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tinytinyblogs · 3 months

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Eyes on you

He gazes repeatedly, allowing himself to deepen his feelings for you even further.

A narrative drawn from inspiration found on Pinterest

(Stranger to lover, slow burn, non-idol) 3,2k

Stray Kids masterlist here

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He stares at you everytime you look away, Upon that initial gaze, he was compelled to acknowledge that never in his life had he experienced a connection as profound as the one he felt in that moment. Lost in the midst of a bustling crowd, you managed to eclipse everyone else, drawing his undivided attention. With a subtle gesture of tucking your hair behind your ear, engrossed in perusing the coffee shop's menu, you became the focal point of Hyunjin's universe. In his eyes, your beauty was captured with precision, and the world around seemed to slow down, etching that encounter into his memory with vivid clarity. A peculiar sensation brews within him, an unfamiliarity that unsettles Hyunjin. Accustomed to being the captivating figure who commands admiration effortlessly, he has grown accustomed to basking in the limelight, indifferent to the adulation bestowed upon him. However, in a curious twist, he finds himself unable to dismiss your presence. Unlike others who readily shower him with attention, you seem to exist in a realm untouched by the allure that usually surrounds him, and this anomaly intrigues him, disrupting the accustomed pattern of his experiences. Finding out that both you and him went to the same school and were in the same class when the high school story started makes the whole thing even more interesting.

He stare at you everytime you look away, In the midst of this peculiar situation, Hyunjin grapples with an oddity – his inability to control where his gaze lands. It's almost as if there's an invisible force that directs his attention towards you, and he's left bemused by the fact that you unfailingly appear wherever he goes. Amid a crowd seeking his attention, you become the constant, and Hyunjin can't quite fathom why. While others vie for his notice, his eyes consistently find their way to you. Delving into a day of observation, he starts uncovering intriguing details about you, like your daily preference for chocolate milk during lunch breaks – a seemingly insignificant yet oddly captivating detail. You who gazing out of the window next to you while the teacher is explaining something the sunlight enhances your appearance, making you look even better. But the real charm lies in your laughter, a genuine and infectious joy that defines you as someone who laughs effortlessly, making it all the more endearing. In this peculiar dance of attention and discovery, you become the captivating enigma that keeps Hyunjin's curiosity piqued.

He stare at you everytime you look away, The sole reaction that Hyunjin eagerly anticipates is yours, especially during those classroom moments when the teacher attempts to inject humor into the lesson. When the teacher's joke lands and Hyunjin finds it amusing, his instinctive response is to turn his gaze towards you. It's not a conscious decision, but almost a reflex, as if seeking confirmation that the shared amusement is mutual. Interestingly, it often is, as both of you seem to share a similar sense of humor, contrasting with the rest of the class who might not find the joke as amusing. On another occasion, when the teacher abruptly announces an unexpected exam, Hyunjin, feeling a twinge of annoyance, instinctively glances in your direction. What he discovers is a charming sight – your eyes squinting, and you murmuring to yourself in apparent displeasure. To him, this reaction is endearing, a touch of cuteness in your annoyance that catches his attention. It's these subtle, unspoken exchanges that make the classroom experience more interesting for Hyunjin, creating a unique connection that transcends the ordinary.

He stare at you everytime you look away, It's pretty clear to Hyunjin that sports isn't exactly your cup of tea. Your lack of enthusiasm is noticeable the way you pout when the teacher explains the activities for today's sport class, but he can see the determination in your eyes as you strive for a good grade. He discreetly observes your efforts, noticing the occasional groan of annoyance when things don't go as planned during your attempts. Hyunjin keeps a watchful eye on you, consistently making sure you're doing well and ensuring you don't get hurt, like your secret protector. After enduring a particularly disliked subject and sitting down on the ground, perhaps feeling a bit defeated, Hyunjin decides to make a subtle gesture. Walking over with minimal expression on his face, one hand casually tucked in his pocket, he nonchalantly pushes a bottle of water in front of you. "For you. You did well today." With that, he leaves, acknowledging your effort in a way that doesn't draw attention but conveys his recognition and support.

He stare at you everytime you look away, Following his thoughtful gesture, it's not entirely surprising that your attention gradually shifts toward Hyunjin. Intrigued, you find yourself curious about the guy who consistently wears a no-expression face, seemingly indifferent to everything around him. This demeanor makes it challenging for Hyunjin to maintain a steady gaze in your direction because, quite unexpectedly, you've started to frequently turn your head towards him. Caught in this subtle exchange of glances, Hyunjin realizes the need for caution. He becomes adept at swiftly turning his head every time he senses you might catch him staring. Despite the conscious effort required, he finds it hard to resist stealing glances at you. It's a deliberate choice to continue observing you, a choice that speaks volumes about the genuine interest he harbors, as he goes beyond the casual indifference he displays to others. This unspoken connection through stolen glances adds an intriguing layer to your interactions, one that both intrigues and captivates.

He stare at you everytime you look away, As the school day winds down, Hyunjin is on his way home when he unexpectedly spots you. Intrigued, he lets his feet guide him, finding himself following you to a nearby alley. There, he discovers your heartwarming act of kindness – stopping to buy something and feed the stray cats. Witnessing you extend a gentle hand to pet the cats, a genuine smile lighting up your face, and seeing how comfortably the cats respond to you, something shifts within Hyunjin. He pauses, unable to resist admiring every aspect of you—your gestures, your smile—as you engage in conversation with the cats. Even though the cats can't respond, the scene strikes him as incredibly cute and pure, touching his heart deeply. Under the warm glow of the sun, he swears his heart starts beating faster. In that moment, he realizes it's more than mere curiosity; he's genuinely fallen for you. The simple yet heartfelt act of caring for stray animals becomes a defining moment, deepening his feelings and adding a layer of warmth to the connection he feels with you.

He stare at you everytime you look away, When you're not feeling well, the radiant smile on your face fades, replaced by evident signs of pain, and your complexion pales. Despite your obvious discomfort, you push yourself to endure the entire class, a fact not lost on Hyunjin. He discreetly keeps a watchful eye on you, even though you're too fatigued to notice your surroundings. As the bell signals the end of the class and students disperse towards the cafeteria, you remain in your seat, seemingly unable to muster the energy to move. Hyunjin, concerned, approaches you and suggests, "You should go to the nursery room." Upon closer inspection, he places his hand on your forehead, sensing your fever. Without waiting for your response, he takes charge, gently guiding you to the nursery room and settling you on a bed. "I think you need to rest. I'll lend you my notes from today's class so you won't miss anything," he offers. This initiates a brief conversation, a step beyond the limited interactions before. In that moment, Hyunjin realizes that being closer to you and engaging in these small acts of care feels far more fulfilling than merely observing from a distance.

He locks eyes with you when you happen to gaze in his direction, only to casually divert his gaze elsewhere. Hyunjin seems to be mustering a bit of courage lately, letting you catch his eyes as he unabashedly stares at you. There's a subtle shift in his demeanor, a newfound boldness that becomes evident when your eyes meet. Caught in the act, he doesn't let the moment linger; instead, he casually looks away, almost as if he's downplaying the significance of the encounter – a deliberate attempt, perhaps, to maintain an image of nonchalance and cool composure. Behind this emerging boldness, one can't help but wonder about the hidden motives. Is he dropping subtle hints about a crush that's been brewing, or are there other unexplained reasons fueling this behavior? The situation leaves you in a state of confusion, navigating through mixed signals and puzzling gestures that add complexity to the evolving dynamics between the two of you. For Hyunjin, he begins to cherish the moments when he locks eyes with your beautiful gaze, even if it's just for a second.

He locks eyes with you when you happen to gaze in his direction, only to casually divert his gaze elsewhere. Recently, there's been a curious phenomenon occurring – a series of frequent, almost serendipitous eye contact moments between you and him. It's as if a unique connection exists, where, amidst the randomness of everyday situations, your eyes consistently meet his. What's even more intriguing is that it seems to happen exclusively with him, as if there's an invisible thread drawing your gaze towards his. This peculiar occurrence isn't confined to specific scenarios; whether he's engrossed in a conversation with his friends or delivering a presentation in front of the class, his eyes find yours for a brief moment before he redirects his focus. It's almost like a silent dialogue playing out in these stolen glances, defying the distractions around. This unspoken language seems to transcend the usual boundaries, adding a layer of curiosity to your interactions that leaves you pondering the subtle yet compelling connection developing between you two.

He locks eyes with you when you happen to gaze in his direction, only to casually divert his gaze elsewhere. Today, you decided to switch things up a bit with a new haircut, embracing a slightly different style as you yearned for something fresh, especially with the holiday break behind you and the return to school on the horizon. As expected, with the return to school, the inevitable encounters with Hyunjin's eyes resumed. During lunch break, Hyunjin catches a glimpse of you and your revamped look for a few moments. "You look good," he remarks, standing beside you as both of you grab some food. Before walking away, he adds, "You look even more cute." This unexpected compliment lingers in the air, leaving you with a sense of surprise and a subtle warmth. It seems that the change in your style has not only caught his attention but also earned a positive acknowledgment from Hyunjin. His unexpected compliment causes you to blush, and the warmth of your blush makes his heart race.

He stare at you when you look at him, Things have taken a noticeable turn, with a discernible shift in dynamics between the two of you. The unspoken language of eye contact has become a telltale sign, and Hyunjin seems to have abandoned any pretense of hiding his emotions. Initially, it all started as an inadvertent incident when he forgot to avert his gaze, but now, he doesn't make any effort to look away, even if you catch him in the act. He's discarded the facade of concealment, choosing instead to reveal his feelings, openly acknowledging his crush on you. Despite your attempts to downplay or deny the situation, he remains unapologetic. Hyunjin's unwavering focus on your captivating eyes is undeniable, and he doesn't shy away from admitting it. He appreciates the way you appear captivated as well, noticing that you could easily avert your gaze, yet you choose to linger, steadfastly holding your position when your eyes lock, relishing in that stolen moment.

He stare at you when you look at him, During the art class, when the teacher instructs everyone to pair up for collaborative projects, there's a subtle yet magnetic connection as your gaze intertwines with his. It's as if an unspoken agreement passes between you, both silently expressing the desire to work together. As you spend your daily art sessions with him, a shared passion for creativity emerges. You soon realize that he, too, is deeply into art, mirroring your own enthusiasm. Admiration grows as you witness his genuine excitement when discussing artistic concepts. Surprisingly, both of you often get so engrossed in these discussions that the original project momentarily slips from your minds. Instead, the focus becomes the shared joy of exploring and exchanging ideas about art. It's not just about the assignments anymore; it's about the genuine connection that blossoms between both of you. It's as if the world exists just for the two of you, and the entire company creates an atmosphere that continues to brighten both of your hearts even after you've returned home.

He stare at you when you look at him, You and Hyunjin have become unexpectedly close, closer than you ever thought possible. Now, when your eyes meet, there's a silent language between you both, as if words don't need to be spoken. A simple smile from you is met with an equally warm one from him. Sometimes, he doesn't hesitate to come over when he spots you, and you notice he's eager to be around. It's not just you two who notice; even other students pick up on the growing connection between you. They can sense the way Hyunjin seeks you out, patiently waiting until you appear. Similarly, you find yourself doing the same, mirroring his actions. It's clear to everyone that this is more than just a friendship – there's an unmistakable bond forming between you and Hyunjin that goes beyond casual companionship. Hyunjin allows himself to be captivated by you, letting you spin around in his thoughts, allowing his heart to join in the playful dance between the two of you. He finds enjoyment in every bit of it.

He stare at you when you look at him, After the final bell rings and the students begin to gather their belongings, he discreetly observes you, patiently waiting for the moment you'll notice his presence. When you finally do, a warm smile graces his face, and he casually strolls over. "Hey, would you like to grab something to eat?" he asks, his eyes gleaming with a hint of excitement. "There's this nearby place I've been meaning to try; it looks pretty good." You both decide to embark on this impromptu culinary adventure, still clad in your school uniforms. To him, the attire is inconsequential compared to the joy of spending time with you. The satisfaction he derives from witnessing your smile and relishing your company surpasses any concern about appearances. As you both navigate the streets with the shared anticipation of discovering a new eatery, he couldn't be happier, knowing that the simple pleasure of your companionship completes his day.

