among them, seeing a part of life he hadn't even dreamed of knowing that many of the other knights he had trained with would deny his nobility simply because his parents were peasants.

He knew how quickly things would fall apart if anyone found out, even if he was the best knight.

Now you knew.

It was another nail in the coffin of his unattainable desires. Not only was he a knight but he was technically a peasant. Your mother would punish you harder, which meant it was a good thing it'd never come to be.

Though he could only imagine how much this changed how you saw him.

"Why are you ashamed?" You sat up slowly and he finally glanced at you.

"You're not that naïve. Many would see me as a false knight despite my best efforts." He explained and you looked at him with soft yet serious eyes.

"Do their opinion mean more than your skills?"

Price's eyebrows knitted together and he looked at you for a moment. He had never thought about it that way but in reality the only thing that mattered to him was that the job got done, and that the crown was safe. That you were safe.

When he shook his head you nodded with finality.

"It shouldn't matter anyway. A knight's value is in his skill and you're incredibly well trained and brave." You said and he looked away bashfully. "If I heard such nonsense I wouldn't let it stand."

"You flatter me, your highness." He flashed you a nervous smile and you returned it.

"Better than barbaric."

He scoffed and nodded but couldn't think of anything else to say. He didn't like that you knew but seeing that you didn't care made him feel somewhat better. And knowing how you think of him took most of the embarrassment away.

He grabbed the book and stood up to put it back when you spoke.

"I'll teach you to read." You stated and he looked at you incredulously.

"I can't ask you to do that-"

"You didn't. I said I would."

Somehow you always managed to surprise him in the strangest ways possible. He watched you sigh in thought as you lounged back down on the couch and situate yourself more comfortably.

You stared at him with an unreadable look in your eyes that made him shift on his feet.

"Once I'm better." You smiled and closed your eyes. "Now tell me a story, or we'll both waste away from boredom."

He stared at you, unsure yet he couldn't help the way that his shoulders felt less tense and how...excited he felt to be able to read in the future.

The things he could do for you once he could would be endless.

"A story, eh? This one will be better than your books."

A/n: Sir John Price is not a poet and yet maybe he might write you something someday

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @sofasoap

#knight!price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #price x you #price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader #captain john price #call of duty #princess!reader

[pricefieldsuperiority]

Yearning Allegations - Pt.3

Part 1 here / Part 2 here

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn

Summary: You've liked Paige for the longest time, is there any chance she likes you too?

It's been 2 weeks of awkward silence.

Ever since Paige came over the other day, she's either been ghosting your texts entirely or giving you short replies followed up with excuses about how she's really busy.

The biggest game of the season is coming up - Uconn vs Iowa. Everyone's been talking about it, and you know the team is training super hard for the game- KK and Nika won't stop blowing your phone up with Uconn shit. Despite all this, you just can't shake the feeling something is wrong between you two.

So that's why you're walking down to the school gyms at 9 pm, hoping to find Paige practicing late like she does when she's stressed out.

The halls seem so empty and lifeless without her constant chatter and her melodic laughter. You're fidgeting with your clothes, hoping the sinking feeling in your stomach will dissipate soon.

In the gym, you spot Paige on the farside of the court, shooting basket after basket. Her brows are furrowed with concentration, sweat beading on her forehead.

"Paige!" You shout as you lightly jog over.

Paige glances at you and then takes another shot, which just bounces off the backboard with a loud thud. She curses and grabs it on its way down before replying to you.

"Hey y/n, what are you doing here?"

You're anxious, eyes rovering over her face, but she won't meet your gaze.

"Is.. is everything okay between us?" You say, hesitantly stepping closer to her.

Paige has stopped throwing the ball, instead just holding it under one arm with her eyes trained on the floor.

She finally looks at you, a mix of emotions written all over her face.

"Everything's cool, yeah.. but be honest.. Did I.. make you uncomfortable the other day?"

"Of course not, why??" You're surprised by her words, confused by where she's going with this.

Paige's shoulders relax for a moment at your response, but her expression remains conflicted.

"I was just wondering if I took it too far the other day.." She trails off, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Too far?" You breathe out, hardly daring to consider what she means by that.

"Yeah.. I just.."

Paige seems to struggle to get the words out, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"I know you don't want me like how I want you, and I was worried I had made you uncomfortable or something."

Paige wants you? The words ring in your mind.

"What? What do you mean?" You're in disbelief. What is she talking about?

Paige sighs, throwing her basketball into the lined baskets lined by the gym walls before she continues on.

"Y/n, I've liked you for years. I've tried to make that clear, hoping you might take the hint or say something, but you never did. I didn't want to ruin what we have- but the other day made me feel so.." She trails off, "It's just hard to be friends with you when I want more than that. And I'm really sorry for ghosting you, that wasn't cool."

Paige runs her hands through her hair anxiously while your heart strains in your chest.

"And wait- that's not to say I don't want to be friends with you - I love being friends with you, I love you-"

Your heart is pounding in your ears, heart registering her words, and you just can't hold back anymore. You close the distance between you two, lunging for her, kissing her like she's your lifeline.

Paige is shocked for a second, before responding immediately, her hands grabbing your waist, pulling you in further.

It's all you've imagined, yet somehow better. Your hands are tangled in her hair, tugging lightly as her lips desperately press against your own. Paige kisses you, soft and open mouthed, but like a woman starved. You're enveloped in nothing but the sweet scent of her perfume while your heart feels like it's exploding, butterflies flittering wildly around in your stomach.

When you break apart, you both wear matching relieved grins. You swear to yourself that Paige's eyes have never looked more soft than in this moment, the love within them so obvious to you now. Her cheeks are flushed, more pink than you've ever seen them, her eyes alight with an excitement you've only ever attributed to the look she gets when she wins games.

Your next words tumble out in a rush, eager to tell her how you feel.

"I love you, Paige.. I've loved you since high school. I've loved growing up with you, learning more about you over the years, and getting to watch you do what you love. I love the way you care so deeply about people - about your fans, your team, your family. I love how strong you are, persevering through everything just to pursue your dreams."

You laugh, the words freeing to finally say aloud.

"I love all the little things about you, like the way you're so stupidly competitive about everything, whether that's shooting hoops or playing video games, I love your silly cocky nature and all your stupid jokes, your dramatic ass- bro can't even take medicine without taking a solid 10 minutes to complain- and even all the ways you annoy me on purpose just because you know they make me laugh nonetheless. I always feel safe with you, understood in a way I've never felt with other people.. I.. just.. so many things, Paige."

Paige's response is barely above a whisper,

"Why... why didn't you say anything?"

She's running her hands through her hair again, continuing.

"I just thought you didn't like me, like I hoped you did but I was never really sure. That's why I didn't say nothing"

You smile at her,

"I didn't wanna lose you by saying I liked you in case you didn't feel that way, I don't know. Maybe we both did the same thing, haha." You start trailing off awkwardly, suddenly feeling shy with the way she's looking at you.

Paige just grins, pulling you back into her by the hips, bringing you two face to face. She tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear before she rests her hands on your waist.

"Good thing I do, cause now I get to ask you to be my girl." Paige is grinning so widely you just grin back, happiness manifesting as butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"Pfftt.. I was always your girl. " You stick your tongue out at her, and she throws an arm over your shoulder in response.

"Damn y/n tryin rizz me up!?" Paige laughs at her own joke before continuing,

"Anyway, come on, let's go home."

She holds the gym doors open for you, and you're struck with a sense of deja vu, heart full.

"Well.. I mean, it worked."

You smirk at her with that.

Paige just bites her lip in response, waggling her brows and rubbing her hands together at you.

You groan as you both walk to her dorm,

"Not the rizz hands!"

All you hear is her resulting laugh.

"Always the rizz hands! Come on y/n you love it, clearlyyyy."

You find yourself unable to stop smiling at her, but you attempt an eye roll to keep up appearances anyway.

"You're all mine now," you say, shoving her slightly.

Paige smiles back, love in her gaze.

"I was always yours y/n."

---

Authors Note: This is the final chapter, I love soft Paige. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Thanks for reading! <3

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #slow burn #uconn women’s basketball #paige buckets #uconn wbb #fanfic #friends to lovers #wlw #Spotify

[gojipink]

white lie

ஐ ft. kaeya

ஐ summary. trying to hide an injury from him!

ஐ warnings. none, SFW. 1.3k words

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

getting home to you and kaeya’s shared apartment took longer than you had wanted; getting healed by barbra after a couple of adventures found you propped against a tree, half-lucid with a bloody gash across your abdomen had really put a kink in your usual schedule.  

you breathe a sigh of relief when you unlock the front door and find that the apartment is still empty, meaning that kaeya was still in his office and hasn't been alerted of your little accident. 

you have never kept anything from kaeya but this? this was different. lately, he’s been having to take on way too much, his desk overflowing with piles upon piles of paperwork while also leading patrol tours throughout the nation. every night he comes home utterly exhausted, barely having enough energy to finish his dinner and give you a chaste kiss before he retires to bed.

if he catches wind of your injury, he'll be sure to go insane with worry and put himself on the backburner in order to dote on you, which you deem completely unnecessary. barbra’s already given you the all clear, just have to take it easy for the next few days and clean your wounds daily and you should be healed up soon enough. besides, you’re strong enough to take care of yourself, there’s no reason for you to burden kaeya with something as insignificant as a minor injury. 

you tried to act as normal as you could. tried to move around the kitchen preparing dinner for the two of you with as much stability as you could muster. and once kaeya came home, eyes slightly wide and breathing deeply like he was hiding the fact he just ran home, you put on your best smile for him. 

“welcome home, love! you made it just in time for dinner,” you beam at him, settling into your usual seat at the table.

he looks around the apartment for a moment before his clear eye finds its way back to you, analyzing your seemingly unharmed figure. he gives you a tight smile while he makes his way into the kitchen to wash up, “you made dinner?” he asks, tone slightly devoid of his usual pep but you chalk it up to him being tired. 

“mhm, just something quick. hurry, come join me,” you smile at him. 

after a moment, kaeya sits in his chair across from you. watchful eyes observing your figure as you begin to eat, his heart twisting uncomfortably as his mind clouds with turmoil. 

kaeya studies you for a moment more before speaking up, “heard you required a healer today, what’s going on with that?” 

you tense at his question, eyes wide and staring down at your food, mind racing to find a convincing excuse. 

“i, um,” you swallow thickly before looking up to meet his eyes, his expression unreadable, “i was feeling a little sore from these past few days so i thought i could just pop in and see barbra. you know, just get a little once-over is all.” 

kaeya’s uncovered eye flash with something indecipherable. confusion? hurt? anger? though, it wouldn't really make sense for him to feel any of these emotions at all, not unless-

“so, you're going with that story, hm?” he sighs out, letting his spoon clink loudly against the side of the bowl as he sits back in the chair with his arms crossed, studying you with icy eyes. 

“i…well, yes, i-” you try to come up with something quickly before he interrupts with a humorless chuckle, 

“can’t say i’m not hurt by your lie, angel.” he says quietly with a sad smile while looking at you with dejected eyes. 

you stare at him, shocked by his words, “kaeya, im not-”

“jean said that you were covered in blood. barbra told her everything, which she then told me before i left work. said you were, and i quote, ‘barely conscious enough to say what happened’.” he said, his tone of voice flat and empty, “but apparently, and this is the part that puzzles me most, it was specifically requested that this incident was to be kept from me.”

