#this one was quick so ill probably do more later

[krekee]

please draw a little christmas lin in the way did halloween version

Here ya go

[kroosluvr]

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

[gothghostiie]

Hey my boss has just made me cry at work so could I be very self indulgent ask ask for a 141 boys reaction to reader coming home in tears cos their boss is being a dick?

hi, so this happened to me the very day you sent it (i got the ask like right after work). i hope youre feeling a lil better honey

Gaz is all smiles when he hears you come into the apartment, probably making dinner for the two of you in the kitchen. turns around to greet you when you step in but immediately drops the smile when he sees the tears in your eyes. wiping his hands and coming to pull you into a hug, one hand on the back of your head, the other rubbing your back. "shh, it's okay baby.. you're okay, I'm here.." he tries to soothe you, wanting you to calm down before telling him what happened. when you do tell him he's so angry on your behalf but definitely more worried about you feeling better, so he swallows his anger and keeps a soft but tight hold of you, while whispering soothing words. "I'm sorry baby.. how about we eat dinner and then distract you for now, hm? c'mon, I made your favourite."

Soap is probably playing video games or journaling when you come home, peering at the door when he hears the keys in the lock. shouts a quick greeting as you walk in, he glances at you briefly before he does a double take and registers you're crying. puts whatever he's holding aside and pulls you into his lap to hug you, your legs hanging off one of his thighs. "aye, what's the matter honey? who's ass do I have to beat?" he tries ti make you chuckle a bit, but it's no use as what happened spills from your lips. he listens intently, his grip tightening a bit while he curses under his breath. "fuckin' bastard, I'm gonna-" stops himself when he hears your sob and takes a breath, knowing he should be there for you rather. " 'm sorry darling.. I'm here for you.."

Price immediately notices something is off when he hears how quietly you enter, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows as he listens for any hint of what's wrong. "Love, come here, will you?" he orders gently, his expression knowing as he sees you, nodding. "thought so. come here love." he says gently, patting the seat next to him. once you're sat he wraps a strong arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him, head onto his shoulder as he lets you cry it out for a bit. he's quiet, listening to your sobs and shaky explanation of what happened, frowning as you tell him about your boss. "my poor thing." he murmurs, rubbing your head with his other hand, shaking his head. "it's okay, you're here now. I'm here."

Ghost has a sixth sense for that stuff. the moment the keys are in the lock he makes a beeline for the door, standing against the wall with crossed arms as you step inside, eyeing you over; his suspicions confirming. "what happened?" he asks, listening to you explain before nodding to let you come closer. wrapping his arms around your torso and picking you up, cradling you against his strong build while carrying you to the bedroom. sits in bed with you, holding you close until youve calmed down. wraps you in your shared blanket and puts on your favourite movie. "ill be back in a bit, call if you need anything. i love you." he comes back around 1 ½ hours later with takeout, and a guarantee that your boss will watch how he talks to you from now on.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

“Please.”

Stiles stands there, chewing on his pretty crimson lips, pleading.

Derek isn't fully clued in yet, but honestly, the kid is kind of vaguely breaking his heart.

“Please, Derek, I'm really sorry about this, but please just—just don't say anything, okay? And just—let me?”

Stiles had texted Derek earlier, at 3.17am, presumably just before he’d set off from his house to drive his jeep to the loft.

Derek had been lying awake in bed, unable to sleep.

His messages had read:

> dude, i rlly need to come over. that ok?

And:

> ill let myself in if thats cool?

And after a few moments, in quick succession one after the other and before Derek had a chance to respond:

> and i rlly need u to just like. not get out of bed. presuming yr already in bed

> all shall be revealed

> lol i don't know why i put that

> and obvs tell me if any of this is not ok. ok?

> as if you wouldn't lol

> #sourwolf

> and yeah i know im being a weirdo but thats why you like me

And then, a few seconds later:

> right?

Derek had stared at the flurry of messages for a minute or so, then texted back:

Okay, weirdo <

About ten minutes later, Stiles had let himself into the building. Derek listened to the kid muttering away to himself as he rode the old service elevator—except it wasn't really himself he was talking to.

“God, I hope I'm not wrong about this. Like, I think we're close enough now for it not to be weird. I mean, at least I hope we are. I'm just so fucking tired, man, and have got to get me some sleep. Anyways, just—don't get up, okay? Or, like, can you get into bed if you're not already in bed? Sorry, I know I texted you this already, I just really need you to trust me. You do know you can trust me… Right, big guy?”

Derek's trust of Stiles was implicit.

When the steel door had unlocked and slid open, Derek smelled fresh, mostly unscented shower gel over the base notes of Stiles's own cinnamon scent, mixed with the very definite chemo-signals that indicated fear, restlessness, apprehension—and also, the strongest of them all; hope.

Let me.

Here, now, Derek still doesn't know what the kid needs.

Let him what?

Derek doesn't have any more time to wonder, though, because Stiles is taking off his sneakers and pants and is slowly, very slowly—as if giving Derek the chance to protest—climbing into bed next to him.

Stiles is now in Derek's loft in the small hours, in Derek's bed, fully under Derek's covers, with Derek wearing only his grey tank and black boxer-briefs and a probably terrified look on his face.

He silently thanks the universe for the cover of night.

“Like, you should obviously say something if this is completely heinous or whatever, but otherwise just—let me do this?”

And all Derek can think is shit, he's freezing, at the same time he is going into a some sort of dumbstruck shock because Stiles is now wrapping his entire sinewy, beautiful body around the entirety of Derek's.

“This okay?” Stiles asks, the air around them spiking with the smell of his anxiety as he Big-Spoons Derek like some human-shaped octopus, skinny but strong limbs astonishingly everywhere.

And he sounds so unsure, and so small, and Derek can't bear it.

Not giving the stoic part of his brain any opportunity to talk him out of doing this, Derek takes ahold of Stiles's wrist from where the kid had draped one of his long arms around Derek's midriff, and hangs on as firmly but gently as he can, manoeuvring them both around in the bed so that Stiles is now the Little Spoon.

“This okay?” he asks gingerly, mirroring Stiles because his own words are failing him.

Stiles says, “Yeah. Even better,” and his anxiety is melting away into something much more pleasing; something like relief.

Derek breathes out the word, “Good,” and feels a little dizzy and a lot amazed, and kind of like his heart is beating wildly in his throat.

The only reason he knows it isn't, is because Stiles says, “I can feel your heart thumping away in your chest, man. But, uh, I don't have wolfy senses, so… I can't tell if it's good thumping or bad thumping.”

Then he promptly stops breathing.

Derek resists the desperate, learnt urge to run away from this. He mentally shakes himself and figures: After so many years fighting monsters together, maybe he and Stiles can fight this one together, too?

He gives himself a moment to ride out the panic, then screws his eyes shut and, praying to nobody in particular, whispers, “Good thumping,” into the shell of Stiles's ear.

Stiles shivers and breathes again, but doesn't say anything else. For once, he doesn't need to. He just needs to sleep.

As the kid settles into Derek's bed and Derek's embrace and, hopefully, Derek's life, he smells like a mix of serene and content and promise—and also, wonderfully, of Derek, now.

Derek is a strange combination of relaxed and freaking-the-fuck-out because that's just the way he's made. His brain won't stop whirring at a speed of a million miles an hour, worrying about everything and nothing, all at once, and before he can bite into his lip to stop himself, he blurts out, “Cora says I sometimes dream-talk about Cajun Gumbo recipes.”

Stiles's only sighs, then hums quietly, his breathing already evening out almost to the point of sleep.

Just when Derek thinks he's not going to get any sort of real answer, Stiles mumbles, “Okay, weirdo,” on an exhale, and then he's drifting off into unconsciousness.

Derek settles then, and smiles into the nighttime thinking that maybe, finally, he might get a good night's sleep, too.

.

for @shealynn88, the bestest of friends. i love you and miss you always... <3 (unedited btw—forgive me!)

[wosoragebaiter69]

a bad batch

barça femeni x teen!reader

request: here

A/N: do you guys ever wonder what showers in the diff teams lockerooms look like? is it just a big room with showers and they’re all naked together or is there cubicals? if anyone knows please enlighten me

TW: Vomit, illness, swearing

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

It wasn’t your fault really, it was whoever decided that the KFC given to you was actually safe to eat. Don’t they have quality managers for that? Despite it literally having feathers on it still, it was pretty meh. Not even enjoyable chicken.

That’s how you find yourself hunched over a toilet bowl, throwing up all contents of your stomach and more. You’re sweating but cold, you definitely know you have a fever or sorts but you’re uncertain how bad.

Worse thing is, training was supposed to start in 5 minutes. No way you were getting there now, not like this.

You shoot a quick message off to Jona explaining you don’t feel well and it’s probably something you ate. He replies quickly saying the usual of taking off however long is needed to get back to full recovery.

What’s the one thing you don’t consider in all this? You’re very overprotective teammates.

You end up puking more, and passing out on the bathroom floor due to exhaustion, the cool tiles feeling magical against the heat your body radiates.

- - - - -

You’re awoken by harsh knocks on your door. Your head hurts, your throat is scratchy, you’re dizzy and delusional, you feel like shit.

You stumble toward the door, opening it to see Frido and Keira.

“Jesus.” The Englishwoman says before pressing a firm hand and against your ablaze skin.

“Jona told us you said it was a light sickness? This is bad.” She says, rushing inside with the blonde Swede behind her. You were teammates with Frido on a national level as well so she took on more of a role while you settled in Barcelona.

“Come on, you shouldn’t be standing älskling (darling). Sit down, come.” She rests her hand on your back guiding you to the couch to sit down.

“Have you eaten?” She wipes away the sweaty hair away from your forehead.

“No.” You whisper softly.

“Ok, we’ll get you to eat and then into a bath ok? If we don’t get this fever down we might have to take you to a hospital.” The words compute in your mind, you don’t want a hospital. You just have to follow what the older 2 say and you’ll be fine. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

- - - - -

After eating a couple spoons of chicken broth Keira gave you, you’re taken to the bathroom and stripped into your sports bra and bike pants.