And again, he stare at you when you look at him. After navigating through the labyrinth of his emotions and drawing closer to you, spending extended periods of time together, he finds himself traversing the delicate terrain of deepening feelings. However, in the midst of this emotional journey, he tends to overanalyze, caught in the web of his thoughts. There are moments when he, lost in contemplation, gazes at you, causing you to inquire about his well-being. His response is a casual "I'm okay," a shield concealing the tempest of emotions swirling within him. As the internal struggle intensifies, he becomes a tad quieter, his mind a playground for introspection. He meticulously observes your every move, as if deciphering a secret code written in the subtleties of your actions. Amidst this, he grapples with the challenge of maintaining composure, attempting to silence his heart, which seems to beat uncontrollably in your proximity. There's an unspoken desire to convey the storm of emotions brewing within him, yet the right words elude him. His moments of silence and the distant look in his eyes become a canvas on which he paints the complexity of his feelings. In these instances, he wonders if he might be labeled as eccentric or, worse, if his sanity might slip away when confronted by the undeniable closeness that allows him to perceive your features with crystal clarity. The conundrum of expressing his feelings becomes a quiet symphony in his mind, playing intricate notes as he grinds through the gears of his own emotional machinery.

And again, he stare at your when you look at him. After weeks of Hyunjin acting strangely, unable to contain his emotions any longer, he avoided making eye contact with you, the thunderous beat of his heart echoing in his ears as he pondered how to share his feelings with you. Unbeknownst to him, this internal struggle led him to inadvertently create some distance. Then, on a particular day when the class concluded, you noticed him standing by the school gate. As soon as he realized your gaze upon him, he straightened up. "I'll walk you home," he declared, finally breaking the barrier of silence and allowing his feelings to surface. You simply nodded in response, deciding to walk alongside him in silence. The air hung heavy with unspoken words, as you found yourself at a loss for what to say. Likewise, he grappled with the struggle of finding the right words to express the thoughts swirling within him, leaving a palpable sense of unspoken emotions lingering between you both.

And again, he stare at you when you look at him. Finally, he made a deliberate turn, redirecting his body toward you, prompting both of you to come to a stop. There, under the muted sunlight, he clutched the strap of his bag, a visible manifestation of the nerves and anticipation bubbling within him. "I..." he began, pausing for a moment, as if searching for the perfect words. The weight of the unspoken emotions pushed him to release a sigh, a precursor to what he felt was a now-or-never revelation. His gaze lifted, meeting your eyes, sparkling with an unspoken curiosity. For a fleeting moment, he found himself lost in the depths of your gaze. "I promise I'm not lying – my eyes show how much I love you." he admitted with a sincerity that echoed through the quiet air. A moment later, as if spurred by an uncontainable rush of emotions, he continued with newfound urgency, "Every time I look at you, that love just keeps getting stronger." The words hung in the air, a declaration that lingered long enough for you to grasp the depth of his feelings. With a mix of trepidation and determination, he posed a question that seemed to carry the weight of the world, "Can I take you on a date?" He locked eyes with you, and you reciprocated the gaze. Yet, in that moment, your eyes sparkled with an undeniable brightness. A nod from you served as the perfect affirmation, enough to transform him into the happiest person ever. With a solemn vow, he pledged to continue cherishing those moments of simply staring at you, repeatedly, even though you were already his.

©Tinytinyblogs

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

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Fall Into Me 2

Find my CoD masterlist and series masterlist

This fic does switch perspectives every chapter, just as an FYI. This chapter is unique in that we get a glimpse into all the guys, but after this it’ll be one character per chapter.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff. The OC here is Jewish and that does become a focal point later on. If that bothers you, turn around now.

Word count: 2.6k

Over the next week, Rose saw at least one of them every day. At least. She finally met Rodolfo, the last member of their team.

But as much as she tried to learn about them, asking them easy questions and enjoying their company, they were learning about her, too. Not that Rose gave them much - she had a quick quip or a deflection for most personal questions.

Soap was the one to catch her off guard.

“So, you got some lucky bloke waitin’ for you?” he asked late on Friday, leaning against the counter watching her make something extra caffeinated and extra sugary for him.

“What?” Rose blinked at him, honestly startled. “Me? No.” Her smile was a little wistful as she looked back down at the espresso brewing. “But I’m ready for a weekend, take a bit of time off.”

“I hear you.” Soap watched her carefully as she made a leaf in his foam.

“Here you go. I’ll probably close up after you, see if Carmen and I can get out of here a little early.”

He nodded, taking the cup. “Thanks, bonnie. Have a good weekend, aye?”

“You too.” Her smile was a little shy, as it was whenever he complimented her.

Soap took the stairs up to their floor, too impatient to wait for the elevator at the end of the day. Nobody had left yet, at least not when he went down for one last cup of coffee.

“Dunno how you drink that,” Ghost grunted, eyeing his cup as if it held something much worse than caffeine and sugar.

“It’s not bad,” Soap said with a shrug, taking an obnoxious sip.

“You’re just saying that because it’s her.” Gaz grinned when Soap nearly spit out the coffee at the unexpected tease.

“Oi–”

“Knock it off,” Price grumbled from his office. “I thought you were leaving early to go check out some new place?” The captain didn’t look up from his computer.

Gaz huffed at having his fun cut short but rallied again. “Rudy, you coming?”

“Sí,” he agreed, exchanging a look with Alejandro.

“Ghost?” Soap turned expectant eyes on his friend.

Ghost waved him off. “Got other things to do,” he grumbled.

Soap left it at that, just looking at Gaz and Rudy.

Gaz led the way back down the stairs, tossing his car keys between his hands. As they passed the coffee shop, all three men slowed, just enough to watch Rose counting out the till. She was swinging her hips, just a little, and Soap thought she must be humming along to whatever music was playing. Her curls were held back with a clip today, some falling over her shoulder as long, elegant fingers counted out cash.

And then they were outside, and Soap forced his mind from her and on to the night ahead.

–

Monday morning seemed busier than usual at the coffee shop. Gaz waited patiently in line, but Rose barely had time for more than an extra smile and an apology for the wait. Honestly, Gaz wasn’t sure how she did it all - watching her was making him tired. And he’d been on long ops before.

He took his morning tea upstairs, nodding his greeting to Price, and settled at his desk for the moment. The rest of the team trickled in, some carrying drinks like he did.

Gaz waited until nearly ten before he took his laptop down to the coffee shop, steps near-silent. Rose was leaning against the counter, frowning down at something, at least until he opened the door and she looked up.

“Hi Gaz.” Her smile was warm and welcoming, tugging something in his chest. “Refill for you?”

“If it’s no trouble.” He smiled at her, walking up to the register.

“For you? Never.” She turned away to start on his tea, and he watched the sway of her hips. “I asked Soap last week and he got all squirrely about it, but… what is it you do?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

Gaz chuckled. “He’s just having fun at your expense,” he soothed. “Private security.”

“That’s a new one.” Rose turned to smile at him, amused. “I’ve seen lawyers, insurance agents, accountants, a couple bookies. But never private security.”

“Probably sounds more exciting than it is.”

“I’m sure you manage to have fun, regardless.”

Gaz smiled a little. “Seems you’ve got our number.”

“Not quite.” Something flashed in her eyes, a sort of awareness. “But I’ll get there, just you wait.” She winked, easing the atmosphere, and he huffed out a laugh.

“Mind if I sit here for a while?”

“Please, feel free.” She motioned to the tables. “That’s what they’re for.”

Gaz settled at a table where he could keep her in sight while he worked. His tea was perfect, as always. Really, he’d meant to tease Soap with that comment about it being her that made things special, but… maybe he hadn’t been so far off the mark.

And then she started humming along with the music playing from the speaker behind the bar. Her voice wasn’t technically the best Gaz had ever heard, but she could follow the music just fine.

(He’d absolutely deny watching her sway behind the counter, though.)

It was a peaceful way to spend the rest of his morning, and Gaz didn’t move until after the lunch rush had gone, keeping an eye on her and watching her unflagging cheer.

–

Rudy made his way down to the coffee shop on Tuesday afternoon. He and Ale had to go offsite to inspect a few things, so he had volunteered to get them coffee to go. Honestly, he was glad to have the chance to talk to Rose on his own. Just to get a better idea of what kind of person she was.

“Hi,” she greeted as soon as he walked in. “Rodolfo, right? What can I get for you today?”

He glanced around the coffee shop as he rattled off Ale’s order, and ended up copying it. Made things easier for him. The coffee shop was cute - four tables in the front offered a place to sit, with warm lighting keeping the whole shop cozy. Behind the bar was neat and tidy, although he knew it wasn’t always. The cookie display was filled and also clean. It was easy for him to see the love that went into a place like this.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She paused in front of him, gaze open though a hint of worry pinched the corners of her eyes.

“It’s very nice in here.” It was the first thing that came to mind, really. But apparently that was good enough, because her smile bloomed warm and bright for him.

“Thanks! Took me a while to get this place just the way I wanted it.”

“You did this yourself?” He didn’t try to hide the fact that he was impressed.

“Most of it, yeah.” She scratched the side of her nose, blushing a little. “Whoever operated it before me didn’t keep it up. It was pretty gross when I got it, but that worked in my favor. I got a big discount.”

Rudy chuckled quietly. “Still, you have done a lot with it. You should be proud.”

“I am.” The almost wistful tilt to her mouth said more, but he didn’t pry. It wasn’t his place. “Are you making any major changes to your office?”

Rudy shrugged. “I have not heard,” he admitted easily. “That would be up to the Captain. Ah, Price.”

Interest sparked in her eyes, and for a moment Rudy thought he would have to tell the team-approved misdirection. But she surprised him by simply nodding. “If I remember right, you’ve got lots of natural light up there. Could probably have a few plants.”

“Maybe.” Rudy blinked at her, surprised.

“Well, here are your coffees. If you drink Alejandro’s, I won’t tell if you don’t.” She winked at him.

Rudy laughed, holding up one coffee in a salute. “Gracias, bonita.” He chuckled at her little splutter behind him and walked out.

Well. She was certainly cute, and he was beginning to understand why some of the others got quite distracted around her.

–

Alejandro hadn’t intended to stay late on Wednesday, but, well… Needs must. And since needs must, he also needed a little pick-me-up.

So he jogged downstairs to get a coffee.

He caught Rose just as she was coming to the door, and he felt a twinge of regret. Especially since a glance at the nearest clock showed it was just after 6.

“Do you need a drink?” she asked, holding the door open for him.

“I apologize, I hadn’t realized the time.” He held up his hands, close to backing off. “I will go elsewhere.”

“Nonsense.” She motioned him in with a kind smile. “I’m not closed quite yet. What would you like?”

“Just a coffee.” A little reluctantly, he followed her up to the counter, watching as she lifted a portion of it to get to the machinery on the other side.

“Hazelnut? Vanilla? Raspberry?” She glanced back at him as she filled a cup most of the way, leaving room for cream.

“Just this is plenty.” He pulled out his wallet as she set the coffee in front of him.

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved off his money, still smiling. “I was just going to throw out the rest of the drip coffee by now anyway. You’re doing me a favor.”

Ale shook his head, though he was smiling. “You are too kind,” he murmured instead. “You are going home after this?”

“Just have to count out the till and lock up.” Rose didn’t rush him, though, instead working on putting things away while she chatted.

“You be safe, hm?” He almost winced after he said it. Almost.

But Rose didn’t take offense. If anything, she softened. “I always am,” she promised him. “I hope whatever you’re staying late for goes well.”

“If I survive, I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He smiled at her laugh, enjoying the sound of it even as he left. He stopped at the elevator and turned to look back through the glass doors, watching as she locked the doors. She caught his eye and waved before the elevator doors closed between them.

–

Ghost didn’t mind staying late. Not like he had a plethora of other places to be, after all. (And if occasionally that meant getting to shove Price out of his office to get some damn sleep, well, nobody was around to accuse him of it.)

It was nearly 1930 by the time he left the office, locking up behind him. The quiet of the building told him he was likely the last one out. Again, fine by him.

He paused on the ground floor, glancing around. The lights in the coffee shop were still on. Odd. She was never open this late.

