#hence the repeated that’s odd

[aleeyenn]

#bfdi #bfb #tpot #book #pillow #pillowbook #bedtime story #cake #i love them so bad #pillow has a soft spot for book… she says book is interesting which she is but #she feels a little something more TBH!.. #i also think that pillow repeats others phrases when she’s nervy… she can’t pull out words of her own so she takes ones said to her #hence the repeated that’s odd #i also like to think that pillow totally like… has this weird blown-out-of-proportion theory for her feelings towards book #ITS FUNNY. #no more headcanon dumping… will save for another day…

[indecisivemuch]

Lovesick & Lovelorn

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You thought that Luke Castellan, your best friend, did not reciprocate your feelings for him. To cope, you wrote letters addressed to him and kept them in a box. What happens when one of your sisters finds it? Inspired by 'To All the Boys I've Loved Before' (fluff, best friends to lovers; you thought it was unreciprocated feelings, happy ending).

Note: Ahh, I'm so happy the show got renewed for season 2.

Word count: 3.3k

You were deeply convinced your fate was tied to one with eternal lovelorn. 

Three years ago, you arrived at Camp Half-Blood and settled into the Hermes cabin before you were claimed by your Godly parent. It was there that you met Luke Castellan - one of your soon-to-be best friends. Though, you knew you were doomed from your first glance into his eyes. Then came his friendly smile and an offer of a handshake, where his hand engulfed yours.

At first, you thought that silly little crush would dissipate. But over time, as you became close friends with the Hermes cabin counselor, you were almost convinced he was faultless. You seemed to adore every little thing about him. Along with the fondness that grew in your heart was also self-pity. At one point, even looking at him hurt because you knew he did not return your feelings.

Hence, the letters.

In between your memories of Luke were letters you wrote throughout those years just to cope with the unreciprocated feeling. It was painful, but what else could you do? You truly believed confessing would put your friendship at risk. Neither did you feel like dealing with the heartache of a rejection. So you never uttered any of your feelings to him, continuing to imprint it on lined papers instead.

You scowled as the pen you were using ran out of ink, leaving the latest edition of unspoken words unfinished. Wordlessly, you fold the incomplete letter into an envelope and shove it into the turquoise box you bought while returning from a quest once. You neatly put the box under your bed.

“Y/N, it’s time to head out,” one of your sisters repeated. Two minutes ago, people were starting to leave, so those on cleaning duties could clean up your cabin. Since you were mid-writing, you hastily asked for a few more seconds. Now, you were the only one left besides two of your sisters.

“Yes, sorry,” you quickly muttered, exiting the cabin and almost immediately bumped into Luke. “Hey, what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I’m here for you. I thought we should hang out,” Luke answered ever so casually. Yet, your heart swelled at the thought that he was there for you. Before you could reply, you two were interrupted by another camper, who told you that one of your other best friends needed you and that it was an emergency.

“I’m so sorry, we’re gonna have to take a rain check on that hangout,” you informed Luke. You slowly started walking backward and away from him. “I’ll see you later, though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Come find me whenever you’re done, yeah?” Luke requested, hoping to spend time with you later. His soft look made you pause mid-step, almost as if your foot had been cemented to the stones beneath. You nodded absentmindedly before snapping out of that state to comfort your friend.

After two hours of listening to your friend and comforting them, you finally left their cabin to search for Luke, who previously told you to find him after. However, around half an hour later, you slowly gave up at the thought of doing so, feeling almost defeated.

As you turned to head back to your cabin, you spotted the Hermes counselor exiting his. You called out his name, watching his back stiffen before he turned to you. You ignored the odd behavior and recalled, “I’m free now if you’re down to hang out.”

“I’m so sorry, but I’m really busy right now.”

“Uhm, well, I guess I’ll just meet you at our spot whenever you’re done then?” you suggested. You and Luke fell into a routine of star-gazing every night.

Laying under the dark sky that painted your whole horizon often made you feel small. But something about that was so calming, especially considering most of the time, you were suffocated by the weight and duties of being a Demigod. You wondered if it was the moment or if it was Luke’ presence that aided your momentary peace.

“I really, really can’t tonight, I have a lot of things to do.”

“Oh… that’s okay. I’ll see you around?” you replied, watching as Luke fidgeted and gulped while attempting to look normal. It was futile, really, because being best friends meant you could sense when the slightest thing was even off. He nodded, and you retreated to your cabin with thoughts swirling in your head.

Then came the next few torturous and confusing days. For the last two years, Luke would always approach you - almost daily, and vice versa. Being best friends with Luke has been wonderful. Every day together felt like a blessing.

Now, it seemed almost like he was avoiding you. He would find a new excuse whenever you approached. He wouldn’t even look in your direction. Yesterday, you made eye contact with him, and he turned away abruptly, facing his back towards you.

You had enough after day three. You went to your cabin after dinner and reached under your bed with one hand. You did not want to, but this would perhaps be your first-ever letter of anguish about Luke Castellan.

The box…where is the box?

You peered under your bed, mouth hanging open when your eyes could not spot it either. You looked up and around, hoping maybe you had misplaced it somewhere, even though part of you knew you had put it under your bed. You have always done so.

“Hey, have you seen a turquoise box?” you asked your sister as she walked by.

“Oh, the rectangle one, about this big?” your sister reconfirmed, using her hand to show you the size she indicated.

“Yes, that one.”

“Oh, I gave it to Luke.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I was cleaning the cabin three days ago, accidentally knocked it over and saw letters addressed to him. He was right by the door, so I thought maybe I should just deliver them to him.”

Blood drained from your face, and your heart plummeted. Anything else your sister seemed to be talking about started sounding like murmurs, and you could not focus on a word she was saying. Your worst nightmare seemed to have arrived. Somehow, your friendship with him had ended without you knowing. No wonder he has been avoiding you these past few days. He has read them all.

“I need to go,” you quickly muttered, storming out of your cabin. You could feel your body slightly shaking from the panic. No amount of Demigod training had prepared you for moments like these. Then you saw Luke walking over you…with the box in his hands. You took a deep breath and practically forced your voice box to work.

“Listen, Luke—”

“I didn’t think you’d buy birthday gifts that early, Y/N,” he interrupted.

“What?” you questioned and observed the sweet smile gracing his Adonis-like face.

“This?” he gestured to the box. “Your sister gave it to me and said it was from you. Though I thought I should give it back ‘cause it’s not my birthday yet, you might have wanted to give it to me yourself.”

“Oh…” it was the only thing you could utter as it dawned on you what he had perceived the situation as. “Wait, so you haven’t opened it?” you clarified.

“Nope.”

“...So we’re ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” your mouth hung slightly agape at his words. As you scrunch your eyebrows, you could see how his fingers fidget somewhat, almost as if he could tell you would bring his odd behavior up.

“You’ve been acting really odd the last few days, Luke. It had me worried. I thought I did something wrong. It seems like you were avoiding me.”

“I was just really busy with counselor duties,” he dismissed it. However, something about it made you a bit hesitant to believe his words. You did it anyway, nevertheless. You blamed it on your stupid heart.

“Yeah, but—” you stopped, not wanting to stir anything. “Ok then, I’m going to put this away, but I’ll see you later, yeah? Maybe we can finally not rain check again?” You hated how hopeful you sounded. You’re glad that the sun had set a few minutes ago, blessing you with enough degree of darkness to hide your facial expressions from being as evident as they would be in daylight.

“Of course, I’ll see you later, Y/N,” despite the dark and only dim lights from nearby, you noticed there was something different about him. Luke was wearing a nervous smile, almost sheepish like a schoolboy. There was a glimmer of amazement in his eyes like he was in disbelief. Though it was definitely overpowered by a glaring degree of warmth. He was looking at you like all those writers have written down in the books you have read before - something along the lines of adoration and love.

You shook those thoughts away again, refusing to somehow fool yourself into believing he could reciprocate those feelings.

“Yeah, see you,” you muttered, hand gripping tightly on the box as you took it from his hold. As soon as you reached your cabin, you opened the box to peer inside. You immediately sighed in relief upon seeing the copious amount of letters with your handwriting on them, all with Luke’s name on the front.

However, your eyes landed on one unfamiliar one. It had your name on it, written in a familiar wonky handwriting that you have always found endearing.

You sat on your bed, taking the letter out delicately, almost in disbelief. Then, dread overtook any other emotion. Was this Luke’s way of letting you down easy? By pretending to not have read any of your letters and rejecting you through the form that you express your love to him? — you had to physically shake your head at that thought.

You took the letter out of its envelope and started reading: 

‘Dear Y/N,

This is probably the 40th time I tried writing this letter. It feels impossible to try and convey everything onto one piece of paper.

You deserve someone to at least view you as their muse rather than always being the writer. 

Hence why, for the past few days, I had to physically drag myself away from you every time you tried approaching me because I knew if I didn’t, I would just end up spilling my feelings out right then. I knew if I even looked at you, I would have just abandoned this letter idea and run to you. You should have seen me yesterday. When we made eye contact, I had to turn away from you because having the knowledge of you liking me back was enough to knock all the air out of my lungs. I was a flustered mess from just that eye contact.

I doubt my words could rival what you have written about me. You once wrote how it hurts to love someone this much and to always be the poet but never the poem. Well, I’d like to thank you for making me your poems. However, now it is your turn. Allow me to be your poet.

You occupy my mind like it’s your castle. If I had to name everything I love about you, this letter would never end. But for starters, here are some of the first times:

The first time Chiron introduced you to the Hermes cabin, I could not take my eyes off you. Chris had to nudge me away. Just from that alone, a part of me knew I was in trouble. I think I came to the conclusion that I did not want to hold anybody else’s hand after just shaking yours.

2.5 years back during a campfire in June, even when the fire had died and the air grew cold, our voices still filled the air. Conversations just flow when I am with you. I remember never wanting that moment to end. Then you started talking about constellations and told me about the ones above us. Right there and then was the first time I had the urge to kiss you, and to show you that I was just as obsessed with you as you were with stars.

The first time I realized I was in love with you was while coming back from a quest 2 years ago. I remember feeling so numb coming back. The world almost seemed monotone, and I wondered for a second, what if I had made one wrong move? Just as I returned to camp, you bolted and hugged me. Somehow, it felt like I had just taken my first bit of fresh air after drowning for so long. I vividly recall shutting my eyes as I hugged you back because I felt like I was finally home. I remember never wanting to be away or out of your hold as others approached and rushed to get me into the infirmary for checkups.

It was only when I was lying on the infirmary bed that it hit me like a train that lost control. A large proportion of why I fought so hard was to come back to you. You’re my best friend, Y/N, and my place of solace and peace. Then came the realization that I was in love with you. I remember everybody else’s voice drowning out as I focused on that thought. It was strangely calming, as if my heart had known all along but was waiting for my head to catch up. Then I remember just smiling as I looked at the ceiling, unafraid of the new feeling.

Last year, the day we went on a quest together lapsed with Valentine’s Day. Every moment felt extra sweet. Us sitting on the train, staring outside the window together like a couple going on a trip. My mind savoured the small things like you falling asleep on my shoulder with my coat around you and us holding hands as we walked through the crowd to not get lost among couples - which I like to imagine that others had thought we were one as well. It was the first time I allowed myself to pretend this is how it would feel like if you were mine and how our lives together would be if we were not Demigods.

I thought for sure you would have realized something by the way I was staring and acting around you that I was irrevocably in love with you. After reading your letters, I realized that you did see it. But you refused to believe that I could ever be in love with you. Well, I hope my letters will reverse all your doubts, because Y/N, it is so easy to fall in love with you. 

In fact, the world I built up in my head during last year’s quest had consumed my thoughts enough to make me frown at the idea of returning to camp, where it would not just be the two of us anymore. Loving you has never been something I was afraid of. Loving you has been an honour every single day, even if you never knew of it. 

It’s also somewhat funny that I was heavily lovesick while you were lovelorn. But I promise, Y/N, that from this second on, I intend to make you know that you are loved and that I am so deeply in love with you.

Again, I never intended for you to wait for three days, but I ended up throwing away every letter I started because I felt like none had suffice. I didn’t want to mess it up and give you something less than you deserved. I wanted to do something nice for you. I promise I’ll make it up for those three days if you allow me to. But one chance is all I need.