“Get in the water älskling, you’ll feel better I promise.” Frido kisses the side of your head, helping you in the bath.

It’s cold, and you do not like it.

“Frido, cold.” You whimper, trying to get out.

“I know but you have to stay. This is needed, trust me?” Her heart breaks at the sight of you in so much discomfort. But she knows it’s for the better.

You cry, along with everything else you’re feeling now, you’re cold and not allowed to move. Keira starts to stroke through your hair whispering soft words of affirmation.

“Shh bub, stop crying. You’re ok, it’s all gonna be ok.” She looks over to her teammate who is measuring your fever.

“It’s still a bit high, 37.8. Just a little longer älskling, then you can go to sleep does that sound ok to you?” You can’t even recognise her statement, only focusing on the cold your body feels.

After a couple more minutes, the girls decide you’ve had enough time to cool down so they change you into fresh pajamas, putting you to sleep in your own room before coming up with ways to hopefully get you to feel better.

- - - - -

When you wake up again a couple hours later, you feel even worse. Every body part aches and you feel the need to throw up again. So, you muster up all the energy you have and make a bee-line to the toilet.

Luckily making it in time, you spill more contents of your stomach. Someone has tied your hair back but you can’t will yourself to move.

“Hey, relax.” The accented voice says. You do as told and fall into Caroline. When did she get here? But you do as told, not wanting to feel this way any longer.

“Feel like shit.” You mumble, exhausted.

“I know, Marta and Ingrid are also here now. We will check your temperature soon ok? Right now you just need to not stress and stay here alright?” She runs her fingers up and down the sides of your torso until Ingrid comes in.

“I’ve got the thermometer. Could you open your mouth for me?” You open it without question, and she visibly cringes at the reading when she takes a look at it.

“This is not good, this isn’t normal. Look.” She shows it to her national teammate. Who also cringes.

“Tell the others to pack her stuff, get Frido here. Tell her the temperature and we need to go to the hospital.” This is when you start to worry, even in your delirious state.

There’s commotion outside the walls of your bathroom but you can’t will yourself to care, slumped against Caro hoping you’ll feel better soon.

Frido rushes inside, picking you up off the floor. She rushes to the car and gets in the backseat. In the front is Keira and Ingrid, in another car is presumably the other couple.

- - - - -

Arriving at the emergency department, you’re immediately taken to a private room where they hook you up to machines and an IV. You try to fight them, feeling too overwhelmed by the situation but Frido takes the chance to hold your hand in hopes of calming you down.

“Deep breaths älskling, it’s not too long before they’re gone.” Her words are a comfort to your ears, and she’s right because the doctors leave soon after that.

You look down at the little thermometer on your finger, showing the temperature of your skin. 41.5°.

You cringe like all the other girls who had seen it previously. Despite your hatred for hospitals, you’re happy because it means that the pain should go away sooner.

Frido has been on the phone for a bit, and she walks over to you.

“Magda wants to speak with you.” She smiles lightly, and you take the phone holding it against your ear.

“Hi Magda.” You say, voice an octave higher than usual.

“Hey little one, heard you weren’t feeling too great. Are the girls treating you right?” You hum.

“Yeah, they’re good.” She seems content with the answer.

“Ok good, we need you healthy for the next camp. Can’t have the mini star gone.” You laugh slightly at the given nickname.

“Alright pass me back to Frido, stay well and don’t do anything stupid. Please.” She begs over-dramatically.

“Come on, I’m not that bad!” You laugh, even if it made your stomach slightly hurt.

“Sure, sure. Talk to you later little one.”

“Bye Mags.” You pass it back to the older Swede and the door to your room opens revealing Mapi and Alexia.

Alexia walks over to you, concern visible between her brows. Mapi heads straight to Ingrid. (Not a surprise).

“You don’t look well at all. I’m not sure how you managed to text Jona.” You shrug, she takes a long breath.

“We’ll talk about saying how sick you actually are later, for now you should get some rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.” You do as told, quickly falling asleep without fight.

- - - - -

Over the coming days, the girls watch over you like hawks until they’re sure you’re better and you won’t snap in half at a slight gust of wind. It got annoying, but you couldn’t really say no when they were just trying to make it easier for you.

Whenever you threw up, cried in pain or overall didn’t want to do anything. One of the girls would be there to take any anguish you had away. No matter what, Barca isn’t just a team. But also a family.

—————————————————————————

sleekswosobsession: number 1 writer for cringe ending lines

anyways i need help from you anons, i have an english short story (800 word) narrative coming up but i need ideas.. i’m a writer not creative producer. but i do know that YOU have some ideas so please give it to me. these are the topics:

1. betrayal of trust

2. consequence of bad timing

3. Individual against society

(go wild but not too wild cuz i have to give it to my teacher)

[benedictscanvas]

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes. 

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I���ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

[pacifierbby]

* ੈ✩‧₊ STRAWBERRY KISSES

* ੈ✩‧₊ The taste of her lips is what pulls him in every time he kisses her. He can taste the fruitiness of her strawberry lipstick, making him urning for more.

୨ৎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 LN4 x fem fan girl

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 kissing,sexual innuendos,

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 1,212

(ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)

The club was packed with sweaty people. The dance floor looked chaotic with how many people were dancing and grinding on each other to any beat that the DJ played. Your friends pulled you to the nearest table, not very keen to stay there but not wanting to upset your friends. They have been asking you to come out for a while, but you are making up 50 excuses as to why you couldn't go until your friends showed up at your door and dragged you out.

placing your bag on the chair closest to you, keeping your eye on it now and then so it doesn't get nicked "Well, ladies, what should we drink?" Your friend shouted out a little louder over the music all your friends replying with their favourite drinks "Um JD and Coke please" grabbing your bag to get your purse "Don't even think about giving me any of your money our treat and also for you too be wild a little" laughing placing your bag back on the chair watching your two friends walk to the bar.

"Isn't he fit?" Your friend is leaning towards you, speaking softly in your ear, your eyes leaving your two friends. "Who?" Looking around the club, including the dance floor, "That guy in the V.I.P. " looked over towards the V.I.P. area. She was right. That guy did look pretty fit "You're right?" "Whose right?" Chloe spoke, placing your drinks in front of you both "That guy in the V.I.P.", Sasha quickly said before you could even say oh, nothing. She knew exactly what you were like. Both of them turn around making it obvious to the guy that you are talking about him making you roll your eyes at them all for being an embarrassment turning their heads around looking straight at you and winking "Now that's who you need to be with" Sasha nodding agreeing with Chloe "well let's carry on with the night" changing the conversation immediately.

Taking a sip of your drink. Well, the only bit you had left. Watching your friends taking over the dance floor, probably more drunk than you were, each of them grinding on a guy that they probably would take home tonight. Sighing, "That was a big sigh," a male voice spoke behind you, making you jump, turning around, noticing it was the same guy from the V.I.P area "Haha yeah supposed to be girls' night but that changed" pointing to your friends "well hopeful I can entrain your boredom for the rest of the night do you want anything from the bar going to get myself another drink?" unsure if you should trust this fella but an offer you couldn't refuse " can I have a JD and coke please but um I didn't get your name?" the man smiled "sorry forgot to introduce myself, Lando Lando Norris," holding out his hand for you to shake which you quickly accepted not wanting to be rude "well love ill be back soon with our drinks" nodding watching him leave towards the bar slowly going away from your eyesight towards the crowd in the middle of the room forgetting to even introducing yourself why are you dumb laughing to yourself a little making sure you tell your friends if you see them later for the small embarrassment. Lando places your drinks on the table sitting on the chair in front of you "Sorry I forgot to introduce myself Chelsea but you can call me Chels for short" You and lando laugh a little "It's okay I forgot to even ask myself to be honest" holding out your glass to lando "cheers?" which he quickly accepted touching his glass with your taking a quick sip placing it back on the table "so who did you come here with?" wanting to start a conversation not wanting to make anything awkward looking up at lando "my friend actually whose dancing with one of your friends" pointing towards yours and his friends who still dancing with each other remembering he was in the v.i.p earlier and that's expensive enough in its self always packed with celebrities that get hidden in the area "you was in the v.i.p area before who do you know?" quickly saying "not wanting to be nosey or anything" lando laughed "its okay have you heard of formula one before?" shaking your head "my friends always say that i live under a rock and should widen my hobbies instead of working all the time" "well i work for formula im a driver for McLaren" softly whispering so his attention didn't get brought onto him "one of my friends who are not here tonight watches formula one but they like red bull i think" taking a small sip from your untouched drink "that will be max Verstappen" Lando begin to say joining you on taking a swig

The night was filled with more laughter sadly it was slowly coming to an end but you can't deny that this man sitting in front of you was attractive his eyes drew you in instantly giving you some sort of butterflies in the pit of your stomach every time they look into yours to his smile the one where it reached his eyes the one he shared with you through the night the conversation instantly flowing between the two of you. so many girls coming to your table flirting with the poor man or asking for a dance and with every question he always said no the girls left with an angry look smirking when lando wasn't looking but he always said sorry at the end of it making you fall a little more in love with him. The guys that you have been talking to in the club just run off with them leaving you back to square one where you originally started Lando shows the instant respect he has for women giving him an instant brownie point hearing the bell for last orders going at the bar no longer seeing your friends on the dance floor anymore "should we go outside?" lando softly spoke taking the previous swig off his drink placing the empty glass on the table slowly leaving the table looking back to make sure you didn't forget anything.

The cold air instantly kisses your skin making you shiver a little completely forgetting your jacket before you leave your house. Lando instantly recognised the shiver bringing his coat around your shoulders and bringing some sort of warmth back "Thank you" you softly said blushing a little with the kind gesture "Wouldn't be a gentleman would I if I I left you shivering" smiling at you rubbing your cheek bringing your eyes up from the floor his eyes instantly looking into yours both of your noses slowly touching like magnets pulling you both in the lips connecting together neither of you wanting to end it Lando hand softly placed on your back bringing you in a little more your hands placed on the side of his arms both of you disconnecting his lips a lot plumper than they were before "your lips taste like strawberries "making you smile "that be my lip balm" softly touching your lips "well never change it" closing in for a gentle kiss.