For a moment he stood outside the glass door, looking in, debating with himself. He could continue home - it wasn’t his business, nor his problem.

Then he heard swearing from inside, tired and aggravated. Ghost huffed. Well. If nothing else, he’d throw Johnny at her tomorrow.

The door was open when he tried it, and he scowled a little. Risky. Anyone could walk in. (The irony of that statement was not lost to him.)

“We’re closed!” Rose called from the back.

“Left your door unlocked,” Ghost grunted, making his way up to the counter.

Rose was quick to appear from the back, hair back in a ponytail tonight. She blinked at him, startled, before she shook her head. “Knew I forgot something,” she muttered. “Thanks for letting me know, I’ll make sure to lock it.” But her smile was off, wan and tired.

“You should go home.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching her.

Rose puffed up for a moment… and then deflated with a sigh. “You’re probably right,” she muttered, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “I’ll go soon.”

“It’s late.” He didn’t budge.

“It’s fine.” She was entirely too dismissive of her own safety.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at her. She tipped her chin, undaunted and defiant. His chuckle surprised the both of them. She had guts, that was for sure.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, and he could practically see her examining and discarding arguments. “You won’t be budged, will you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine. Fine!” She threw her hands up in a mostly exaggerated show of annoyance. “Let me get my things.” Turning away, she muttered, “Those numbers will still be there tomorrow.”

Ah. Something in the books wasn’t adding up. Not his problem, but. Intel was always good to have. True to his word, Ghost stood there and waited as she gathered up her coat and purse from the back, turning off lights as she went.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” Rose ushered him out ahead of her, and Ghost was amused enough to allow it. She was close to a foot shorter than him - there was no way she was moving him if he didn’t want to be moved.

“I know.” He kept his voice bland, standing by the door as she crouched to lock it.

“You’re not walking me home.” Her gaze was just a little wary. Good. She did have some sense, despite her friendliness.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

She huffed again but smiled. “I’m all set here. Have a good night.”

Ghost nodded, walking her to the door of the building and watching which direction she turned. He had to go the opposite way. But he hadn’t gone more than a few steps when she yelled back to him.

“Coffee is on me tomorrow!”

“I don’t drink coffee!” he yelled back, caught between amusement and annoyance.

Rose just laughed and ran across the street.

–

Price had finally heard enough of Soap’s mumbling about “Friday cookies” to go downstairs, if only to get the Scotsman to shut up for a while. Even though Soap had already eaten two.

Price just wanted some damn peace and quiet in his office.

The lunch rush had already been and gone when he walked in, but Rose was alone behind the counter. She looked tired, hair tied back messily with a few errant curls falling in her face. But she stood up straight with a smile as soon as she spotted him.

“Hi John! What can I get for you today?”

“Some of those cookies.” Price eyed the display case. They did look good. And they smelled good, which was a problem. “Six of each.”

“Coming right up.” She moved a little more carefully than normal, transferring the cookies into a box. “Anything else for you?”

Price was quiet for a moment, watching her. “You alright, love?” The endearment slipped out without his permission, but he couldn’t regret it when she blushed.

“Yeah, fine, just… rearranging some plans.” She glanced away from him, unable to hold eye contact. Lying. But this wasn’t an op, she was just the pretty coffee shop owner. So he didn’t push.

“Well, hope it works out for you.” He handed her more money than needed, as always. “The door is open, if you need anything.”

She blinked at him, openly startled by the offer. But before he could retract it or feel self-conscious, she smiled, warm and a little bashful and a lot hopeful. “Thank you, John.”

John took his box of cookies, only one thought on his mind as he headed back upstairs:

How had he not noticed she was so beautiful?

#cod fanfic #fall into me

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magickkate · 2 months

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🍲🔥Cauldrons and Modern-Day Alternatives 🍲🔥

While the traditional cauldron holds a special place in witchcraft lore, modern-day witches have found creative alternatives for their magical workings. Here are some contemporary options:

Crockpots and Slow Cookers: These kitchen staples are perfect for simmering magical potions and brews over a long period of time. Use them to infuse your home with delicious scents and positive energy.

Cast Iron Skillets: With their sturdy construction and ability to retain heat, cast iron skillets make excellent vessels for cooking up spells and rituals. Season yours with intention and use it to whip up magical concoctions.

Mortar and Pestle: While traditionally used for grinding herbs and spices, a mortar and pestle can also be used to mix and blend ingredients for spellwork. Choose one made from natural materials and dedicate it to your magical practice.

Mason Jars: These versatile containers are perfect for storing herbs, potions, and other magical ingredients. Use them to create spell jars, charms, and talismans, or simply to infuse your pantry with positive energy.

Enamelware: With its retro charm and durable construction, enamelware is a popular choice among modern witches for brewing up magical concoctions. Choose a brightly colored pot or kettle and let it become a focal point of your kitchen altar.

Remember, it's not the tool itself that holds power, but the intention and energy you infuse into your magical workings. Choose tools that resonate with you and your practice, and let your creativity flow! 🌟🔮

#magickkate #reference #kitchen witch #sigils #witchblr #green witch #witch #witchcraft #witchy #queue the magick #cauldron #witch aesthetic #witches #magic #occult

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eksvaized · 2 months

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Part Eleven [ Previous 〡 Next ] taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt if you want to be added - let me know!

Simon lays awake, his gaze fixated on the ceiling. The light of the moon filters in through the small sliver of the drawn curtains, casting a grey glow across the room. Although you’re on the second floor, nestled in the confines of your bed and probably deep in slumber, he convinces himself that he can discern the faint, rhythmic sound of your breathing. Tonight, sleep is an elusive phantom, dancing just out of his reach, as if playing a tantalizing game of hide and seek.

At first, his mind is ensnared in a relentless loop that constantly replays the heart-stopping moment he saw you attempting to flee. On the surface, he had maintained a facade of calm and collectedness, a veneer of control that masked the turmoil within. But deep within the hidden recesses of his mind, hidden from your eyes, a storm was brewing. A torrent of panic and fear swallowed whole him, an overwhelming tsunami of emotion that threatened to submerge his sanity in its dark depths.

He was well aware that the thoughts of escape, those tantalizing whispers of freedom, still lurked in the corners of your mind, casting a shadow over your interactions with him. That’s why he made the conscious decision to leave you alone in the house yesterday. Well, it was more than a decision. It was a test, a gamble of sorts. An experiment to see how you would react, what decisions you would make, in his absence.

In his mind, he had prepared himself for a multitude of scenarios. He had expected, with a certain degree of certainty, that you would misbehave and act like a rebellious brat. Maybe you would even give in to the temptation of curiosity and sneak downstairs to explore the rest of the house. Yes, he had anticipated a myriad of potential outcomes. But what he had not accounted for was the jarring sight that had greeted him upon his return.

The living room was a scene of unbridled chaos. It was as if a hurricane had swept through, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Furniture — at least the stuff you could lift — was overturned. Old books from the bookshelf were strewn across the floor like forgotten confetti after a parade. Even the vase that adorned the coffee table lay shattered, its fragments glistening like teardrops under the harsh overhead light. Every semblance of order in the living room was all but eradicated.

In the eye of this storm of disarray, you knelt. Like a solitary figure in an abstract painting, you were the focal point in this whirlwind of chaos. Your body convulsed with the rhythm of your sobs, each one echoing through the space, bouncing off the walls. The raw emotion that filled the room was palpable, a bitter perfume that clung to every surface.

Simon blinks, his eyelids fluttering once, then twice, as he’s yanked from his thoughts and thrust back into his bedroom. He finds himself lying in his cold, empty bed once again, the emptiness of the room serving as a haunting mirror, reflecting his inner turmoil.

The depth of his frustration with you is so profound, it’s like a storm raging in a teacup, creating a vortex of feelings that’s almost suffocating. His irritability permeates the surrounding air, brewing a heavy, palpable tension that hangs like a rain cloud ready to burst. It’s not that he’s demanding or expecting too much from you, his desires are actually quite simple - all he yearns for is to see a flicker of understanding in your eyes, a sign of acceptance of actions. He craves your obedience and submission, the surrender of your will to his. He imagines a future where he can lavish you with affection, treating you like a precious gem, showering you with the abundant love and respect that you absolutely deserve.

His dreams are filled with vibrant images of you looking at him with love, of you accepting his care and protection, of you surrendering your fears and doubts. He sees himself as your protector, your guide, your lover, and your friend. But as long as you continue to perceive yourself as a prisoner within these walls, his dreams remain just that - dreams.

Your perception of him binds his hands, trapping him within the walls you've constructed around yourself. Leaving him no choice but to treat you as you perceive yourself to be - a prisoner. However, he hopes that one day, you’ll see the love behind his actions, the care in his words, and the dreams he has for both of you.

With a heavy, almost audible sigh, Simon musters the energy to push himself up into a sitting position. His bare back, surprisingly cold, comes to rest against the rough, wooden headboard of his bed. Fumbling in the semi-darkness, he reaches out towards the nightstand, his fingers blindly exploring the cluttered surface until they close around a pack of cigarettes.

Extracting one with practiced ease, he places it between his parted lips, the familiar, bitter taste spreading across his tongue, offering him a small sense of comfort in the otherwise lonely room. The sharp, distinct smell of nicotine hangs heavily in the air, permeating every corner of his bedroom, creating a cocktail of scents as it mingles with the lingering aroma of his expensive cologne.

His mind wanders back to you, and he can’t help but acknowledge the fact that if he ever wants to bring you into this room — when he finally gathers the courage to do so — he would need to eliminate the intrusive odor. He yearns for nothing more than to make you feel completely at ease, to create a safe, welcoming space for you. He understands, with a clarity that surprises him, that the lingering, invasive scent of cigarettes absorbed into his sheets would likely have the opposite effect, potentially driving you away. And that, he knows, is the last thing he wants.

After savouring the last puff of his cigarette, he extinguishes the glowing ember and swings his legs out from under the warmed sheets. Standing at his full, towering height, his daunting silhouette is barely visible in the dark room. Despite his imposing stature, his movements are remarkably silent, akin to a phantom drifting through the night. Each footstep echoes softly, barely disturbing the tranquillity that has settled in the house.

A ritual, as familiar and comforting as an old lullaby, unfolds. A tradition that took root from the very first night he brought you to his home. As you lay sleeping, cocooned in the peaceful embrace of slumber, he assumes his nightly vigil at the threshold of your bedroom. He doesn’t impose upon the sanctity of the room by crossing the boundary, preferring to remain an observer.

Simon leans against the worn wood of the frame, his gaze settling on the serene form that is you. His eyes, reflecting the soft moonlight that filters through the curtains, trace the contours of your peaceful face, drinking in the sight of you. Each night, like a silent sentinel, he stands quietly watching over you, until the sun rises.

Now, bathing in the soft light of the moon, he couldn’t help but notice an uncanny resemblance. It was as if he was looking into the past, staring at a mirror image of her. You bear an uncanny likeness to her, so much so that it was startling. The similarities had been there since the moment he had first laid eyes on you, but now, under the moonlight, the likeness was overwhelmingly striking. You could very well be her long-lost sister, albeit a younger version, untouched by the ravages of time. Your features are softer, gentler and more innocent, devoid of the harsh lines that had come to mark her face.

It’s been a considerable amount of time, a span of years filled with change, since the memories of her last invaded his mind. But now, beneath the moon’s cold scrutiny, with the chilly wind outside whispering tales of the past, he finds it impossible to shake her image from his thoughts.

The memory of her is not just a mere thought, it’s vivid, almost tangible - like a ghost refusing to pass on. He still can see her slender frame laying in a cold, stark cell, her head resting on a pile of paper flowers, as though in a peaceful sleep. The flowers were her own creation, painstakingly folded from the pages of books that Simon had brought for her. It’s an image that has been seared into his memories, a haunting reminder of a past that refuses to be forgotten, a past that clings on to the edges of his present.

Killing her was undoubtedly the most horrific mistake he had ever made in his life. Yet, the real torment lay not in the act itself, but in the bitter truth that it had never been his intention. The memory is etched into his mind, as sharp as if it all took place yesterday...