If you are willing to give me that chance, you know where to find me.

Sincerely,

Luke Castellan’

Upon reading his last words, you immediately left your cabin with the letter in hand. You jogged to the spot where the two of you would always meet to stargaze together. Almost instantly, you saw his tall figure under the moonlight. As if he could sense your presence, the Hermes boy turned around and gave you a sweet smile.

“You meant it?” you asked as you raised the letter up, slowly approaching him.

“Every single word, including all the unspoken ones I intend on telling you from now on,” the way he said it felt like he was swearing it on his own heart. “In fact, I would have written more down, but I knew I was keeping you waiting for too long,” he explained as you stopped right before him.

Something about this moment felt cathartic. Three years of dancing around unspoken words and yearning led to this moment. Luke grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckle. You peered up at him, and it was then that you finally accepted what his looks meant: he was in love with you, and there was no doubt about that. There was no more denial on your end that Luke Castellan was enamored with you.

“Will you let me be your poet, Y/N?” he breathlessly referenced the words you and him had both previously written like he had been waiting for this for a lifetime.

“Of course,” you answered almost without hesitation, watching his eyes soften even more, if possible.

“Is it ok if I ask you another question?” he asked again, his other hand caressing your cheek.

“Yeah?” Your face flushed as you saw his brown eyes dart to your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

This time, you didn’t say anything. You’ve written down way too many words in the past three years. You decided actions would speak louder in this case. So you pulled Luke down by his camp necklace, hands gripping the beads on it as you tiptoed up to reach his lips. 

Luke physically melted as he brought one hand to your waist to hold you up as he leaned down from the height difference. Everything Luke had imagined before could not match the kiss he was finally sharing with you - the kiss that seemed to seal his lips into a spell that would forever leave them unable to belong to anyone else. It felt like heaven and hell combined because he knew that this was going to ruin him forever, and every second he spent with his eyes shut would be one where he had this feeling and moment sown behind his eyelids. 

You had the same line of thoughts. The wait was long, but you felt like it was worth it. Under the stars, you may feel small. But standing there next to Luke, you finally realize it doesn’t matter. Because he was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You were his sun, moon, and everything in between - no constellations could ever measure to you.

--------------------

masterlist

Join my Luke Castellan taglist

taglist: @nininehaaa @perseus-jackass @tanifsblog @bubbly0 @hinata7346

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fic #pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #best friends to lovers #fluff

[taegularities]

entertainer (teaser) | jjk (m)

Summary: Growing singer Jeon Jungkook is as charismatic as he is self-absored – that is, until he meets you. Caught in a web of secrets, he finds a riddle in you he urges to solve; even ready to turn the spotlight towards you until nothing remains… but regret.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: strangers to lovers (or something); angst, bits of fluff, smut ➳ warnings: do not fall for this jk i repeat do not f– 🚨 he's kinda hot though; (not so) silent yearning, flirting, sexual tension, he is so attracted to her :'), mystery, oc is a big question mark, full jk pov!, dark past(s), crying, fear, confrontation and fighting, cocky kook, secrets and revelations, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, teasing, drunk shenanigans, sooo much lust, big dick jk, etc.), more warnings on drop day once the fic is finished!! not much for the teaser itself, though <3 ➳ wc: 1.8k :') (around 20k for the full thing) ➳ a/n: scratches head. this has been a long time coming and i'm beyond curious how y'all will like it :') very new and experimental, so let's see how it goes!! as always, drop a message to lmk what you think of this lil glimpse, i'll be waiting with dangling feet hehe!! <3

➳ give the Entertainer playlist a first listen! 🖤   

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs 

“Why are you the textbook definition of a fuckboy, honestly.”

“Fuckbo—”

“Nevermind.”

If he wasn’t well acquainted with this little game, he would’ve missed your subtle, nearly veiled intent to tease. But he’s done that a million times before — hence, catches the faint twitch of your gorgeous lips immediately.

You’re enjoying this. So he should join… right?

Yet.

You’re not being entirely insincere. In fact, he hates how he picks up on the note of truth in your velvety voice.

Trimmed nails scratch the back of his head, and he barely notices once the two of you halt in front of another piece of work. Distracted, he doesn’t bear the art any mind, instead asking, “You really think of me like that?”

You shrug a shoulder. Nonchalance a constant feature, but so natural, even somewhat gentle, that he can’t help but feel drawn to you. “A little.”

“Well, shit.”

“Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the art.”

“Sure.”

Reluctantly, he glances to the canvas. It’s a mess of hues; a random arrangement of spontaneous emotions. Resembles the masterpieces he used to create in Microsoft Paint, back when his legs would still dangle off the chair.

“So,” he starts, nodding towards the painting, “what do you see in this?”

You hesitate. Or maybe it’s not hesitation — more like… a thinking pause. Sometimes, when Jungkook notices a whirring mind, he sees a steaming brain through a skull. Working at full blast.

But somehow, he only recognises a tranquil ocean as he observes you gather your thoughts. Everything about you is tender, but wrapped in dark mystery.

How much mental training does it require to become this inscrutable?

When you finally speak, you’re saying similarly odd things.

“I see… colours.” Right. Stating the obvious. Jungkook chuckles, delivering a head tilt. “And am wondering how the painter got to create this at all. I mean, this looks so meaningless at first, doesn’t it?”

“But it’s not, yeah?”

“We’re fast to think that. Most of the time, there must be a trigger, or a thought on something, no matter how small. Something might have been bothering him. This is—” A hand gestures towards the painting. “Such a chaotic mind.”

Interesting…

“Is this what you usually think about all day?” Jungkook wonders.

You scoff. “I’m just a person, too. I think about a lot of random things.”

“Ahhh. Like what?”

“Like… seeing all the green in this exhibition made me realise how that colour makes me cry.”

Jungkook takes a haphazard look around. Now that you say it — there’s no hint of a nature theme, but the abundance of green is striking. It’s as calm as you. No wonder you’d immerse yourself in a showcase such as this.

You continue, as if tracing and reading his mind like an open novel, “It’s soothing, right? And unique. These earthly things sometimes make me feel like not all of us are deserving of seeing such beauty. Like it should be reserved for those who've earned it.”

Earned it? How? 

Jungkook can’t see your thoughts as clearly as you’re apparently capable of doing, but he has an inkling of what you might mean. Truly dazzling souls merit the stunning bloom of the world, right?

And then…

If that’s what it is.

He wonders — do you think he deserves to see the colour green? Or is it already over if he has to ask? Perhaps, should he be perceiving it as grey right now? He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how you think of him — doesn’t know anything about you at all. You’re a tough nut to crack. 

“Hmm… that’s a way to think about it,” he says.

“Only because it’s the same for people. And I’ve had this thought about humans a lot… I…” You hesitate, blink, and then grant him your gaze. “I knew someone who was the colour green. Not everyone deserved them, either.”

Someone…

Poetic minds carry a certain pain in their eyes.

He’s been seeing it in yours. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. So he doesn’t. Yet.

Instead, he asks, “What else are you thinking about?”

“Uhmmm,” you voice, straightening your back a little, as if waking up from a dream — a nightmare? “I’ve been thinking about trying that, too. Painting, I mean. It doesn’t have to mean anything or be good. Just a great way to capture something that resonates with what I feel.”

Every word you’ve uttered today was otherworldly. You didn’t talk like this when you were at the meeting, or in his office. Your soul is somewhat free-floating here, and he doesn’t understand why.

And it’s a behaviour he usually strays away from. The vulnerable ones can be dangerous.

But somehow… you’re too strong of a magnet.

One who shrugs all the puzzles away — and he sighs in despair. Maybe it’s not time to find out what you feel just yet. What resonates with you — even though he’s dying to hear it.

He inquires, “Are you always this much of an open book?”

“No. Not at all.” Of course not. Rhetoric question — he knows this much. “But I like thinking out loud sometimes.”

“I’m glad to be a sounding board then.”

“Hah. Well, I was also thinking how I appreciate that I met you here.” Pause. Oh? What a surprise. Strokes his ego, though. And then, out of the blue again, “You wanna go to the museum restaurant?”

Jungkook has barely inhaled half of the exhibition yet. But just for today, he couldn’t care less.

Perhaps this is enough for now, visiting the overpriced restaurant, watching you from afar as you inspect your nails calmly. You’re not busy on your phone like the rest of the crowd — entertained by the same media that he’s part of.

Maybe he can be a bigger part of their lives one day — be the one flitting over their screens, the one they adore. The one they worship.

But you don’t seem to indulge in those mind-numbing devices for now. You might be an addition to his team, but privately, you float in your own world. Distracted by the thoughts you won’t disclose.

Your hands retreat, arms crossing on the table and lips curling into a smile once he strolls back to you. Satisfied, he informs you, “One cake to go with the coffee. As the lady suggested.”

“Oh. One?” you ask, “Don’t you want one?”

“I do.”

“So…” You stall, and he waits until it clicks, your head tilting in understanding. “Are we sharing?”

Jungkook lifts a thumb, pointing over his shoulder, back to the register, “Those chocolate cakes are sweet as hell. I’ve got a sweet tooth, but believe that it’ll be enough for us two.”

You laugh — a candied, disarming chuckle before you breathe an, “Alright.”

Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to feel any skip of his heart; yet, you stir something else in his mind. While he does avoid them, it’s still always people like you who intrigue him the most — those who veil themselves in a coat of secrets.

He sighs.

“That was fast,” you note, eyes at a point behind him.

And he understands when the waitress arrives a couple moments later, serving two perfectly prepared cappuccinos and a mouth-watering chocolate fudge piece.

You thank her with a gentle smile, and tuck a hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your dangling silver earring.

And he watches.

Watches as you nod towards him, urging him, “Start then.”

Observes your smile as he signals you to start instead. And he gazes at you as your delicate digits reach for the fork, tearing off a piece, wrapping your lips around the utensil.

And then… oh God.

He feels his guts twist; hears all background noise fade; blood rushing away from his head.

All the way through his body as you slowly relish the sweetness and then drag the wet tip of your tongue over the fork. Licking away the leftover chocolate.

Jungkook swears it happens in slow motion. And witnessing your elegance in snail’s pace… makes him sick.

When your eyelashes flutter, gape lifting to meet his, the sound around him comes alive again — as does he. He averts his stare from your mouth, covered in the same colour as the coffee, but you notice.

You catch him looking. And it makes you… smile? Shit.

But you don’t boast your effect; only digress as you say, “Well… tastes as fancy as it looks. Try.”

You’re as relaxed with him as you can be. But you always are; with everyone. He craves that bit that’s only reserved for him — and maybe he’s too zealous too fast. He hasn’t known you for long.

Making you smile must be an achievement, though, right? If only… you didn’t think of him like…

He nods, and then leans over the table ever-so-slightly. His knees brush against yours, a soft but deliberate move. He places an elbow on the table, grasping the fork, close to you. If he lifted his hand, he could touch your cheek.

He wishes he could.

His eyes meet yours through his bangs, the cake’s taste irrelevant to your presence. And when his ego doesn’t let him live, he finally asks, almost as if insulted, “Do you actually perceive me as a fuckboy?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, furrowing your eyebrows, and then giggle before questioning back, “Jungkook… that’s bothering you this much? Mmmh. How would you like to be perceived?”

“Just. As a decent guy who wants to get to know you. And I know you know.” You blink, but he doesn’t buy it. So he elaborates, “I’ve been trying to make clear that I find you interesting. And somewhat attractive.”

People usually display a flicker of glimmer in their eyes upon hearing such praise. But you don’t budge; in fact, your eyes remain the same, if not a little darker. Why?

Yet, you cock an eyebrow, sporting a teasing, playful tone, “Somewhat, hm?”

He shakes his head, clicks his tongue.

“You’re pretty and I think you know,” he blurts, “and I don’t want to screw up right away.”

Is it the habit of never failing; getting what he wants? The urge to solve an enigma? The chance to dive into you until you’re bared to him? Why are you so interesting to him?

You’re just a person.

Maybe it’s just the unsettling need to discover what you’re hiding — it won’t let him rest. There’s something about you that screams to him to unravel. 