© pacifierbby works

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 1

Season 3 picks up a short while after the jubilee speech by Wilhelm. Both Wilhelm and Sara have been absent from school for a noticeable amount of time, so maybe a week or two later? The show isn't very diligent in ensuring a perfect timeline, but this would put us in early March perhaps? Anyway, we're off to the castle for a meeting to deal with the fallout of Wilhelm's speech and Sara reporting the video to the police.

Subtext: The Queen is so pissed she's not even looking at her son, a reversal from the opening to season 2, when Wilhelm was pretty pissed at his mom.

Subtext: This is probably the first time that Wilhelm gets a hint that the Queen is seriously ill.

Cinematography: Same procedure as last season! Every season opens with a fourth wall break where Wilhelm stares in to the camera during the opening titles, defiant as ever.

Culture: For practical reasons the end of season 2 was filmed in April 2022, while the beginning of season 3 was filmed in February 2023. That said, the spring in Sweden can be pretty fickle, and it's not uncommon to have surprise snowfall as late as April. If you want a cinematographic interpretation of this scene, it's supposed to show how cold and unwelcome Simon feels arriving at the royal palace.

Cinematography: In reality, the monarch would be the last one entering a meeting after everyone else has arrived, but having Simon arrive like this makes it look more like he's entering a court of justice or some kind of disciplinary meeting. It's of course not a coincidence that the royal family represented by Jan-Olof is all on one side of the table, while everyone who has been causing them problems is on the other side.

Subtext: Jan-Olof is trying to minimize the video, by using "so-called", and by calling it an intimate video and not a porn video. However, for something to fall under the definition of "revenge porn", it's enough to depict people in an intimate situation, it doesn't have to meet the much higher threshold for when it's considered actual pornography, so he's at least admitting that it was an illegal video.

Culture: Nordiska Motståndsrörelsen is unfortunately a real organization of actual neo-nazi white supremacists in Sweden, with offshoots in neighbouring countries.

Lost in translation: The subtitles are struggling here, it's "piss person" in one, and "shitty person" in the other. The former is literally what they're saying in Swedish, but the latter is probably the better expression in English.

Also, we've been told that August's stepdad, Rickard, is one of Sweden's best lawyers. What that means is that he is probably a well-known criminal defence lawyer, and has probably been handling the defence in high-profile cases, and if you're defending obviously guilty criminals, you tend to get a lot of shit from the media and people in general, even though what you're doing is necessary for a fair justice system. This sounds like his way of dealing with that.

Culture: It's a pet peeve of mine that no-one seems to know that the name of the Swedish currency in English is kronor, not crowns. Simon is getting 1.2 million kronor, which amounts to about 105,000€ or $115,000.

Subtext: Linda isn't wrong, they're being strong-armed here. They have some sort of legal counsel, and they wouldn't have to pay any trial costs even if they don't win, but they can't afford to match the resources that August's stepdad can bring, and might get nothing in the end.

Culture: We don't know what Årnäs looks like or how large the estate is, but a quick check shows that you can buy a typical manor house and some farmland in Sweden for tens of millions of kronor. However, the amount of land that some of the other guys were boasting about at the Society party in season 1 would be worth several hundreds of millions of kronor, so it's unlikely that Årnäs is as large as that, because August would have a lot more options if his total net worth was in that ballpark.

Culture: Realistically, Simon isn't wrong. Even if August was convicted on all points, he wouldn't be sentenced harshly because of his age, because he's a first-time offender, and because it's a non-violent crime. He would most likely just be fined a large amount of money and ordered to pay damages, so settling isn't that bad.

Cinematography: The low winter sun creates some lovely golden light, so we know we're in for some sweet love between the boys. Another detail is the difference in how they're dressed and how they're carrying themselves. Wilhelm is tall and proud, he's at home, he's in a suit, he's sure of himself, while Simon is the guest, the intruder, and is almost shrinking away in his oversized purple shirt and jeans. Yes, yes, colour theory, I know.

Subtext: A nice little flashback to season 1 when Wilhelm said the same thing when he visited Simon's place.

Lost in translation: Simon is actually saying "Var det såhär i din dröm?" - "Was it like this in your dream?", which is a reference to the rather steamy dream Wilhelm had at the start of season 2, when he was lying in this exact bed.

Subtext: Absolutely no-one is fooled, everyone knows our two idiot boys were sucking each other's face a minute ago.

Subtext: Both Linda and the Queen are hearing about their sons' awful behaviour for the first time at this meeting. Linda had no idea Simon had been dealing drugs, and Kristina had no idea Wilhelm threatened August with a gun.

Culture: I have no idea here. There's no real-world example for this in Sweden, you can't put someone into the line of succession by giving them a title. The show is just hand-waving this. Alright. Ok. Fine.

Culture: All adults in the line of succession can be called upon to be acting Head of State, if the monarch is indisposed or on vacation or something. This means that once Wilhelm is 18, he would occasionally have to step in and do the job, even though he's not king yet. If there are no royals available for this, the duty falls to the speaker of the house, Riksdagens Talman.

Cinematography: We're returning to Hillerska after the episode intro at the royal palace, so we're treated to a little montage of what those gosh darn rich kids have been up to in the meanwhile, so here's a horse to remind us that some of them are still riding! This is the only horse we'll be seeing this season, because the show really isn't about Rousseau after all.

Subtext: Madison is doing Tarot, and she's got Three of Wands reversed and Four of Wands reversed. The first one represents obstacles and lack of progress, and the second one represents home conflict, instability, and lack of support. A bit on the nose, don't you think?

Subtext: It's true, but the show is also calling out itself for the somewhat inconsistent weather we've been seeing due to actual shooting schedules.

Culture: Graduating gymnasiet in Sweden has a bunch of elements that are the same pretty much across the country, and then there are regional differences and individual school differences. I recognize only a few of the things Fredrika rattles off, but it makes sense that a place like Hillerska has a ton of traditions.

Subtext: All the girls have noticed that Felice isn't doing too great, but Madison appears to be the only one that actually cares. Fredrika still hasn't stopped talking about all the crap the third-years are gonna do, because that's apparently more exciting. However, the trucks she's talking about are pretty common, this is what we in Sweden call a Studentflak.

@hanna-kin wrote a long post on Swedish graduation traditions, and I reblogged and added some stuff here: https://www.tumblr.com/skamenglishsubs/684659770007961600/its-that-time-of-the-year-again-and-if-season-2

Culture: It seems Minou isn't the head of PR for the royal court anymore, this is Farima, and we've actually seen her all the way back in season 1 when she was instructing Wilhelm to smile more in the photographs. Either way, it seems like she's got a promotion, and she's probably not wrong in her assessment. A bunch of old farts would balk at the idea of the monarch being in a same-sex relationship, but a lot of others would see it is proof that the monarchy can change with the times. There were quite a lot of fans in Team Monarchy after all. 👑🌈

Lost in translation: Linda actually says "Du har utegångsförbud", which means curfew. Grounding kids isn't really a thing in Sweden, to us it's some kind of weird thing that only happens in American teen shows, along with detention. What the fuck even is that?

Subtext: Unlike in season 1, Simon now consistently speaks Swedish at home to his mom, further showing us how distant he is from her, and from himself to some extent.

Lost in translation: Linda actually calls Sara a "hemmasittare", which is a Swedish term used for kids who simply refuse to attend school, typically for mental health reasons. What to do about the problem is a hotly debated political issue, and let's leave it at that.

Subtext: This is how the culture of secrecy and solidarity against outsiders work at schools like this. Everyone is abused, everyone participates in abusing younger students, and everyone is told to shut up about it. Every house guards their "secret" initiations to outsiders, to foster loyalty to each other, to your house, and to the school. It's cult behaviour 101.

Cinematography: The show does it's usual trick with the sound design where all outside noise disappears as Simon and Wilhelm retreat into their little bubble, but there are still people in the frame this time, even though we can't hear them, because this time they're snogging in public. Oh, and everyone needs to update their colour theory, new colours dropped, pink and orange, what does it all mean??!?

Blink and you miss it: The list of activities for the point hunt includes:

Tattoo "Hillerska 4-life" on your arm.

Take a selfie at the back of a police car.

Give someone a buzz cut.

Dance the balloon dance in public.

Sext a teacher.

Get a piercing somewhere.

Blink and you miss it: I love Vincent so much, he's just the worst. Oh, and it looks like he's wearing a $2000 Valentino sweater, but I'm not 100% certain.

Subtext: Neither Ayub nor Rosh agrees with Simon when he says he's gonna reply to idiots online, but unfortunately they're not telling him off, because that would lead to less drama in the season.

Blink and you miss it: Ayub and Rosh are talking about going on a hike to Talludden with their school, Marieberg, which is why we're gonna encounter them out in the woods in the next episode. Spoiler alert!

Subtext: Wilhelm puts up the first stanza of a poem by Karin Boye called The Shield Maiden. In English, the poem goes: I dreamed about swords last night. I dreamed about battle last night. I dreamed I fought by your side armoured and strong, last night.

Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm's desk has a ton of stuff, but he's also kept the broken frog prince snowglobe, and he's still got Erik's lighter and cigarette case from season 2.

Lost in translation: The comment in Swedish uses the word "bögar", which isn't quite as offensive as "fags". However, it's more offensive than "gays", so I understand why the subtitles went with this choice. It's one of those words that is offensive or not depending on context, and it's certainly offensive in this one.

Subtext: The soundtrack is on point as usual, highlighting the animosity between Wilhelm and August.

Blink and you miss it: Someone ordered a Horse Girl Desk™ from the props department, and they sure delivered all the horsey things! The book is the Swedish edition of Not on a White Horse by Nancy Springer:

From the day twelve-year-old Rhiannon spots a lost white Arabian gelding in the woods near her small Pennsylvania mining town, her life finds a focus as she learns to deal with family problems and decides the direction her life will take.

As you do.

Subtext: As a throwback to season 1, this time it's Sara's turn to make a surprise visit at their dad's. He is surprised and starts cleaning up his place, but he seems to be in better shape than when Simon originally turned up. His place is just messy, there are no signs of drinking and smoking unlike last time we saw him.