“i can explain,” you rush out, quickly moving to the chair next to him, ignoring the sharp twinge of pain that shoots across your abdomen, too desperate to save him from any misunderstanding he’s conjured in his mind.

“kaeya, i promise,” you reach over to slide your hand into his, your heart breaks at the sound of his shuddering inhale, his thumb roughly rubbing the back of your hands trying to mask the shakiness in his fingers, “i’m alright. i’m here. it sounds so much worse than it really is and the only reason i didnt tell you-”

“that's alright, my love,” he interjects looking up at you with a dim smile, “i get it, i'm glad you’re alright,” he whispers as he pulls his hand out of your grasp to stand up and clear off the dining room table.

your eyes helplessly follow his movements, “wh-get what, kae-”

“you must be tired, hm? had quite the day, princess,” his usual easygoing tone forced back into his voice, “ill clean up, you go wash up first let me know if you want help. i'll call barbra or jean if you prefer it.”

you break from your dumbfounded state as you chase after him in the kitchen. arms wrapping around his torso tightly, refusing to let him pull away as he stands in front of the sink bracing his hands against the counter.

“i know you're mad at me,” you start gently, cheek pressed snuggly against his back, your hands pressed against his chest feeling the heavy beat of his stinging heart, “but i’m so sorry, my love. i never wanted to cause you any kind of distress. you have been so overworked, so stressed out, i just didn't want to pile it on.” 

he harshly exhales through his nose as his hands slowly make their way towards yours, gently prying them loose so that he can turn in your iron hold. once he faces you, his fingers come up to brush over your cheek. 

“im not upset with you,” he whispers, his thumb lightly tracing your cheekbone, “i mean, i'm upset, but i'm not mad at you. could never be mad at you, angel.” 

you frown at his dejected expression and tone while you lean into his touch, “i just didn’t want to burden you with it, kae. it really sounds worse than it actually is, i swear. nothing bad happened, i was fixed up really quick! the cut was so much smaller than what the healers thought, it just looked way worse because i was also splattered with monster blood as well,” you hastily explained all in one breath. 

he worriedly chews on his bottom lip as he absorbs your words,  “what about how you were barely conscious-”

“i was just exhausted after the fight, kae,” you clarify, “admittedly it was a tough fight but i was back up on my feet in no time after seeing the healers.” 

he analyzes you for a moment before leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, “tell me everything,” he whispers, “good, bad, mundane or not. i don't care, just don't shut me out, please. you have no idea what-” he stops himself to exhale a heavy breath, “i didn't know what to think. regardless, it doesn't matter how busy i am, how stressed out i am, i want to know everything that happens with you. you are my number one priority, not some group of recruits i just met yesterday. you understand that, right?” 

you nod your head while still pressed against his, “i know, im sorry,” you whisper. 

kaeya pulls back slightly before cupping your cheeks to drag you into a sweet and comforting kiss. 

after a few more tender kisses, kaeya’s lips lift into his usual playful smile, “c’mon, pretty, you must be sore, hm? think we both need a relaxing bath.”

you beam up at him at his suggestion, your bright smile stunning him for a moment as his heart skips in his chest and his stomach erupts into butterflies. quickly, he turns away to lead you both to the bathroom as your giggles follow closely behind him hinting that you've caught sight of his blushing cheeks.

•─────────•°•❀•°•─────────•

masterlist

#hehe do u guys like the new layout (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ #made these banners myself y'know (>ᴗ•) ! (luna taught me how...) #goji's.thots˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaeya₊˚⊹♡ #kaeya #kaeya alberich

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I don’t understand Zut’s obsession with bloodbending. This technique, as we can see, is used for taking control over other body for the purposes of fighting the enemy, torture, abuse. We see Katara’s horror at having to learn and use it in the Puppetmaster and her disgust of the idea that someone should invade the body and control other being against their will. We see her using it in Southern Raiders and realizing that she went too far from the line she drew for herself – and it works to show her pain there. But to take it and say she should have used it more, for healing and power? I don’t get it.

Their logic is "This looks cool, therefore it is empowering, and she only ever used willingly one time, when Zuko was around, so OBVIOUSLY that means Zuko empowers her."

Nevermind that, like you pointed out, Katara did NOT feel empowered during these moments: on the first one she felt coerced, abused, terrified, and manipulated, and on the second she felt like she had betrayed her core vallues in a moment of blinding rage.

And it's just crazy to me to notice how zutarians are constantly trying to force parallels between Zuko and Katara - yet they are ignoring the one that is right in front of their faces.

Zuko was disfigured by his own father, who justified his abusive behavior as being for his son's own good and "teaching him a lesson. Hama masks her intentions of forcing Katara to learn bloodbending by claiming she just wants to bond with her as her teacher.

On the day of the eclipse, to keep Zuko around until he's able to try and kill him, Ozai manipulates his son by using his love for Ursa against him, offering to tell him what actually happened to her. To force Katara to bloodbend, Hama uses her love for Sokka and Aang against her, controlling them so they'll kill each other unless Katara steps in.

When Zuko has his Agni Kai with Zhao, he almost gives him a scar as well, but decides to spare him at the last moment because, even though he's still in denial about being abused, deep down he already knows he doesn't want to be a monster like Ozai. When Katara uses bloodbending on who she thinks is her mother's killer, then realizes her mistake, she gets quite a brutal awakening that makes her realize she's not simply going after justice or even revenge, but rather allowing herself to fall victim to cycle of violence and abuse like Hama did.

This is a genuine, not at all forced parallel between Zuko and Katara, and that the writers basically handed to the shippers in a neat little bow - and they threw it in the garbage because it did not allow them to glorify violence, romanticize Zuko's past as a villain who was prone to violence, pretend Zuko and Katara only have positive traits in common and could only ever bring out the best in each other, and demonize Aang as this abusive person that wants to control what Katara can or cannot do.

And ironically enough, in doing so, they not only disregard the meaningful theme of an abused child refusing to repeat the same mistakes of their abuser, but they also make excuses for the ONE person in the entire show who was everything they claimed Aang is.

Hama felt entitled to Katara's loyalty, obedience, admiration and respect. She felt she had the right to dictate how Katara should or should not fight, what was or wasn't against her moral code. She was deliberately manipulative to get Katara trust her, then waited until there was no one else around to help her to make her true intentions clear - and then proved she was VERY willing to react with violence if she didn't get what she wanted.

Zutarians go on and on about how their ship is the "feminist, pro-Katara ship" and how Aang is totally abusive, then turn around and glorify the actions of the ONE person in the entire show that fits the definition of "Katara's abuser."

#anti zutara #pro kataang

[miupow]

「 ♫ 」 ── 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 .

you hated minho with everything you had, but you just couldn't stop yourself for coming back for more again and again... he was just so sexy when he was jealous, and no one else made you feel the way he did.

PAIRING ── lee know x fem!reader

RATING ── NSFW, MDNI !

WARNINGS ── college au, fwb!minho, frat boy!skz, toxic and possessive behavior, jealousy, he’s very mean in this im ngl, oral (m. rec), face-fucking, dirty talk, mean dom!lino, degredation kink and name-calling, humiliation kink, slut-shaming, facials, non-consentual photo-taking, i really mean it guys lino is not a good guy

WORDS ── 1.8k

A/N ── an old deleted work i've rewritten for toxic sneaky link minho hehe >< hope you enjoy!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you ♡

taglist: @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @linocz , @skzooluvr

Minho's white-knuckle grip on your wrist was bruising, his blunt nails threatening to leave little stinging crescents dug into your skin-- you bit your lip to mask your giddy, triumphant smile as he tugged you into the spare bathroom, dragged you through the pulsating crowd as you tripped over your strappy heels. He only let go of you to slam the door shut and lock it swiftly behind him, his wild, firey eyes and grit-tooth scowl melting away to the bored and emotionless glare you were all to familiar with. It pierced through your vodka-soaked confidence in an instant, sent you reeling and scrambling for words to say as a dull throbbing took ahold at the base of your wrist, just over your pulse point. The flourescent lights of the bathroom made your eyes sting, too adjusted to the dark of the party outside-- it just made you struggle even more to look Minho in the eye. He always made you feel so small, towering over you and looking down at you as if you were nothing at all... and you hated it more than anything.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you spat, rubbing your wrist, fighting to keep your strength as you leveled with his gaze. It wasn't like you to hold your ground like this-- you can tell it throws Minho off, pisses him off even further as he bullies his way into your personal space. The music that had been nearly deafening just moments before had been muffled into obscurity, stripped away to a booming bassline that nearly shook the floor; it reverberated through your body still, a thrumming under your skin that left you restless, nervous. Minho could read it all over your face.

“Excuse me?! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed back venomously, taller frame advancing on you quickly. His arms come to brace themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping you against the sink-- he crowds your vision, his warm breath fanning across your face, and you try desperately to look anywhere except into his deep dark eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—" you began, as sturdy as you could, but Minho's rough, humorless laugh cuts you off. His hands grip either side of the sink with force, and you can see the veins in his forearms ripple under the fabric of his rolled-up jacket sleeves.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” there was something all too familiar about this, Minho’s voice poisoning and dripping with something that makes your thighs shake and rub together— those long fingers you came to hate and adore grabbed ahold of your chin, squeezing your plush cheeks together as he forced your eyes to meet his. a broken, barely-there whimper sneaks it’s way past your pursed lips. “Are you trying to piss me off? Is that it? Whoring around with other guys right in fucking front of me?!”

“We were just talking—“

Minho sneers. “Sure you were, rubbing up all over him and talking all sweet while dressed like a fuckin’ slut.”

He spits the words out like it was a nasty secret, jolting through you with a sickening shock— your cheeks flush hot between Minho’s cold fingers, your panties growing damp embarrassingly quickly, molded to your wet pussy folds… you loved it when Minho was jealous, loved how to see just how nasty you would make him when you hit him where it hurt.

And maybe you loved it because it proved to you, in some sick, backwards way, that Minho even cared about you at all.

“I’m not dressed like a whore,” you retort weakly, sounding far more petulant and pathetic than you meant to.

“Are you kidding me? Fucking look at you, shit. So damn beautiful. I can’t stand it.”

Minho let go of your face and backed away to take in your skin-tight dress, picked with care for the stupid frat party he had pulled you away from, the one that you didn't even want to go to— your hands twitched with the urge to cross your arms, hide and protect yourself in some way from Minho's piercing stare. Your little red dress barely covers the tops of your thighs, thin gold necklace sitting pretty just above the cleavage of your plush tits, spilling out over a push-up bra. Your outfit is complete with deep crimson lipstick painted on your quivering lips— Minho stared at them, wild and hungry, and it takes everything you have not to moan aloud.

"Slutty girl," Minho hummed, hand sliding up to caress at your exposed thigh. “So desperate for my attention… Gotta go whore yourself out so you can get put back in your fucking place? Remind you who you belong to?"

"I don't belong to you." You snapped. "We're not together, Minho-- you don't get to act like this when I see you with a different girl every week."

Minho just laughed, mean and ugly and right in your face, grabbing a rough handful of your thigh and squeezing. "Oh yeah?" he goads, the smirk on his lips doing little to hide the rage in his eyes. "You’re the one who keeps coming back for more, baby— just can’t live without this cock, huh? Constantly telling me it's over then crawling back into my bed. you’re not my girl but that pussy’s mine.”

"Fuck you," you spat, tears in your eyes.