He doesn’t know what it is. Doesn’t know if you’re even from the same world as him — even though you seem to have crossed his realm before.

No matter what it is; Jungkook only understands for now that he wants to take off your layers.

Wants you to be the colour green for him. 

wrote most of it now and while sick, so it might change hehe! but i hope it's okay so far, and it shall only get better!! i'm so so excited for this, like i've been working on it and putting thought into it since october, so i hope it's worth the wait <3

as always, send your thoughts, questions, complaints lol lemme know what you think or i might perish sniff. super curious to know!! also, here's the taglistttt 🤍 love and appreciate you all <3

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook

[mokulule]

Take Out for Dummies - part 1

Ship: Dead on Main

“Excuse me?” Jason asked in disbelief.

“How would you describe your ideal date?” the man repeated the question calmly as if he hadn’t snuck up on Red Hood on a rooftop in the middle of the night and didn’t have two guns pointed at him by said surprised vigilante.

Jason had no idea what to think, it was absurd. Only one thing made the smallest bit of sense. After all some reporters would do anything for a story.

“Is this an interview for a gossip magazine?”

The man blinked. “No, this is for personal use only.”

Okay. That was even weirder. With that thought he holstered his guns, grabbed his grapple instead and jumped off the building. He could move his patrol elsewhere for tonight.

Oo o oO

It had been a few days, the strange encounter forgotten about as he’d quickly come across a shipment of unsanctioned drugs entering his territory; Black Mask was making moves towards Crime Alley again. Red Hood had to nip that bullshit in the bud. Just because he was more vigilante than crime lord these days didn’t mean he’d gone soft.

So, Jason had forgotten about the strange man on the rooftop and was wholly unprepared when once again he was standing on a rooftop taking a small break in his patrol and someone spoke:

“So I assume dinner is out what with the whole helmet deal, but what about chocolate?”Jason spun around heart in this throat, guns pointing towards the direction of the voice. It took a moment for him to even find him. This time he was sitting on top on the slanted roof of the stairwell.

“What the-“

“A box of chocolate could be enjoyed later, would that be a suitable gift?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Too many things to remember off the top of my head.” The man jumped down and walked towards Jason, once more showing his absolute disregard for the guns pointing at him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

That for some reason brought a smile to his face.

Somehow, Jason was the one taking a step back despite being the one holding the guns. That at least stopped the man’s advance and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry man, I guess this whole showing up on a rooftop in the dark is kinda creepy.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s just with you being you, I don’t know where else to catch you.”

Jason felt an incoming headache, and he was feeling increasingly silly pointing his guns at the man when he didn’t react to them at all.

“How about you explain who you are and what you want?”

“Oh!” He slapped his forehead as if he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “I’m Danny, and I’ve been hired to take you out.” He smiled brightly.

Jason stared in disbelief. Who in their right mind just announced they’d been hired to kill someone, to the person they intended to-

No…

It couldn’t be…

He’d been asking about dates and chocolate. He couldn’t possibly have misunderstood take out Red Hood as take out Red Hood on a date. Nobody would be that stupid…

“Why would someone hire you to take me out on a date?”

Danny, if that was his real name, shrugged. “Maybe they thought you were stressed and needed a nice evening? I don’t know. I don’t ask questions. I just do odd jobs for money, keeps the lights on, you know?”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t believe this.

“And like this job pays extremely well for some reason, so like I’d like to do a good job of it hence the questions?”

Of course it payed extremely well, it was meant to be a freaking hit! Still could be of course, but then it was the oddest way to go about it that Jason had ever experienced and he’d taken out quite a few would-be assassins in his time.

Danny’s face fell at Jason’s continued non-responsiveness. He sighed. Then brought out a notepad and scribbled something down, before ripping off the paper and holding it out to Jason.

“Look,” he said, when Jason made no move to take the paper and still just kept his guns trained on him, “here’s my number if you change your mind. If you haven’t called back in three days, I’ll return my advance and tell them I can’t do it - no matter how sad I’ll be to see that money go.” He looked pained at the admission, but then looked back up at Red Hood with determination.

“Still please reconsider, Mr Hood, I promise I’ll show you a good time if you agree to a date.”He looked expectantly from his hand with the paper to Jason’s helmet. Jason sighed. Holstering his right hand gun he took the paper. It was indeed a phone number, above the number it said Danny with a little smiley face drawn after the name.

Danny’s face brightened into a smile.

“Have a good night then Mr. Hood, I hope to hear from you.” Danny walked backwards with a wave and promptly tripped on an empty bottle someone had left.

“Woah!” His arms windmilled and he only just saved himself from falling back and hitting his head by sheer luck as he caught himself in the sort of gravity defying pose that would win him most limbo games. He laughed sheepishly as he put a hand down and turned around to push himself back up.

“So that was embarrassing. Should look where I go, huh? Never know when you’ll be assaulted by littering…” his voice trailed off as he walked away. He threw a last wave over his shoulder before jumping onto the fire escape and beginning his climb down.

Jason was left standing on the rooftop, paper clutched in one hand, trying to comprehend the whole baffling conversation. Also there was a distinct curl of embarrassment that he’d actually felt threatened by the guy at one point.

Yeah, he wasn’t gonna unpack that. He put the paper in a pocket of his utility belt and took a running leap to the next rooftop.

Oo o oO

Jason could not believe he was actually doing this.

It was three days later. In the mean time he’d asked around his old enforcers if they heard about a guy named Danny who did “odd jobs” as he’d called it.

As it turned out, there was indeed an odd-job-Danny, sometimes just called odd-Danny, with an increasing reputation on the streets of Gotham for doing all sorts of jobs - everything from helping old ladies carry groceries home for pennies and a pat on the cheek to heavier lifting by the docks. When he asked one of the street kids about him, he was told he also helped look for lost pets for pretty rocks or whatever the kids had in their pockets at the time, and he could fix just about anything - which had to be an exaggeration, but then again the street kids weren’t prone to overly positive opinions about adults, so he’d certainly made quite an impression on them.

Yet despite a lot of people knowing about him, apparently nobody knew a last name or where he lived. It was a mystery.

All that to say that Jason was curious… and apparently doing this.

He looked down at his phone, where he’d already put in the number. His thumb hovered over the call button. He still could not believe he was doing this. If this was a trap he was apparently walking in.

With a sigh he pushed the button.

It rang three times before it connected.

“Hello?” A hesitant voice asked.

“Is this Danny?” “Who’s asking?”

“You ask me on a date and you already forgot, I’m hurt,” Jason deadpanned hoping he would catch on to it not being wise to mention Red Hood’s name on an unencrypted line.

“Oh! So is that a yes?” He piped up excitedly.

Urgh, why was it charming that that he sounded so genuinely excited?

“Yes.”

“Sweet. Did you consider my questions?”

“Nope,” Jason popped the p and found himself smirking, “gonna have to impress me all on your own.”

Danny huffed. “Have it your way. I’ll show you a good time, you’ll see. How does… Sunday afternoon work for you?”

“’s fine.”

“Meet you in front of the building we last met, at 2 pm? Also unless you wanna take the bus, maybe bring your bike? I don’t drive.”

Jason scoffed. Letting some stranger hired to kill him close to him on his bike was a recipe for disaster. Still he found himself answering:

“Sure.”

“Great! I’ll see you Sunday then.”

With those words the call ended.

Jason looked down at his phone. He couldn’t believe it. Jason, no, Red Hood had a date for this Sunday. A giddy feeling bubbled up in his chest and he couldn’t help laughing. Red Hood going on a date. It was fucking ridiculous.

Yet, he was kinda looking forward to it. -

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#take out for dummies #dead on main #dp x dc #this is mostly just silly #but there is also some plot #because it assaulted me in a dark alley #anyways #hope you enjoyed

[nicolesainz]

Your thighs up like my anticipation (MM7)

Mason Mount x f!reader

Author’s note: due to popular demand, the filth shot will have as its protagonist the hot stuff no7 of Manchester United, Mason Mount. This idea came to my mind abruptly given I love seeing pics of footballers screaming.

Summary: Its pure filth there's no plot

Warnings: minors dni, 18+, praise kink, pet names, sub/dom, oral sex, unprotected sex (do not encourage it whatsoever)

"I am disgustingly in love with how you taste" Mason moans along with me as I feel his lips attached to my pussy.

Match days should be exhausting a player usually, not give them more energy. Mason defies the odds in our case.

I refuse to remove my eyes from his feasting. My whole body is shivering as his strong arms hold on to my thighs, needing balance, while he is sucking on every last drop of my wetness. My hands are holding onto the bedpost, so I can find an ounce of self control.

Because my self respect has disappeared.

It's already midnight, the neighbours are sleeping and the only thing echoing in this entire block are my moans from Mason torturing touch. I get more wet as each lick slides my pussy, getting me all excited and worked up. This man knows how to make a woman feel good.

"Thighs up for me baby. I need to have you all to me." I push up my thighs, giving him more room and to my surprise he slides in my clit two fingers, pumping them slowly but painstakingly erotically inside me, causing me to gasp out of breath loss.

"Don't hold back. Let me hear you scream." He demands and I decide to test him a little bit, for which I will be punished afterwards.

"You will have to do better than that." I fearlessly reply and feel a wave of coldness rushing against my pussy, given he removed his fingers and mouth in seconds.

"What did you just say? Do better?" His face comes closer to mine, lips attacking my already bruised neck, sucking more painfully than before. Motherfucker had found my soft spot and kept on sucking until I scratched his back with my fingernails.

"Not enough for me daddy." I saw with a loud moan coming along as Mason furiously inserts his middle finger inside my cunt, pumping it along with the pace of his kisses.

"Say that one more time sweetheart and I promise you, that you will not be able to walk for days." I can feel his cock pushing against my pussy, even under the boxers, becoming needier as time goes by.

"I need more." I repeat myself knowing the consequences to my actions.

I trusted Mason with my life knowing he would never hurt me physically or mentally, hence why I always challenge him.

"Not playing nice missy. Do you know what girls with your behavior are?” He takes ahold of my hand and places it on his hardened cock, above the boxers.

I raise my eyebrow playfully, knowing I have a portion of control on him. As I breathe in more deeply, my breasts pop out, grabbing Mason’s attention in mere seconds.

“Eyes up baby” I sternly say and he lets my hand loose, as I afterwards slide it inside his underwear and start tracing his cock with my fingers. I can feel on the tip the pre cum with just a slight touch.

“Slutting it up I see?” He weakly says, before his cock springs out and I turn our bodies on the opposite, with me being on him. Mason underneath me is my favorite second version of him. The first one is the goal scoring version.

"Only for Mr.Mount's eyes." I whisper seductively in his ear as my fingers play with his hard rock cock, waiting to have a taste of my pussy. Mason's slight groans of desperation excite me. I am so incredibly proud of his performance today so I think he deserves to be treated specially.

"Baby I need you so incredibly much. I can't hold myself. Please let me make you feel good." The way the words fall out his mouth make him very irresistible to me.

I place his cock against the entrance of my cunt and slick it softly before I open my legs a bit further so Mason can slide in more conformably. Once I start feeling the stretches in my pussy a loud breathless moan escapes my lips, weakening every ounce of control I had on him. He fits so perfectly it feels like a crime.

I hadn't realised when Mason switched out positions and for once again I was underneath him. My eyes were glued to his abdominal part, where I could get the best view of his Champions League tattoo and simultaneously his V-line from where veins pop out with each thrust.

"If you are to stare at my tattoo so much I might as well get one of your liking." He has suggested that again, although I prefer if he gets ones he likes, given I have no say on his body, except for a few minutes almost everyday.

"All your tattoos are to admire Mase. Just like yourself." I manage to say before Mason shuts me up with a deep stuck thrust followed by a passionate kiss, sucking up all the air I have left.

"Being nice won't make me go all soft on you darling." His fingers trace the lining of my nipples, arousing me to the fullest. My hands are holding against his bum so he deepens himself inside my pussy until I can't breathe.

"Look at you, all weak and needy for my cock, taking it so well as I see." I get dizzy as Mason hits my soft spot, forcing me to grab onto the sheets, almost ripping them off from the pressure.