Culture: Who goes to New York to suntan? No-one sane, but sun-starved Scandinavians get a bit of cabin fever after a long dark winter.

Culture: Fake IDs aren't really a thing in Sweden, you're allowed to legally drink at 18, and underage kids are much more likely to have an older friend or sibling or alcoholic parent buy them some booze for a private party instead. Sure, they exist, but equipping your friend group with a bunch of fake IDs to go clubbing is not how it's done.

Subtext: Simon drew a heart on Wilhelm's hand and suggested he get that as a tattoo. Wilhelm objected because he's "not allowed to" as a royal, but here he is, redrawing it on himself, almost as if he's toying with the thought, defying the rules.

Subtext: Simon doesn't know anything about the initiations since he's a lowly external student, and even though they're boyfriends, Wilhelm automatically tries to play it down. He knows it's true though, he doesn't question that, he just doesn't want Simon to know about it because it's humiliating to talk about it.

Cinematography: A++ Main Villain Entry Walk.

Culture: The Swedish Schools Inspectorate is a very real government agency that has the very real power to shut down schools that are mismanaged in any way, either academically, or socially.

Culture: Just a quick reminder that every single third-year student is 18 or 19 years old at this point in time, and therefore they are legal adults, which means the school has less authority over them. However, since it's a boarding school, they can enact and enforce regulations for boarders, and kick them out from their houses if they disobey the rules, which effectively kicks them out of the school while technically not doing that.

Cinematography: I love the camera angle here where we just about see Vincent giving Wilhelm the evil eye for indirectly causing this.

As a closing note, this season felt a lot less subtexty to me, compared to previous seasons. On the other hand, a recurring theme now is the airing of secrets, of exposing the systems that create toxic environments like this, so in line with the theme, a lot of characters are voicing things that were left unsaid in previous seasons.

[bitin-and-barkin]

Dying Desires

Thinking about replacing Arthur as "The Bodyguard" of the gang.

Warnings: Very horny Arthur, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Dom Reader, Sub Arthur, Buff Reader, Religious + Dog symbolism, Probably out of character, mentions of shooting + being shot, mentions of needles, Gender Neutral Reader, Smut but nothing actually happens between you + Arthur, just daydreams, degradation + cigarettes being put out on people

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT

___________________________________________________________

Imagine; Dutch or Hosea are talking up someone new they met, who they think might be a nice "addition" to their little family.

People are hesitant at best. After the shit that went down in blackwater, they're already looking for new recruits?

But they claim you're reliable. During a job gone wrong, you helped them. And when they asked why? You just did it because you thought they needed it. No ill intent, no other reason in sight. The best part is, you obviously have no clue who they are.

Not only that, but you're smart and charming and agree with them on their views on the civilized world. You're a criminal too in the law's eyes, but in reality, you're just the modern-day Robin Hood they always tried to be.

And so, they bring by a couple of members to meet you. To get some other people's point of view before they come to an agreement.

It's simple. A quick get together in a saloon. If they smell something fishy, they can easily just leave and forget about you.

Arthur agrees to come along, and when he meets you,

Goddamn.

You aren't an addition. You're the whole damn equation.

Think Abby from TLOU2 or Koing from COD or any other jacked characters. Either way, female, male, or anything in-between, you're 6 foot something and over 180 pounds of pure fucking muscle.

Armed to the teeth with one hell of a quick draw and a right hook strong enough to even make god flinch.

For once in his life, even he feels intimidated.

And when Dutch comes up to greet you?

Good God, you're sweet.

And charming too.

Your bark isn't anything like your bite, or at the very least the bite you could give.

You're kind, selfless, generous, and well-read. Confident, too. It feels like they're talking to a saint half your size.

You even cover all their drinks despite just meeting them.

He can tell it's not naivety. Scars cover your body, and you got a certain look in your eyes that just shows that you know what the world can be like.

You're just choosing to be kind. For no reason at all.

Even when later that evening somebody attempts to start a fight with you, despite you being able to drag them across the floor, you keep it civil and keep your cool.

At least at first.

The second the guy tries to throw a punch, you're off. You grab his arm, curl up your fist, and deck him with one hit.

As soon as the fight started, it was over, as the man was already knocked out on the floor with a nosebleed to match.

Then, like clockwork, you sat down and asked Arthur to continue talking with that sweet-as-honey, smooth, and lazy look in your eyes.

As you chatted with Hosea about some crime novel, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to kiss the blood off your knuckles.

The day turned to night, and you guys got ready to part ways.

You happily waved goodbye, saying you had a good time.

But by the end of the night? It was already settled.

You were joining them alright.

And now, it has been a couple of months since you joined.

And it was hard to ignore the problem you've been causing for Arthur.

You weren't doing anything wrong, in fact, you were doing everything right.

Sweet with the gals, even getting in Grimshaw's favor.

Surprisingly tolerant with the guys, oddly kind with them, even down to the goddamn O'Driscoll.

But now they're asking you to do jobs.

Intimidation? They're calling for you.

Need a guard? They're yelling your name.

Want backup? Well, you're coming along, obviously.

You've been taking John's title as the "prize pony." Considering how far you've fallen in Dutch's favor.

And you're taking Arthur's title as the brute.

But that wasn't the problem.

He didn't care about Dutch's favor or random titles.

It was the fact that your title was correct.

You were a brute.

Standing next to him in jobs, you just towered over him.

You towered over him. Him. You towered over him like he was a little boy.

He was out hunting with you once and his aim was getting wonky with his bow.

You came over, trying to show him how he needed to grip it.

But when you put your hands over his, he realized how much bigger yours were.

Putting your hands palm to palm, making jokes about how small he was compared to you, he was starting to understand why women preferred rugged men.

Another time, he got shot in the calf during a job and couldn't walk.

He said it was fine and put out his hand for you to help him up so he could limp back to his horse.

But instead? You picked him up. Bridal style and everything, not even breaking a sweat. Carrying him to your horse and placing him on the back, saying he was in no state to be riding alone.

And as he pressed his chest up against your back as you rode, wrapping his arms around your stomach for balance, he felt a newfound heat in his.

Your stomach rising as you breathed in and out, telling him in a firm voice to stay put and that you'd get them back to camp. Whistling for his horse to follow you.

With the way you were talking, Arthur wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from heeling and barking and rolling over if you asked.

Your last job was the last straw. You two were clearing out an O'Driscoll camp together.

One was left and the man was shooting you a sharp gaze, swearing he was gonna kill you as your gun stared at him just as kindly.

Watching the muscles in your forearms move as you pulled the trigger,

he couldn't stop himself from begging the lord for you to one day turn your aim to his lips,

so he could taste something that was yours and holy before he died.

He has never met anybody bigger than him.

And it was causing problems.

As now, he couldn't stop thinking about you.

Thrashing in his cot that night, he kept imagining you putting him on his knees like a sinner.

Making him suck on the barrel of your gun as his hands claw at your belt, with the weight of something else in his mouth being the only thing able to satiate him.

You grabbing a fistful of his hair, pulling his head away from your hips as cum seeped down his lips.

Tilting his head back, making sure he swallowed every ounce as he rutted his aching dick between your closed calves.

Manhandling him into position like livestock as you threw his legs up onto your shoulders, biting down on his neck and making him yours as you unzipped his pants and-

He stood up and started walking, unsure where he was going.

Just anywhere that would get him away from his own thoughts.

While wandering around camp, he looked over and saw you. Smoking at the campfire, stitching up a wound on your thigh.

Against his better judgment, he went down there and struck up some conversation.

Laughing and talking with you into the night.

Hoping that you sharing the thoughts of your mind would be able to erase his thoughts of your body.

But as you talked and talked and brought your cigarette up to your lips,

blowing the smoke out of your nose as your hands smoothly pulled the needle in and out.

He couldn't stop thinking about how much better your lips would look shotgunning him smoke,

how much better that cigarette would burn if you put it out on his neck in front of everybody,

And how much better your hands would feel wrapped around his waist as you pulled him in tight and called him your whore.

He pulled off his hat and dipped his face into his hands, his cheeks heating up as he stole a look from the cracks between his fingers.

And seeing you sprawled back, hearing your breathy gasps when the needle hit especially deep was driving him crazy.

Taking a bottle of whiskey in hand, he cracked it open and took a small sip before your voice piped up.

Asking him for some, saying it was to "take the edge off", and make the pain of stitching your wounds easier.

He walked over to you and you took the bottle, thanking him before drinking some down, and then handing it back to him.

And watching him later take a sip,

quietly eyeing your half-unbuttoned shirt as he rubbed his thighs together,

it seemed like it wasn't the alcohol he was trying to savor.

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Made Arthur horny like a teenager lmao + I have a thing for cigarettes and smoke, okay? Leave me alone about it.

Anyways, ya'll want more? Also I'll write a pt 2 to that sub Dutch story soon, dw.

[prodbyton]

mx ☆ p.wb - 02

wonbin x fem reader

you bump into a hot guy at a band concert, but what happens when you realize the hot guy is a member of the band?

🎸 cw. foul language

“dude where the fuck have you been? we go on in 15” shotaros already yelling before wonbin can fully walk into the room.

“probably lurking through the crowd again to find his next hookup,” seunghan chimes into the conversation, earning laughs in agreement from sohee and anton.

“ill have you all know i was going to get a drink at the bar, i’m not the slut you guys want me to be so bad” wonbin crosses his arms over his chest, trying (but failing) to beat the slut allegations.

“sure you aren’t wonbin,” eunseok rolls his eyes at the boy, knowing well enough what wonbins true intentions are whenever he’s just ‘going to the bar’

“oh don’t act like you’re better than me, eunseok. didn’t you have some girl over last night?” he scoffs, the attitude he tried so hard to hold back slipping.

“okay first of all, she’s not just ‘some girl’, we’ve been dating for a month now. a concept you wouldn’t be able to understand” oohs can be heard across the room, the rest of the boys suddenly invested in eunseok and wonbins little argument.