Minho grinned venomously, opening up a pit in your stomach; his thumb ghosted across your skin, inched it's way underneath your dress, leaving a line of fire in it's wake. "Yeah, I know you want to."

You whimpered, torn halfway between pushing him off of you and begging for his touch-- the latter wins, despite all of your anger, your conflicted feelings. It always does. "please, Min--" you plead, desperate and wobbly, unsure of what you're even begging for.

"Get on your knees."

And like the slut you are, your knees hit the cold tile floor without any protest.

You were met immediately with the sight of Minho’s hard on, the outline of his thick cock straining the fly of his jeans. "'Atta girl,” Minho hummed, his voice low, one hand coming to cup your head and the other reaching to fumble with his belt. He looks his prettiest like this, you think, towering above you. Commanding attention and respect, no matter how lowly he treated you. He tugged his belt open, leaves it dangling from his belt loops, quick and rough in unzipping his fly; your mouth watered, eyes wide and hazy as you watch him pull his stiff cock out of his boxers, his shaft slapping obscenely against his belly. “Gonna fuck your face, gonna ruin that pretty throat— open wide, baby.”

His cock was flushed pretty pink and leaking precum, flared tip shiny and throbbing, begging for your tongue— you wasted no time to trail chaste kitten licks over the dripping slit, relish in the way Minho’s breath hitches from the feeling, his fingers tangling in your hair. You closed your eyes in rapture, lose yourself in the salty, bitter taste of his shaft… and Minho grunted low in his throat, tightened around a fistful of your hair and pulled you back off his dick harshly, shaking you out of your reverie and knocking you nearly on your ass in surprise.

“Said I was gonna fuck your throat, stupid bitch. Open your fucking mouth and stop teasing.”

Rougher than usual, he pushed you back to take his cock into your mouth, shoved you all the way down to his twitching balls. You gagged violently, tears collecting in your lash lines. “There we go,” Minho hissed, the hand in your hair rubbing soothingly over your burning scalp. “Take it like a good girl.”

He began to thrust into your throat in true earnest, uncaring for your comfort, heavy balls slapping against your chin in a dizzying rhythm— your whines and whimpers were muffled by his cock, nasty wet noises filling the bathroom as your boyfriend uses you like a toy; the perfect backing vocals for the slow song playing outside. “Shit!” Minho whined, his hips stuttering, your nose bumping up against his pelvis— your lips left smeared red marks along his shaft and the base of his dick, and some sick satisfaction bubbles up inside of you, makes you smile around the cock fucking your throat open; while Minho ruins your makeup, leaves you gasping, drooling and choking, you’re marking him up too. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl--!"

Your pussy throbbed, empty and aching, and it registered somewhere in the back of your mind that you were crying, hot tears and ruined mascara streaming down your flushed cheeks as Minho fucked your face. "I'm-- shit, I'm gonna cum! Gonna take it, yeah? Gonna make everyone know you're mine, all mine-- fuck, 'm cumming--!"

Your eyes rolled back in delight, pretty painted mouth opening impossibly wider in preparation to take his load, but it never came— to your shock and awe, Minho pulled you off of his cock with a sickening pop, just seconds before rope after rope of hot, thick semen shoots all over your face. On your nose, cheeks, chin, some droplets falling on the flat of your tongue— you moaned at the taste despite the abject horror settling in your chest. And you watch, wide eyed and too dazed and dizzy to fight back, as Minho pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. He smirked down at his phone screen before turning it around for you to see.

You were a mess. Your hair was disheveled, tangled everywhere from Minho’s hands. Your makeup was ruined, all over your face in tear-stained streaks... your face was pink and blotchy, shiny with splatterings of Minho’s cum, and your lipstick was smeared across your cheek, nearly to your ear. You gasped, frozen in place, unable to react any other way... Minho's smirk broke into a laugh, hollow and evil and eating you alive.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” Minho snickered, sliding his phone back in his back pocket. "Might just have to show you off-- such a pretty picture deserves to be shared, don't you think?"

He’s quick to tuck his soft— still lipstick stained— cock back into his jeans and buckle back up his belt, fix his hair in the mirror. He looks a little sweaty but otherwise well-kept, and you wish now that you had kissed him more, marked up his face and neck with lipstick too and not just his dick, when you had the chance. "Clean yourself up, won’t you? You look like a mess.” 

And with that, Minho unlocked  the door and stepped  out of the bathroom, shutting it behind him with a dull click. 

#skz x reader #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #lee know smut #minho x reader

[geometricgiovanni]

have you thought that maybe, i don't know, stalking his socials and making what i presume are hurtful comments on their blog, isn't the best idea??

be butt-hurt all you want over the fact she broke up with you randomly, cry in the couch and eat ice-cream in your. . . interesting house, but doing that isn't getting you any closer to why he decided to leave, only getting you farther.

you CAN ask them, but i doubt he wants to see your ass, so suck it up?? maybe think of the fact that maybe she had enough, i would've to tbh. you said you have had arguments with them, and which that is normal in a relationship, but with it ending with Unplez saying "go fuck yourself" which seems NORMAL, means you probs weren't good at the whole talking thing, and talking is pretty important.

also your house is disgusting, work on that, maybe get your pet to eat it all i dont know.

so maybe i don't know, become a better guy?? if i was literally a dickhead i would say, go ask one of his friends to ask why she broke up with you but i doubt anyone would want to talk to you so yeah! go kidnap more people or something, since it seems you have not one good coping mechanism.

your a cool guy tho!!1 like ur blog, pink square

WHAT THE FUCK DUDE ?! WHAT DID I DO TO YOU ??? QUIT ACTING LIKE YOU KNOW ME, FREAK !

SERIOUSLY, YOU ALL SERIOUSLY DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW UNPLEASANT ACTED AS WELL AS I DO -- IF YOU DID, YOU'D UNDERSTAND MY POINT OF VIEW !

I DON'T WANT TO CALL HIM "UNSTABLE", BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE IT ! HER GOOD MOOD COULD SHIFT IN MERE MOMENTS, AND I WOULD NEVER FIGURE OUT WHAT CAUSED IT !

HE GOT DEFENSIVE -- NOT JUST ANGRY, DEFENSIVE. HE MADE EXCUSES FOR EVERY LITTLE THING HE DID, AND IF HE COULDN'T COME UP WITH ANYTHING, HE ACCUSED ME OF FEELING A CERTAIN WAY ABOUT HIM...

"Is that all you fucking do? Watch and laugh!? Everything I do is one big fucking joke, is that it!?"

SHE STARTED AND ENDED EVERY ARGUMENT, AND ONLY HAD A PROBLEM WITH WHAT I WAS DOING IF IT INCONVENIENCED HER IN SOME WAY !

AND QUIT COMMENTING ON MY HOUSE ! SO LONG AS I CAN MOVE FROM THE DOOR TO THE LOUNGE, THERE'S HONESTLY NOTHING WRONG !

#geometric asks #plz the roasting paragraphs are SO FUNNY #AND THEN FINISHING IT OFF WITH A COMPLIMENT IM CACKLING #“u actually suck as a person and nobody likes u. luv ya!!!!!”

[etherealily]

𝕓𝕦𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤 // 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗱𝗮𝗶𝗿.

Finnick Odair + fem!reader, brother's best friend (ahhh!), you don't get it, i love this man

Warning: Cuss words .

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : Finnick makes quite an impression.

"Hey, what's up, man, if you could just pack up- oh."

You don't even have to turn to know just who in the hell was standing in front of the window of your family's bakery. And this is the one day you decide not to care about how frosting-splattered your apron is, how flour-smeared your hands are. So your brother wasn't lying. He really was all buddy-buddy with Finnick fucking Odair. And this was the one Thursday you decide to actually fill in for him.

"Uh, be right out, sir."

Sir? Sir? Did you really just call him Sir? Well, I mean, yeah, he's a customer, but still... sir? That's too fake. He's going to wig out, he's going to-

"Of course. Take your time. I'm in no rush."

-Be uncharacteristically patient. Hm. Weird. Odd.

Quickly patting off the flour on your hands and watching the flakes fall onto the counter, you wipe your palms roughly on your apron, turning around.

His eyes are fucking ethereal. It's everything you can do to not immediately think of how you would go about replicating the sea-green of them into a frosting colour, or something. However, you decide, it'd be very hard, seeing as there were a kaleidoscope of other hues in there, a tinge of gold, here and there, like flecks of stardust, for one.

The muscles at the front of his arms - across his chest, as he stands - clench, as though he's tightening them. And then you realise : he's waiting.

"So sorry for the wait. How can I help you?"

"Who are you?"

What ?

"Excuse me?"

"Not interrogating you.", he informs you, raising a hand to cut you short. The fucking audacity . "Never seen you before."

"Well, you're seeing me now."

"How do I know you're not just someone stealing from the store?", he inquires, in mock concern. His eyebrows raise just slightly, playfully, even, as he trains his eyes on yours.

Does he also think about how he can replicate the colours in other people's eyes, or is he normal?

"Uh, I've got a key , for one.", you retort, jiggling the keys that you've shoved deep into your apron's pocket.

He shrugs, interlocking his fingers tightly as he cracks his knuckles, tilting his head. "Could be stolen."

"I'm the owner's daughter, Y/N ?"

"Insufficient proof of that.", he shoots back, teeth grazing ever so slightly on his bottom lip as he battles a smirk. "C'mon, do better than that. I'm this close to calling the Peacekeepers, y'know?"

"I can bake a cake?", you suggest, unsure why you're even going along with this.

Oh right, because he's Finnick Odair.

"So can I.", he replies, now resting his elbow down on the windowsill of that godforsaken window your family sold their goods from. You'd always thought it was cute, but now, with the lack of a counter between the two of you, like the normal bakeries, you were resenting the idea. "You're not really selling your identity, you know?"

"I'm literally baking a cake right now.", you exclaim, pointing at your clothes and the oven in which a hopefully delicious cake was rising. "What kind of pathetic thief would help the store they're stealing from?"

"You could be trying to blend in."

"Okay, look, I don't care what you think, Sir. I'm the owner of this place, so you either get your goods or go."

"Good.", he chuckles, softly, although his tone turns slightly, seamlessly more serious. "That's good. That's the response you give, you got that?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What?"

"If someone ever makes you doubt who you are, if someone ever...", he swallows, licking his lips for a moment, looking away before continuing, "... ever forces an identity on you. I don't care what you think, I know who I am . That's what you say."

"You came all the way here, did all that, just to... teach me a life lesson?"

"You don't like it? Come on, that was a cool segue, you gotta admit.", he asks, clearly shoving whatever else he was feeling into the back burner as he snickers.

"Threatening to call the Peacekeepers on me? Oh, yeah, that's very cool ."

"Hey, I managed to get your name, didn't I? Doubt you'd have let me get that far any other way."

Not true. You'd have given him your name. Hell, you'd have given up your last name for him, had he asked normally.

"And what do you need my name for?"

"I don't know.", he shrugs, palpably pushing any dirty responses he might've had away. "Maybe I just want to know?"

"You must have a reason."

"You know what, yeah, usually, I have a reason for everything.", he replies, giving you the charming smile you've seen on television almost a thousand times. "But this time, I don't."

That was so infuriatingly expected. Of course Finnick Odair couldn't have just fucking asked for your name like a normal person.

"Do you at least have a reason as to why you're at my store?"

"Your family's store, sweetie, and yeah, I do.", he says, pointing at a tray of half-a-dozen shimmery blue cupcakes with the number '4' frosted boastfully onto them. "Pack those up for me, will you? My order."