"You are so fucking beautiful and only mine. What a joy." Mason's lips are all over my neck, trying to not leave any spot of it without a hickie. I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up with his name spelt on my body with purple marks.

"I love you Mason. Oh" I gasp before I feel both Mason and mines arousal coating me. Mason falls next to me, both trying to catch our breaths, hands against each others chest, feeling the beat of our hearts.

"I am sorry if I was a bit rough with you my love. You know I always want to please you."

"Tonight all that mattered was to please you. I am incredibly proud with your performance, like I always am Mase."

"I am so incredibly lucky to have you. I love you too."

#mason mount #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x y/n

[dawndelion-winery]

Dumb Ways To Fall in Love

The silly things they do to impress you when they're in love

Ft. Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Dainsleif, Scaramouche

Childe:

He's always liked to think he was charming in his own odd way

And he does fully expect said "charm" to work on you

Which is why he's pretty confused as to why you don't seem smitten by his obvious attention

He cooks for you a lot! But they're normally,,,,unique dishes with whatever he fishes himself

Because he wants to impress you with how he can whip something up from scratch

Which doesn't really work out well because...well we've seen his signature dish

More often than not, the dessert is far more appetising

Please use that as motivation to finish the main course, he tried his best and it would hurt his feelings if you didn't even try it

Diluc:

He knows him being a rich, gentlemanly bachelor is a very big seeking point of his to most of the Mondstadt population

Which is why he not so subtly tries to subtly flex his wealth in front of you

Now he's already normally generous, which is what makes it so jarring when he does it with you

Because mentally he's just "Yeah, I'd do this for the average Mondstadt citizen, which means I have to one up that now"

But of course who's to determine what "one" is?

Hence the huge leap of obvious favouritism

Not even a hint of hesitation when you seem to want something from him

The number of times he's just agreed to whatever favour you've asked for before you've even specified the favour should give you an idea of what he's like

Kaeya:

He once heard you mention how you feel he's too cool and unapproachable for you, as nice as he was

So he makes an effort to slip up in front of you

Internally he thinks you'll appreciate it - "Notice me being a dumbass and find it endearing please"

Surely that should change your mind about him, right?

Until he overhears another of your opinions on him and how you (affectionately) called him a goofball playing a suave captain

Which he couldn't quite refute but he wasn't entirely sure if that was positive

Leading him back to his initial bravado, once again creating that rift because the dork you thought you noticed had disappeared

And then he panics again because you seem distant again

And the cycle repeats itself until he gets some sense slapped into him or you take a chance and ask him out

Dainsleif:

It wasn't easy being captain of the royal guard

But it was somehow easier than baring his heart to you

Brings you fruits and flowers as he travels with you

Definitely the type to silently bring you cut and peeled fruit as a nonverbal "I love you"

He's gotten really good at food presentation because of it, and adds little edible flowers as decoration

If you ever decide to take a break and read, he offers to feed you the fruit

Honestly at some point it's more like you would naturally assume y'all are dating?? But he doesn't really get the memo and keeps wondering why you never bring it up like is he not being obvious enough for you?

In pain whenever you snuggle up to him assuming you think it's platonic but accepts it nonetheless because it's nice to be able to hold you and be held

Scaramouche:

All people do is disappoint so why put in the effort to woo you?

So he says as he proceeds to try impress you anyway

Subtly flexes quite literally every strength he has in front of you

For no apparent reason he'll cook over a campfire he started out of nowhere just because

Yeah, y'know, just to show he can work with what he's got, he's very resourceful

You're not entirely sure what his intentions are though, since he's more of proving his usefulness instead of showing you he cares about you

And you'd probably only pick up on that if you knew his past

He does pick up on what makes you feel loved and enjoy his presence over time though, so give him a little adjustment time to work out how to best express himself to you

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @lovers-on-the-eiffel @cxlrosii @miss-fantazmagoria @lychme @kokomist @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe #diluc #kaeya #scaramouche #dainsleif #tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #dainsleif x reader #scaramouche x reader #scara #scara x reader #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin dainsleif #genshin scaramouche #genshin scara #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #winery specials

[ghostandsoap]

Double-Sided

John Price x Fem! “Peach” Reader

Tags: Angst. Momma Peach and Poppa Price fight in front of the “kids.”

Word Count: 4.8k

“I would’ve if you had let me.”

She had been at it for hours.

She had a side stitch from standing for so long and the splitting pain in her head was only getting worse with each passing moment. The stress and tension of the room didn’t help, but there was no way she was giving in. 

She could do this all day, but it was beginning to take a toll on her.

Her brain felt like it was swimming in circles. The same movements repeated in her hand gestures and leg motions, and the same threats and words of venom spit from her mouth as she tried to break the man sitting in the middle of the room.

Apparently, he had the same kind of patience that she did. Besides, it wasn’t like he could go anywhere.

He had stopped trying to fight the restraints of his chair long ago. He wasn’t getting up from where he sat without some outside help, which he most surely wouldn’t be getting. Ghost and Soap had been the ones to wrestle and tie him down, so the odds of him getting loose were slim to none.

It was well into the night. Darkness and stars had painted the sky hours ago. Too bad she and the rest of the Force were stuck inside trying to get answers out of this scumbag, who didn’t show any signs of giving up the information she wanted from him.

Notorious criminal was a basic definition of his character. He and his posse of “colleagues” had been tied to four different chemical warfare incidents in the last several months. “Colleagues” was a term that he so leisurely used, but she hardly considered them to be friendly co-workers. 

He and his crew had designed and created a chemical weapon that had been used in these chemical attacks over the course of the last several months. They had only just now caught up to him, because he was just as good as staying under the radar as he was making his mark. 

Word was that they had sent a “special shipment” of this lab-made weapon to an official location, but the destination was unknown – hence why Peach had been grilling him for half the night at this point. They needed to find the shipment and intercept it before it reached where it was intended to go. A mass exposure to this chemical weapon could mean a lot of damage and fatalities. 

Time wasn’t on her side, and he was stalling and wasting as much of it as he could. 

She was the best interrogator of the team. Each member had their own strengths when it came to squeezing answers out of a person of interest. 

Soap had a certain way with words that could cause the subject to unintentionally give up information. Gaz was cool and convincing, and Price had a temper on him that could shake up pretty much anyone. Ghost was just plain scary – he could merely walk in the room and some people would fold immediately.

But Peach had a little bit of it all. She was convincing and smooth, but could also turn angry and loud. She had it down to a science, but this was her hardest attempt yet. 

Usually she slapped them around a little bit. It sped up the process and you wouldn’t believe the people that caved just because they didn’t want to be beat up by such a sweet-looking woman. Other times though, it slowed everything down. It was a risk that usually had to be weighed once she was in the middle of things and had scoped it out.

But Price had given her once simple command before she began her interrogation.

“Whatever you do, don’t lay a finger on him.”

She had whined and protested, begging her Captain to give her the freedom to get her hands bloody if she needed it. It wasn’t like she ever really hurt anybody that bad. She could control herself much more than if Price went in there and put his hands on the guy.

Still, John feared that if she used her knuckles instead of her head, then they’d never get anything out of him.

Right now she was trying the convincing approach, although she wasn’t getting anywhere. In the last several hours, she had probably asked him what felt like about 100 questions, and he hadn’t answered a single one. He dodged every question and demand and brushed off every insult, threat, and comment. 

She circled him for what had to have been the millionth time. She was sick of looking at his face, and she could only imagine he was tired of seeing her too.  

“That shipment must be goin’ somewhere real important if you’re this tight lipped about it,” She persuaded, her hands shoving into the pockets of her cargo pants. “Must be headed for someone mighty special.”

There had been a few times where she was positive that he was about to give something up, but then he’d catch himself and change the subject completely. 

“That accent…” He rumbled, and she didn’t even bother resisting to roll her eyes. “You’re a long way from home, huh?”

She could only describe his voice as snakelike. It had a certain pitch to it, and all of his “S” sounds were drawn out like a hiss. 

A few times, she entertained his counter questions. If it brought her closer to getting something out of him, then she didn’t mind giving up some personal information of her own. It was a fair trade off, if you will.

“Haven’t been home in a long time,” She answered. “I can’t seem to ditch the accent.”

“I’d say it suits you.” He shrugged.

This had been the cycle the entire time. She would ask a question and he would change the subject. She was beyond frustrated because nothing was working.

The room that they were in was stuffy. The air was warm, thick, and it felt like she was breathing soup with every inhale she took. Beads of sweat lined her forehead and dripped down the middle of her back, despite the fact that she had stripped down to a tank and her most comfortable set of pants. 

The room was straight out of a movie. Concrete floors, cinder block walls, and there was hardly any real light coming from the singular LED overhead. Based on how it flickered and flashed, it was clear that it had been quite some time since the bulb had been changed.

There was a singular window that offered observation inside, and it connected the adjacent room. The glass was tinted from the inside, so the eyes that were inside, couldn’t see outside.

Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap had been watching this whole time from the opposite side, and they were growing more discouraged by the minute.

“She’s not getting anywhere, Captain. He’s barely said anything useful.” Ghost remarked, who was saying what everyone else was thinking. 

Price sighed. They could only do this for so long before they would just be wasting precious time on a dead end. Price didn’t want to pull her out because that was giving up in her mind. But he couldn’t stand to watch her keep doing this.

While she was hiding it well, he knew she was as distressed as could be on the inside. He had seen her in her more visible moments of stress and anxiety, and he knew she was close to the beginning of a breakdown. 

“Let’s give her another half hour,” Price advised. “Maybe she can turn this around.”

They were all tired. It had been a long day and now they were already well into an even longer night. They needed as much rest as they could possibly get before coming up with a new plan and starting over. They didn’t have enough time to try and do this again. 

It turned out that Price’s extra thirty minutes had dwindled down to about two minutes.

“This is gonna go a whole lot easier if you just tell me now,” Her voice lowered, her tone smooth and dark. “Where’s the shipment bein’ sent to?” 

Of course, he wasn’t going to answer that. She was mean and she was tough, but he had spent years perfecting keeping his cool under this kind of pressure. 

“That Captain of yours has it bad for you, doesn’t he?”

A thunderclap of dread cracked in Price’s chest and vibrated to the rest of his body. If there was one way to set her off, it was to bring him into it. She didn’t totally lose it right away, but he could tell just by looking at her that she was close by that comment alone.

John knew better than to look at Soap, Ghost or Gaz, but he knew they were watching him like a hawk. They were waiting for a reaction, but they surely weren’t going to get one. 

“Not a word.” Price instructed, still staring ahead through the dirty glass.

They all jumped, quickly looking in different directions as if they hadn’t been waiting for some kind of tell that this guy was getting under his skin.

It wasn’t necessarily a secret that Peach and Price had been seeing each other. They weren’t really trying to hide it, but they also weren’t going out of their way to share it publicly. Ghost, Gaz, and Soap were curious, but too afraid to ask. They were entitled to privacy, but it didn’t stop them from being nosy.

“What makes you say that?” She dared to ask through almost bared teeth.

“It’s in his eyes. He doesn’t look at his men the way he looks at you,” He said. “How long has that been going on?”

“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.” She growled, and her pupils were expanded the way they were every time she was heated. 

This wasn’t going anywhere good. The second she laid hands on him, this entire thing was going to be blown.

“She’s gettin’ angry, Captain.” Soap advised, which was more of a warning than anything.

“Not yet.” Price held up a hand, giving her up until the last possible second to get something. 

She remembered John’s words. It was imperative to find out where the chemical weapon was going. There was no telling what they were planning to do with it and what kind of mass effect it would have. She couldn’t be the one to jeopardize that. She knew that entertaining his nagging questions would only make things worse.

“Where’s the shipment going?” She asked one final time.

He leaned forward as much as the restraints would allow, his words rolling off in his most sinister tone.

“Fuck you.”

Shit.

Price saw the fire explode in her eyes, and he knew to react before she had a chance to.

“Ghost. Get her.” Price ordered immediately.

Ghost was swift on his feet, entering the room and snatching Peach up before she even had a chance to do or say anything else. He hoisted her off the ground, ignoring her wriggling and shrills of protest. A blast of cold air hit her when he carried her back into the next room, which was barely helpful to her boiling blood.