He can still see her in front of him, her eyes wide and pleading, silently begging him to take her outside, away from the oppressive confines of the cell, even if for a few minutes. She was a pitiful sight, her spirit crushed and her body worn down from the harsh conditions. Her misery hung in the air, thick and suffocating as a heavy fog, twisting his heart into painful knots.

It was this heart-wrenching scene that compelled him to concede to her plea. He did so against his better judgment, against the screaming protests that echoed in every fiber of his being, warning him of the potential catastrophic consequences. Yet, he ignored these warnings, and that decision transformed his life into a living nightmare.

Simon, in his usual cautious manner, had taken all the necessary precautions. He had tied her hands, made sure she stayed within a hand’s reach, and explicitly forbade her from making any sudden movements. But she was a fiery spirit, just like you, refusing to give up or to be tamed.

When she made a desperate, last-ditch effort to escape, he had managed to catch her. Blinded by a fierce and unforgiving anger, he was completely consumed by a terrifying rage, a fire that threatened to burn everything in its path. It was in this heated, volatile moment that he lost his sense of control, his sense of reason. He was so blinded by his fury that he didn’t even realise that his iron grip around her fragile neck was more than just an act of restraint. It was slowly and mercilessly suffocating her.

The horrifying, gut-wrenching reality of the atrocity he had committed only dawned on him after he had dragged her lifeless, limp body back to cell; the moment he let her body go, it fell onto the concrete floor like a marionette whose strings had been abruptly cut.

Simon rubs his face. The memory of how he had ended the life of the woman he loved, the only woman who had ever truly loved him back, haunts him. He was the reason she had drawn her last breath, and that thought was more painful than any physical wound.

The guilt and remorse gnaw at his sanity constantly, and that’s why he needs you, that’s why he keeps you here. You are his solace, his escape from the cruel reality that he finds himself trapped in. When his attention is on you, when you are in his presence, he finds the tormenting thoughts fading into the background. You are his distraction, his piece of normalcy in his world that’s gone awry. In your company, he finds a fleeting respite from the relentless ghosts of his past.

With a precision that has become a part of his daily routine, he closes the bedroom door as silently as a thief in the night, taking care to avoid the creak of old hinges that could wake you. He does this only when he notices you beginning to stir - a twitch of your fingers, a soft sigh escaping your lips - in the soft morning light. By then, the sun is already peeking above the horizon.

In the serene stillness of his bathroom, connected to his bedroom, he steps beneath the soothing stream of the shower, surrendering himself to the gentle caress of warm water cascading over his bare skin. As the steam gradually fills the space, his thoughts drift back to you. His fingers curl into a tight fist. With the fervor of a mutt in heat, he thrusts into his own clenching grasp.

Eyes shut closed, he recalls the vivid memory of you, the sensation of your body pressing up against his fingers. The images in his mind are so powerful; he can almost hear your moans and whimpers. He can almost feel the feverish rhythm of your hips grinding against him in a desperate search for release.

He remembers the crescendo of your pleasure, building, and building until it finally reached its peak. The memory of your climax is so real, so palpable, he can almost feel the tremors of your convulsing body as you succumbed to the overwhelming wave of pleasure, culminating in an earth-shattering orgasm. It doesn’t take him long to reach his own release, too.

Once he’s done, he steps out of the shower, towel draped around his waist. After dressing up, he heads to the kitchen. He loves this part of the morning, when the house is still quiet and he can focus on preparing breakfast for you. He takes his time, carefully selecting the freshest ingredients, chopping, mixing, and cooking. Simon may not be the best cook, but he puts in a lot of effort for you.

An hour later, as the morning sun paints the kitchen with its golden hue, he is almost done preparing breakfast when he hears the familiar sound of your movements upstairs. At first, he hears you pacing around the room, the soft rustling of fabric against fabric, the wardrobe door closing and opening. Then, the sound of your footsteps echoes, a distant drum beat resonating through the house as you walk to the bathroom and back.

Knowing that he’s running out of time, he quickly finishes up in the kitchen. He arranges everything neatly on a tray, the aroma of freshly cooked food filling the air. With a sense of satisfaction, he carries the tray upstairs.

Without even the slightest hesitation or the courtesy of a knock, he pushes open the door and steps into the bedroom. The first thing that catches his attention is the bed, with its sheets and blankets thrown into disarray. His heart skips a beat at the unexpected sight, his mind racing as he realizes that your usual spot within the chaotic tumble of sheets is uninhabited and cold.

His frantic gaze then darts across the room, and that’s when he spots you, perched by the window. You have pulled a chair right up to it the glass pane, settling into its worn upholstery. You are curled up, your body folded into itself as if trying to conserve warmth, a blanket from the bed wrapped around your shoulders. The sight of you, bathed in the soft glow of the morning light filtering in through the glass, brings a sense of relief to him. The room may be in shambles, but there you are, safe and sound.

He registers the fact that you remain oblivious to his presence as he crosses the room. His footsteps, usually a sharp echo in the quiet of the room, are now just a faint whisper against the floor - a noise that appears to have gone unnoticed by you. With a slight sigh, he sets down the tray he has brought with him on the nightstand. It clinks against the wood. But your gaze, usually so quick to shift and assess, remains fixed outside the window.

You are often quiet, keeping your thoughts to yourself, and only rarely do you engage in idle conversation with him. Even so, on most days, you will at least shoot him a glare or scoff at something he says. Today, however, there is none of that. No fiery glare, no curt wave. Just a vacant stare out the window. He can’t help but wonder if this unusual silence has anything to do with the events of yesterday.

He feels a slight pang of annoyance welling up inside. Does he not deserve at least some form of acknowledgment? After all, it’s not fair for you to ignore him completely.

In the aftermath of your failed attempt to run away, he had chosen to be incredibly lenient with your punishment. His mercy had been far more gracious than what you deserved, especially considering the circumstances. Moreover, he had even allowed you to return to your own room, sparing you a night in the basement. Given these concessions, he had expected you to wake up in a state of overwhelming joy. He imagined you grinning from ear to ear, practically radiating an aura of gratefulness that was impossible to overlook. He had hoped to see a spark of appreciation in your eyes, a sign that you recognized his magnanimity.

In fact, he would have even appreciated a more explicit show of gratitude from you - perhaps finding you on your knees, your lips wrapping around him in a silent thank you. He knew that such a scenario was perhaps pushing the boundaries, a bit too much too soon, especially since he understood the necessity of being patient with you.

Yet, what he encounters is an unsettling silence. You show absolutely no reaction to his presence, leaving him feeling oddly invisible, as if he didn’t exist in your world.

He can feel the frustration inside him, bubbling and churning, like a cauldron on the verge of boiling over. It is a fiery presence, an almost palpable entity, threatening to consume him. Every fiber of his being screams out, resonating with this internal chaos. Yet, he knows he can’t let it gain control. He can’t afford to lose his composure. So, he fights back the urge, suppresses the tumultuous feelings, swallowing them down like a bitter pill.

“You should eat something,” he suggests softly, his voice unintentionally gentler than he has imagined. It is as if the tension in the air cushions his words, each syllable coming out as a hushed whisper. Slowly, he moves closer to you.

Yet, you still offer him no acknowledgment, no sign that you even heard him. You don’t even afford him a glance, your attention captured entirely by the world outside. Your gaze remains unwavering, your focus lost somewhere beyond the confines of the room.

A thought begins to cross his mind, a worrying idea that perhaps you had succumbed to some illness. It wasn’t entirely implausible, given the fact that you had spent the entire previous day running around the backyard, your feet bare and exposed against the cool, dew-kissed grass. This could potentially account for your sudden and drastic shift in demeanor, your unanticipated ungrateful attitude.

Yet, when he extends his arm, placing the back of his hand against your forehead to check your temperature for any signs of fever, it is surprisingly normal. No signs of sickness, no signs of abnormality.

A symphony of discontent, a low, frustrated growl, unwillingly breaks free from him, his teeth colliding like stones in a grinding mill, echoing his rising irritability. He is growing increasingly frustrated, but he is also trying to be understanding. After everything that has transpired yesterday, he can still smell you on his fingers, a lingering reminder of your orgasm. It is this tangible reminder that keeps him patient, that prompts him to cut you some slack.

Simon begins to tidy up the room. He starts with the bed, meticulously making sure that the sheets are smooth, free of wrinkles and that the pillows are fluffed. Afterwards, he spends an agonizing five minutes scrolling through various movie options in the box on the table, trying to find something that might catch your interest. Once he makes his choice, he returns to your side.

His rough fingers trace the edge of the blanket that is draped around you. With a gentle tug, he pulls it off, letting it fall and pool around the base of the chair you are seated on. You are wearing a long, big shirt, one that Simon immediately recognizes as his own. He had purposely left it in your wardrobe.

Even now, with him so close that he’s basically breathing down your neck, you continue to ignore him. But he is undeterred, persistent in his efforts. His hand reaches out again, fingers brushing your arm, urging you to stand, to acknowledge him.

“You should eat something,” he repeats, his voice firm yet gentle. You only shake your head.

He doesn’t want to spend the rest of the day arguing, bickering, and trying to convince you to peel your ass off the chair. Therefore, he chooses a more direct, and arguably more effective, approach. With a swift and decisive movement, he wraps his robust, muscular arms around your frame. The sensation of his strength is immediately apparent as he effortlessly lifts you up.

Taken by surprise, you let out a startled gasp, the unexpected shift in your surroundings leaving you temporarily dazed and confused. You find yourself ensnared in the iron grip of his hands, your vocal cords seemingly frozen, unable to form any words. Your eyes, wide with shock, lock onto his.

As he holds your gaze, he can see a veritable storm of emotions churning within you. Undeniably, there is a profound sadness that seems to etch itself into your very being. More disconcerting, however, is the fleeting glimmer of something that bears a striking resemblance to regret. It is a feeling that seems to gnaw at your soul, threatening to consume you in its fiery abyss.

Simon is incredibly observant, with an uncanny knack for noting the minute details that others might easily overlook. He picks up on the subtle stiffening of your body in his hold, a rigidness that wasn’t there before. He notes the way you consciously keep your arms to yourself, as if you’re afraid to initiate any kind of contact. His eyes follow your movements, and he doesn’t miss how you quickly create a noticeable distance between the two of you as soon as your feet touch the surface of the mattress. It’s almost as if his touch burns you, as if you’re recoiling from the heat of a flame. Every flutter of your eyelashes, every slight shift in your demeanor, he catches it all, observing and absorbing.

Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he takes great care to avoid disturbing the spread of food that he has arranged before you. His moves are calculated, mindful of the careful balance he’s achieved. His attention, however, is divided. It’s half-absorbed in the movie that’s just begun to play, the opening credits rolling on the screen, and half-absorbed in watching you.

The screen’s flickering light dances across your face, highlighting the sharp intensity of your gaze. He observes from the corner of his eye as your attention drifts repeatedly to the tray placed before you. Yet, the food remains untouched. His patience wears thin as he waits, waits and waits, hoping you would finally give in to your hunger. Restraining himself from interjecting becomes a struggle he’s slowly losing.

At last, he reaches his breaking point. “You should eat something,” he says. It’s already the third time he’s echoed this sentence, each iteration more insistent than the last. Before you even have the chance to decline, he interjects, his tone leaving no room for negotiation, “Or I’ll feed you.”

You’re taken aback, a flicker of hesitation flashing in your eyes. The room falls into a tense silence, filled only with the sound of your ragged breaths. The silent standoff continues for what feels like an eternity, with neither of you willing to back down.

However, as the seconds draw on, the resistance in your eyes starts to wane. There’s a moment where you look as though you’re about to say something, but then you close your mouth, swallowing whatever words were on the tip of your tongue. You finally give in, your shoulders slumping in resignation.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, you reach out towards the plate in front of you and your fingers close around the cool metal of the fork.

A/N: this chapter is more than 4000 words long and I had so much fun writing it from Simon's POV. I think the rest of the fic will be mainly written from YN's POV and maybe if I'll feel like it, and if it will make sense, I might do another one trough Simon's eyes. :) but anyway, thank you for reading && hope you liked it!

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #writing #cod #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #cod x reader #cod fanfic #malheur #fem!reader #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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maccreadysbaby · 1 year

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Writing Tips!

category : angst

a few tips on writing angst! all examples provided are from my own works, linked next to the quotation!