“okay mr loverboy, not my fault i don’t wanna be tired down at 22”

“you’re going to let the right girl slip through your fingers if you keep fucking around, wonbin” eunseok doesn’t want to fight, but he is getting tired of his friends bullshit. the amount of girls he’s taken home within the last year was insane, he’s seen some really nice girls lose themselves in wonbin, changing their whole personalities for him, all for him to push them to the side for someone else. wonbin would one day realize his actions have consequences and he’s stopping himself from experiencing romance.

“you guys can argue later, we go on in 5” shotaro sighs as he gathers himself and the rest of the boys to get ready to get on stage. everyone does a quick touchup on their outfits and hair, wonbin keeping his arms crossed up until they get on stage.

eunseok doesn’t know anything, wonbin grumbles to himself as he picks up his bass, squinting as the stage lights turn on and he shakes his thoughts once he hears the uproar from the crowd.

he couldn’t worry about romance when the feeling he got from being on stage was something nothing could ever compare to. he didn’t want to be tied down when he had a crowd to please, and he has endless girls falling at his feet, so why would he stop that to be with just one person?

throughout the show, his mind kept going to the girl he bumped into at the bar. she was so beautiful, her skin glowed in the dim venue lighting and she had this vibe to her that was almost intimidating, but he didn’t want her to walk away. it was alluring, the way you didn’t throw yourself at him like everyone else who likes him, because they knew him already, they know he’s famous. what if once you figured out that he’s part of the band and you lose interest?

he tries to look for you in the crowd, he spots you for a brief moment but your eyes are focused on someone else, and when his eyes travel across the crowd he isn’t able to find you again.

he wishes he had gotten your name, only knowing you by princess, the name he had given you. so all he could do now was hope you would come to more shows, and hope that he would be able to get you alone.

m.list | previous | next

a/n: short little chapter from wonbins pov… actual juicy stuff coming in the next chapter i promise 🫣

taglist: @starwonb1n @drinktaro @kyusqult @murariki @helovalley @miyawakiblossoms @nishimuraii @snoopyana @blooqz @bunni @b-riize @daegale @sunwoosberrie @rosesfortaro

reply to the masterlist or send in an ask to be added to the taglist !

[moonstruckme]

https://www.tumblr.com/moonstruckme/742320236814041088/dude-we-know-that-peter-makes-his-own-suit-right?source=share

Well, gender neutral is fine by me. Actually, I just like to read your fic, so I have no problem with the gender part. As long it's you who write it. I'm 100% sure you'll rock it

Thank you sweetheart! Hope you like it :)

tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader ♡ 733 words

Morning light is pouring in through the cracks in Peter’s blinds, laying itself out in slats over the floor and reaching for the opposite wall, when you stumble out of the bathroom. It’s a signifier of your ill fate. 

“Fuck, shit,” you mumble to yourself, putting a piece of bread in the toaster and grabbing your lunch from the fridge. You know you’ve half-assed fixing your hair and you’ve still got crust around your eyes, but appearances are no longer the priority. 

When Peter pads out of the bedroom, stretching his arms over his head with his plaid pajama bottoms just grazing the floor, you’ve got one shoe on and your toast clenched between your teeth like a bit. You think you probably look sleep-addled and half rabid, but his brown hair looks adorably mussed and the buttery morning light kisses his skin like it likes him best. He smiles at you, soft and lazy. 

“Late start again?”

Your response is muffled by the toast in your mouth. Peter carefully pinches it between two fingers and removes it so you can speak. 

“One more time?” 

“I said,” you huff, not at him but at your adrenaline-cursed fingers as they fumble your shoelaces, “that not all of us have cushy jobs with flexible hours.”

“Sorry.” He sounds like he half means it, crouching down beside you to thumb at your chin with his free hand. “Hold on, you’ve got toothpaste.”

You don’t know if it’s a ruse and you don’t really care, the soft warmth of his lips connecting with yours is plenty good enough for you. You tug the knot on your shoe tight as you pull away, taking your toast back from him. 

“You got your lunch?” Peter asks you, rising and going for the coffee machine. 

“Mhm,” you say through a bite. 

“Water?” 

You swallow, shouldering your bag. “Yup.” 

“Good, good.” He leans against the counter as the coffee machine rumbles to life, regarding you with still-sleepy eyes. “Actually, c’mere. I need another.” 

“I really have to go,” you laugh, but oblige him, darting over for another quick peck.

Peter does his best to draw it out, palming your face and kissing your bottom lip softly, but you drag yourself away. You try not to think too hard about the light scratch of his stubble against your chin as you grab your keys from by the door. 

“One more,” he begs. 

“You can have it later.” 

“Wait—hold on just a sec.” 

“No, I actually have to go.” 

You go for the door handle, but webbing attaches itself to your wrist, forcing your hand away. You look at your boyfriend, incredulous. 

“Pete! I’m seriously gonna be late.” 

“No, I know, I know.” He hustles toward you, taking your arm in his hand. “But your shirt’s messed up, baby.” 

“What?” You look down, and your sleeve is torn from your wrist to halfway up your forearm. “Shit.” 

“It’s all good,” Peter reassures you, peeling the sticky webbing off you before backing away towards your bedroom. “Just take it off.” 

You do, clumsy fingers nearly ripping out the buttons as you go. “I totally forgot, I snagged this on a door handle last week.” You’ve already taken your arm out of one sleeve when you freeze. “Peter? I don’t have any other work tops.” 

“Easy, I gotcha.” He comes back in with one of your other tops, the one you’d burnt a hole in the back of last week. “You can wear this, I just finished with it.” 

“Yes!” You grab it, pecking him on the lips euphorically. “Thank you!” 

“No sweat.” Your boyfriend sounds smug, but given the circumstances you think you can allow it. He picks up the other shirt from where you’ve dumped it on the floor. “I’ll fix this one while you’re at work today so you can have it for tomorrow, cool?” 

“That would be so cool,” you agree, hastily buttoning up the replacement top before shouldering your bag again. “Thanks, Pete. Are you sure you have time for that?” 

He shrugs, chucking the torn shirt onto the couch. “One of the perks of having a cushy job with flexible hours,” he says. 

You groan, and Peter laughs, catching your chin one more time before you get out the door. This time, you indulge him in a longer kiss. You’ll definitely be late, but you figure he’s earned it.

[zz0nie]

Genshin boys and being "that type of guy to..." P1

‧₊˚✩彡 notes . . . I didn't wanna do hcs, I need to find a few characters I want to look into and do so have some silly little things!! probably not accurate but i think its cute :3

‧₊˚✩彡 chars . . . kaveh, alhaitham, cyno, wanderer

ˊˎ- Kaveh

Kaveh the type of guy to hold you by a small part of your outfit, either by your arm or waist.

ღ "The street is rather busy today," You hum, turning back to look at Kaveh who was closing the door to the café you were both previously discussing plans inside of over lunch.

ღ "Hm, don't want you getting lost either." You've already turned back around when you think he's talking to you, however your 'aww' is shut down instantly by him looking at his Mehrak, refusal all over his face as he decides to silently walk ahead, gently grabbing you by your waist and leading the way as you gush over his behaviour.

ˊˎ- Alhaitham

ღ The type of guy to randomly place items you like to your convenience around your place.

ღ You were currently in a rush, notepad in one hand and the other frantically waving across any surface you came across - all day, you’ve been searching for items to help you and you couldn’t find anything until you got to Alhaitham’s and told him about your dilemma.

ღ Only to be scolded by him, suggesting that you should be more organised next time. Although throughout the rest of the day, you see supplies that you needed. Quickly shouting a “Ill be taking this pencil for a minute! I’ll give it back later!” told him more than enough.

ღ He didn’t get the pencil back, in fact, you lost it again.

ˊˎ- C yno

The type of guy to constantly find excuses to check up on you even while he's out doing tasks.

ღ You were set out for multiple tasks during the day, currently in the morning you were helping Nilou with preparations for an upcoming performance, creating small props to go around the stage.

ღ “Hey, that looks heavy i’ll take it from you.” You tense up before turning around and realising that it was Cyno behind you, already grabbing a box of props off of you. Cyno, who was meant to be investigating another one of his cases was instead helping you.

ღ “Huh- Cyno-! Weren’t you meant to be on another case?” You huffed out, trying to stop him as he swiftly avoids you and places the props in their designated spot.

ღ “Well, I’m on the way, just thought i’d stop through a quicker route..” Cyno manages to call out before he gives you a hand a quick squeeze, which you promptly squeeze back in return for confirmation.

ˊˎ- Wanderer

The type of guy to tellive you to stop doing something but in reality enjoys you doing it.

ღ “Do you like Unagi Chazuke by chance?” You offer him your steaming bowl. “I’ve already ate so i just wondered if you’d like some.”

ღ You received a huff in response, “Yeah right, whatever, where’d you get it from anyway?” He grumbles as it takes the bowl from you having just come back from an adventure.

ღ “Oh i made it myself!” You proudly exclaimed as Wanderer looks you up and down in approval. Yet to your dismay he shrugs you off, “Go clean yourself up i don’t want to be near you while you stink.”

ღ You sigh in defeat and sulk off to get ready, stopping before you fully close the door to hear him quietly eating the food you learnt to prepare for him.

ღ He was sure to teach you his way of making Unagi Chazuke next time.

⇠ next / previous ⇢

[thewritetofreespeech]

Delicos nursery!?! Fic requests!?! Please please~~

Dino classic marries a plus size woman who at first seems cold but is a total sweetheart and just doesn't understand why people are afraid of her husband? She adores her step son like her own and even call him teddy for short? I love the sunshine x grumpy trope!

There were many things Dino liked about being an aristocrat. Power. The prestige. Being apart of the inner circle of their society.

The one thing he hated about being an aristocrat was the parties.

But, if you wanted to be apart of the inner circle, and get the power & prestige, there were a certain number of social events that were an unspoken mandatory for a man of his station. Particularly one with a new wife, whom he was obligated to introduce to society as such. What a bore.

Luckily, his new wife was much more adept at these kind of things than him. Bright and bubbly, with a family almost grievously overconnected, his new wife took to the party like a fish to water. Talking to everyone and making efforts to re-introduce herself to old friends & new as the current Lady Classico.