Ghost wrestled to set her back on her feet, but kept a strong arm around her to fight her attempts to get back in the other room. She shrieked and pleaded for Ghost to let her go, and the good Captain only stepped in when Soap and Gaz had to assist Ghost in holding her down.

“That’s enough,” Price barked. “We’re done here.”

She ripped herself from Ghost’s hold at the sound of John’s voice, giving him a look so cold that it sent a shudder down his spine. Her anger was now laser focused on Captain Price, who wasn’t looking forward to the argument that was undoubtedly about to unfold.

“Let me at him, John, he’s gotta give in sometime.” She hissed, strands of her hair sticking to her damp forehead and the back of her neck.

He didn’t want to fight. He hated fighting with her. He especially didn’t want to get into a squabble with her in front of the rest of the team. But right now, he needed to be her captain first. This was her captain speaking, not her lover. 

This was one of those moments where it was unexplainably hard to be both.

He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her that she was doing everything that she could. He could praise her for her determination and hard work. At the same time, he couldn’t just sit and watch her work herself to death, especially for no reward. There was much more at stake, and her pride getting a little damaged was better than wasting all of her time trying to crack this nut. 

He grabbed her arm, dragging her away from the door in case she tried to force her way back inside. 

“You’re done for the night,” John commanded. “You’re not getting anywhere with him.”

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were standing aside, watching and listening without saying a word. It wasn’t often that Peach and Price got into it like this. But when they did, they knew not to interject or intervene.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” She stood in front of him, her eyes squinted and jaw clenched as her accent drew thicker. 

Fire was burning in her eyes. The outline of the vein in her forehead was showing under her skin as her cheeks grew hotter with each passing second. 

He knew that she would take that the wrong way. He wasn’t insulting her attempt or her work, but she surely took it that way. She was tired from being up so long, irritated by the suspect’s behavior, and disappointed that all of this was for nothing. 

But at the moment, that wasn’t Price’s understanding of the situation. All he knew was that she was angry and questioning his judgment in front of his team, and he had to match her tone. 

“It means that this is a waste of time,” His voice grew louder, cheeks burning red. “We can’t afford any more dead ends.”

“And what do you suppose that I do in the meantime?” She challenged him, something she rarely ever did.

“You need to take a break. Get some rest. We’ll reconvene in the morning,” John barked. “That’s an order.”

She didn’t like that at all. She was determined to keep at this until she physically couldn’t anymore. This was just too important to give up on now. She shook her head in disbelief, a mixture of fury and disappointment causing her to be so vicious. 

She could stand here and argue with him for the rest of the night, but if there was anything that she knew would be a waste of time, it was arguing with John Price. 

“Yes, Captain.” She hissed, those two simple words dripping with venom as she pushed past him. 

He sighed as she stalked out of the room, no doubt going to find the furthest place to get some sleep. Price knew better than that though. She would be up the rest of the night stewing over this, prematurely blaming herself for something that hadn’t happened yet. 

He was already feeling guilty for his reaction. He knew better than to blow up at anyone like that…especially her. He was tired, she was tired, everybody was tired. His emotions in a state of exhaustion and irritability had gotten the best of him.

He knew what he needed to do – cool off and go fix this.

Ghost was the first one to speak up when he realized they really were finished for the night.

“What about him?” Ghost asked, tilting his head to reference the terrorist that was still tied down. 

“Leave him. He’s not going anywhere.” 

That was Price’s way of telling him that he wasn’t in the mood to deal with a criminal right now. That was also Price’s way of telling the three of them that they could do whatever they pleased with him at this point. Price didn’t ask any questions about what they intended to do with him. He didn’t need to know, and he trusted that they would leave him intact enough so he would see his day in the clink.

Price had other matters to tend to. A clammed up suspect wasn’t worth his time. Everybody needed to regroup and come up with a new strategy when the new day came around. 

Rest, reconcile, and regroup. That was his to-do list. He emphasized the second one, but cooling off needed to come first.

He left Ghost, Soap, and Gaz to their own devices, trudging off to find a quiet place to collect himself.

***

If there was one place that Price always knew where to look for her, it was the infirmary.

She was the only one of the team that was trained and qualified enough to effectively utilize the space. Most people avoided it, considering the times that they were there were usually because they were injured or coming down with something. Needless to say that, other than her, it wasn’t likely to catch anybody hanging around there for fun.

She excelled there. It was her main place of work and where her skills were most useful and appreciated. She was talented in many other ways, but her medical knowledge was just so precious and priceless. The force could scrape by without having someone who was perfectly trained in combat or computer hacking. But without a medic? Success was highly unlikely.

The infirmary was where she felt the most useful. She felt almost…safe there.

He knew that’s where she would be. She was probably standing at one of the cabinets, taking all of its contents out and organizing them back inside again. 

It was a meaningless task, just something to occupy her hands while her brain circled around itself. She would do this over and over until every corner of every box was flawlessly lined up and every label on every bottle was centered with the front of the cabinet. It was just to distract herself, and an attempt to keep her real feelings at bay. 

Not to mention, she was unbelievably angry with her captain.

John knew that she wasn’t going to be thrilled to see him. He prepared himself for another fight as he navigated his way to the infirmary. She would never yell or scream at him, but her voice always turned ice cold and stern when she was upset. He found that to be worse. He’d rather her scream in his face – that way he’d have no question about how she was feeling.

She also wasn’t one to talk about things right away. She liked time to simmer on it and at least cool off a little before talking it out. He had waited around 45 minutes before seeking her out. 45 minutes was all he could stand. The anxiety and anticipation of knowing she was alone and seething to herself was unbearable for him. 

While he was desperate to get this resolved, he also had to stand firm in his decision to pull her out of the interrogation. It might’ve upset her as his girlfriend, but it was the right move as her captain. He could acknowledge her disapproval while also defending his decision. 

He turned a corner and immediately noticed a glow of light coming from the open doorway of the infirmary. He could feel the energy from here. She certainly wasn’t in the best mood.

Nonetheless, he would rather have a conversation than move on without discussing it. 

Sure enough, there she was – facing the cabinet on the back wall, lining up boxes of gauze pads and organizing bottles of disinfectant. He could practically see the steam hissing out of her ears, like her head would blow off of her shoulders at any moment. 

He leaned against the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets and his feet crossed over one another. She was oblivious to him standing there, another sign that her focus was elsewhere. He took a calming breath to recenter himself before he made himself known.

“Hey, Peach.” He kept a neutral tone.

Her shoulders squared and straightened at the sound of his voice. She wasn’t expecting to see him again tonight, not after that little fallout they just had. 

Her hands had paused on the box of gauze in her hands, her eyes trained on the print on the cardboard cover. 

“Captain.” She said. 

He ignored the sting in his chest and the annoyance that came from her not using his name. This was one of those times where he was here both as a boss and as a boyfriend. Those moments were pretty rare, and he very much preferred being one or the other. 

“I thought I told you to take a break.” He said coolly, more as small talk than anything. 

“Not tired,” She half-lied. She was tired, but wouldn’t have been able to sleep though. “Where are the boys?”

He couldn’t help but grin to himself. She always referred to Ghost, Soap, and Gaz as “the boys” like they were her kids. It was ironic because she was practically the same age as them, but somehow all of them saw her as motherly at certain times. 

“Soap and Gaz hit the sack,” He said. “I think Ghost is dealing with our perpetrator.” 

Price reached into the inside of his jacket, locating the pack of cigarettes that he stashed there. After today, he needed something to take the edge off. He slid a cigarette from the pack, settling it between his lips while he fished around in his pants pocket for his lighter.

“Guess he was better for the job then?” She grumbled, her back still towards him. “And don’t you dare light that cigarette.”

Price’s thumb had just set on the spark wheel with not even enough time to push it down to ignite the butane inside. She was always on him about his smoking habit. He knew all the health risks and concerns that came from smoking (she had explained them to him many times), but never were they enough to motivate him to kick his habit completely.

Nonetheless, he placed the cigarette back into the pack and stored them with his lighter for safekeeping. 

“It had nothing to do with that. You were just as suited and prepared for it.” He answered.

I guess we’re getting right into it then. He thought to himself.

“Then why’d you pull me out?” She set the box in the cabinet and closed the door.

Her tone wasn’t as firm now, but it still had a certain chill to it. 

“It was all part of his plan. He was going to wear you out until we were out of time.” He remarked.

She shook her head, an incredulous smile spreading across her features. She finally turned to him, her eyes meeting his from across the room. He had calmed down much more than she had, but she didn’t look like she was close to combusting anymore.

“You have absolutely zero faith in me.” She said.

His stance changed, his legs straightening out as he fully entered the room. 

“Come on, Peaches. You know it isn’t that,” He pleaded. “We’re running out of time. I couldn’t risk using it all on a dead end suspect.”

He was closer to her now. He could read her better if he was close. 

“If it had been Soap, you wouldn’t have pulled him out.” She grumbled.

“That’s not true,” He became more determined, but his voice remained normal. “I was looking out for you and for the best interest of this team.”

Her pupils dilated, a quick surge of vexation flashing over her irises. 

“I’m not soft, John. I don’t need you takin’ care of me.” She huffed.

At least we’re back to first names.

“I know that. I’ve never thought of you as anything other than independent and perfectly capable. And I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise,” He defended. “But I’m your captain. It’s my job to keep this team safe and in line. That includes you.”

She almost rolled her eyes. How could he act like she didn’t already know that? She had a response ready, but he went on before she could say it.

“I made a judgment call because I was worried about you, and I saw that what he was doing was sabotaging what we’re trying to do,” He proclaimed. “You have the right to be upset over it, but it was the best call. I would’ve made the same choice no matter what. It just so happened that there was a little more emotion involved.”

It wasn’t always easy being both her captain and her lover. As he had said before, it presented some unique challenges that could only be dealt with as they happened. It was only when the two sides blended that things could get tricky. 

It wasn’t always easy for her either. Over time, she had learned to know when to treat him as a respected captain and when to love up on him as her romantic partner. She just had to understand that there were going to be times where his care for her was going to overlap with how he treated her professionally.

And in all honesty, she knew deep down that he hadn’t dragged her out because he didn’t think she could do it. If he thought that she wasn’t capable, he never would’ve let her do it in the first place. 

“It’s just…” She sighed, a much more serene look glossing over her eyes. “He got the best of me.”

She didn’t lose her temper often. If anything, it was more likely for John to flip his lid. But the stakes were high, the pressure was on, and time was running out…it made sense that an uncooperative criminal pushed her over the edge.

“I know. It’s alright,” He pushed a set of stray hairs from her eyes. “I didn’t want you getting all worked up over it. I need you to have a clear head so we can get this figured out.”

She felt ashamed for lashing out. She was better than losing her composure and confidence over some low life criminal.

She felt remorse for getting in John’s face and nearly cursing him out in front of his team. Her reaction had been uncalled for, and she felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, Captain.” She apologized, the last of the flames in her eyes smothering out completely.

“Oh, come on now, darling,” He took her chin gently between his thumb and index finger, tilting her head forward to press his lips to her forehead. “I’m just glad you didn’t try to kill him.”

“I would’ve if you had let me.” She gave a small smile.

He chuckled at that, wrapping one of his arms around her waist.

“I know,” He pressed another kiss to her head. “I find the thought of you killing an international terrorist rather sexy.”

“Is that so?” Her smile grew wider. “Only problem with that is I’ll lose my job if I get caught killin’ him without probable cause. And I like my job.”

“You would never get caught,” He scoffed. “You’re stealthy.”

His arm unwrapped from her waist, his hands coming to gently grip her biceps. He kissed her properly then, his facial hair tickling her skin as she hummed into the kiss. All was well between them. This was hardly any real bump in the road for them. A minor hiccup, at most. 

Price could forgive and forget a little outburst on a terrorist. He would be more concerned if she hadn’t cared so much about this mission.

“How about you get some sleep?” He said when she broke the kiss. “We need to get started as soon as the sun comes up.”

Price’s eyes suddenly started scanning the room, as if he were looking for something. 

“Sure. I’ll finish packin’ the cabinet and I’ll hit the hay,” She smirked, following his eyes. “My medic bag is in that closet. Suckers are in the front pocket. I just restocked the cherry ones.”