"Insufficient proof of that.", you reply, crossing your arms and mirroring his position from when he'd said those words. "Unless you've got a receipt, which we don't give to urgent orders so there's no chance you could have one , I don't see how you're walking away from here with them."

He laughs, heartily, nodding as though impressed. "Funny. Look, let's not make this more complicated than it should be, yeah? You're a pissed off, whiny little girl who can't take a joke, and I'm Finnick Odair. Just give me the cupcakes."

You scoff, audibly scoff at that. The nerve of him. "I'm not a little girl."

"Your brother tells me you cry when you see butterflies? Like... full-on bawl?"

You'd fucking murder your brother the next time you saw him, that was for sure.

"They're ethereal, and very rare."

"They're insects.", he reasons, shaking his head as he rests his head on his palm, tilting his head and gazing at you condescendingly, like you really were a child.

"Shut up."

He snorts, softly. "Give me the damn cupcakes, sweetie."

"Or what, you'll seduce me into giving them to you?"

His face falls, for a moment, his grin faltering. Then, with a sigh that was an infuriating mix of amused, disappointed and enigmatic, he nods. "That's what I'm known for, right? I could do it, you know? Really effectively, too."

"That wouldn't work on me."

"Give me the damn cupcakes, Y/N."

"How do I know you've paid for them?"

"You'll have to take my word for it. It's called trust, ever heard of it?"

"It's called not being a pompous asshole, ever heard of it?"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you turn your back to him, bringing the tray over to the window sill. "Brought your own bag?"

He nods, a slightly triumphant smile - that you choose to ignore, thank you very much - on his face as he hands it to you, then nodding to the bag. "It's all the rage in the Capitol, you know?"

"Oh, I know. I see the Capitol freaks with it all the time on TV.", you mutter, gently bringing out each cupcake and placing them in each indent in the box you'd brought out. "Any embellishments you want before I put them in the bag?"

"Like a bow or something?"

"Yeah, like a bow, a card, some extra sprinkles taped to the box.", you shrug, feigning nonchalance. The urge to draw him was getting way too strong, and it was the most peculiar feeling ever - one you'd never felt before. Capturing him, in a way the cameras he was always swarmed by never could, that would be perfect.

"Yeah, card would be nice."

"What would you like on it?", you ask, sliding a card over from the cardboard box overflowing with them, as you click open a pen.

He raises a brow. "Do you have good handwriting?"

You tsk, shoving the pen in his face. "Here, you do it, then."

He giggles, mischief swirling in his eyes as he takes the pen from you. "Probably best." He clears his throat, dramatically, giving you a matter-of-fact look before he begins writing. "Dear President Snow, wishing you a Happy Reaping Day, with a delicacy from District Four- uh, what do you call these, sweetie?"

"Cupcakes?"

"Something cooler." He narrows his eyes at you, tapping the pen on the counter.

"Cupcakes from the Bakery Around The Corner? Seriously, this is District Four, we're not the Capitol - we don't have fancy icing and a quirky little name for each of our orders."

"Yeah, but he does this thing where each year, you have to bring a new delicacy from your District.", he mutters, a slight scoff present in his voice. "Reaping Day special. So I need a cool name."

Interesting. That almost sounded like resentment, from the Golden Boy to the President.

"I'm flattered you consider my cupcakes delicacies."

"Okay, look, your cupcakes are good, delicious, even, but they're not delicacies.", he reminds, keeping the stream of insults you were throwing at each other going. "I just need to give him something other than seafood this year, apparently."

"Well, that's stupid. We're the fishing district."

"Like he gives a flying fuck. What Coriolanus Snow wants, Coriolanus Snow gets."

You snort, covering your mouth. "That's his name?"

"What, did you think it was President ?", he asks, still not looking up from the card as he spins the pen around between his fingers - both calloused and delicate, preserved and wild.

"No, I thought it'd be something more normal."

He tsks. "Seriously, come up with a name for these things."

"They're for you , so call them Odairs, or something, I don't know. Should stroke your ego, too, so it's a win-win."

"These are supposed to be delicacies. Like, a form of pride among our people. I can't name them after me, no matter how awesome that would be.", he adds, with a slight grin.

"Whores from District Four.", you chuckle, shaking your head. "Call them that."

"Why, 'cause I'm the 'Whore from Four' ?", he asks, smirking. "That's a no-no word, you know?"

"Yeah, well, my patience is thinning with you, Odair."

He snickers, softly, chewing the inside of his cheek, still staring at the card. "You know what, fuck it. Whores it is."

"Really? Just go with no card."

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, a card is expected.", he sighs, spinning the pen around. "I should just call them whores. But, you know, spelt with an 'h'. What's he gonna do, ask around the District 4 marketplace for 'hores'?"

You laugh. "Hey, if that works...", you salute him, nodding. He writes with soft, almost enchanting strokes, and then signs his name.

"Thanks, Y/N.", he adds, after you finish taping the note precisely to the centre of the box's lid, before gently lowering it into his Capitol bag. "If this works, I'm paying you extra."

"If President Snow comes around asking for my District-famous 'hores', I'll pay you extra."

══════════════════ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══════════════════

The muffled rush of the waterfall, and the feathery tufts of grass you were laying on almost help you enjoy life , for once, and help you forget that Reaping Day is tomorrow. Almost.

"You know you're not supposed to be out here, right, sugar?"

And then suddenly, the 4 o'clock sun isn't the thing that's blinding your senses.

It's him, instead.

Towering over you, almost gleaming hair threatening to spill over and disrupt the calm in the pool of his eyes, he tilts his head mockingly.

"I know."

He gapes in mock scandal. "Aren't you the little rebel?", he muses, raising a brow in amusement before offering you his hand.

You grab it, and he hauls you up with admirable ease. "Your cupcakes were a hit, sweetie. Absolute hit.", he informs, with the twinkly grin that comes with being Finnick Odair.

His mildly calloused hand still grips yours tightly.

"I see. You're welcome."

He shrugs, nodding. "Yeah, I suppose you deserve the thanks."

The silence sweeps past you, the only sounds embossed in both of your hushed breaths, in the gentle songs of birds, the faint roar of the waterfall, and suddenly, his voice, smooth as a wave embracing the shore.

"Come on."

"Where?"

"Trust me."

When Finnick Odair asks you to trust him, you do. Rule number one of the rule book of... well, life.

"If you take me to some Capitol party-"

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I promise, the last place I'm ever taking you is the Capitol. In fact, it can be said I'm doing the exact opposite."

You raise a brow. "What, you're taking me in the opposite direction? As far away from the Capitol as possible?"

His eyes dart around, above, behind and beside you, before they finally land on yours, and he nods, slowly, hesitantly. "Yeah, exactly.", he muses, his words drawn out as if he was unsure of them, too.

Bad sign.

"You're taking me out the borders?", you hiss, lowering your voice and glaring sharply at him. "That's illegal, Golden Boy."

"Don't call me that. Not here, in District 4."

You scoff. The audacity running through his veins was insufferable. "I'll call you whatever I damn want to. You trying to get me killed or turned into an Avox?"

"I'm trying to show you something!", he snaps, using his tense grasp on your hand to draw you closer, so that your foreheads were borderline touching. See, this was bad, this was bad, this was-

"Just let me!", he continues, his voice almost pleading. "You think I don't know it's Reaping Day tomorrow? That you could get picked to go die in the Games?"

"No, you're just the one helping us go die."

"You shut up.", he hisses, a finger in your face. "Don't say things you know nothing about. I'm a mentor."

"Did you even try with the tributes from last year? Or the year before that? Because I heard that-"

"What you heard is fucking-", he cuts himself short, taking a deep breath. "Please. Just follow me. For the love of God.", he orders, gently tugging you along.

Not like you even wanted to pull away - this was Finnick Odair.

"What is it you love most about District 4?"

"What?"

"District 4. What is it you love most about it?"

"It's home.", you shrug. "What else is there?"

"Yeah, but I mean, with time, any place is home. Have you never wanted to leave, to explore?"

It's times like these you realize your parents' bakery isn't that important- you'd sell the whole thing to figure out what was going on in that angelic head of his. His words lilting through your senses like sea-breeze.

"I'm exploring as much as I can right now."

He pauses for a moment, turning around. Dimples. "I'm glad I can be your guide, then."

Shut the fuck up, freak of nature. Stop with your beautiful words.

You almost say that. You don't, though.

"Okay, can you jump for me?"

"Jump?", you ask, looking over his shoulder at the huge gap between the part of the rock you were on, and the one you were supposed to go to. "No way."

"Come on, you can do it.", he says, leaping over the humongous gap as if he were playing hopscotch. "I'll catch you."

That's not the part you're worried about. The part you're worried about is you chickening out in front of the Finnick Odair. The interviews he would go through.

'Oh, yes, Hunger Games or not, tragic deaths have always been part of my everyday. Just the other week, a girl I knew slipped near a waterfall and plummeted to her death. Tragic. But I got over it because I'm Finnick Odair. I'm hot. And rich. And did I mention, hot?'

The entire nation wouldn't mourn you. It'd mourn the fact that poor Darling Finnick Odair had to watch you die.

"I don't know about this, Odair."

"Trust me."

That's the second time this man had asked you to trust him tonight. Rule of life.

"I swear, it'll be worth it. Take a leap of faith. Literally."

You grimace, pursing your lips. Your eyes move-

"Don't!", he yells, suddenly, waving his hand from across the abyss so your eyes land on it. "DON'T look down. Just look at me. Leap to me."

Reach for his eyes. Those pools of moss green and cerulean blue that make you want to embrace and destroy the planet for being able to create something so perfect.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to convince yourself he'll catch you. It's an excuse to look at his muscles, yeah, but still, he's strong enough. He'll catch you.

I won't die in front of Finnick Odair.

And you leap.

Instantly, your feet slip on the wet rock on the other side, and you grip onto Finnick's shoulders as he wraps his arms around you.

"Toldja."

"Shut up. I almost died."

"So dramatic.", he chuckles, gently letting go of you as he leads you further behind the waterfall, the tufts of grass on which you lay now faintly visible through the gushing water between you and them.

"There's a tiny cave kind of thing here. Look."

You squint, kneeling down in front of the entrance.

"Don't be shy. Come in."

You crouch down, taking his hand as he leads you further into the cave, walking gingerly until you see a tiny pool, illuminated by a golden ray of sunlight spilling through from a crack in the stone above.

Good god.

And around it, as though crafted for you, placed for your perusal, were hordes of glass-blue butterflies, fragile, delicate, and oh-so-ethereal, twirling around each other, bathed in all directions by the beam of light, which flowed through their transparent wings.

Finnick Odair, marry me.

"So?", he asks, breath gently brushing your ear. "What do you think?" The eagerness in his eyes was obvious, as though he were a child showing you the scribbles he'd just made.

"I..."

"I thought, y'know, I mean, I get excited about the ocean, so there's no reason for you not to get excited about butterflies."

"How did you find this place?", you ask, breathless.

"That's a secret."

Your eyes are transfixed onto the flapping of wings, the distribution of gold, the surreality of it all. It's almost godly. It's so breathtaking, you genuinely need to sit down. He sits with you.

"Are you scared for tomorrow?"

"That's a secret."