— ☢︎ —

when describing a character who’s at their breaking point, completely ready to be done with all of this, metaphors and similes are key. metaphors and similes are one of the best ways to help a reader understand how the character feels without directly telling them. they make the statement more powerful and atmosphere-painting.

ex. ❝He felt a it coming; a catastrophic storm brewing somewhere deep inside of him that would demolish everything in its path,❞ (x)

ex. ❝The anxiety that clawed at his throat was so familiar it was like an old friend.❞ (x)

don’t just talk about your character being weak, show us! describe how they’re moving, (if they are) how they’re breathing, wincing, groaning, limping, how with every step they take a new wave of unbearable pain reverberates through their bones.

ex. ❝He couldn’t take a step without nearly falling over from the vertigo, and he’d thrown up whatever fuel was left inside him all over the pre-war pavement of the city. He was officially running on empty.❞ (x)

❝Pulling his eyes open only made it worse, and he groaned in agony, squirming slightly on top of whatever hard surface he was laying on to try and ease the pain. It didn’t work.❞ (x)

when a character is sad or about to cry, don’t just describe it by tears! albeit, tears can be a powerful writing tool for a character whose never cried before, such as one of mine in my wip novel. but for characters that are already heavily emotional, use other descriptions and features. a facial expression can illustrate heartbreak, they can lash out in anger when they’re trying to keep it together, and when they hit they’re breaking point, meltdown style, then you can introduce the tears. just make sure you make the pain the focal point of the work, and not the crying. let the crying be the result of the pain, don’t let the crying introduce the pain. characters don’t need to cry to show that they’re hurting. it might be frantic shuffling, making jokes, sitting in silence, not being themselves, etc.

ex. ❝Their last words came out as a half-voiced whimper, but Deacon flinched like they’d screamed it. Little did they know, it’d hit him like a bullet to the chest.❞ (x)

ex. ❝It was his mask: hide the brokenness with a warm smile and a nice laugh. “Heart still beating and all?” He continued with a half-hearted chuckle.❞ (x)

if you’ve previously established your characters having some kind of trait that implies they would handle trauma or pain in a certain way, don’t change it! if your character is known for running to drugs, don’t make them suddenly just burst into tears in front of the main character. if your characters blunt, make them say it bluntly. if your characters a known crybaby, let them have a cry. just don’t stray from your character build to accommodate emotions — after all, emotions don’t control your character, you do! let those characters handle it how they know to until they can’t anymore. then their final breakdown will have more meaning.

ex. ❝They hadn’t seen Scout in a solid two days, nor had they heard anything about him from anyone. He was standing next to the doorway, dark eyes whiter than normal, hands trembling by his sides. He was sweating almost profusely and looked like he was terrified. If they didn’t know any better, they’d think he was just super worried. But they knew better. The question was, how bad would the withdrawals be this time?❞ (x)

ex. ❝’I’m not (okay),’ He admitted simply, shifting his gaze back towards the noodle robot ahead.❞ (x)

include internal dialogue. even if you’re writing in third and not first person, you can still include internal dialogue! simply interjecting the thoughts into the text like another sentence. it will feel like the characters asking the question or making the statement. it’s a key part of letting the reader in on how your character feels, thinks, and handles their pain.

ex. ❝Why her? Why him? Why them? He knew why — it was his own fault. His own past choices. He’d done this to himself.❞ (x)

ex. ❝His body was aching, and he couldn’t remember the last time he ate or drank, but his own relief wasn’t in the question. What kind of relief did he deserve when his son was sick? Dying?❞ (x)

#creative writing #writing #own character #original character #writers #fanfiction writer #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #writing angst

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siremasterlawrence · 10 days

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The Epic Farce

My epic farce of a boss is on my last nerve on this day where the heat has risen to what is unknown level of insane fiery passion and that has overcome the craziness pushing his employees past their limits so I march in to his office today.A little concoction of mine accidentally or I intentionally made by my way exposing it to fellow laboratory assistant however that is not here or there and I approach my bosses office as I mix it in to his coffee formula then hand it to him.

I am at a loss sliding the office window to the side as the breeze washes the room in a sweet scent letting it metastasize every where and my life froze in time as I here him screech. His bellow reaches the sky shaking the walls to new levels and heights building up the hot fury within me because he is that man my boss and he is about to taken down an end to his life.

He swipes it from my hand in anger with a evil look in to my eyes so deep he frightens me with that glare I step back watching the magic happen and he gulps it down slowly with a cooler tone as he began to relax more and more. His body jumps up flinging the cup in to the air as it falls dropping to the floor it loses balance smashes to the floor and he goes crazy his arms flailing till he hit the floor and his head is on his chin because he believes in me now.

I pump my fist in excitement watching him be come alive his head starts to bop upward to face me with this expressionless face I have ever seen and I inform in to stand up tall face me with so much love and adoringly with wide open arms. Approaching him I kick the door close giving us the ultimate privacy walking closer to him he shoves the chair to the side and then the desk as well and wraps his arms around my waist and he kisses me slowly without a single thought.

The idea that nothing else matters at the moment except for me the architect of his entire world and extraordinarily soon he will not acknowledge the life he once led ever again and with one final kiss I shove him on to the chair. Snapping my finger a resounding loud air horn sound clicks propelling him back in to reality as he wakes up the sleep creeps from his face and he swerves a bit in his chair to coming to terms with it all he looks at me lovingly with lust in his eyes.

“How did not see how fucking amazing you are?”

“You are a beautiful.”

“Oh Tom”

“You are babe”

“You are Master”

“Address me as Master Lawrence “

“Yes Master Lawrence “

“Kneel at my feet”

“Take my hand boi”

“May I kiss it ?”

“Yes boi!”

“Do you comprehend the change?”

“In me my love?”

“Yes you fool”

“Stare in to my eyes “

“Yes Master Lawrence “

“You are a pussy”

“A epic farce “

“A nobody to the ninth degree”

“I am 100 percent my God!”

“You revolve around me”

“Love me”

“Live for my approval”

“I am your lifeline.”

“Oooohhh Mmmyyy Ggggooodddd…mmmmmm”

The end

In The Summer Heat Part 1 - 2

Kenneth

Tommy invites me to his cabin retreat with his friends on a weekend vacation in the record of the hottest summer ever but I am not to find of him because I want some alone time.

My formula could be quite useful brewing up another two cups creating a new ice coffee mix and bring it out to his best friend Ken who looks at my funny before taking the cup and downing it with encouragement from Tommy.

I exit the backyard back in to the house as I hear some weird conversation discussing how strange I am and how he does not feel comfortable with me around even I can see Tommy pissed.

Five to ten minutes later Tommy gives me a thumbs up to say it is in all affect waving me to come and I walk over to see Ken slumped over the chair and drugged for next three hours.

I decide to play a game grabbing an exact duplicate seat at the table using my hands to place on his shoulders rubbing them very tightly as I begin to whisper into his ears so sweetly.

I instruct him to use his eyes to look at the focal point on the trail toward, imagine your feet rising upward into the sky reaching your full height and everything and everyone else is gone.

You are alone in the cabin on a beautiful day with the winds strong blowing on him and the clear blue ocean waves calling to him and a backpack appears on his back as he goes on a nice mental vacation.

He begins to walk making his way in to the track moving to nowhere in particular as the day passes by and he sees a cave as night emerges and sneaks in walking blindly to his own doom.

Standing right behind him begin I telling him to see my image as he grimaces, I smack him across the ass informing him to follow me and he does obediently listening to my words his protection melts.

“Who are you?”

“Oh Ken!”

“Obedience is pleasure “

“Pleasure is obedience “

“I rule you “

“Join Tommy “

“By my slave “

“I refuse”

“Stay locked in”

“No!”

“You have one choice “

“Be mine”

“You have no choice “

“The coffee is soaking “

“Dripping in to your blood”

“You have given in to me”

“I own you “

“You cannot do a damn thing about it “

“Accept your faith”

“Willingly follow me”

“Or blindly fall”

“All you have to do is kiss me”

“I dare you “

“Uuuugggghhhh! Fuck! Mmmmmmm”

Tim

“What is with you man?”

“What Tom?”

“The gay shit”

“He is our Master”

“Yeah man relax “

“RELAX? Fuck you “

“I’ll fix you “

“I like to see you try “

“Back up freak”

“Move Ken”

“You don’t dare to touch my man”

“Your man?”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Something funny”

“Your man! You have to be kidding “

“We are not “

“Say that again”

“”Pussy”

I laugh so hard holding my stomach as I fall to the ground, I command them both to hold him down, and I am created a quick mix of my potion in to a wine glass with wine then I poured it down his throat.

Tim tried to fight both of them failing as he hit the floor and they pin him down to the ground and they smirk with utter ecstatic relief of success as he would soon become for me.

Tim starts to shake shivering as he flails out of control he rolls over on the floor and soon he is now completely an empty mindless husk under my supreme control because I am his world now.

“I surrender my Master”

“Claim me”

The end

#tom hardy #chris evans #joel kinnaman #hypnotic love #gay hypno #mind control #reprogramming #hypnosis #hypno slave #mind control slaves #magic coffee #magical coffee #Hypno enslavement #Creating A Family

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greyfics · 21 hours

Text

entry 8.5: a side-plot in which norm gets the fuck out.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

subject: norm maclean

fic type: smart relatable underdog side character gets spotlight,

word count: 2.85K

inspo: I really just need to see norm gtfo of that vault lol, I feel like he's got a fighting chance you know?

cw: spoilers for fallout season one

summary: an overseer that is a brain in a vat. a series of experiments concealed behind the front of a subterranean utopia. the convenient relocation of the last of the people norm cared about- the last of the people questioning the fragile reign of the overseers, and what they might be hiding. norm desperately needs to leave, to find his sister- before he becomes just another one of bud's buds..

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"I suggest you wait it out in your father's pod, unless you want to starve to death- not much food in here, except the occasional large bug."

He is frozen. A small, quivering fist slowly slips down a firmly sealed door- were these vaults reinforced havens, or were they preemptive tombs?- the fist unfurls, as the wrist goes limp and the body connected numbs spare for the pitter patter of palpitations spawned from that very realisation.

His face is absent of blood, and despite the fact he has not yet fatalistically marched over to a cryogenic chamber to further bury himself in this pit, the numbness fades to a chill that kicks his feet into a frenzied pacing.

The robo-brain does a slow, awkward 180° twist, "All that is going to do for you is burn valuable energy that I simply don't have to give back to you, Norm. See, I'm sure you know this if you paid attention during your pristine pre-years education programme, but the human body requires-"

"Just shut up for a second." Is the flat-toned, snappy response Norm gives as he rubs his temples, the repetitive sensation a focal point to ground his shaking limbs, to ground a flurry of rarely seen irrational thoughts in that calculating mind.

Right now, it looks as though his only options are slamming himself against the door fruitlessly until he collapses from exhaustion and inevitably dies of dehydration or starvation, or to get into a pod on the other end of the room and pray that somehow, he is woken up- but what then? what would I even have to wake up to? Norm reflects upon the denizens of Vault 33- the way they force a smile and idle onwards so ignorantly; treating murderers as naughty houseguests, ignoring the slow dissimilation of their vault's security, it's vital resources and population becoming more sparse by the week. Even if there was hope brewing for a better future somewhere on the surface, there's no way that help would reach him down here.

Besides, he was just a problem for Vault 33- he always had been. He recalls the bitter comments about his unenthusiastic demeanour- the fearful confusion directed at his monotony- how lonely, how isolating a life down here is as an anomaly of the herd. With him removed from the equation, and Betty able to sleep at night thinking of him not as dead, but simply as in a rather permanent state of sleep, she would have no reason to wake him up- he who might expose the secrets they had desperately tried to keep locked away for so long. He was better left removed from the vault- left down here.

The reminder of his present predicament begins to suffocate him again, as his eyes flit between the walls and his breath picks up pace, the panic attack coming back for a dizzying second wave. Breathe. Breathe- I can't breathe. I'm going to die down here- this place is a big heaping metal tomb and I have to get out- Norm had never felt so overencumbered at the thought of being buried so deep beneath the surface before, but for the first time ever the urge to scratch his way to the surface was overriding in him the fear of the vultures circling above. He thinks about this- pauses his pacing entirely, and thinks some more. The buzz of an idea begins to spark slowly to fruition in Norm's mind.