A grin spread on his face when he dashed towards the closet that she pointed to. He had a theory that she kept lollipops around not only for people after being treated, but also to keep him from smoking so much. It didn’t really work, but he still appreciated the gesture. 

He stuck around until she was finished, escorting her out of the infirmary and to a decent place to get some rest. He made sure she was comfortable before he turned in for the night as well, but not before finishing his candy treat. 

Although, the lollipop was nothing compared to the relief he felt from making things right.

He felt confident that the answers the team was looking for would be found. And her confidence would return when this was all over and dealt with. She would be successful once more.

And he believed that both as her captain and her lover.

#john price #john price x reader #john price x fem! reader #john price x female reader #john price x 'peach' #john price x you #john price x y/n #john price angst #john price oneshot #john price one shot #john price oneshots #john price one shots #john price imagine #john price imagines #john price fanfiction #cod mw2 #MW2 #mw2 fanfiction #ghostandsoap

[favvn]

You know what else drives me crazy about The Naked Time? This exchange:

It isn't just because of Spock saying, "Jim, when I feel friendship for you, I am ashamed" or "Understand, Jim. I've spent a whole lifetime learning to hide my feelings." Although, that absolutely is part of it, the fact that Spock is locked into his regret over not telling his mother he loved her and his shame at realizing that, despite all his work to adhere to Vulcan principles, he still feels love. It's that gap between duty versus desire, between expectations versus wants, and what remains in spite of the pressure. (I realize his words parallel a love confession in any other context, between any heterosexual couple, and that fandom looks to his shame as a confirmation of internalized homophobia, but the biggest issue for Spock is that love, sorrow, shame--all powerful emotions--still exist for him. He is not a Vulcan if he feels these emotions and gives into them. He is only a half-Vulcan and half-Human, caught between worlds and the judgments and expectations of two very different societies.)

It's because Kirk changes his phrasing of "We've got to risk a full-power start!" to, "We've got to risk implosion!" Implosion, like many words, holds multiple meanings. The intended meaning is "a violent collapsing inwards," the opposite of explosion. But implosion can mean integration, a coming together towards a single center point. We've got to risk coming together. We've got to risk integration. And Spock responds, "It's never been done." They repeat these lines twice. Repetition is a device to call attention in writing. Why have Kirk say they have to risk a full-power start twice before only to change it to implosion and repeat it twice? The two phrases mean something different, but it's important enough to bear repeating. (One could argue it is sloppy writing, or perhaps a case of actors failing to remember their lines, but what are the odds it was either of those, especially with someone as thoughtful as Leonard Nimoy. Either a writer is a professional who understands the power of words, or everything is somehow coincidental, holds no actual meaning, and writers don't think carefully about word choice and meaning, especially in an era where nuance can make or break a story on the screen.)

In the 1960s, during the time of the Hayes Code, of course, two men couldn't be together as a couple on TV or in film, not even in space, in a time set centuries beyond our present. But damn if the dialogue can not hint at it, dance around it in plain sight. Again, Kirk and Spock's relationship must exist in the margins, between the lines, encased in nuance and multiple meanings, because to use explicitly clear phrasing would mean it all gets cut.

Hence, this bit of dialogue. The slaps become Spock catching Kirk's hand and holding it steady--direct sustained contact, a coming together, implosion. Spock is torn between regret and shame and love, while Kirk shouts about the ship being destroyed and ending the lives of the crew, their shared duty to the ship. The dialogue is Spock's turmoil writ large--do what must be done, accept two separate halves becoming a whole (is it Spock's two halves or Kirk and Spock? I'll leave that up to you), or remain apart and give into despair. But Kirk tells him their only chance is to risk implosion, to come together, and they have to take that chance.

#star trek tos #the naked time #spirk #k/s #the premise #jim kirk #spock #this episode still gets to me. it is still very much a “if spirk was unintended what is all this” #more like to admit to it would've killed careers #the naked time brainworms are perhaps the most lethal

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

how does someone reblog the wrong post with a kinda mean comment on accident? I genuinely want to know, not trying to put you down

I genuinely, honestly have no clue! You know like... how sometimes you go to a supermarket, and you grab a banana milkshake, and you see the label and it's banana because that's what you want, and you pay for it, and you go home, and then you look at your milkshake to drink it and SOMEHOW it's vanilla

And you're like BUT IT WASN'T

It's that but with posts. Fuck knows what happened. I've done something similar before, that time without comment - it was spotted immediately by the person I reblogged it from because I tagged it 'abortion' and they were like "That seems an odd thing to tag this post about steam trains" or whatever it was. And that time, it was because I read the post, scrolled past, and then decided I wanted to reblog it after all, and then missed and hit the wrong reblog button.

So maybe it was that??! Possibly. What I meant to reblog this time was the Hugo's thing. That's why I said it explains the hyper defensiveness - the spokesman for the Hugo's went into stomping tantrum meltdown when authors asked why their books were ruled ineligible, and kept repeating "It's because they aren't eligible, I can't believe you're all too stupid to read English", which is... uh, possibly the worst public relations attempt of the last 12 months. The post I meant to reblog said that a journalist had discovered that, rather than China banning them as we assumed and the Hugo's wanting to hide the fact that they meekly submitted to those whims, it was actually the Western Hugo judges who banned them pre-emptively on China's behalf. Hence! My comment about the defensiveness!! I swear that made sense in context!!!

Instead though I undeservedly roasted an innocent bystander making an entirely innocuous and unrelated point. I blame the ADHD.

#asks #in my defence I am. So tired.

[ccscocoapuffs]

Caught- Mark Hoffman Smut

PROMPT: Coming to visit Mark in his office usually goes one outta two ways. first option, you bring him some homemade dinner, you talk to him for a minute, kiss him a bit, then be on your way or you come in sit on his lap, tease him, and then he bends you over his desk and has his way with you. Today was an option two kinda day. I think it's safe to say I shouldn't have visited Mark at lunch wearing this skirt. Then again maybe it was the best choice I've made all day. I had simply just walked in and sat down in the detectives lap while he remained on the phone for a few more moments. When the moments had sense past, before I could even greet him with a kiss like I always do, He had lifted me up and bent me over his desk. " Little slut, did you wear this skirt for me?" "You know I did, I wanna look pretty for you" "Yeah is that why you ain't got on no panties?" Mark's hand tailed up underneath my skirt slowly rubbing through my already wet folds. "I just now touched you and you're wet, are you that much of a slut for me?" "yes..." Before i could finish my answer, I felt a sharp sting come down on my ass. " Yes what, princess?" *Smack* "Yes sir" *Smack* "Good girl" I heard the sound of Mark undoing his belt and couldn't help but clench my thighs together for the much needed friction I'm craving while I wait. Mark smacked my ass once more turning it a bright shade of red from the repeating blows he had been giving me. "keep your fuckin glegs open, you understand me?" "Yes, sir" "Behave, or ill make you walk out of this fucking office with cum dripping down your face". I felt Mark slowly push the tip of his cock up against my folds, slowly sliding it through them over and over. "Mark....please" "please what?" "fuck me...". Mark slammed into me without warning and began to thrust over and over again into my dripping heat. I couldn't help but to moan at the feeling of him stretching my walls open. "Shhhh now princess, you don't want the others to hear you now do you?" "no....F-fuck". Mark's fingers traveled down to my clit and began to furiously rub the aching bud while his other hand pulled me by my hair till I was flush against his chest. "You're so wet for me, when I get home later, I'M gonna put you over my knee and smack this ass till its bruised....fuck you're tight". Mark began to go deeper and deeper with each thrust, each one bringing me closer and closer to the edge I have so patiently longed for. "Awww are you gonna cum already, Princess? I'm not fucking done yet". Just as I fell on the verge of my orgasm, Mark pulled out of me. "Marrrrk! no! i wanna cum, please let me cum!" "poor babygirl.....daddy will let you cum sweet pea, I wanna taste you first, is that alright with you?" "mmmhmm".

Mark turned me around and sat me on the edge of his desk before getting down on his knees. If there's one thing in this world Mark Hoffman is good at, it's eating pussy. Hence why I couldn't help the damn near scream that came outta me when he shoved his face deep into my pussy. Between Mark's fingers pumping in and out of me and his mouth endless sucking on my clit, my orgasm came past approaching. My stomach tied in knots that ached to be released. "come on baby, cum for me". I couldn't hold on any longer as I let go, my juices coating Mark's face and fingers as it dripped down my legs and to the floor. "Hey, Hoffman do you have those files finished for-" Before my eyes had even opened from the intense release i had just felt, Detective Rigg had walked into Mark's office unannounced. "oh fuck.....umm....I'll just...I'm sorry....bye now" "The files are on my desk, Rigg" "I'll uh get them later." The detective quickly slammed the door shut and ran off down the hallway. " oh my god I can never walk back in here again!" "Oh please it's just Rigg, what's the odds of him walking in again? besides I love it when you come see me on my breaks, It's nice to see you, especially on days I won't be home till later" " Fine, i'll keep visiting but If Rigg walks in again either we never fuck here again or it's just bad luck" "Here's to hoping for epic bad luck".

A/N: EpIC BaD luCk, also I was lowkey super insecure to post this because I haven't wrote a fic in so long. hope you Hoffman Hoes in enjoy it!- sincerely, CC a fellow Hoffman Hoe.

#fanfic #saw #saw 5 #saw 4 #saw 6 #mark hoffman smut #mark hoffman x reader #saw movies #saw mark hoffman

[eremorte]

thronecoming heritage hall gifts (rewritten)

The Thronecoming heritage hall gifts bug me. Most of them don’t feel like a parent has gifted them. They are so uninspired for the biggest moment in their child’s life.

I’ve listed my replacements below. I’m hoping for the gifts to have a, if had-to-do-it-again-here’s-what-I’d-want vibe.

blondie lockes

OG gift: running shoes

rewritten gift: a new piece of tech that helps her with her mirror cast. A shiny new microphone or even just a cute news reporter accessory that acknowledges her unintended break from destiny (or rather extremely developed hobby/career because her story can be over in like 30 minutes) it also gives off the initial impression that blondie’s story is “just right” the way it is until.. boom! There’s a note.

That mentions that as Goldilocks has reflected on her role and how she regrets hurting the bears the ways she has* and with an extra perceptive daughter like blondie she is sure to find a worthy story (within bounds) that won’t cause baby bear to develop a complex. *insert long list of things here that blondie could comment on in her stead because the story book of legends didn’t write every worthwhile critique of the bear house and the bears despite “forgiving” her won’t let her talk to them about this* and a small comment of how she is super proud about blondie that hopefully eases some of her attention seeking behavior so she’s less of a brat later on.

cerise hood:

OG Gift: picnic basket with an electronic mirror lock.

revised gift: honestly I have no comment. This is a great gift. My only question is how recently the presents are placed in the hall seeing as how that basket spit up a whole bird leg. Maybe it has a special note of the picnic menu they have in celebration once the whole shebang is done.

o hair twins:

OG gift floating hair brushes

rewritten gift given how Rapunzel’s story is that she was locked away her whole life because her bio mom ate a magical plant while pregnant that the witch wasn’t sure of the side effects of and had to lock her away because damn sure bio parents couldn’t do anything if the witch was second guessing herself. What I think should be there are odd bits an bobs function like an Easter egg hunt of a map and post fairytale notes one what they are that Rapunzel is certain her girls can figure out because they have her plant powers (though probably diluted hence the helpful notes incase they have to solve things like their adoptive grandma ).

briar beauty

NOW FOR THE GIRL WHO INSPIRED THIS POST. Her gift makes me so angry. It is the most nothing gift of the whole bunch. You mean to tell me that a hundred year sleep doesn’t come with any regrets at all? Not one thing?

OG gift A neck pillow.

revised gift: A SCRAPBOOK. The first few pages could be filled with pictures of her family. Bonus points if they’re are people Briar wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet but knows who they are by virtue of her mom. It hits home exactly how big her sacrifice is. Also all the storybook imagery? The intro? Imagine if there was a dark time line where we were being told everything that happen through briar who missed all of it and is trying to piece back something familiar?

either way, mental breakdown and existential crisis guaranteed.

also bonus. It’s totally merchandisable. Half the book mercy was essentially scrapbooks/concept art anyhow.