He smiles, softly, though the sadness in his expression is palpable and inevitable. It irks you. The way he is supposed to be, according to you, is spinning around the shoreline, laughing as he dances with the waves, sand on his hands and knees, a tan kissing his skin. That's how he must remain, and that is how you will draw him, if you ever get to.

After a tiny while, though, he leans back, against the rock behind him, eyes still trained on your awe as you watch the butterflies glide around blissfully, before looking out, at the curtain of water flowing and concealing the entrance of this little slice of paradise he'd found for you.

"You know, you could just stay here till tomorrow. You don't even have to go to Reaping Day."

"Oh, yeah, because that's smart. I'll be arrested."

"Then just don't go back."

"Leave my family to get punished?"

"Please tell me you didn't need tesserae."

"Well, before you, barely anyone from our District won, and if they did, they most definitely didn't share."

He groans, running his hands over his face. "So it's not even a fair chance."

You shake your head. "It's fine, though." Has been for five years.

He scoffs, borderline laughing at you, derisively. "Please elaborate."

"If you managed to find the one tiny place on earth where butterflies still thrive, and it happened to be here, by the waterfall I spent my whole life admiring, then, there's a chance I won't be reaped."

"You're extraordinary. Genuinely. Phenomenal. Splendid. Fabulous. Amazing." Was that awe in his voice? Awe at... you? What you just said?

"Are you buttering me up because I might be picked to die tomorrow?"

"I'm buttering you up because you're incredible."

Drawing him isn't enough.

Sonnets, prose, stories, love songs, ballads.

Those would be enough.

"If I get reaped, you better mentor me good."

"If you get reaped, you'll win. I'll get you sponsors, I'll train you so that you'll be an absolute force to reckon with."

The promises are beautiful and fragile and absolutely ludicrous. But that would be the name of his biography.

"If I survive, we're coming here every day."

It's like you've already resigned yourself to the fact that you were going to get chosen.

"You're a Career. You'll be fine."

"Who are you trying to convince?"

Silence suddenly enters the cave.

"We should go."

Both of you say it, both of you agree, and both of you get up.

"Thank you, Finnick."

His name tastes oddly sweet coming out of your mouth. However, the next moment shows that his lips taste even sweeter.

His fucking dimples.

"C'mon. I think this time, leaping will be easier."

What he means by that, you don't know.

Not like you want to, not immediately. Spending your whole life trying to figure him out seemed like a solid career plan.

You leap again.

#finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick imagine #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair headcanons #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick odair drabbles #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x y/n #x reader #modern finnick odair #finnick odair blurb #thg #the hunger games finnick #the hunger games blurb #the hunger games headcanons

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

So, I'm curious: What's your take on Aylin's experience after/if she kills Lorroakan?

Allegedly, there's some information floating around somewhere that said Aylin was angry with Selune after she killed Lorroakan, but I can't find where this info is.

If you saw posts about that here on tumblr it was probably posted by @justanotherignot! I've actually been meaning to gather up all the devnote tidbits about Selûne from Aylin and Isobel for a while now, so thank you for the excuse to do so and ramble a bit.

Player: I was just wondering what it was like in that cage of Balthazar's. Aylin: Let us not dwell on those dark days. Their memory is a vortex within my heart that leads directly to the Hells.

What is happening is, well, it's the century of unthinkable horror catching up to her. It's the Trauma(TM) - in one of the conversation options she's literally triggered by the mention of someone being run through repeatedly! It's the growing awareness that although she's been freed (and possibly reunited with her love), the secret is out and there are always going to be assholes gunning for her, aiming to use her as an "artefact" and power source to fuel their ambitions, without any regard for her, you know... basic personhood and well-being. Also, Lorroakan was blatantly lying. He didn't find any super special way to siphon her immortality with "no harm, no pain of any kind", he was just replicating Balthazar's soul cage (you can even find a letter from Ketheric to him, showing Lorroakan was pestering them).

On to the stuff from the game files! First, the conversation with Aylin directly after the Lorroakan fight in the tower. I'm going to be putting the context notes in square brackets next to the lines they apply to. I also plucked some audio out from the files for some of these because I love the delivery.

Aylin: The fire-haired fool is dead. Yet as I stare upon his corpse, I feel… sadness. Why? [Slow and curious, angry and confused by all that has happened.] Player: What kind of sadness is it? / I know something of sadness - or at least the ballads do. What does it feel like? Aylin: A gripping in the chest. As though I'd lost someone, something. [Lost in thought for a moment; confused.] Aylin: A paladin's fatigue, no doubt. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side. [Remembering herself. She is Dame Aylin.] Aylin: I will catch my breath, then to camp I will bring my bones. Moonmaiden be with you. Player: Smiting is a weighty duty - sometimes it can be tiring. / Perhaps smiting has lost its pleasures. Aylin: Say it can't be so. For I am Selûne's sword. And ever must be. [She means it, but on the periphery of her consciousness is a tiny crack. Wondering about her fate.]

The above never fails to get me - she is Dame Aylin! Sword of the Moonmaiden! Glorious immortal paladin, champion of a righteous cause! She smites evil-doers for breakfast, that's, like, her whole thing! What do you mean she can't just pick up where she left off and go about her merry smitey way? What do you mean the thing that is supposed to be the literal core of her entire being (forever) doesn't feel good and glorious anymore, but just makes her feel sad and empty? No, no, no, we can't have that.

Player: One of the greatest tragedies of revenge is that it can only be taken once. / Because you won't get to kill him again? Aylin: Perhaps. Yet if I could run him through a thousand times, I wonder-- [Lost in thought, she's been triggered to remember her own fate being run through over and over.] Aylin: Battle has tired my mind, made me susceptible to flights of fancy. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side.

Aylin: I will return to camp shortly. I just need a moment to… to… [Lost in thought.]

She so very desperately needs some rest and a chance to come to terms with everything that happened and that was done to her. And it's clear it's going to be hard because she is defaulting to trying to deny anything is wrong, is clearly trying (and failing) to just be her old self immediately, has blatantly internalised a lot of that classic I Am A Sword stuff on top of everything (even though her mother is huge on free will and choice!), and is just really not well-equipped to handle any of this at all.

Next, this is the post-Lorroakan convo you get if you have both Aylin and Isobel in camp.

Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.] Aylin: I was just regaling sweet Isobel with tales of our prowess. Isobel: Very impressive. Thank you for helping Aylin - that wizard sounded absolutely dastardly. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - she's not sure why Aylin isn't herself.] Player: My pleasure. He had it coming. Aylin: He did, and it came. Now, my friend: bask in your victory. I will do the same. Aylin: But fear not: when the time comes for you to face the foe of foes, Isobel and I will stand by your side. [Rallying her soldierly spirit, but still a little drained.] Isobel: We wouldn't miss it. Not for anything. Aylin: Go well, friend. We will see you soon. And with our great powers combined, this city will be saved. Player: Hopefully he'll be the last. Aylin: There are always more bastards behind bastards. But we will run through them all, each by each.

Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin. Aylin: I always do, with darling Isobel by my side. Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of Lorroakan's death in your mind like silkfloss.

If Isobel isn't there (meaning she died in Act 2), you get this version:

Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.] Aylin: I was just reviewing our fight against foul Lorroakan; your moves and mine. The victory was soundly won. Aylin: Don't you think? [Uncharacteristically, Aylin is seeking input. She's usually so confident about everything, but killing Lorroakan has not had the intended effect on her.] Player: Indeed I do. Let his demise serve as a warning to anyone else who'd seek you out. Aylin: Let him be the last. If my dear mother has any mercy, she will ensure it. [Trying to stay her usual self, but her mask is cracking a tiny bit here. Privately, Aylin is dealing with a great deal of anger toward her mother, the goddess Selûne, But she's not yet willing to face it. How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?]

Player: We fought well - though I was a little worried about you afterward, in truth. Aylin: Set your mind at ease, my friend. Dame Aylin is more well now than she has been this past century. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - it's true she's better now than she has been, but why does she feel so shitty, then? (She's in the beginning of reckoning with the trauma of what happened to her).]

Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin. Aylin: Yes. I wish for the very same. Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of our prowess in your mind like silkfloss.

So, a few things pop out for me here. First, you get the more explicit anger at Selûne if Isobel isn't there, as opposed to the "hahah, I will smite all the bastards who dare come after me, no matter how many there are" line. "How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?" just... damn, hits hard, even if you subscribe to the theory that Selûne simply could not intervene in the Shadowfell imprisonment beyond sending those poor people whose graves you find in front of the mausoleum.

And here Aylin really lays it on thick with the denial that there's anything wrong at all. Combined with the letter you get from her in the epilogue if Isobel is dead, it just paints such a bleak, sad picture. I can just see her going all out on the Sword of Selûne duty-bound paladin side of things, no rest, no healing, no stopping even for a moment, no dealing with anything at all, from the trauma to the bitterness towards mum. Until whatever horrible breaking point comes, a year or a century from now. The need for Isobel's humanising influence is so clear. I've touched on Isobel's side of things here.

Speaking of having a bone to pick with Selûne, if you're playing as a cleric/paladin of Selûne, you can get some extra very honest dialogue with Isobel in Last Light:

Player: Why has the Moonmaiden waited until now to take an interest in this curse? Isobel: Maybe she was waiting for one of us to find this place ourselves. Free will, and all that.

Isobel: Though if it were my place to ask why she let Ketheric turn; why she allowed this village to rot at his hands - believe me, I would. [A cold edge in her voice]

Player: Are you faring all right? It can't be easy holding a lone candle in such darkness. Isobel: All things with her strength. You know the litany. [A little sarcastically. She's got a bone to pick with Selûne but isn't being too overt.]

Side note: the amount of devnotes for Isobel's lines that say she's delivering them "with swagger" and being "cheeky" makes me smile every time. Love her. Love her snark.

Also, to get it out of the way: no, I'm fairly sure Aylin did not break her oath. I see this brought up a ton and I just see no way for it to be the case. There is nothing to suggest this outside of a wording similarity and it just makes no sense. Girl is clearly some flavour of Oath of Vengeance (she uses Abjure Enemy, so this is the case even mechanically, even though she's obviously an NPC and not a standard player-build paladin) and she killed a very shitty guy who was also explicitly after her in godawful ways. You can do far worse things in the game than her dramatic speech and backbreaker and not break you OoV.

#sorry this took so long! #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dame aylin #isobel thorm #lorroakan #datamine #voice lines #audio #i'm stopping myself here but i could go on about this FOREVER #time for the comfort part of the hurt/comfort let's goooooooooo #oathkeeper replies to things

[annwrites]

you missed training ※∴

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: shane deems it time for you to have some private target practice lessons with him.

— tags: shane has horny thoughts about you, cuddling, shane actually giving a damn

— tw: guns, suicidal ideation, mentions of masturbation, eating

— word count: 4,773

— a/n: i know this fic references some past events between shane & the reader, but this is just one part of a series of posts i plan to write for shane. i do have another post up, which is about shane's "offer" to the reader (taking their virginity).

You shove a clothespin into place before picking up the next item—one of Andrea’s pairs of cargo pants—and jump when you feel a palm against your back, causing you to nearly drop the damp piece of clothing. You clutch it to your chest instead, thankful they won’t need to be rewashed.

You turn to your right where Shane is now standing, palm still firmly in-place against your backside.

“Yes?” You ask as you hang the pants. You then turn fully toward him, causing him to drop his hand.

“You missed training.”

You shrug, bending down to pick up a t-shirt, but he takes it from you, throwing it on the line without clothespins, just to get your attention back on him. “Can you just stop for a minute and look at me?”