It was true that it was better for Betty that he be kept somewhere outside of Vault 33- but maybe he'd even less of a threat left somewhere... else outside of 33? Maybe somewhere he could be more useful? He almost leaps from the exhilaration of having any kind of possible plan c at all in this situation- but his temperament keeps him still- and though his lips remain a flat, pursed line, a playful light dances behind the young genius' eyes, "Locking me in here won't stop Vault 33 from falling apart- it will just guarantee it. I'm your solution." He calmly declares- naturally, Bud's first move is to shut him down, but he is prepared for that, "Norman, you know I can't do that- and you really shouldn't worry about Vault 33 anymore, Betty has things completely-"

"-under control? If Betty had things under control, then how and why did a vault dweller manage to break into her office and trick you into letting them into Vault 31?" Bud stammers, juts to one side and then the other as he awkwardly attempts to give some justifiable explanation to Norm's question.

The bot stills, and lets a sigh out of its speakers, "There may be some... complications to the planned course of action- you being here being one of them, I should remind you- but I'm sure Betty will work through them and get everything back to normal soon enough. What good will it do us to send you to the surface? That would mean opening the vault doors, and risking the safety of everyone inside-" Norm shakes his head at this, takes a step towards the bot as he parries back, "-raiders managed to infiltrate our vault through 32 already, and the main vault door was opened twice after that. Do you really think one more time could hurt?"

The little brain in a pot makes an exasperated crying noise, and shakes itself as emphatically as it can, "But what would be the point in that, buddy, if we can just keep you tucked safely away in the most secure vault of the three down here, and... not open the door at all? None of our problems will be solved by another person leaving." A rare, triumphant grin floats onto Norm's face, and Bud makes a reflexive sharp shuffle backwards at the unnatural site, "If we don't replace our water filtration chip, then eventually Vault 33 runs out of water- and if the vault dwellers don't overthrow the overseer and leave by then? Everyone will die.-"

"Oh my god, why did he smile when he said tha-"

"-Just listen. Vault 32's supplies clearly ran out a long time ago, and evidently no-one from Vault 31 was gonna get up for a glass of water during their 200-year long power nap. By the look on Betty's face when she found out, I'm guessing there isn't a back-up." Bud is back to being completely still and silent now. Norm basks in a moment of captured quiet, takes a couple slow steps to steady the nervous shakes as he deployed as much charisma as he was capable, "You could just keep me in here, and let Betty send someone else to the surface for a replacement- but those people? The other dwellers? They're built for vault life- they fit in here-"

He wavers a little, a lump forming in his throat- but digresses, "I don't. I'm not strong- but I'm quick, and I'm smart... and, I might be a coward- or I was, once- but I'm beginning to realise this place is no better than whatever might be waiting up there. Nobody really knows what they're doing- not you, not Betty- maybe not even my dad. And I don't want to keep sitting around waiting to die when I could be doing something."- I could be helping Lucy, I should have- "So send me. I'll go find a replacement. I'll bring it back- and then neither you nor Betty will ever see me again. You'll be solving two problems with one stone."

The brain-in-a-vat that is Bud spends a painfully long time just sitting there and glowing, still taking in all that Norm had argued, malfunct in his dilemma between maintaining protocol or deviating from protocol for the sake of maintaining the protocol, honestly upset that he was having to do any deep deliberation at all regarding what he had been informed would be a rather simple and satisfying job. When he makes his decision, it comes with a disappointed, exasperated breath- and then a slow, clumsy spin once again, as he veers himself back into the door terminus access point.

With a blip and a hiss, the door that Norm had believed not too long ago to have sealed his fate begins to steadily unlock itself once again. He cries out with desperate relief and punches the air, before maintaining his composure and striding over to the door. He gets as close as he can, in case his thankfully not forever-friend decides to change his mind last minute. He hears the awful creaking of the vault door opening ahead, and dashes for it without even bothering to say goodbye to Bud- no time to spare, I need to leave now- Betty might not be so stupid. The door rolls to the left, his feet hardly make a sound as they dance across the metal grated platform to freedom-

And falter, pause, reverse a few steps when the figure of Betty Pearson is revealed but a few seconds later, arms crossed, already waiting for the door to roll back open.

Oh god, I think I'm having a heart attack. I think I might just die right now. I think that might be for the best.

...He does not die, and though he is grateful, he is also mildly disappointed that he still has to face Betty. She remains still, silent- her expression does not reveal much surprise at finding him here, but her stasis demands him to speak. Thinking of all she has done to this vault, and what little good she has done for it, he steels himself, and he glares back at her, his tone assertive as he speaks, "I'm going to the surface, and before you say anything-"

"Yes, you're right. You are going to the surface." She replies, steady and quiet,"I-" he is the one to stammer to a standstill this time, "I... am?" She steps towards him, and it takes all his will not to flinch away as a superficially endearing arm firmly braces around his shoulders, guiding him away from Vault 31, "Although at times I'm sure it seems as though I have... overlooked certain hardships that have come to challenge us all in this vault," -'overlooked' is an understatement, and a pretty ironic thing to do when your job title is overseer- "-but I've simply been thinking about the best options for our future. With our friends and family... rehomed, and our guests taken care of, I think it's time we begin dealing with some of our more long-term problems, too." The phrasing sends a chill across Norm's neck, which flows through the rest of his body as Betty guides him around a corner to bear witness to the remaining dwellers of 33, whooping and clapping in celebration for something he did not yet know.

Look closer. He notices the pause, the way they look past him to the overseer before they burst into their frenzied display- there are a couple eyebrows knitted upwards, the faintest flicker of a tear in the corner of an eye or a puffy redness where tears were wiped away to conceal the evidence of a negative emotion.

Some have slanted postures, clap a little slower- don't meet his gaze; they seem guilty of something, guilty of the relief that their body betrays.

Do they already know I'm leaving? How could they, unless-

"As I was telling everyone, Norm selflessly asked me for permission to go out onto the surface and solve our water chip crisis- of course, we do not often open our vault doors, and I felt too close to the matter to feel capable of making the decision myself- especially given the possibility that opening the vault door might threaten our friends in 31 too! So, I sent Norm to speak with Overseer Askins in Vault 31 to see whether he believes that this brave quest should be allowed. Of course, this affects all of us, too- but after talking it through with everyone, we've all agreed that however sad it will be to see you leave us- for a while, of course- it is definitely for the best."

A couple dwellers nod- some intentionally, some just in a lull of subconscious agreement even as their faces feign sadness. It stings to see how fast they were willing to get rid of him- it stings to be let go without a fight. The 'for a while' is simply salt in the wound; insulting to even pretend at this point that anyone in this cramped little gathering genuinely held any belief he would return.

"So!" The overseer pipes up chipperly once again, "Norm..."-not so enthusiastic-"Did you have a productive meeting with the Overseer? Did he give his consent to your proposed assignment?"

He could expose her right now, dismantle the order they had wrought horror and fear to maintain- but he knows he could not lead them, he knows how secretly glad they are to see him, of all people, sacrificed to the world above- he knows they would not survive up there, nor would they survive down here without a figurehead to fall behind, to hide them from reality. So he speaks a truth of kinds:

"The Overseer permitted my leave after I explained the importance of my departure, and how it was the best course of action." His tone lacks conviction in the vague, avoidant choice of words he spews, but a half-hearted cheer and a series of awkward hugs follows them anyway.

It's all just a big show. I'm starting to think I might be the only normal one here.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

A solemn march through the armoury and pharmacy to (ill)equip Norm for his journey through the wastes precedes a long, awkwardly still and quiet elevator ride towards the surface. Norm is the first to step out, bursting ahead into a fast stroll until he found himself standing at the precipice, waiting for the bridge to bring him to his salvation (or his doom). She gets into place-

and lingers, before she presses the button- they are alone now, and they are not so different, really- she just got better at hiding her discontent, "Norman." her voice is different to how he has ever heard it before- it was just... normal. When the calm and collected persona dropped away, she was the most human-sounding person he had yet encountered in his sheltered life. He turns, just his head- makes a point to pay attention, to show some enthusiasm- "You might think you're different, but... being different to most those folks down there is probably more of a good thing than not. You are extraordinary, never forget that. Even without everything that's happened, I think you were always going to be a problem for us. You've always been good at seeing things other people don't."

She pauses for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to bring something up- she chews her cheek, looks off to the side as she weighs up the power of her words- remembers her job, her duty, and the mask goes back on with a sympathetic smile, "We really do need that water chip- our vault has enough water to last about 150 more days, but after that, we'll be out. If you head north-east, ask around and you'll find a place that used to be a town called Shady Sands; it's not exactly close to here, but if it's any motivation I'd bet that's where your sister, Miss Maclean, will have headed too. When you get to Shady Sands, go directly east- I only know of a few vaults outside of ours, and I hear there's an old vault somewhere in the hills there- Vault 13. I'm sure they'll have a water chip to spare. Get the chip back to us, and you'll be a hero to this vault forever..." She certainly makes it sound appealing, but Norman knows better, "...but I'll never be allowed back inside." He finishes the sentence for her.

She hits the button, and Norm finds himself overcome with trembling uncertainty once again. Was he crazy? Just because he wasn't built for vault life didn't mean he was any more suited for the wastelands just beyond the door- the tomb unseals. Once again, a thought occurs to Norm at an inconvenient time- as he tentatively steps towards the radiating light that blinds him from above, he turns a final time to look at his now-former overseer with a quizzical expression, "Does... does Vault 32 not have a water filtration chip?"

Her smile doesn't change, but it takes a sinister feel as her next cheery words come out, tainted and barbed, "I did say our Vault has 150 days of water left- I'm afraid I can't speak for Vault 32, Overseer Harper would know more about that. Unfortunately, until we have a functioning filtration chip of our own, we won't be able to spare any of our own resources. But I'm sure everything will be just fine."

Norman began to run.

#image in my head of 'pick me! choose me! love me!' but its norm screaming 'pick me! choose me! send me!' so he doesnt become buds new bud #greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ norman maclean ]#greyfics ✰°.• ➸ [ fallout ]#fallout fanfic #norman maclean fanfic #norm maclean fanfic #fallout tv fanfic #fallout series fanfic #norm maclean #norman maclean #fallout fanfics #fallout 1 reference

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ambivalencez · 2 years

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Only good girl’s…

Summary: No power (Au)Domestic bliss slash Wanda teases y/n and receives the consequences.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem reader

Warning: +18Mommy kink, fingering, (r giving) oral(r giving) minors will be blocked if they interact.

Hissing the coffee puffs steam crackling out the last of the coffee. You can just smell today is another beautiful day. Inhaling the nutty ambrosial aroma tickling your nose. Grabbing your thermos the day commences as you; pour yourself and your wife’s morning brew. Checking the time you still have twenty minutes before you needed to head off. Placing Wanda’s pipping hot snoopy cup at the end of the counter. Screwing on the lid you flip the cap open holding it under your nose inhaling paradise. On the other side of the house, a bang goes off. Followed by a feminine voice wail. “Y/N, why you didn’t wake me up?! It’s 8:30 Billy and Tommy will be late for school!” And there it is you chuckle.

Coming alive out of your coffee leisure. Wanda rounded the pale white corner from the hallway. Entering the open floor plan connecting the kitchen and living room. Attempting to make herself at least appear somewhat presentable. From her wrinkled red cardigan the way her hair defied gravity atop her head. You could see it was failing, stifling a giggle as you continued sipping from your cup. You love her and it felt like you were made to love her from the moment you were born.

“Hey, hey it’s okay sweet. The boys are gone I got them ready and let you sleep.” Deflating Wanda walked over to you sagging her head tired between the crevice of your neck. “Thank you, I’m so ever loving fucking tired.” Breathing in the scent of her wispy hair your lung feel renewed. Before a shit-eating grin crept itself across your face. “Mmmhh, Y/n you better not be smiling.”Humming you keep your eyes closed. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” The vibration of her snort ran a chill along your back. “I felt your chin move,”

Wordless you reach to the side grabbing her coffee. “Wanda, have I ever told you how much I love you? How I adore you with every fiber of my being?” Peeling herself off you the auburn-haired woman's vibrant olive green eyes flickered back and forth. taking in the contents of your face. Long brunette hair pulled back bang combed over to the side. Your gold-framed rectangle glasses.