Cedar wood: revealer rays

it’s a good gift but something she wouldn’t be able to use in her story at all. They are not subtle and most everyone who knows about Cedar knows that Pinocchio didn’t mess up her eyes to the point she’d feasibly need glasses. Revised gift: letters from the blue fairy (well wishes, maybe an helpful hint or two) Gepetto and Pinocchio (things to to try (and not repeat) once she’s no longer wooden and how to lie effectively) I can’t think of a physical possession for Cedar to have. But I feel she’d appreciate these. Maybe a special cricket/donkey whistle?

duchess swan:

no gift shown but what I have in mind is a mix of briar and blondie’s gift.

a collection of letters (written on leaves and paper or something) from both her mom and her bio dad detailing the bitter sweet love in the tragedy to reassure duchess it’s not all bad. And a special pair of dancing shoes for her last night as a human. I imagine this gift would only make duchess mad.

Madeline hatter:

no gift shown and honestly idk what the mad hatter gives his daughter it’s probably perfect. An old hat that looks very normal actually? A crazy new teapot? Who knows?

raven queen:

og gift wand wishing well coin

honestly I want to know the logic behind the wand. Is it a back up battery in case apple thwarts raven through zapping away her powers somehow?

I have multiple suggestions

Something that contains directions to the true SBOL

recipe for the poison apple

something that originally belonged to someone in the Snow White family that she is proud enough to share with her daughter (raven would probably give it back).

*blondie branches out mentions how Goldilocks promised to be a better person.

#ever after high #eah #blondie lockes #briar beauty #cedar wood #cerise hood #duchess swan #holly o'hair #madeline hatter #poppy o'hair #raven queen #thronecoming #eah headcanons #eah parents

[awyeahitssam]

“What’s with the lolly?”

“I was eating it when I died,” Harry said slowly. “I’d never had a lolly before. I suppose it just... came with?”

Harry frowned. “Magic? That’s what I could do?”

Voldemort inclined his head. “Yes, child. No muggle is strong enough to leave behind an imprint.” Especially such an odd one. 

“Huh,” Harry murmured thoughtfully. “So my family wasn’t just awful, then. They had a reason for calling me a freak.”

“What?” Voldemort said softly. His voice was cold. Dangerously so. But... if Harry was already dead, he really had nothing to fear, so there was no harm telling him. 

“The Dursleys,” he explains. “My aunt, uncle and cousin. They all hated me - treated me like a servant, more than family - called me a freak. I’m just saying, I suppose it makes sense now.”

The man hums thoughtfully. His eyes are a bright red, intent and gleaming, when they meet Harry’s. “You were a magical child,” he says softly. Then, “Where was it that you lived with this family of yours?”

Never tell strangers where you live was right up there with never tell strangers that we lock you in a cupboard. Harry hesitated, the rules ingrained. “Why?”

“You were magical,” the man repeated. “Every drop of magical blood is special. And they spilled it, didn’t they, child?”

“All kids bleed,” Harry says. Dudley had scraped his knees plenty. 

“Most kids are given bandages,” Voldemort said softly. “But you are no longer able to accept them. So consider this a kindness from your Lord, child. I will kill the filthy muggles who dared harm you.”

...

“I’m busy, Potter. Run along and play now.”

The boy squints at him in confusion. “Play?”

“Yes. Play. Or lounge, stare at the sky, whatever you please - just cease pestering me.”

When Voldemort looked up again the brat was gone. 

He wouldn’t see him again for weeks. 

“You know, when I said stop pestering me, I didn’t mean I didn’t want to ever see you again. I just didn’t wish to be distracted by you.”

Harry shrugged, legs swinging back and forth. “It’s all right, I’m used to being alone.” 

“As am I,” Voldemort said. “Hence my annoyance at your continued presence.”

“So you do want me to leave,” Harry concludes, pushing himself off the couch. He lands on the hardwood soundlessly.

“Is that what I said?”

“Sometimes the answer is in what people don’t say,” the seven-year-old said wisely. 

“Harry,” he snaps, before the boy can vanish again to Merlin-knew-where. “You can stay.”

Harry blinks at him dubiously, but then shrugs and settles back on the sofa. “Alright. Should I be quiet and pretend I don’t exist?”

“No,” Voldemort says definitively. “You will listen to me. You wish to know about magic, do you not?”

Harry visibly perks up. “I’m allowed to learn?”

The more of these seemingly innocuous questions the boy asks, the more Voldemort wants to murder his relatives. One day, he thinks, he will convince the boy to slip. To give him the address. 

“You are expected to,” he says shortly. “I will ask questions at the end.”

Teaching was different than he expected. The boy raised his hand often, and once Voldemort finished his thought and nodded his permission, he asked a question—sometimes several at once. What did a word mean, or why did wizards use Latin for spells, or why did people need wands.

“Your wand is an extension of yourself,” Voldemort lectures. “It is a tool used to channel magic. People can learn to use magic without a wand, but it is never so powerful.”

Harry’s lolly was hanging loosely in his hand. He stared down at it thoughtfully. “I’ll never have a wand,” he says thoughtfully. “I have this, though.” 

He meets Voldemort’s eyes briefly before pointing his lolly at the cushion and mimicking Voldemort’s wand motions perfectly. “Wingardium Leviosa,” he says firmly.

Before Voldemort can tell him that such a thing would hardly work, the cushions shot into the air. Harry watches them with open delight, moving his lolly to and fro like a conductor. The cushions follow his antics smoothly, before slowly sinking back into place on the couch. Harry turns to Voldemort, expectant.

The man is watching him cooly, eyes analytical. “Just what are you, Harry Potter?”

What. Not who.

Harry shrinks, but then puffs himself up and glares back. “Just the same old freak,” he snaps, and then vanishes.

When he comes back a month later his hair is longer.

He’s incorporeal, but he’s growing. Ageing. Able to do magic.

Voldemort is fascinated by the phenomenon.

#Mentor Voldemort #'dead' Harry #Discontinued #my writing

[solaneceae]

consume

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) tw: cannibalism, fuga impossivel references

“Hey, Slime. Can I eat your leg?”

The hybrid makes a huh of confusion, still adjusting his trusty gas mask over his face as he loots his own dead body, codified arm still glitching from fresh respawn. Cellbit can hear Jaiden and Étoiles conversing nearby, Bagi and Tina not too far from them, and the entire area reeks of blood and death.

Red Spawn had, strangely enough, become some kind of safe haven for now — people from all teams that were begging for a break, for a chat, for any modicum of normalcy had started to flock there as the end Day Four drew near: separated lovers falling into each other’s arms, Étoiles coaching everyone on PvP techniques regardless of affiliation (because the guy just thrived on being kind and helping people become the best version of themselves, it seemed. Cellbit appreciated that), his very presence a deterrent to anyone who would dare to come and break the temporary peace (BadBoyHalo).

And now that they didn’t have to look over their shoulder every second, the cat hybrid had started to think. A risky endeavour in a place such as Purgatory, but after exchanging a heated kiss with his husband and getting the sudden urge to bite his mouth off, he had started to wonder.

There were so many bodies around their spawn. He had seen many for the past few days, most of them belonging to his own team, but the urge to chow down on fresh meat had been nowhere as strong as right then with Roier, not even close. (First day had been the odd one out, as everyone in red team had lost their minds to the fog and joined in on that fucked up banquet.)

A hypothesis is blooming in his mind. He needs to test something. “Can I eat your leg?” he repeats to a befuddled Charlie, who looks at him, then at his body, then back at him. “I mean. Sure? Knock yourself out.”

Cellbit does — and it’s disappointing. It starts off nice, his heart hammering inside his ribcage as he severs muscle and bone and tendon to rip Slime’s leg off his still cooling body, saliva pooling in his mouth as his pupils dilate to eat up all the blue, and he can feel it, the thrill, the desire, the manic joy; but then he bites into it and the leg loses solidity, turning into green goop that tastes like grass and it’s so sour, like an unripe lemon. He spits it all out, grimacing — his palate and tongue almost feel burned. He forgot slimes were corrosive. “Tastes like shit,” he huffs, and Charlie lets out a disappointed aw.

Results: inconclusive. Cause: negative bias, because Charlie is a fucking slime and hence an outlier. 

He asks Jaiden next, and she shrugs and tells him to go for it. (Maybe they should be worried about how flippant they’ve all become about cannibalism, but that’s a problem for post-Purgatory them to deal with.) And this time, it’s good. Her flesh is tender and moist, just the right balance of muscle and fat, and he gets a sick sense of satisfaction as she watches him tear into her thigh with morbid fascination. “How do I taste like?” she asks him. He tells her ‘delicious’ between two mouthfuls of prime cut, and she smiles. “Nice! I’m glad.”

Contrary to what some might believe, he hadn't eaten anything off the Federation workers he had killed. Hadn't reached that point at the time. But now there he is, seeking an enemy body among the dozens of Jaidens lying around. When he finally does, he stares down at it for a long moment, and finds that he has no desire to sink his teeth into it at all. Mmh. He looks up to find Roier, still silent to mind his recovering lungs and plopping down signs that make Étoiles crack up, and he’s so funny and cute and strong and Cellbit wants to crawl into his chest cavity and— “Ah,” he realises, something old and crooked at the back of his mind finally clicking into place.

He thinks of Pac. He thinks of Alcatraz, of that desire that had torn its way into his brain as soon as he had seen that youthful, terrified face for the first time. He thinks of those nights tossing and turning, tongue flicking out in a nervous tick as he obsessively rotated the new guy into his mind from every angle, trying to imagine what his screams would be like, how his flesh would taste, how it would feel going down his throat. He thinks of the pure, unadulterated pleasure of finally making that fantasy a reality, details blurring into red-mist bliss and the song of Pac screaming and crying. He finds that if he had to do it all again, right now, he would, but not like this. This time, dream-Pac would offer himself willingly, repeating I trust you, I trust you as dream-Cellbit reverently slices through his flesh.

He thinks of that thing humans have, when they experience the urge to squish or bite when they see something cute. He thinks of the result of his observations, that he only enjoys eating people if he cares for them.

(Maybe he had loved Pac once, in a fucked up version of a crush distorted by his mania and lifetime worth of trauma. Maybe that was why he had done what he’d done. Now the engineer was more akin to a brother to him, close and important, but that obsessive attraction wasn’t there anymore.)

Maybe it’s just in his nature, to consume the very things he loves. “Something on your mind?” Jaiden asks him later, sleepily, her head resting against his side as the rest of the family dozes off within the Nest in a tangle of limbs and soft blankets. Cellbit shakes his head. “Just. Processing stuff.”

Jaiden hums, and Phil drapes one of his large black wings over them both. The conure chirps, flock, home, and the crow replies with a quiet yesyes.

#qsmp #qsmp purgatory #team bolas #fanfic #cannibalism as a metaphor for love is kinda based actually #cellbit #q!cellbit #tw cannibalism

[river-in-the-woods]

Karma

I sometimes come across people who say they “don’t believe in karma.” I believe this stems from a misunderstanding of karma as a purely supernatural force.

Karma is not something you believe in: it is cause and effect, as real and insentient as the force of gravity. Karma is a shorthand for everything a being can experience and the causes that lead to these experiences.

You touch the fire and it burns you. That’s karma. Your karma is that you are a being of flesh and your body cannot tolerate certain elements.

Your family has a history of cancer, and you develop cancer. That’s karma. Your karma is that you carry the genetic inclination for certain diseases.

You encounter a challenge and overcome it against all odds. That’s karma. Your karma is that you had the skills and resources to achieve the outcome you desired.

When we observe certain phenomena in the world, we understand that this was possible because there was the necessary karma for it to occur - the necessary causes were present. Sometimes we label this as ‘bad’ karma or ‘good’ karma, purely because of how we perceive that experience. There will have been innumerable factors involved in that experience coming to pass. Hence, karma can be understood in a purely mundane context.

Since we spiritual practitioners tend to get involved with magic, gods, spirits and other realms, then naturally we observe that there are additional ways in which karma can work. Sometimes on a scale that is difficult to comprehend and spans lifetimes.