Dino entertained himself back in a corner. A position he had grown comfortable with since he was a young man forced onto these parties; until his mother made him come out and talk to people, as he was never going to get married rooted to the ground like a wallflower. He just liked to watch more than participate. He felt it was easier to gauge the situation, gather intel, from the sidelines than in the fray. Plus people being near him always seemed to make his skin crawl.

A while later he noticed his wife coming over to him. A noticeable, deep pout on her lips. One he had never seen; save for the pretend ones she threw at him when she wanted to get her way. This one seemed real though. “What’s the matter?”

“These people are rude.”

This shocked Dino. As he had also never heard his wife speak ill of anyone either. She always seemed to find the good in others. Found the good in him. “How so?”

“They make underhanded comments about you and seem to think I’m too stupid to understand them.” Dino frowned at that. His wife was not stupid. They could say what they wanted about him, some of it probably true, but they would not speak ill of his wife. “Would you…be terribly disappointed if we go? I do not want to make a bad impression, but I also do not think I can screw on a smile much longer?”

Disappointed? Dino thought. He’d jump up an’ click his heels, if only his back would ever forgive him. “Of course. I’ll have our coats and coach sent for.” His wife smiled. Seeming to want to kiss him in her enthusiasm, but remembering they were in public.

Dino instead took her hand in his and kissed her glove where his ring would be. “Could we also take some cakes home for Teddy?” She had taken to calling Theodore that. At first he tried to talk her out of it, but she commented that he was just so cute. Theodore didn’t seem to mind (in fact he seemed to enjoy it judging by his blush) so Dino let it go. “I know you don’t like him to have many sweets but…once in a while can’t hurt. They’ll just throw them away at the end of the night anyway.”

He glanced at the elaborate dessert table. Days of work for the host’s staff. Barely touched. All to go to waste as she predicted. “Take two. The two of you can have them after dinner tomorrow night.” His wife grinned and scurried off to the table to collect her sweets while he called for their coach.

When they arrive home it is late, but not too far gone. His staff greet their new lady and she made quick work to greet them back before running upstairs to try and catch Theodore before bed. He was likely up reading late anyway.

Dino stood there in the foyer, watching her go, before he looked down at the parcel of cakes suddenly in his hands. He opened the lid to see what she had picked and smiled. Not surprised to see 3 slices instead of 2. See, his wife was very clever. She seemed to have no end to surprising him.

[recycledraccoon]

Quick! I'm from the future!! I need your inkblade headcanons or scenarios or the universe will implode!

Ok ok, I can do this. I can answer this ask without going out of control. I can be normal about this, I can.

I don't have very many hardset headcanons, but more vibes that rise and fall like the tide. Oisin's fins/head-crest flare out ramrod straight and the spines turn as purple as his face if he's blushing hard enough. I will die on this hill. Oisin's non-verbal emotions are actually really easy to pick up on if he's too distracted to keep them tightly in control. A thick dragonborn tail lashing back and forth like an outlet for Emotions That Are Too Big can be really inconvenient in a highschool hallway. The rise and fall of his fins/head-crest are MUCH harder to hide however. Oisin also smells perpetually of petrichor, and it drives Adaine insane.

1. I think Oisin's crush started softly, and with indescribable longing, probably before he ever knew who she was. Freshman year, a Thursday Intro To Glyphs class. He doesn't know or talk to her at all, just a face in a class he has that he barely notices. So he's not falling for her quite yet.

I think he first fell in love in the way one does when you see a stranger sitting across from you on the public bus or train. The sunlight hit her hair and he couldn't take his eyes off suddenly. Maybe he saw her smiling and laughing with her friends, maybe she was rolling her eyes at them with her nose scrunched up just a little in faint judgement, maybe he can't even remember because while walking past in the hallway he had been so dumb-struck for a second he walked face first into an open locker door to Ivy's absolute confusion. (She does laugh at him mercilessly, even if he won't say why he walked into it.)

It's a moment of "I don't know you, you don't know me, but for one unfathomably long moment I wanted nothing more than to imagine a life lived that included basking near you and your smile every day until I die."

Unrealistic right? Just a passing stranger, this isn't a love story, it's an average Tuesday and Oisin has homework and an appointment with his party in the forest after school.

He gathers his bearings and moves on, and if his mind wanders back to the girl in the hall who had captivated him to lethal effect? Well it's a pleasant memory for him and he thinks that's allowed, right?

Except she's in his Glyph class two days later, he realizes, and suddenly that hallway moment of longing rushes back until his entire face is purple and he's trying not to stare at the occasionally stuttering but brilliant wizard girl two rows ahead in class.

1a. I think Oisin continued to take Glyph classes at first because he hoped she would too. Adaine doesn't, but Oisin continues because he is good at them and enjoys it and it's certainly easier to learn when he's not distracted in class 70% of the time.

2. As Oisin gets older, more and more of his dragonic nature becomes apparent. It's like a second puberty happening concurrently with normal puberty, which means it's a rollercoaster nightmare for him and the High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders.

2a. Dragons have hoards, but not all dragons hoard the same things, even within their own subclasses. Still, Oisin has quite a few gems and jewels in his fledgling hoard, despite not knowing what he most wants to hoard, and if his favorite gem just so happens to be one that reminds him of the shade of blue in a particular elven girl's eyes then-

2b. Oisin also has a deep fondness for rain and storms. He always knows if it's incoming even if it's not in the forecast. Something primal in him connects to the raging skies, for good or ill. It makes him feel confident and powerful. He also considers it very romantic. Unfortunately, Adaine gets so cross with him anytime she hears him predict a storm coming, even if he's talking to literally anyone else. (Adaine thinks Oisin is a storm himself, and if she is not careful she will be like the last Oracle and have forgotten to stock up on water breathing spells and drown in him amidst the storm of his being.)

2c. Dragons also hold great respect for power and prowess. Physical fights for hierarchy, play, or even courtship are very normal. For all that they are sentient brilliant beings, Dragons are still wild, untameable, primal things. This lurks underneath all of them, good or evil. Some are just more adept at hiding it. For courtship, this comes into play as sizing the other up. Both sides are looking to find out whether or not the other has any worth as a long term partner who would need to help guard the nest. Protecting eggs and hoards from greedy adventurers is serious business. There are reasons there aren't many truly ancient dragons. Too large a discrepancy in strength can sometimes be a turn off for the stronger one, so the most successful courtships are usually of similarly strong dragons, or at least, ones that put up enough of a fight despite the gap.

c1. Oisin, seeing the great accomplishments and prowess of Adaine Abernant over the course of Freshman year, feels a deep stirring even before he's rage-starred. He wants to fight her so badly, to sling magic and bloody teeth until the raging beast inside is sated. Naturally this scares him at first, and Oisin REFUSES to seek Adaine out to talk because of it, because the teen boy part of himself wants something kind, soft and tender between them, while the dragon making itself known as he ages wants to prove itself strong to her.

Later, he will tell himself this urge was ENTIRELY because he'd been on the path towards being contaminated-then-consumed with rage and wanted the Bad Kids dead. Absolutely not because it's the first step in traditional dragon courtship. He just wants to prove himself to her. He wants to feel for himself the confirmation of her renowned battle prowess. This is all for purely rival-related reasons, he tells himself. He is, perhaps, a bit of a liar.

3. Adaine's crush, not just her thinking he's cute but her actual legitimate crush on him, actually starts when the Rat Grinders are being redeemed post-Junior Year.

Like, she hates his GUTS. He made her feel belittled and stupid during Junior year, and yes they kicked his and his friends asses, but also now they just have to deal with them still being around. (Yes this is how they made friends with Ragh too, but they're petty.)

Except...so now they have to spend time together, maybe in classes maybe because Lucy loves her friends despite everything but is also now a friend of The Bad Kids. The former Rat Grinders are CLEARLY trying so hard to be better and kinder, but still the parties are mingling and there is tension but its also so fucking funny.

So Adaine and Oisin's interactions is just a montage of them being assholes to each other. Oisin can be polite and respectable, funny even, with everyone BUT Adaine apparently. Bickering about wizard things, taunting cutting words, and Adaine repeatedly trying to punch his smug face whenever he gets too close while gloating if he's right about something.

3a. Adaine literally tells Aelwyn that while she wants and needs kindness, she does acknowledge that it's messed up that she wishes someone was a little mean to her sometimes. This rivalry with Oisin is NOT WHAT SHE MEANT!!!!!! (the monkey paw curls)

3b. The worst part, is no matter how much Adaine hates Oisin, is that it doesn't stop him from being attractive. Oh sure, she thinks he's an absolute asshole when he's sitting across from her in the library, but......

He's still absurdly tall, with large arms that are for more than just show. The conjuration tattoos are both practical and very pleasing to the eye, the almost electric blue of them a pleasing contrast to the softer blue shade of his scales.

The contradiction of those large round spectacles resting on his snout makes him look just dorky enough to go from being just another buff guy to being....well. Unfortunately, the glasses also do nothing to shield Adaine from the weight of his gaze.

When he looks at her with his full attention, behind those glasses are eyes of molten gold, and trained solely on her that gaze feels searing hot wherever it lands.

3c. Or perhaps, the worst part is she despises how he laughs. Sometimes, when she says something as clever as it is cutting, Oisin throws his head back just a little to laugh, bright and warm, all while his throat rumbles. It must be something draconic in nature, like a strong purr or distant rain clouds. It's much harder to get him to make that particular sound when he laughs, and the rumble feels unfairly like victory. Like she cracked the careful fascade he puts up to pretend like he's not a dragon.

The rumble also feels particularly reminiscent of butterflies in her stomach. (She elects to ignore this part.)

4. Oisin is a dragon, and he is a little obsessed with Adaine even if he doesn't dare to dream of going on an actual date with her after everything from the previous year. He cannot imagine a world where she would ever again believe him to be genuine in affection or intention towards romantic feelings. No instance of genuine fluster could ever be seen as anything but a clever ruse, he tells himself, he certainly wouldn't believe it if it was him.