Placing the cup as a peace offering between the two of you. Wanda maneuvers her hand over it and pushes the coffee aside. Slithering her arms over your shoulders pulling you in close.“Go on, keep talking I want to hear more.” Just meters from your tentative lips eyes lidded and head tilted to the side. Right, where you can see the miniature sun’s at the focal point of her eyes light up from natural light. Wetting your lips seemed impossible “Fuck,” You whisper Tugging at your blazer your suit felt stuffie in here? Or maybe the coffee was kicking in. Adjusting uncomfortably you strain not to pull back your lips.

You could see it now, crashing your lips against her moist soft full ones.

Grabbing a firm hold of her ass and digging your nail in. Dropping her on the hard edge of the mineral counter. Ripping apart her denim button-up dress flinging buttons astray. Kneeling between her knees. The vein throbbing on the side of your neck. Staring at her full-blown eye irises. Daring not to tear your as away, slowly dragging her panties off with your teeth. Parting her legs the pungent smell of want between her folds. Teasing her entrance with your tongue anywhere than where she wants. Forming a strong grip Wanda threaded her fingers through your hair. “Dekta, enough with the playing fuck me already!” Wanda demanded. She must have forgotten who’s in charge. You will change that,

You make your way to her clit. Burying your nose against her wet hood. Planting your mouth on her clit swirling your tongue. Sucking the nectar clean Wanda bites her lips holding her cries. That won't do you want to hear her pretty little cries. You can feel her throb around your face. Stopping everything you lurch forward grabbing her face. Wanda’s chest greets you heaving as you watch throngs of sweat drip. One tit is exposed at the dress's left shoulder hanging loose. while others are trapped by fabric. “What have i told you about holding your voice in!?” You hiss baring your teeth and curling your lips.

“Only good girls cum,”

“Do you think you've been a very good girl? That Mommy should play with you?” You told her sternly. Wanda’s green eyes searched your leaning back nibbling on her lips. “No,” She whispered peering away from you. Relinquishing your grip on her face you begin stroking. “Look at me,” Watery green eyes meet yours. “Its okay baby.” Wanda's shoulders droop. “Now what do we say?” You waited patiently. “Please,” Wanda pleaded. “What was that?” you scolded. “Please make me cum mommy,”

“Thats all I need t-“

“Hello, earth to Y/n? Are you there?” Snapping back to reality a thought flashes through your mind. She got you right where she wanted you, all wound up. Fine, two can play that game.

“Wanda” your guttural voice warned before you pounced. Mmmph! Smashing her against the cupboard the door cracked. The impact sent your glasses clattering to the tiled floor. “At first i was just playing but then you look at me like that. My brain leaves the building and i just want to fuck you.” Melding lips taste one another savory smooth and warm like melting chocolate. Giving her no time for derive. Boxing her in there would be no escape from your retaliation.

Pinning her arms above her head. Sliding your leg between hers. Your reality is so much better~ than imagination at the feel of her juicy lips and tiny whimpers. “Cry for me baby,” You ground deep into her groin. “Mhmm, touch me,” Wanda squirmed. Closing your eyes you ground your against the tender skin of Wanda’s windpipe. Peppering cashmere kisses back up her throat and jaw. You make sure to smear your lipstick all over her neck. “Touch you where?”

Wanda thumped your arm.“Don't play around you did this to me!” Rubbing her chest up and to the side elicited a groan. “Maybe I did, but last time I checked. You answered to me.” You twist the delicate nub from where it rose. Suddenly sending a jolt throughout Wanda crying in the throws between pleasure and pain.

Exhaling your warm breath on her ear. “ You would let me do anything to you, wouldn't you? You would do anything to please me won't you?” Wanda nodded her head. Hiking up Wanda’s dress you slip your hand into her underwear. Kissing her you bit her bottom lip before dragging your tongue along her teeth. “Anything, please just use your fingers.” Wanda tensed up a let-out sob as you began rubbing gentle circles around her clit. “Ok keep your eyes on me if you close them ill have to punish you.”

“Open your mouth,”

“What?!”

“If you want my fingers so bad, then open your mouth.”You bit out. Wanda surrendered control opening her mouth taking in your left hand's middle and ring fingers. “Suck.” She began sucking as you; Wormed your fingers between her folds with your right. Her floral underwear pulled down to the side. She Writhing choking the drool dripped down your wrist.

Knuckling into her with your pointer and middle finger. Massaging her g spot she clamped down on your hand and began grinding. She was so wet it practically dripped down your fingers. Thrusting into her she moaned burying her head into your neck. So close- You could feel Wanda's walls clamping with a vicious grin of victory, she realized her mistake she held her hand over her face.

Pulling back you took two steps away. Walking to the door you turned the handle.“No, no Y/n please you can't leave me like this!” Wanda snatched your arm. “Oh, sweet Wanda.” You wiped the tears of frustration off her face. Licking them off your fingers. “I think i will.” Opening the door and stepping out turning to her. “After all, only good girls cum.”

#mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff smut #female reader #marvel #marvel smut #marvel women #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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chococococya · 2 months

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Zui Xian Peak Uniform Design

- There is not much information about the Alcohol Peak beyond that they produce- well, alcohol. So I draw the conclusion that not only did they brew liquor, they grow the ingredients themselves. So flowers. Lots and lots of flowers. So much so they become the focal point of Zui Xian’s uniform. Floral print, floral accessories, garment tailored in flower shape. To achieve the flower silhouette I pick guodu (“wrap belly”) cut to look like flowers. Maybe even floral embroidery/prints on it. It ended up look like a corset or bustle skirt. Oh well. I borrowed the design from Magi Labyrinth of Magic series.

- The merry man in this picture is how I imagined Peak Lord of Alcohol Peak look like in my head. The pose is based on Jackie Chan’s Drunken Master poster. I think it’s only fitting if Alcohol Peak’s martial arts is the Drunken Fist XD.

More Zui Xian Disciples!

#svsss #character design #zui xian peak #my art

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paintbrushnebula · 8 months

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Ok here me out I have an idea that's been brewing in my brain for a few weeks and now I have enough information to explain it hopefully

I call it--Rapunzel: Year One--a Tangled AU that's canon-compliant with the OG film and has nothing to do with the series whatsoever, that chronicles the events of Rapunzel's first year out of the tower, in an angsty, self-indulgent 400 page long introspective psychoanalysis of a fresh-out-of-the-tower Rapunzel's PTSD left over from Gothel's abuse and Eugene's near-death, and how she grapples with a life without the power to prevent the people closest to her from getting hurt or worse while also struggling to fit into society and also struggle under the weight of the kingdom's crushing expectations for the long-awaited lost princess whom they 100% anticipated/prayed that she'd return *with* her fabled magical healing hair that would've cured all plagues and diseases across the land, only for her to return with the sundrop's power just completely gone, so they're all just like

"('-') ... (+_+) ... this is fine. Yeah that's ok, it's not like my child is currently dying of the plague or smth it's cool*

So now she has to prove to these bigoted citizens that she's actually awesome with or without the sundrop and they're just being bigots , am I using that word correctly

I should really be doing homework anyway meanwhile Arianna is the focal parent in this AU, NOT Freddy Fazbear (hehe my sister came up with that joke, don't tell her I stole it). Arianna struggles with her concerns about how Rapunzel is clearly overwhelmed by the royalty life and starts to think that maybe Rapunzel might end up hating that her bio parents turned out to be the literal king and queen. Which like, yeah true, Rapunzel *may* have wanted a normal life (not that she got the chance to even think about that before finding out her true identity), but she still loves the parents she was given no matter what. This conflict all starts because Arianna overhears a private conversation between Rapunzel and Eugene about leaving behind the castle life and heading off on their own somewhere else to live a normal life (not that they were going to. Just some thoughts).

Meanwhile Eugene has secret trauma left over from his death and has a realistic depiction of a panic attack in an animated film (NOT CLICKBAIT)

I'll prolly write it one of these days maybe hopefully

#Rapunzel: Year One #I think that's a decent title #my AUs #tangled the series #tangled #tts #disney #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #rapunzels tangled adventure #tangled au

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brandonsdrunkagain · 4 months

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Got sick for Christmas! Happy New Year! Focal Banger from The Alchemist Brewing

#beer #drunk #craft beer #craftbeer #ipa #ale #india pale ale #louisiana #focal banger #cans #the alchemist #happy new year #merry christmas

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dark9896 · 7 months

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Flufftober 2023

Day 3: Sharing a blanket [x Steven]

Why had Steven agreed to this? Why did Klaus suggest this? He should know about Steven's embarrassing crush on you by now. K.K.'s snide comments weren't only her opinion, but very well known by Steven. He half expected her to insist on Steven making this mission the one he finally gets a date.

A little surprising of a sentiment, if it weren't for how much softer Steven acted around you. How K.K. kept saying even a person with one eye could see it. And the only one who didn't was the person whom the affections were directed at out of respect and lack of an overinflated ego.

In all honesty, it was one of a long list of reasons Steven liked you in the first place. But acting like a couple in public wasn't the most productive thing!

Steven would greatly prefer to ask you out on a nice, soft, and romantic evening. Dinner, drinks, and dancing were his standard, but here he was jumping head-first into the shallow end of the pool. At least, that's what it felt like.

You were completely oblivious however, this was just another mission. Catch another criminal and go home. Nothing to it. Sure, you had feelings for Steven and this wasn't helping your nerves either. But you also didn't think acting like a couple for the sake of work was the best time to confess.

Maybe after this, considering the fact you two had to travel and share a honeymoon suite at a hotel. But certainly not before returning to Hellsalem's Lot. That would just be too much.

Regardless, you set your things off to one side, well away from where Steven was keeping his stuff. This specific room was uniquely set up to give the two of you plenty of space and privacy to conduct your mission and research. Which was more than necessary given it was one of the few cases of an external agency using the US's laws to bypass Alterworld treaty regulations and create a 'cure' to being a Beyondian.

The distribution of such a chemical would cause too much chaos. And you were more here as a cover story than actual assistance. Steven would be doing 98% of the leg work. Even as he set up three different laptops on a single large table, you didn't know what to help with due to how hyper-specific the sequence for booting up the programs were.

Some things were just beyond you and your forgetful nature.

But that didn't stop you from doing other useful things around the suite. Starting the coffee maker and prepping to cook something for supper being your focal point for the time being.

The sound of the coffee maker brewing had Steven swiveling in seconds. He hadn't even registered you slipping past him into the kitchen area. Though he did deeply appreciate your attempts at being helpful. That fact that you were brewing coffee alone had an array of complex emotions plaguing Steven.

On the one hand, you were being super sweet, thoughtful, caring, and just overall a phenomenal partner in every sense. On the other, you didn't have anything else to do and knew Steven would eventually need coffee and something to eat. You jumping the gun so to speak and doing this before being asked was much more likely an attempt to keep the peace and make yourself useful.

As much as Steven wanted to admire you for the positive side of your actions, he knew that if you didn't do this he'd be able to say you weren't doing your job. Sure, he would never dream of forcing you to do more than your fair share, but in this situation... this was considered your fair share. He was the one doing the actual mission, you were the one providing the cover story and background tasks.

It felt wildly imbalanced, but there wasn't anything Steven could do about it. Unless he wanted to teach you coding and tracing.

He wouldn't say no...

"Hey Steven, are you at a point you can let it run?"

"Hm?" Steven barely turned to your voice, "Not quite [Name], five more minutes."

"Alright, I'll put a plate in the microwave for you then." You portioned out a hearty serving or two onto a plate, "This way I can clean up."

Steven tore his eyes away for a quick second, just long enough to see what you made and the plate being put up for him. Even as he kept typing, Steven couldn't help melting a little. Acting like his partner to this degree behind closed doors...

He had to shake himself back to reality. This wasn't you acting like you were his. This was just you being polite and efficient. Steven really needed an actual vacation, he was going absolutely crazy over his wistful perceptions.

Or maybe he needed to ask you out...