When we understand karma, that is, cause and effect, we come to understand some of the myriad of influences upon our experience. Sometimes we understand enough that we can change the karma that we have.

In my opinion, karma makes the most sense in the context of rebirth and spiritual inheritance: the idea that there is some continuity after death and the karma of one life can be inherited by another.

The way that I personally understand karma is that it is like an attunement, or a momentum. Every action, every thought, is like a movement that creates a gust of wind that pushes us toward a certain outcome. Repeated actions of a certain nature solidify this momentum, like gathering winds that create a storm, or trails of water that carve a riverbed into the earth.

Across lifetimes, this becomes especially powerful. We may find ourselves repeatedly experiencing certain themes in our lives. The same kinds of fortune and misfortune that come back in different forms, created by the momentum of our inherited karma. It takes persistent effort to escape what has been ingrained into our experience and go beyond what our past has shaped us to be.

Karma must also be understood in the context of interdependence. We do not exist in isolation, our own karma will impact the karma of others, and vice versa. Everything in the world has its own karma, a way it can influence other things: how we navigate these influences determines our fate.

Don’t be daunted by the enormity of it all. A ship that sails across the sea will not encounter every wave on the ocean, only the ones in its path. We have the choice to ride upon those waves, or we can learn to read the winds and waters and try to change our course.

#cultivation #buddhism #dharma #karma #i made a similar post in a server which people found useful #once i started getting to grips with karma as a concept #it helped me become more patient #realising “i don't have the karma to do this right now” #or “what actions can i take now to create this karma for the future” #it also helps me realise that everything is constantly evolving #for those moments i feel stagnant or stuck

[rheasonly1]

Daryl Dixon one shot -

Mature content 18+ but if you’re steady with it and used to it, read until ya can’t read anymore.

I used pronouns ‘you’ and ‘your’ this time.

pre-warning: smut 👍

Enjoy x

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It was midday at Alexandria when Michonne came to you with a place that she wanted looting. She told you that it was stocked full of medical supplies and food resources. Since everyone was playing their part of re-building Alexandria, mouths were hungry and it was the least you could do.

You accepted her request and told her that you would be soon on your way. She thanked you and you both went your separate ways. As you got back to the house you were staying in, a certain dark brown haired archer was stood outside smoking a cigarette. He smiled slightly and waved puffing out the final bit of smoke as you made your way up the steps to the door.

“Everythin’ alright?” He questioned.

You nodded “going on a run for supplies, I’ll be back soon.”

You walked into the house to grab your gear until Daryl gripped you by the arm.

“By ‘ure self?” He drawled.

You raised your eye brows at his question “Nothin’ I haven’t done before.” You stated.

He huffed and gave you a look already telling you that he wasn’t going to let you go alone.

“Daryl, I’ll be fine, it’s a store not far from here, only a couple of miles.” I sighed.

He shook his head “nah, not happening. Those whisperers see you, yer dead.”

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to be concerned.

“Keep up then.” You said.

He chuckled and grabbed his cross bow which rested against the wall by the door.

———————————————————————

The light was starting to fade and you had only been out a couple of hours.

“Thought ya said it was only ‘couple miles.” Daryl huffed.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess I underestimated Michonne’s estimate.”

He scoffed and made it so you guys were walking shoulder to shoulder, your hands occasionally brushing past each others.

For a minute you glanced at your hands as they were inches away from touching again. Purposely you let your hand sway in motion with your walking so that it touched his hand more often.

His skin was soft and warm and it gave you comfort when you came into contact with it.

Hence the reason you took any opportunity you could to be close to him.

It had gone unnoticed that you had intentionally tried to get closer to him until finally you got so close you bumped shoulders.

At the same time your heads flew up and you stared at each other shocked.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

You both chocked.

Daryl became distracted at the fact that you had finally made it to the store.

“I guess this is it then.”

“I guess so.” You mumbled under your breath, giving the area a thorough sweep with your eyes.

You walked towards the double doors and used the butt of your knife to hit one to attract any walkers lurking inside.

However, to your surprise the glass of the door smashed in an instant.

You flinched back slightly stumbling on your feet. A strong hand on your lower back kept you balanced. You turned to see Daryl using his free hand to keep you up right, you smiled and nodded back at him as a Thank you.

Both you and Daryl cautiously walked into the store, then weaving in and out of the aisles turning fast at every corner keeping your weapons raised.

Once you were certain it was clear of any danger, you settled down your gear and started to rummage through the shelves. You found odd bottles of pills and bandages. Tossed any worthy items into your pack and repeated this method a couple times before you had completely ransacked the aisle of any valuables.

The store was now shrouded in darkness as it was now night, you flicked on your flashlight and shined it around the room, and you noticed that Daryl was no longer around.

“Daryl!” You whispered.

You slowly and quietly walked through the other aisles looking for him. He’d vanished and you started to become worried.

You soon realised that you hardly payed any attention the the fact that there were backrooms and you felt a little more relieved that there was the chance that Daryl was probably searching in there.

You casually walked towards the back of the store calling for him again.

Suddenly, your ears were deafened by a loud thud. You forced your way through the stubborn door, to find Daryl on his back coughing and wafting away dust which poured from the ceiling he just fell from.

“What the hell?” You yelled.

Daryl didn’t respond as he was still too busy composing himself after his big fall.

You ran and knelt beside him. “Are you alright?” You sighed.

“Fine.” He said trying to hide his embarrassment.

You stood up and dusted off your knees and then offered him a hand.

Reluctantly he took it and you were both back on your feet.

“Mind tellin’ me what happened?” You laughed.

He scowled and turned to pick up his bag. As he did his hair fell to the side revealing a nasty cut on the side of his neck, which then traveled along his face and just stopping at his chin.

“Hey wait.” You said making him stand straight.

Without permission, you moved his hair to the side and carried on to the back of his head, he stood frozen to the spot.

“What are ya doin’?” He mumbled.

After examining his wound, you turned back to face him a bit confused. “You can’t feel it?” You asked as you revealed your hand stained with his blood.

He grabbed your hand looking at the blood and his eyes widened.

“Where?!” He asked frantically whilst patting all around his head until he hissed at the pain from the raw cut.

You spotted a wooden chair in the corner of the room. Grabbing it, you placed it where you guys were stood.

“Sit.” You demanded.

Surprisingly, he slumped into the seat and he hunched over in pain, feeling the sting across his head and cheek.

You gently pushed him upright, so he was sat straight. The moon light shone brightly through a small window, and it perfectly hit the spot of Daryl’s head where is injury was.

You took your bag from around your neck and searched it for the bandages and antiseptic wipes you found earlier on.

Finding them, you walked towards him, and stepped into his personal space which ended up with both your legs either side of one of his.

As you stood tall over him you gently pushed his head down and the top of it rested against your stomach. You felt his hands grip your hips for support which gave you butterflies in your stomach.

You cleaned around the cut, trying to use a minimal amount of pressure so you wouldn’t hurt him any more than he already was.

After bandaging around his head, you soon focused on the part of the cut which led onto his face. Pulling out some butterfly stitches you had found while looting the shelves, you cleaned the cut and gently placed the tape in cross patterns along his cheek.

“There.” You said, arranging his hair in the messy way he always had it.

He removed his hands from around your waist, and rested them on his thighs, whipping his head up and his shaggy hair out of his face.

“Thanks.” He mumbled.

You forgot that you still had both of your legs either side of his, and was still stood so that your waistline was still online with his face.

Noticing, you attempted to step away but suddenly stopped by a strong hand firmly pushing the back of your thigh, bringing you closer.

Daryl looked up at you, his hair falling revealing his beautiful face. You couldn’t help but admire him staring at his every feature whilst having your arms crossed against your chest.

“Like what ya see?” He drawled.

You laughed and shook your head whilst smiling. Subconsciously, your hand had moved towards his face, tracing his jawline with your finger.

Daryl grabbed the same hand and placed a soft and tender kiss to your palm, not breaking the eye contact. Your other arm hung freely by your side, noticing that he grabbed it and continued to wrap both arms around his neck.

Once again, his hands slid to the back of your thighs, he pulled you close and rested his head on your stomach.

He lovingly rubbed the back of your thighs, slowly creeping his hands up to cup your ass.

Intentionally, you lifted one leg and then the other over his, so that his legs were in-between yours.

He lifted up his head and looked at you. You nodded back at his confirming what you were hinting at. A smirk appeared on his face and it pasted onto yours too.

You soon positioned yourself so you were sat on his lap towards and straddling him.

His hands moved to your hips, placing a firm grip on them. You rock your body back and forth against his, whilst your arms wrapped tight around his neck. Deep groans escaped his mouth and he squeezed your hips tighter, digging his nails into your skin.

“Daryl” you groaned.

“Mhm?” He drawled.

———————————————————————

So I didn’t have the motivation to finish this, I’m gonna post it anyways because I like it but I’m gonna try and write some fluff for Daryl <3

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixion x reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

[blurryfce300]

i need to get these thoughts out of my brain before i explode okay

so clancy huh? it’s quite a bit more violent than i think any of us were expecting for the final dema story album, isn’t it? not in terms of the music but really in terms of where it tells us the story is headed. and it feels odd to me that the supposed end of this story is centered arøund fire and absolute destruction. like youve got clancy (whø i will be calling tyler før the sake of simplicity but he is also clancy i have a whole post about that) whose main goal currently is to recruit from inside dema and destroy it. then the character who we’ve seen as the leader of the rebellion, the torchbearer (josh) is standing off to the side? he’s just in tyler’s periphery, hence him being blurred in every promotional image we’ve had minus the apple music ones.

so tyler wants complete and total destruction of dema, or at least of its structure. he wants revenge. the problem with this is that he is trapped in tunnel vision so badly that he døesn’t see what’s happening to him. “i fly by the dangerous bend symbol” the dangerous bend symbol is there tø warn yøu that you have a high chance of making a serious mistake, and in some defintions, a common mistake. tyler is ignoring every warning sign being shoved in his face from every direction, and it’s turning him into what he wants to take døwn. he’s using the same methods the bishops use (psyhokinesis) to recruit peøple, which is alsø sømething the banditos never did. they dø nøt gø intø dema and recruit, they ønly help thøse whø already want to escape.

tyler says in overcompensate that he’s døne running, but this is a blatant lie. he’s going back to trench, the place where he ran from the things he is fighting against. he’s using psychokinesis to trick himself into thinking he’s done running.

so what do i think will happen? simple. tyler is going to continue to ignore every warning sign and play into the cycle, he’s going to førget who he was and become blurry again, and the cycle will repeat. i believe what we are seeing in clancy is høw the cycle usually ends and restarts itself. tyler finds psychokinesis and gets so obsessed with destruction and thinking he’s a weapon now that he becomes the very thing he thinks needs to be destroyed.

there are two songs on clancy that corroborate this. “backslide” and “snap back”. backslide means to relapse into bad habits. i think that clearly says tyler will slip back into blurry, and he will stay there for a bit, until “snap back” where someone cømes to help him “snap øut” øf this low point, øf this mindset of destruction. and even if that does happen, it won’t be an instant fix. it will be hard to cøme back after what has happened and pivot to a different direction.

nøw, løøking back at this from a non-lore perspective and one more based in what the story represents as a whole, destroying the things yøu hate abøut yourself isn’t that great, nøw is it? yeah you don’t like these things, but just outright trying to eliminate them is eliminating a part of yourself, and that døesn’t sound gøød. so what is the better solution to this? acceptance and understanding. learning to live with the parts you hate rather than total destruction.

but i think we need to see this total destruction as a show of the incorrect path for tyler and for the story, before someone else cømes in to rescue him. the banditos are representative of your friends, family, yøur support networks. tyler is ignoring them, choosing to fight this battle alone, and this is not the correct way to go about this, but it’s sømething we need to see happen. it’s a message of what not to dø, and we need to see høw bad øf a path it is to ensure that message is heard.

tldr: tyler/clancy’s path of destruction is VERY bad, he is going to fall back into blurry again and the cycle will repeat unless he allows øthers to help him change cøurse. but he’s ignoring every warning sign, and in the end, this is sømething we need to see happen to him.

#twenty one pilots #clancy #blurryface.txt