But he's got her attention now, and he is possessive of that, of what he CAN get. Even if she hates his guts and pointblank threatens to kill him if he steps out of line-

Even if it's because she hates him, Oisin still has her eyes on him. Eyes like clear skies before the rolling storm, like they can pierce through everything he is and will ever be and know the truth of it.

Every conversation is like a battle, a verbal sparring that he TELLS himself is nothing at all like the courtship fights, but oh how sweet does it sound to his inner dragon. She could be cussing him out and he could feel like his heart would burst from his chest from the affection he feels, even as he riles her up further, until she slips into saccharine elven curses that he can practically taste on his forked tongue.

4a. Once he tosses back a clever jape in draconic at her. When she immediately starts in on him with the gutteral words of his native tongue, perfectly fluent but lilted ever so slightly like a refined melody, his tail accidentally knocks over a chair and his crest flares so strongly that he KNOWS his face must be more purple than a ripe plum. He's lost a battle and her laughter at the way he flees claiming he forgot something haunts him for days. He tries to get revenge by whispering things under his breath at her in Elvish, and her glare is divine, but it's so risky because she might just start talking to him draconic again and Oisin fears he could live a thousand years and still not be able to handle the sound of it when it falls from her lips.

a1. It's a lost cause. Adaine has a weakness now, and she wields it with all the precision she's developed on a battlefield. It's the cutest surest way to put him in his place, rile him up with the same burning fire that he seems so expert in stirring up in her. Oh he might try to argue back in draconic, or even throw a taunt out in Elvish, but he always stalks off first. (He makes the refined, posh but ancient language of Elvish sound like something Tracker would appreciate. He makes it sound ever so slightly wild, like something else is lurking behind all the refinery. Adaine is well practiced in steadying her breathing, and Oisin always cracks first.)

5. Everyone has seen these two bicker back and forth, and everyone knows trying to get them to stop or get between them means the two turn as a united front against whoever interrupted, and that's honestly worse.

5a. The Bad Kids and High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders have an ongoing bet amongst themselves on on if the two will snap and legitimately murder each other, or snap and start making out in the library. It's honestly way too elaborate of a betting system with odds changing all the time, but it is actually probably the most fun, non-tense bonding the two groups have together. They have also gone to GREAT LENGTHS to keep it secret from the two wizards, especially when one of them is the fucking ORACLE.

6. It's not all bickering and scathing words. Sometimes, when nobody else is around to see behind this precarious curtain...its soft and tender too.

6a. Sometimes, when Adaine is genuinely having a bad day and feels one wrong moment from truly snapping, she feels the magic of a conjured summon passing by whatever table or nook she stowed herself away to hide in. The smell of arcane-tinted petrichor lingers afterwards, and settled nearby is a warm drink that hadn't been there before. Sometimes its tea's she's fond of, sometimes a warm peppermint mocha from her favorite coffee place downtown. Against her better judgement, she is increasingly fond of the smell of rain. 6b. Sometimes, the rage feels like it never left Oisin's body. It burns him inside and out, and he's so exhausted fighting back these aftershocks. He is trying every day to make up for what he's done, but the feeling of unbridled rage haunts him. To indulge is to fail, fall off the wagon, and he will not falter, even if he squeezes his hands so tightly they bleed beneath his claws. A message cantrip blooms to life in his mind. Melodic, lilted draconic, giving not words of comfort, but familiar unafraid taunts. It's a challenge, he knows it, and somehow that makes it easier, rage giving way to fondness and the desire to prove himself. 6c. There are more late nights in libraries and sitting close at tables in out of the way restaurants working on difficult projects then either would ever let anyone know, not that they let anyone know of them at all. It's quiet honest conversations over dusty tomes and scattered papers. (They couldn't know how to make the most cutting of remarks if they knew nothing about each other, after all.) a1. Its Oisin, laying his head down in his arms over the library table, eyes watching her sitting next to him with hair falling in her face like it always does when shes bent forward focusing intently on her work. There are many, many times when Oisin does nothing but watch in silence. Sometimes, rarely, when its late and nobody will come by except to kick them out- He reaches a claw to gingerly tuck the silken gold hair behind the bright red ear of a girl who doesn't say anything about it, before he looks away entirely, trying to ignore the way he can feel his crest fluttering up and down as it seemingly contemplates flaring out.

a2. It's Adaine, rolling her eyes with no heat, as she steps into his personal space and is enveloped in the smell of petrichor. Calloused fingers lingering on rough scales as she ever so gently corrects a stance or spell casting motion that the unfairly tall dragonborn boy next to her had been working on perfecting.

The both know she doesn't have to be so close for this, that another demonstration from beside him would work just fine. He doesn't have to bend ever so slightly, dip his long draconian neck down so he can better hear her murmured words either, so close they can feel the heat of the others breath. He casts the spell perfectly, and Adaine steps back out to a respectable distance, and neither of them say anything about it.

7. Neither of them ever mention any of it. It feels taboo, like the triggering of a spell that will destroy both of them. The fighting, the bickering, the cutting words and sharp swords aimed at jugulars? That's easy, that's familiar and safe. It's what's supposed to happen between them, safe territory they can walk with eyes closed. It's the tenderness that's hard. It's the yearning and soft touches aborted at the last moment-

This is what would be their ruin, and the threat of it lingers above them, rolling clouds heavy with rain that just wont fall. Days, weeks, months pass by and they do not mention it.

8. Adaine, flush with Oracle-sure certainty, gestures for Oisin to slow down, to bend down low so she can tell him something. He protests, its about to rain any second and really Abernant, they're going to be late- Adaine kisses Oisin first, soft and sure as her hands cradle his scaled jaw, just as the dark clouds above them break open.

The kiss tastes like rain, and the loud, pleased rumble in her ears certainly isn't from the storm coming down on them.

[anotherandomcollection]

Perhaps in another life...

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≻─ ⋆✩ pairings: mavuika x fem!reader (can be read as gn!reader) ≻─ ⋆✩ warnings: some kind of fluff?, angst! - not beta read. probably ooc mavuika so... sorry in advance ≻─ ⋆✩ spoilers?: 5.0 Archon Quest (Act I & II) ≻─ ⋆✩ author's note: idk I feel like writing some angst so I may as well try with a new little idea I had... I also wrote this at like 2am with a sudden rush of inspiration...

I haven't written in a while and I'm completely new to this, I have never written on tumblr so forgive my formatting please. I don't know how to feel about this

≻─ ⋆✩ word count: 1.6K

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The traveler says nothing as they observe the Pyro archons family portrait, one that had been painted to her family's likeness. Apart from her parents and her sister, there had been someone else, clearly bearing no resemblance to any of the family, this someone had their arms linked around the archon - everyone smiling. The traveler notes how the archon can't seem to tear her gaze away from the portrait, before she snaps back to the situation at hand. Her eyes drift back to the image during their conversation and they wonder just how long the archon's duties had kept this archon away from her family. The answer was too long - longer than what the traveler had ever imagined.

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The day your love officially decides to sacrifice herself, was one you already knew was coming. There had been discussions for long before it had been finalised and you were just hoping that your darling wife could let a different archon do this... It's not like Natlan lacked in archons, with the possibility for any human to ascend to the seat. Sure, it was selfish, that much you knew but did she really have to be the one? It hurt to know that Mavuika had to be - to give up her life and return five centuries in the future. Five centuries and without you. And you would live the rest of your life without her.

There had been arguments and heated discussions that ended up resulting in everyone's anger and it helped no one, really. At some point, you had to accept it, before you sent off your love with anger instead of some final memories of love and joy. Her mind was clearly made up, long before the final announcement.

It was hard, of course. Hard to accept because suddenly your wife was a ticking time bomb. A set date and a set time, where she would cease to be with you and then she would be lost. She would die and sure, she would be resurrected later... But not in your life time. She would be gone and you would never see your wife alive again. It had felt almost like a doctor's diagnosis, when they give you a time limit. But at least people still had the hope of fighting off an illness and pushing through. This date was final and it was becoming so very real and closing in so very fast.

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The last of her days were spent easy and quiet. Away from the archon life and responsibilities - Mavuika had already ensured she completed everything before the announcement. She had her last days to be spent, after all.

You'd gone out together with her sister, Hine, travelling around Natlan one last time... There had been time spent curled up together, relishing in each other's warmth once more and the comfort found in each other's arms. Soon, sleep would not come easy for you. Too used to the warmth of your lover.

You'd brought her for a quick visit to Sumeru, though it had been rather uneventful and... A lot of sand. More than you'd ever encountered in Natlan and finer than you'd encountered. Dunes and dunes of sand in every direction and wind that blew the sand everywhere and it had stubbornly clung to everything. You spend time still getting sand out of your clothes and bags long after your darling has passed.

In the nights, quiet words of comfort are exchanged and promises made. Mavuika had already requested her wedding ring be kept somewhere... Somewhere she could find when she inevitably rose once more in the future. You cling to your wife, even in your sleep and you dream of a future that you will never be able to have with her.

At times, it feels like you are grieving the loss before it happens. But how do you not when you know it would happen already?

No matter how much fun and laughter is spent together in each day. No matter the soft kisses and tender touches... Your wife would die in a matter of days. And you were powerless to stop it.

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"Come on love, its time to get up", She whispers, though she doesn't shake you awake. The sun had long rose and the colours of the sky had shifted from the orange and purple sunrise hues into the bright sky of a new day. You looked ethereal - the sunlight catching in your hair and sprawled across the pillows. And so at peace, without the weight of a hidden grief that you carried over the last few weeks.

She supposes it was how you saw her when she set her hair aflame. 'it's beautiful, angelic even...', you'd told her once. If she brought up the comparison you would probably laugh. Something about how the sunlight in your hair could not compare to an archon's beauty. Her beauty. But still she watches as the sun dances across your skin with a wonderful glow.

"We don't have anything on today.", Is the only response she gets, your voice laced with sleep, before you bury your face into her neck, turning away from the sun's glare. You can feel her laughter as she runs her fingers through your hair and you are lulled back to sleep with the rhythmic and soothing quality of it. When you wake later, you find yourself still tangled with your wife and she too had been dragged back to the land of dreams.