You settled onto the couch. It might be a little late, but one movie before bed wouldn't kill you. Especially not with Steven still typing away, being a light sleeper had serious drawbacks. Turning the TV down enough to not disturb Steven, you just sat there under a blanket.

Sadly, the room had to be kept cold for the computers. It wasn't too bad until now because you had been moving around and cooking. Now that you were stationary, sedentary, the chill was getting to you. And you saw exactly why Steven wore three-piece suits all the time.

"What are you watching?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin, and almost hit Steven. He was too big to be this stealthy.

"Just an old movie from my childhood." You had to stop to breathe, why did it seem like Steven was a little too close? "I wasn't sure I could sleep with the keys clicking, light sleeper."

Steven straightened up a little, "Ah, I'm sorry. I won't need to do as much typing until morning though. If that's any help. You probably should at least try to get some sleep."

"Uh, yeah. I guess I can do this sometime tomorrow anyway." You moved to put away your DVD, "Thanks for the warning."

Watching as you moved, Steven lamented saying anything. He probably could have just asked to join you...

"On... on second thought [Name]," You paused just shy of putting the disk in its case, "Maybe we could watch it together? I mean, if you want to that is. I don't have to monitor the programs for a little while and I doubt reading will be as much of a break as I thought it would be... given that I've been reading the computer screens for hours now."

Looking between the case in your hands and the slightly awkward Steven you didn't know what to do. You've never seen him act this way before. Usually Steven was so direct and convicted that even a professional argument machine like Zapp couldn't fight back. But you'd be lying to yourself to even remotely hint that you didn't desperately want to spend time with Steven. Just a couple hours would be enough...

Just enough to fuel your teenage crush.

"Sure." You back tracked, "Though I don't know if you'd like this all that much."

"One way to find out for sure." Steven smiled a little sheepishly, "Just let me grab my coffee."

Nodding as you booted the TV back up, you couldn't help the overly giddy feeling rising in your chest. Shadowed by the extreme pressure of whether Steven would actually like the movie. It was one of your favorites after all. If he didn't like it, then what? You could never bring yourself to get rid of it, or ignore it sitting on the shelf, or just not watch it just because Steven didn't like it.

Meanwhile, Steven was nervous for a similar reason. This was one of your favorite movies. He couldn't very well lie about his opinions, and he didn't want something like that possibly hurting his chances with you. Surely you were a reasonable adult and wouldn't make such a big choice over an opinion of a movie... right?

Either way, the two of you sat on the small couch. You hadn't realized how small it was until you had to share it with Steven. Pressed up against each other, hip to hip, and painfully aware of the other's presence... and the chilly air.

Steeling his nerves, Steven tried his best to not be hesitant about tossing the covers across both your shoulders. Yes, the curtains were drawn, it had been one of the first things you'd done when entering the suite. But Steven still had this feeling of someone watching. Not even in a 'being spied on' sense, more in a 'the universe can't possibly line up more perfectly for you, idiot' type of way.

It was now or never...

Unable to take the startled, doe-eyed look you flashed at him, "Uh, it's just a little chilly in here. I didn't want to hog the covers."

"Oh, yeah..." You sounded so unsure and small and Steven's heart couldn't handle it, "Fair enough."

"Are you comfortable?" Steven didn't know how to go about being casual when his heart was behaving like a frantic rabbit, "We could always adjust a bit. Maybe you could sit in my lap?"

You paused, thinking it over, "O-Only if you'd like to! I don't want to force you, I'm just offering."

"I... I uh," You cleared your throat, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable either Steven. This is fine."

"I don't mind, you being in my lap that is."

You reconsidered, really trying to think of why it seemed that Steven wanted you in his lap.

"But only if you want to. I'm fine with this if you are."

"Steven?" He turned to you, hoping against hope that he wasn't visibly blushing, "Do you want me in your lap? Ho-"

"Yes."

It was your turn to hope you weren't blushing too hard. Steven didn't even let you finish what you were saying before blurting an answer. But you did have your answer... and several questions about how a simple, innocent mission had you sitting in your crush's lap watching one of your favorite movies. Even more questions popped up as Steven relaxed. Propping his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you to draw the blanket closed over your laps. It felt like one of your dreams, just more grounded in reality.

This was just far too comfortable for Steven to not attempt to be extra cozy with you. Would make the ruse more believable... and confessing easier. Because Steven was determined to finally tell you how he felt.

Just not tonight...

#bbb #kkss #kekkai sensen #blood blockade battlefront #steven starphase #flufftober 2023

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vaya-writes · 2 years

Text

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 1.9

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

Cis female human x cic male wyvern. Still SFW but conversation is getting increasingly explicit. Content warnings - discussion of monster genitalia and drugs (potions tho). 1500 words.

The night before the trials is a hot one, uncharacteristic of the cooling season. Sweating and uncomfortable, Adalyn is unable to sleep, tossing and turning late into the night. She likely would have struggled regardless of temperature, but it’s easier for her to pretend that the humidity is the reason behind her nerves.

When the moon is high enough in the sky to peek through her window, she grows agitated, and stumbles downstairs to brew some tea. If it were to be a restless night she might as well enjoy it as best as she could.

Drink in hand, she steps out the back door to her little garden and its accompanying table. It’s cramped and small, and the garden is naught but two raised beds, but it calms her all the same.

The goat tied to her back fence stirs at her arrival, and she scowls in its direction. It had chewed through a portion of her garden when it arrived this morning, and Adalyn would be glad to be rid of it.

Somehow, she’s not surprised when the shadow peels away from the sky, shrinking and twisting until Slate stands before her in his human form.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” The words are jovial, reminiscent, but his tone is subdued.

Clad in just her night gown, without another soul in sight and only the sound of wind through the grass and leaves, she smiles at his words, referencing their first encounter.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He gestures to the seat across from her and she nods her permission before he slumps into it and lets out a sigh. “Neither.”

Her smile turns coy. “Cold feet?”

“What?”

“Pre-wedding nerves? Thinking about backing out?”

He huffs. “No. I just can’t stop thinking over the details. The candidates. The new woman. Keeping the clan entertained while Matron tests them. The meal plan for the evening. Damn seating arrangements. How I’m going to sit through what is essentially a gang bang the night before my own wedding.”

“You do find it strange!” she almost laughs.

“No!” He defends himself. “I just... we’ve not had an interspecies marriage in the family since... Ancestors, the only one in the past five centuries was probably Rin’s mother. I’ve never attended an event like this. Let alone been a focal point of one.”

She rolls her eyes. “This particular event isn’t really about you, though, is it? I’m pretty sure you only have to worry about one of those things you listed.”

“I know, I know.” He shifts uncomfortably. “I just... can’t get out of my own head.”

Adalyn sips her tea, and something settles within her. Perhaps seeing Slate so comparatively unnerved is grounding. “Get it out in the air then. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Slate shifts and looks around, as if unsure where to start.

“You garden?”

She’s taken aback by the mundane topic. After a beat she recovers. “Yeah. Herbs mostly. I get my produce from the market, but it’s nice to have fresh seasoning.”

“They look like flowers.”

She nods. “Some of them flower. But I’ve only got so much time and space. I have to be practical about what I plant.”

His leg begins to bounce as he processes the information, before his thoughts go elsewhere. He crosses, then uncrosses his arms. “Tell me about Gwen.”

“You know about Gwen.”

“Tell me again.”

She puts down the mug and leans back. “Our last candidate. Slipped through in the fourth interview. Semi-literate but mostly just chosen because of her cooking.”

“What do you know about her?”

Adalyn shrugs. “She didn’t say why she joined. Just that she was here of her own accord. I didn’t really pry. We haven’t had the time, either.”

If she’s being honest, Adalyn had stopped caring. Had stopped learning about Lindel and Grace and Erah. Hadn’t bothered getting to know Gwen. In a day’s time they’d be gone - there seemed almost no point in learning more about them. And she wouldn’t admit it, not even to herself, but she felt quite bitter acting as envoy; getting to know Slate on their behalf and advising them on his culture when they hadn’t bothered to ask their own questions.

“How do you think they’ll do in the trials?”

She shrugs, the sense of calm spreading. “I can’t control what happens in the first test. Grace should pass. The others could scrape by. Then there’s the catering. I imagine they can stick to the meal plan, but there’re going to be gaps in their timing and their team work. It was the right move choosing so few courses. While your family will get their dinner, I have no idea how the Matron will grade them. All I can do is make sure your family gets fed, and that the women don’t fail too spectacularly.” She frowns. “You got my deliveries?”

“Yes. The recipes have been amended and the casks are ready for opening.”

“There’s also that one,” Adalyn jerks her chin to the goat. “A gift to your Elder Gabbro. I don’t know if it should be served alive or not, but it’s from the best breeder in the valley. Meat is supposed to be ridiculously tender.”

“Huh,” Slate murmurs. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

“I intend to please.”

He stares at the garden menace thoughtfully. “I’ll ensure it’s delivered.”

“Anyway, as for your third test, I’m afraid I can’t offer any insight. I’ve no idea how the women will do.”

“That I can help with. I spent all morning at the fire making potions to help. Sedatives made from drider venom – do not ask me how I acquired that. Pain killers and medicines. I even traded for naga saliva – it can make an excellent aphrodisiac. And every combination between.”

Adalyn hides a smile at the wyvern’s exposition. She’s not sure if it’s enthusiasm for his craft or nerves over the situation, but listening to Slate ramble is almost cute.

He stops abruptly, catching himself mid thought. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to bore you.”

She gives him one of her genuine smiles. “Not at all. I asked you to speak, remember?”

“Oh. Uh,” he runs his hand through his hair, able to look anywhere but at her face. “Right.”

She takes pity on him, and speaks to spare his nerves. “I’ll make sure the ladies know their options.”

Relief crosses his features and the pair sit in silence again.

A thought occurs to her. “You know, I never asked. How is the last trial judged, anyway?”

He looks a bit sheepish. “It’s probably the simplest. Any participants who make it to sunrise, fully conscious and without withdrawing consent, pass.”

She frowns. “That doesn’t sound difficult.”

He pursues his lips. “Sure. If you pace yourself with a single partner. Or a human one.”

“I’ll concede that multiple partners would be tiring,” she matches his expression. “But does going into rut really make you that insatiable?”

He looks away to grumble. “That and our hemis.”

“And your what?”

He frowns. “You know. My-” he gestures to his crotch.

It’s too late in the evening for Adalyn to bother being polite, and she’s too tired not to mince words. “Your monster cock?”

He splutters, and she wished she’d shared her drink with him just to see him spit.

He takes a moment to recover. “Fine. Yes. My monster cocks.” Hand over his eyes, he sighs.

“...plural?”

There’s a moment of silence, before he lowers his hand, brow furrowed at her. “Yes, plural?”

The quiet is strained this time, and Slate watches Adalyn process the information before his eyes widen. “You mean, you didn’t know?”

“Why would I know?!”

Adalyn is desperately trying to make heads from tails of the new revelation, hands steepled before her face, when Slate tips back his head to laugh.

Her shock dissipates at the sound, and something in her warms. It’s the first time she’s heard him laugh, unrestrained.

“I guess this was one of the cultural differences we were meant to iron out,” he says, slightly breathless.

Adalyn lets out a sigh and puts her face in her hands, before shaking with her own quiet laughter. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

They fall into a companionable quiet once the laughter lulls into snickers, and eventually subsides into silence. Lost in their thoughts the pair sit, until the sounds of stirring from a neighbouring house bring them back to the present.

Adalyn stands. “You should get some sleep.”

“So should you.”

“Yeah.”

After a beat Slate stands. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Subdued once more, she gives him a small smile. “I’ll see you then.”

END OF PART 1 !!!!! Like, I'm writing more immediately, but it's time for a new arc baybeee. Let me feel your hype :D

#the wyvern's bride #tetaro #monster romance #vaya writes #my writing #cant believe i wrote a whole portion and edited and posted in one day #as a treat #okay its 1500 words but it was still a whole scene on my scene plan list #please give me the comments and tags and validation i crave themmmmm #also the monster cock was not planned #literally everything else in this scene was planned #but the characters were like SURPRISE! WE ARE DISCUSSING THIS NOW #imma bow out now

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