You sigh, doing as he’s asked, crossing your arms.

“I asked you to come,” he says, clearly not pleased with you.

“There was work to do.”

He shakes his head, placing his hands on his hips, and you can tell his temper is nearly at its boiling point. Not that it isn't always anymore, it seems.

“That’s always your excuse. For everything. And I’m gettin’ tired of hearin’ it.”

You give him a none-too-pleased look at the attitude now lacing his tone, and go to pick up a pair of clothespins so the shirt can be properly hanged, and not risk being blown away by the wind, but he takes them from you, throwing them back into the basket before grabbing your hand in his and pulling you away from laundry duty.

“Shane-” You start, but he promptly interrupts you.

He turns back to you, your hand still held firmly within his calloused grip. “I am tired of askin’ nicely. This is important, and you’re going to learn whether you like it or not.”

You can feel your face growing warm, your pulse rising. You do not appreciate being made into just one more person he thinks he can boss around as he pleases. “I don’t need lessons.”

He gives you a look which says ‘yeah right’ before releasing your hand and pulling his pistol from its holster. He goes to hand it to you and you take it from him with caution. And don’t you dare think he doesn’t notice the fear with which you handle the weapon with.

“Alright, then. You know everything you need to know, then show me where the safety is.”

You look the sidearm over, looking for the right button, but look up to him in humiliation after a moment. You can’t even find it within yourself to tell him you don’t know.

He crosses his arms. “Show me how to eject the clip, then.”

Once again, you’re not sure which button will do what he’s asked for.

With an exasperated sigh, he takes the gun from you, tucking it back into its holster. “You want to tell me about how you don’t need training again?”

You shift from one foot to the other, refusing to answer.

“Not going to answer me now?”

You look up to him. Into his eyes which are searching yours. You shrug.

Shane hangs his head, shaking it. “Sweetheart, you want to explain to me why you’re so reluctant to learn a new way to defend yourself? A pretty important one?”

You look away from him, to those milling around the camp, talking and laughing amongst themselves. And then you look the other way, to an empty field. Tranquility, solitude. Peace.

“Learning self-defense means that I feel like I still have a life worth defending—worth living. That I feel like I’m worth defending.” You look at him then. “I don’t believe any of that.”

He lets out a low swear. “I thought we were past this.”

“You keep insisting on saving someone who doesn’t want to be saved, Shane. I never asked for you to bring me with you all from the quarry. Never asked for you to drag me out of the CDC. Never asked for you to help me on the highway. I made my choice over and over again and you refuse to accept that.”

He grimaces, his fists tightening at his sides. “Just because you think you’re not worth saving doesn’t mean everybody else has to think that. Because I don’t. Which I’ve proved time and again. You’re-” He rubs his hand over his head, settling it on his hip. “You’re one of the most valuable members of this group. You-”

You interrupt him with a laugh which has no humor behind it. “Valuable? Valuable how, Shane? By doing laundry? By helping make lunch and cleaning out the RV?”

He shakes his head. “It’s more than that and you know it. Just because you don’t see your self-worth doesn’t mean I don’t. Because I do.”

You continue to stare up at him, fighting against the tears threatening to overtake your vision. A tear slips from one of your eyes anyway and he reaches up, gently brushing it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m going to keep saving you until one day I don’t have to anymore. Because you’ve finally made the decision to live. So, are we going to go practice? Because if you tell me no, girl, I’ll just keep on your case about it until-”

“Ok.”

He shuts his mouth suddenly, a small grin gracing his lips. “Yeah?”

“I said ok.”

He jerks his head in the direction of the training area they’d set up some ways off from the house and camp. “C’mon then.”

He places his palm against the small of your back again, leading you away from camp.

The Georgia heat could be insufferable some days, but at least today was a bit cooler, even by a few degrees, with a slight breeze. The sun was low enough for the trees behind the training area to be casting long shadows, shielding you from the sun overhead.

Shane leads you over to a bit of fence that has a row of bottles set up beyond it, along with a couple of targets.

“Alright, here.” He stops you in the middle, the targets all directly beyond where you’re standing.

He removes the gun from its holster again. “This is your safety,” he says, flipping a small switch on the side, a red dot now visibile. He looks at you, and you at him. “Red means fire.” He flips the switch back.

“And this is how you release your clip.” He presses a button on the side and the bottom of the pistol comes out, a row of shiny bullets now visible. “It’s fully loaded.”

He pushes the clip back in.

“You know your stance?”

You shake your head, feeling more and more ignorant with every question he asks. You’d never had a reason to learn these things…before.

“I figured as much,” he says with a smile, coming to stand behind you.

He kicks your feet apart with his boot. “Move your right foot forward some—good, like that. Now, turn.” He grips your hips in both of his hands, firmly, turning your body just the least bit toward the fence. Shane then removes his gun from its holster and holds it out in front of you.

You take the grip in your hands, only just now noticing how heavy it is when you try to hold it up.

The barrel droops and he sighs. “Should’ve brought a lighter pistol, that’s my mistake.”

He reaches up, taking both of your hands in his, helping you hold it steady. “Alright, safety off.”

You find the small switch from earlier and push it down, that small red dot now visible.

“Chamber a round by pulling the slide back.”

You at least know that part, so you do as he instructs. “Good.” He presses his front against your backside, his body heat radiating onto you, causing a few small beads of sweat to form on the back of your neck.

“Make sure to keep your back straight, feet apart. And I want you to grip the gun firmly, but let it breathe. And don’t you ever put your finger on that trigger until you’re ready to fire and know what you’re firing at. You understand?”

You nod.

“Alright, close your left eye, find your target, and when you're ready, put your finger on the trigger and squeeze it slowly. Don’t just start firing off rounds at-will.” You hear a smirk in his voice as he continues “We’re saving that for the advanced course.”

“Given I pass this one,” you add, your tone nervous.

“You’ve got Officer Shane Walsh playin’ teacher to you now, darlin’. I’ll give you a pass.” He shrugs. “Once you’ve earned it.”

You don’t dare to think what he said might have some double-meaning to it.

“Alright, sweetheart. Deep breath, then when you’re ready.”

You take a deep breath, slowly let it out, then place your finger over the trigger, his hands still over yours. You squeeze slowly…and miss the bottle you were aiming at entirely.

You nearly curse. “I missed.”

“That was just your first try. You’ll get there.” He readjusts his hands. “We’ve got all day, baby. Just you and me.”

You feel sweat drip down your back. You tell yourself its from the heat. Not his body pressed firmly against yours. Not the pet names slipping so easily from his lips. And certainly not the fact that all of his attention was, at current, focused entirely on you.

He keeps his hands overtop of yours. "Try again, darlin'."

You close one eye, find the bottle you'd aimed at before and fire once again, hitting it this time and shattering it.

You smile. An actual genuine smile. And fill with a small sense of accomlishment.

Shane brings his lips close to your ear. "Good job, honey. Four more to go."

You could swear he presses a brief, light kiss to the side of your head, but brush it off as nothing.

You miss your next three shots—each attempt sloppier than the last and your cheeks feel like they're on fire. Whether from the warmth of his body nearly enveloping yours, the heat of the day, or the humiliation of having missed so many times, you're not sure.

But he'd not gotten aggravated with you yet. "Try again," he instructs softly.

"I-" you start, until he adjusts his stance behind you, briefly gripping one of your hips to fix your footing, causing you to go silent again as his hand skims your bare waist under your shirt.

"You say somethin', sweetheart?"

You shake your head. "I'm just having a hard time concentrating."

Your arms were resting in front of you now, the pistol lowered and gripped in each of your hands, the safety on.

"Somethin' you need to me to do?"

Take a step back and let me breathe, you want to say, but don't. It's impossible to concentrate with your hands all over my body, you consider, but keep your mouth shut. He was just trying to be a good teacher, that was all.

Somehow you doubted he had been this handsy with Patricia or Jimmy, though.

"Could we take a break, maybe?"

He comes to stand at your side. "We only just started. Tell you what, hit another bottle and we'll take a quick break. Can you do that for me?"

You don't answer. You simply raise the pistol again, but before you can even shut one of your eyes, he's pressed right back up against your backside, his arms and hands enveloping your own.

You sigh, squeeze the trigger, and somehow manage to get lucky.

As you take a brief pause, the two of you seated facing each other—both of you leaned back against opposing trees—you try to ignore his staring.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. "I'll get you a lighter gun when we get back. Think I know the one for you. Just...not sure if giving you a firearm is the best idea. Right now, at least"

You fidget with your hands in your lap. "Why? Because you think as soon as you hand it to me I'm going to stick it in my mouth?"

A muscle in his jaw feathers. "You said it, not me. But yes. Given your past...behavior, you can't blame me for bein' a bit paranoid."

You lean your head back, looking back to the three untouched bottles, mocking you across the way. Had you hit them, you wouldn't be having this conversation right now. "No, I guess I can't."

You don't see him shake his head. "Not even going to try and convince me otherwise?"

You look back to him. "I haven't exactly tried ending my life in incredibly direct ways thus far, Shane. I chose to stay at the quarry, you wouldn't allow that. I chose to stay at the CDC—same result. I collapse on the highway and you nursed me back to health. It's not like I was slitting my wrists or downing bottles of pills. It was more just...whatever happened happened."

"I just wish I knew how the hell to stop it."

The truth was...being here—at the farm—was actually helping. The wide open spaces that were free from walkers. The quiet, slow way of living. Having some sense of security with there being an actual house and barn nearby. Even meeting new people had lifted your spirits. But you were afraid to admit it out loud—that you felt small moments of happiness in this place every now and again. Because as soon as you did? It'd all be ripped away.

But you knew Shane was worried about you. A worry that grew with each day. So you cross your fingers—mentally knock on wood—before you tell him.

"Being here has helped. Being someplace so...untouched. I still have bad days and bad moments, but I feel better here. Lighter, somehow. I don't think about wandering off and ending it all like I did anymore. Now I just...I wish we could make a life here. All of us. But if you keep butting heads with Hershel that dream will end one day."

He studies you for a moment. "Think he's just living with his head in the clouds. Thinking those things aren't what they are. That help is coming. That we'll get past this and things will just return to normal before we know it."

"What does it hurt you to let him believe that? We all had hope like that at one time, too, incase you've forgotten. He hasn't seen what we've seen. Hasn't been through what we've been through. Just...put yourself in his shoes. Wouldn't you be just as blind?"

He shrugs. "Don't think I'd have my head that far in the damn sand."

You're both quiet again. You don't bother arguing further with him. He was stubborn—hard-headed as they came. Trying to make him see reason, or at the very least, another way, was futile more often than not.

"I'm happy to hear it, though. Relieved, really. That you feel better here. Guess we made the right decision by staying."

You flush. "I always wanted to live in a place like this. Quiet, with lots of land, and far away from everyone. Just...peaceful."

"Never did strike me as a city-girl," he says with a smirk.

You hum. "Hardly."

You lean back once again, closing your eyes, just enjoying the breeze blowing through the tall grass, and the birds signing overhead.

Meanwhile, Shane can't take his eyes off of you. Not your flushed face or full lips, your neck, the swell of your breasts under your t-shirt, your round hips, or legs.

He knew it hadn't been entirely necessary—him keeping himself pressed up against you during your first round of training, but the truth was he couldn't keep his damn hands off of you. You were just so damn soft and felt good to grip and touch and slide his hands along.