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The day comes and... The moment your wife gives you the last kiss, last hug and last touch... It passed numbly. She hugs her family goodbye, final words are exchanged... and then she's gone. You had not been allowed to witness the actual sacrifice and you did not want to either ways. The feeling remains numb until it's night time and you're alone. Alone for the first time in... Years. Since you had married, she had always been home for bed, curling up together and relishing in the warmth that radiated through the house. Warmth of the person, in both the figurative and literal sense... And it was gone.

The dam breaks and you cry yourself to sleep. You wake exhausted, despite the full night of rest and it is painful. You force yourself to go about your day and life continues on.

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It hurts even more, when Hine, still young and perhaps she had not quite grasped the meaning of gone. She's inconsolable at first, but soon gains a kind of fire in her, insistent that there's some way of seeing her sister again in the future. Her determination would have been adorable, if you weren't already aware that living that long was impossible and just barely coping with your grief. And unlike your wife (ex...wife? No, she was your wife even if she had passed.) no one else really had that 'wayob ordained purpose' to rise again and protect Natlan from destruction so far into the future.

Five centuries was almost unfathomable to you. No one, short of gods and perhaps the Adepti you hear about in stories from Liyue could live that long. But you were no such mythical beast nor were you a god. You were as human as they got and so was Hine.

Regardless, you force a kind smile as you work together to theorise ways to live that long. To see her sister again and to see your wife again. It's not possible, you already know, and you hoped that her sister would see it before she was too far gone in her aspirations for the far future. She does, eventually, almost a full year later when the passion mellow and it finally hits that she's gone. You hold each other as you both cry and mourn the loss of a loved one.

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Five centuries later and Mavuika rises once more. She finds the wedding ring that she painstakingly stored and had a family portrait made. Painted onto her father's old armour, she describes her family to the best of her ability and she almost weeps at the likeness that the artist manages to capture.

She cannot mourn now, not really. She already accepted her fate in the centuries before and she knew what she was giving up. But if not her, then who? She had a duty to her nation. The grief hits her in the quiet hours of the night when she isn't the Pyro archon of Natlan but just Mavuika . No one fights alone - but why did she feel like this was a battle she was oh no lonely in. So far into the future and so much has changed since the past.

Unfortunately, little survives five centuries of erosion. She doesn't know exactly of what happens to her family. Her sister... Has some records and she pieces together that her younger sister managed to be an architect. Playing a major role in rebuilding the Scions of the Canopy.

But you... Some evidence points to you also became an architect alongside her sister. Helping to rebuild and design the children of the Echoes. Some say you died young, a mysterious disease that compromised your immune systems. Others say you eventually left Natlan to a different nation, which one is unclear but you never returned until much later in life. But all records are alike in stating that you never remarried and never took on another love.

And so Mavuika sits alone and she prays (to who? to who does an archon pray to?) that in the end, her sacrifice is worth it. That giving up everything had been worth it. And she hopes, so desperately that when her (second) human life expires, she can see you again.

[hauntingkiki]

finally decided to take a shot at the SFW Alphabet, since i’ve never done one😓

and why not do it for our favorite, sloan:3

Sloan Camron SFW Alphabet

Overwatch

2nd POV

^ a fun lil playlist i made:3

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A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

- they are a very affectionate person! they always have to have a hand on you, like i said in the basic headcannons, they like having their arm wrapped around your waist/shoulders, or even holding your hand!

- kissing on the job isn't their go to, unless you're out party or just hanging out with coworkers!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

- in the beginning, they were very chatty. they would tell you random facts that they know, random stories, etc. they were a little overwhelming but, as time went on, they mellowed out and you got used to their chatter

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

- they are the biggest cuddle bug known to mankind.

- they mainly prefer to be the big spoon in some way, just any position where they're holding you is their go to!

- but if work was very stressful OR if they've been gone for weeks or even months, they would want to be held by you :)

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

- they would love to settle down with you! but, it would definitely be a few years until you both did settle down due to your jobs and overwatch being a huge part of your lives, it's something you both have done for years! you can't just leave in a heart beat

- sloan is definitely the chef while you do the cleaning around the house.

- they'll make their 'camron family' dishes for you, which have been passed down for generations in their family! (they'll wash the dishes after diner)

- and you'll just sweep/vacuum, dust, clean the bathrooms.

-and you both have shared chores that you both do, like making the bed, grocery shopping, doing the laundry, etc.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

- i personally don't think that they'll ever break up with you (also based off of some other headcannons and sfw alphabets that i've seen). they're in it for the long run, and they don't want to loose someone as amazing as you!

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

- they would definitely want to marry you, but, with work interfering with both of your lives, marriage would definitely be a later priority

- and like i said in Ending, they're in it for the long run, and hopefully you're the same!

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

- sloan is very strong (physically), and they're very aware of this aspect. like if you two horse around in your shared apartment, they'll playfully throw you on the couch/bed, but they'll never use their strength to hurt you in any physical way.

- in other words, they are a gentle giant both emotionally and physically, their emotional side a little more since they go to you about anything and everything

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

- like in Cuddle and Affection, they're very touchy so of course they love hugs and will do it as often as they can!:3

- if they haven't seen you in weeks/months due to work, then they would pick you up and spin you around. but if you're walking into their work a little late, then they'll throw their arms around you whist squeezing you gently

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

- probably after a few weeks into dating, they would let it slip by accident

- you fell ill and didn't show up to work, so sloan made a trip over to your place to you to make sure you were okay. they would make you some family dish and spoon feed it to you since they didn't want you to 'overwork' yourself. while giving you some of their food, they'd chuckle out and "i love you.", which you'd smile, swallow your food and say "i love you too." before going into a coughing fit

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

- they aren't really the jealous type, trusting you with their LIFE. i mean, you picked them out of EVERYONE! what's there to be jealous of?!

- but there would be a few times that they did get jealous, and that would be if someone was making you extremely uncomfortable, then they would get very touchy with you and start kissing you in front of said person as a "fuck off; i bagged this baddie"

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

- their kisses are very passionate and sweet, even if they're a peck on the cheek, you can feel the passion in that short moment. they have a faint orange taste, from their chapstick, and they have a faint earthy taste to them too (probably from them touching their face after manhandling a bunch of rocks and whatnot)

- they loved to be kissed anywhere on their face (preferably cheeks, lips, temple), on their tattoos, and sometimes their hands!

- they love kissing you on the lips and hands! and if you two are home alone and you're wearing a tanktop/lowcut shirt, they'll kiss you on your collarbones

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

- (kinda a headcannon) since they have a HUGE family, bunch of aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins etc, they are very good with children! at family gatherings, they will pry their nieces and nephews off of their parents and just hang out with them:)

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

- they usually wake up before you, like an hour or so, so while they wait they'll be reading on of their many history books while they wait for you to wake up:)

- unless it was a rough night where you had to sleep on the couch, they'll call out for you while looking around the apartment before joining you on the small ass couch, which wakes you up.

"Y/N?? oh, there you are." *squeezes next to you on the couch*(aka laying on top of you)

*gasping for air* "SLOAN GET OFF!!"

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

- surprisingly, getting ready for bed is quite easy for the two of you, unlike the other half of the day.

- your routine;

shower(if necessary)

change into pajamas

brush your teeth

get into bed (plus anything else you do to get ready for bed)

- sloan's routine;

clean piercing

shower

change into pajamas

brush their teeth

get into bed

- the two of you will fall asleep with sloan holding you, your head in their chest while you listen to their heart beat

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

- when you two started off as friends, they kinda already ripped the bandaid off, talking about their life and whatnot

- but as you two got closer and started dating, they started to share more personal things about themselves to you that not many know about, so they trust you very much

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

- it takes a lot for sloan to break down, but if someone pushes their buttons just right, they might crack.

- and they usually get more frustrated with themselves than at you, so they'll just need a quick breather to calm down before talking to you about their feelings

- they would NEVER in a million years, use you as an outlet to let their anger out, they're not that kind of person and believe that people who do that to others are horrible human beings

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

- "n/n!! look at what i got you!"

"you got me tickets for (fav. band)?!"

"yeah! i remembered you said you liked them during our first sleepover!"

"...MONTHS AGO."

- they will not forget anything you say, they have lists a upon lists of all of your favorite things and things you dislike

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

- they definitely love when you two first met, your milestone anniversaries (6 months, 1 year, etc.)

- they love all their moments with you! just hanging out with them is the best!

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

- they can be somewhat protective, like i said in Jealousy, they trust you so much, they aren't very protective

- they usually protect you during matches when you're loosing a fight

- when the two of you are exploring/in caves, sloan is more cautious than protective, having you at their HIP at all times in case something falls

- they LOVE IT when you come in to help them in a fight during a match, gives them butterflies!

- they also enjoy it when you act a little bitchy towards people who were being mean to them/giving them weird looks, makes them all flustered:3 (besides their coworkers, they all fuck with each other and make harmless jabs with everyone)

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

- you know damn well they would spend their life savings on something to make you the happiest!

- they put in so much time and effort into gifts, dates, anniversaries, you sometimes have to postpone them due to how much effort they're putting into them

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

- one habit of theirs is their unstoppable chatter. and they're aware of this, and they're working on it!

- and another habit is when they take up the whole bed

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

- sloan isn't too worried about their looks, unless it's an important event (family hangout, date, anniversary, etc.) otherwise, if you both are just eating ramen in your apartment, they couldn't care less

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

- yes. no question asked.

- NEXT!

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

- their grandma (their dads mom) was also an archeologist! so sloan has a really good bond with her!(id like to believe that she’s the one sloan talks about in the game)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

- someone who doesn't want to try new things. sloan wants someone who's willing to try and experience their hobbies and vise versa.

- they also don't want anyone who shits on anyone in their (sloan's) family. their family is everything to them, sloan's family is their rock (pun intended) and they love everyone equally

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

- you will fall asleep in their arms and you will wake up in their arms. yes, a different sleeping position, but you'll be in their hold no matter what

- they're a light snorer, which is very good

- heavy sleeper too, all thanks to all the noise in their house growing up

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if you guys are interested, i MIGHT do the nsfw one, but only if that's something you guys are wanting to read!:)