He'd been thankful you never seemed to notice the swell of his hard cock pressed up against your backside.

He'd not entirely tried to hide it.

He could feel that same erection returning as he admired your body, fantasized about what was underneath all those layers. He adjusts himself as he considers what you might sound like as he traces your curves with his tongue, what you might taste like cumming on it.

He liked to imagine how tight you would feel, clenching around him, milking his body of every last drop of cum he had to give.

Some time, late at night, weeks ago, he'd came—hard—and not with Lori's name on his lips, but yours, as he had his cock fisted tightly in his grip. He'd not even been expecting it, but it'd happened anyway—his thinking of you on your knees, his length in your wet mouth, wide innocent eyes staring up at him as he instructed you on what to do to please him.

After that night, all he did was fantasize about you. He hardly even considered her anymore.

It'd all started after you told him that damn wish of yours from your bucket list—wanting to lose your virginity before you died.

"You thought anymore about it?"

You'd nearly started drifting off to sleep when his voice had woken you. You look at him, a bit dazed and if anything, it turned him on all the more—he took no qualms with that idea. You lying there, limp and relaxed, legs spread for him as he did all the work to get you both off.

"What?" You ask, stretching.

He licks his lips at the sight of your midriff making a brief appearance before your shirt lowers again as you rest your hands in your lap.

"What we talked about a few nights ago on the porch."

You blanch, flushing. "Oh. That."

"Mhm, that. So, you thought about my offer?"

In truth, you had. Once, late at night, hand in your panties, coming away slick after you'd finished tending to yourself.

And then you'd filled with shame at what you'd done. Your family was gone—Sophia was missing, Carl had been shot and nearly died, even Otis, a member of Hershel's own family, had sacrificed himself to ensure the little boy made it.

The list went on and on. And that was what you had decided to use a bit of your spare time for?

Disgraceful. That was the best word you had for it. For yourself.

You shrug. "Not much."

His erection deflates, along with his ego. "Oh."

You look up to him and try to quickly salvage the situation. "It's not that I don't find you attractive, Shane. Of course I do. But like I said before, about Lori-"

He shakes his head. "That's done. Been done since Rick came back from the dead. She's moved on and so have I."

You raise a brow, not really believing him.

He sees the doubt in your expression. “Guess I’ll just have to prove myself to you, then.”

You cross your legs. “Why me, Shane? Why the sudden interest? Why not Andrea or Maggie or-”

He chuckles, glancing down to his lap, one of his thumbs rubbing against the palm of his other hand. He then looks back up to you and shrugs. “I think I’m just the type of guy who needs to feel needed. The two of them, as far as I can tell—at least for the most part—seem to be able to take care of themselves. You? Not so much. Not yet, at least. You need someone to look after you. Guess I appointed myself to that position without even really knowing it. Not at first, at least.”

So he saw you as a damsel in distress. Terrific. You weren’t sure whether you were supposed to feel offended or flattered about it.

“I’m not looking for a knight in shining armor to come save me, Shane. You don’t need to keep making me your problem. You have enough on your hands with-”

He leans his head back with an interrupting sigh. “We’ve had this conversation before. And it didn’t deter me then and it ain’t going to now. You’re not a problem, darlin’. I just want to be the solution, I guess.”

You can’t understand it, why someone like him—intelligent, reliable, with leadership skills, beyond good-looking, and above all a survivor—whatever the cost—has an interest in you. At all.

“What does that mean: be the solution?”

He shrugs, standing. He walks over to you, offering you his hand. “You tell me.”

It’d taken over an hour for you to break the last three bottles, as well as make decent progress firing at the targets. You tell yourself you would’ve gotten done sooner—would’ve done better—had his hands not been all over you again—Shane no longer bothering with ensuring he was touching you only over your clothes, as he’d gripped your bare hips more times than you could count.

And you didn’t want to acknowledge the hard length you’d felt pressed into your backside once or twice. You told yourself he must’ve had another pistol on him, or a knife perhaps. That was all.

More than once, just as you had your target lined up, he’d done something—touched you, whispered something in your ear, shifted his body against yours—causing you to miss entirely. You wondered if it wasn’t just his attempt at dragging your training out for even longer.

When he finally announces that you’re done for the day, you nearly cry from relief. Your arms were sore, as well as your legs from standing in-place for so long, and your head was pounding from how hard you’d been trying to focus on not just hitting your targets, but also responding correctly as Shane drilled you on various parts of the gun in your hands, as well as proper firearm etiquette.

You wondered if he took delight in making you feel flustered and frustrated.

When you finally make it back to camp, you’re thirsty, hungry, and want to take a nap. You begin to wander toward your tent, until you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in another direction.

“Oh no you don’t. You can sleep later. You didn’t bother with eating breakfast, so you’re having lunch, even if I have to hand-feed it to you.”

You look up to Shane and find you don’t have the energy to argue. He drops you off at the nearby picnic table, seated comfortably under a shady tree, and you watch as he steps away to prepare you something to eat.

You nearly laugh from the absurdity of him fixing you a plate for lunch—it seemed so domestic, especially since he was the one doing it—but you’re so tired that all you can manage is lying your head down, your eyes fluttering shut.

You fall asleep near-immediately. Until you’re woken by a plate being dropped in front of you.

“Eat.”

You lift your head, barely, and stare down at the two sandwiches before you, an apple on the side, and a bottle of water. You groan. “I’m tired, Shane.”

“Hand-feeding it is, I guess.”

He picks up a sandwich, which you promptly snatch away from him. “I can feed myself,” you state, taking a bite. Ham and cheese, you quickly figure out.

Shane sits with his legs on either side of the bench, his body facing you, watching as you eat.

You’re too tired to bother feeling self-conscious as you do so directly in front of him. You swallow, briefly glancing to him. “Thank you. For today.”

He nods, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, which had escaped your ponytail. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He even goes so far as to press a kiss to your forehead. “You did good today, darlin’. I’m proud of you. You have no idea how much.”

You take another bite, smiling to yourself.

Once you’d finished eating—Shane refusing to let you leave the picnic table until you’d finished every last bite, as well as the whole bottle of water—he’d led you over to your tent, which you’d crawled inside of as soon as he opened the flap.

You briefly thought to yourself that the tent was the wrong color and that the interior looked strange, but you didn’t dwell on it too long. Once your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

When you wake, it’s in the middle of the night with the urge to pee.

You nearly scream in fear at the feeling of another body pressed up against your own, until you realize just who it belongs to.

Shane.

Why was he in your tent?

And then it dawns on you: you were in his. It’s why everything had seemed so off to you earlier before you laid down. He’d led you to his tent, and had put you to sleep in his bed.

He wasn’t being subtle about what he wanted anymore, clearly.

You didn’t know that you liked this sort of behavior. Him being so forward. Not even asking what you wanted.

Just deciding for you.

On the one hand, part of you just wants to let him—anyone—do all your thinking and decision-making for you. On the other, you were still sure that a part of him cared for Lori. Perhaps more than cared for her. Even if not, he frightened you sometimes. His fiery temper, his hard-headedness. And doing this…right in front of everyone—placing you in his bed in broad daylight—he was staking a claim. It was possessive. And that scared you a little.

You didn’t belong to him. You weren’t sure that you wanted to.

You didn’t wish to read too much into things—into this—but if that was what he wanted: to be with you… All you could think was if you opened yourself up to caring about another person again, you’d lose him just like all the rest.

But being alone hadn’t been easier, either. Closing yourself off emotionally from the rest of the group had lessened your will-to-live significantly. Contact with others was human nature; you were all social creatures. And keeping yourself from having such contact had deepened that well of sadness and loneliness inside of you.

A well you think maybe he’s trying to fill it, in his own way.

Shane had chosen the worst sleeping position for you to try and get out of to relieve yourself. And if you didn’t do so quickly… Suffice to say you’d never have to worry about him wanting you in his bed again.

You were facing his bare chest, your head tucked under his chin, one of his arms thrown over you, holding you firmly against him.

You try to wriggle downward, thinking perhaps you can just slip out of his grip that way, until he moans in his sleep, clutching you even more tightly, a small squeak of surprise escaping your lips.

You briefly press your forehead against his chest, nearly groaning in frustration. You press your thighs together tightly, then do what you have to: you push firmly against his chest, not caring if it wakes him.

Thankfully, however, he releases you, rolling onto his other side.

You’d blush at the fact he was only in his boxers now, and feel angry at the fact you’re only in your panties and a t-shirt—meaning he’d undressed you for bed while you’d been asleep—but you were near-to-bursting at this point.

You quickly exit the tent, grabbing a roll of toilet paper from a basket of supplies nearby and find a tree to relieve yourself behind.

Once you’re finished, you stand, staring at two different tents.

And you hated to admit: that you didn’t know which one to choose.

You were going to have a talk with Shane in the morning about his behavior tonight while you’d been asleep. But right now, all you wanted to do was lie back down—not make decisions. Not think.

And it was chilly out.

You tell yourself, as you zip the tent close, climbing under the blankets and pressing yourself back up against Shane’s chest—as he’d rolled back over in the time you’d been gone—that you’d chosen his simply for his body warmth.

You fight against the small smile that begins to form on your lips as he wraps an arm around you once again, whispering to you, voice slurred from sleep, “I knew you’d come back.”

#fic: twd (shane walsh x reader) #shane walsh imagine #shane walsh x you #shane walsh x reader #twd x you #twd x reader

[deeva-arud]

Boo!

I'm the paranormal activity on your dash :]

#Udi posting in 2023? truly a christmas miracle #Now it'd be pretty funny if everyone seeing this collectively thought 'who the hell is this person?' I mean. UNDERSTANDABLE- #I've been gone for so long I don't even recognise this dash layout help?? #Excuse me while I have a grandma moment trying to figure out where things are #Anyway I don't have much to post since I've barely drawn in all these months. So many art blocks stacked on top of more art blocks #(among other things) #BUT I still have some drawings here and there. Not the best I've ever produced but hey it's something #and you know what happens when Udi has an art block? Exactly. Cateeva content (and silly drawings) (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ #Now it's time for me to fill my room with sticky notes reminding me to take things easy #you'll have to bear with my slowness for a little bit longer. Life hit me hard recently and everything feels so heavy to me #but I just didn't want to let this year pass without saying anything... #I actually missed being on here. If I see art or an oc from any of my moots I'll probably cry on the spot #Moot reading this you've been warned (🫶) #I'll shut up now. I really hope everyone's doing as good as they can. This is such an awful world #Udi talks

[tomatoluvr69]

Sitting down to floss and brush my teeth has been lifechanging. On a completely unrelated note how the fuck am I supposed to have this skeleton for several more decades. It’s all over for me lads 😔

#knees hurt. hips hurt. back hurts. wrists hurt. swag #it’s not this bad most of the time but by the end of the day it’s like auuuugh #it really is too bad that I’ve got extreme doctor fears because of the IssuesTM! #and oh yeah I don’t have health insurance LOL… #which I am using as a convenient excuse to avoid going to the doctors LOL #i have some doctor ~traumas~ I think LOL! #im working up to it. it’s glacial. sometime this year maybe? #I went twice as an adult and both times were for health forms for college enrollment #I’ve been to the ER and an urgent care once or twice though so clearly I’m FINE… #this is BAD do not be like me #but it’s only become clear to me in the past year or two that the incidents in my childhood reeeeally affected me #and to have US healthcare be such a profoundly difficult and punitive process basically means I am just never going to like jump through #those hoops only to be confronted with a severe phobia lol #im not saying that’s a reasonable train of thought but it’s more that that’s my subconscious reasoning #but it is a 2024 goal to get seen by a doctor #but the other thing is that it’s so fucking clear to me that they will do NOTHING for either PMDD or my joint pain which are my chief #complaints at the moment #but like i should probably be like getting routine panels and Pap smears :-( #everything’s SO EXPENSIVE… #They’ll be like give me your blood. ok all normal everything is healthy. ok that’ll be literally $200 #:-( #ugh I’m upsetting myself just thinking about doctors. ok Goodnight #(with full intention to keep scrolling)

[skullzy20]

I am not exaggerating when I say I live with one of the worst cishet men I've ever met in my life and its horrible

Pretty big vent incoming in tags, just a warning. Feel free to scroll past /gen

#sorry i. need to vent #he is genuinely one of the most ignorant; stubborn; and absolutely manchild of a man I've ever seen #I'm not fucking lying when I say he gets pissy and shouts and complains about EVERYTHING #and I don't mean just occasional shouting and getting loud #whenever he's upset. its /loud/. very loud #first time in my 5 years of knowing him I had enough and snapped back at him because he was yelling at me- #-bc I supposedly do absolutely nothing around the house and I take horrible care of myself and dont care about anything #at least in regards to the house #and complains about why I'm deciding not to go to college and that he got a job at 15 while he's literally #in his mid 40's #so. #like. #I told him I'm still 18 and I dont want him to boss around my entire fucking life but he brought up the excuse again of- #-him doing all the shit I SHOULD be doing by his words when he was 15 #first of all. like. to get things straight; we are not related at all not even in the slightest #he's my mothers bf; I don't know why he gets so pissy at me about MY life of all things #like Jesus Christ shut up challenge impossible #yeah I had a fun (/s) moment earlier where I went to clean my dish and he started to snap at me about how I- #-walk past the dishes every day while they're piled up and I should do them. meanwhile. they're literally not mine. ever #I get it yeah but. whatever. he kept going onn and on and on and got even more upset with me literally not saying or doing anything to- #-provoke him more #Ig he just doesn't know that!! wow!! I do actually care about my life and future!!!! #and that getting a job is not that easy or the same as it was 30+ fucking years ago!! wow!! who would've guessed!!!! #Like genuinely i am literally trying to get a job rn and shit and have been stressing horribly about it for literal YEARS #but yeah ignore that I guess ok sure buddy #god sorry i.. really hate him. a lot #I dont like to hate on people really; esp if im accustomed to them. but him. he. no <3 #I will say I hate him w my full chest #vent #negative post

[fourteenthz]

Btw I finished everything from 6.5 finally and my take is

#this might be my favorite patch btw i just wanted to talk abt lyna for a bit bc I ADORE HER and it makes me happie that she was there #I REALLY LIKE MSQ I adore the parallels with ffiv and as SOON as i saw zero staring back at her reflection I WAS LIKE #SO SHE IS GOING TO BE CECIL #LIKE IN MOUNT ORDEALS !!! YEAH !!! so i was the entity of msq going “shes going to transform into a paladin AAANY minute now” #SHE DID !! and that is my fav trial from these last patches btw I adore rubicant but yeah 🫡 zeromus won 🫡 #it was just. so cool. i adore the mechanics so much and it felt right the moment and everything #it isn't my fav moment in the msq now but it's a satisfying one and they really brought some shb moments to remins us of the good stuff^tm #but with so many good raids going one the msq seems A BIT lackey but just bc the raid series are WAY TOO GOOD #something something i almost had an anxiety attack when the twelve were leaving TRULY i was destroyed #but them deryk did THAT FACE ^TM and I was BAWLING MY EYES #this guy means so much to me. insane. so much ao i genuinely changed my girl's patron deity and its him now CANNONICALY #his is by far my favorite fight from the twelve. it wasn't hard per see but i was dying with laughter how i was being thrown from one side #to another. I'm not even kidding me and still STILL it's a fave. I'm going to play that again now excuse me #but yeah it was so good. i really really like this alliance raid series so much deryk is so dear to me the way the dialogue went #with him talking abt the twelve like his ancient friends i cried so hard 👍 that ending ruined me so bad u guys 👍 #yeah the msq was good but they are popping OFF with the raid series #maybe myths isnt my fave just bc pandae is right there and I swear nothing tops that for me but MAN.... HEAD IN HANDS. #i love them. I love what the devs are doing with expressions lately and i love the amout of times the wol is smiling #just... something something it seems fitting for what they want for the next expansion #yeah I'm insane abt the fact we will not have mom and evil dad anymore and the ancients and i get panicked thinking the twelve arent there #anymore and OF COURSE I miss drama a lot but it does seem somewhat fitting. the way that doing all that it still #straights the scion's relationship more and how we will keep the group together despite everything changing #idk idk i hate change and i adore what we had in the prev expansion to no and and yeah i feel like it isn't perfect like before NOW but its #like. still so good and so true to what ffxiv likes to preach and etc etc. i don't expect an shb or ew exp for 7.0 but still. EXCITING. #this rambling came out of NOWHERE BUT YEAH Anyway if u excuse me now. shb new game+ play time #kelly says #6.5 spoilers #edit: there are SOOOO many errors in these tags. sorry i got to excited. i just saw fray and had to close tumblr immediately to talk to him.

[firebirdsdaughter]

So bc I saw a post and I’m paranoid/self conscious…

… Allow me to explain what I mean about Peter (and Neal) being out of character in s5.

A lot of it is tone—Peter just feels more dismissive and indifferent of Neal than even in the first season. It’s like their relationship went backwards a bit, or that he feels more like Kramer? I dunno exactly how to describe, but there’s scenes where just something missing and he’s too harsh and detached and it feels like it’s forced. Like he just doesn’t feel like he’s taking Neal’s feelings as seriously as he usually does. He’s not the same type of gruff fatherly as before. He’ll just suddenly start treating Neal like just an asset or something. As for the whole forged evidence/bribing thing, though… It’s not him being upset that’s out of character. Of course he’s upset, and angry, and conflicted. That first argument is beautifully painful, bc of course Neal refuses to back down, and that moment where he just holds out his hands to let Peter arrest him… Gah. Peter’s always been very by the book, and while he’s bent those rules and covered for Neal… It’s never been something like this. Never case tampering. This is serious. This could come back to bite them years down the road. So of course he’s mad, especially bc it was for him. He’s been trying to keep Neal out of crime, and now here’s the kid committing it for him. What’s ooc to me, is him telling Neal he did it bc he’s ‘just a criminal.’ That’s not my Peter Burke. My Peter would ask for space as he tries to decide how he feels/what to do. As he tries to reconcile w/ himself what has happened. ‘I know you did this for me and that’s why it’s so upsetting.’ But never that. It’s just a blatant example of Peter being forced to treat Neal worse to ‘justify’ Neal’s bratty behaviour.

Which brings me to Neal—oh my gods is he a whiny brat in s5. I hate the way he treats Peter like Peter is deliberately holding out on him and acts all righteous bc Peter… Won’t let him do whatever he wants. If Neal were distancing himself from Peter bc of his father, that’d be one thing, but every time he starts whining about Peter not magically producing the results he wants, or starts going on about how he should just be allowed to take shit ‘bc it’s there’ like an entitled brat… I just wanna smack him. I feel like he also regresses to just wanting the cheap thrill of taking things, when it feels like a more realistic progression for his character would be finding more moral, less self centred reasons to do so. Neal realising that Peter’s fighting a losing battle for him w. the FBI and risking his own job, Neal seeing how horribly tortured Peter is by his action in getting him out. After the discovery about his father, I’d believe Neal seeing the negative impacts of his presence in his loved one’s lives a whole lot more than the positives. I can see him falling into the trap of thinking he can’t change and he’s just hurting the people around him, trying to take matters into his own hands not bc he’s throwing a hissy fit that Peter can’t magically make other people do things, but bc he’s actually considering others and realises what kind of issues lobbying for him has caused Peter and El and everyone else.

There’s plenty of opportunity for drama and tension w/out forcing them both to be jerks to each other. Like I made a post about what I think a better course would have been Neal considering other people for once and how his actions effect them—Neal realising that his philosophies are actively hurting the people around him, and being in a such a bad place he doesn’t realise that they’re okay weathering it to have him around. I will go down w/ the ship that there’s a missed opportunity in killing off Warren Cole and not having Neal start to think about how easily that could have happened to Peter bc of him. There’s still good moments, absolutely, I can name several, like Peter being protective of Neal when there’s a sniper, or when Neal is shot by the sniper, but periodically, both Neal and Peter suddenly start being shallow jerks bc the writers are rushing and looking for conflict. And that’s not right to me.

#White Collar #on phone day hot not many tags #add layer maybe #but felt need to explain #weirdly Diana and El stay the most consistent #but I just don't want anyone to think I think Peter being mad about the tampered evidence is the issue #the issue is more where they went w/ it #like I said I can see him being like 'I know you did this for me AND THAT'S WHY I'M UPSET' #bc what Peter wants most is for Neal to have the best possible life he can and be the person he knows Neal can be #no way in hell he calls him a mere criminal #this is Peter who has a SPECIFIC SMILE for 'I'm so proud of you NEVER do that again' #Peter being angry and upset that all his attempts to help Neal might've been for naught and made it worse #that this could always come back… #that makes sense #Peter wanting space from Neal while he tries to decide what to do and how he feels and what this means for them #that's totally believable #Peter has worked so hard to protect Neal but this goes against everything he's been raised on and believes in #this should be a big moment for their dynamic overcoming this #instead it's used as an excuse to justify Neal being a selfish brat #Peter would be mad and shaken and have every right to be #but I will never accept that he'd say THAT #also telling Jones he'd regret being Neal's handler better be out of context/emotional #bc that I can see happening bc Neal has put Peter through SO much stress I can see him saying that in a moment of frustration #esp if he didn't know Neal was listening #anyway I just #compulsively need to Explain I'm sorry #Adopt a Felon 101

[misscrazyfangirl321]

Well, I watched Free Guy.

#listen. LISTEN. #on the one hand am i going absolutely feral over parts of this movie? yes. #'i'm a love letter to you. but somewhere up there is the author.' WE LOVE BECAUSE HE FIRST LOVED US AND HE TOLD US TO LOVE ONE ANOTHER AND #WHAT IF WE ARE ALL JUST LOVE LETTERS TO EACH OTHER AND THAT'S WHY SO MUCH OF THIS IS TEMPORARY BECAUSE #EVENTUALLY WE MEET THE AUTHOR AND IT'S R E A L #ahem. yeah. going a little feral here. #ON THE OTHER HAND um. did Not Vibe with most of the humor. at all. #(the scene with the cop the guy in the bunny suit and guy just trying to figure out why they're so interested in his skin is an exception #obviously) #and idk i just. want to watch that movie but with different actors and a different script and a different movie but THE SAME STORY #h o w e v e r #props for all the cameos #ESPECIALLY all the youtubers #i was so impressed and excited #and there were some definite Moments #i just... idk #also the villain did Not Work for me. like. excuse me this guy is so obsessed with money that he #*checks notes* does everything in his power to destroy the world's first ai which could make him infinitely richer than any video game #i mean i get that he was worried about the lawsuit but like. just hire a hitman irl then profit from the ai #i speak