#/ this was... gonna be shorter... but I think

[punkshort]

Red Lace & Holiday Cheer

Thank you anon for this prompt!

Pairing: (ex)pornstar!joel miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: While visiting him at work, you decide to give Joel his Christmas present early.

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, fingering, reader wears lingerie

WC: 4K

Roommates Masterlist

The bar was loud.

It was three days before Christmas. Students on break from college had come home to visit their families for the holidays but the first chance they got, they made plans to connect with friends they hadn't seen since summer. The entire street was packed with twenty-something year olds, every bar was filled to the brim, including the one Joel owned.

You had helped him decorate it for the holidays just two weeks prior. A small Christmas tree with chunky, multi-colored lights sat in the front. Twinkling white lights framed each large window and a garland was wrapped around the door. You even managed to find a spot for a couple large wreaths above the bar.

From your spot on the dance floor with Maria, you could just barely see Tommy's head. He was pouring drinks as fast as possible, hardly giving himself a chance to breathe. Surprisingly, Joel was no where to be found. If you had to guess, he was either bringing up a keg or doing his rounds on the floor, checking in with patrons and seeing if they needed anything while also keeping an eye out for trouble makers.

He had really grown into the role as a bar owner. It seemed like the perfect fit after he had quit the adult film industry. Not only was he his own boss, but he got to work with his brother. Your only complaint was the long nights, although you and Maria tried to frequent the bar at least once a week to see them while they worked. Typically, there was plenty of time to talk, but the week of Christmas had the bar feeling like more of a nightclub.

"Where's Joel?" Maria shouted over the music. You fanned your sweaty chest with your hand and scanned the crowded room.

"I don't know! Don't think I've seen him all night!" you yelled back. You checked the time and frowned. You always saw him at least once, even when it's busy, before midnight. He always sought you out, no matter what. You turned back to Maria with a look of concern.

"I'm gonna go see if I can find him!"

She nodded and gave you a thumbs up before turning her back, still swaying along with the music.

You pushed your way through the crowd, making a face when drunk frat boys or some familiar looking locals who were trying their luck with the college girls accidentally bumped into you. After what felt like an eternity of almost getting beer sloshed down your bright red dress from clueless patrons, you finally bellied up to the bar. You leaned over the edge of the wood, catching Tommy's eye. He nodded in your direction and you sat back on your heels as you waited for him to finish up at the other end of the bar.

"What you need, sugar?" Tommy yelled over the noise. Your gaze flickered down to his cheesy Christmas shirt and grinned.

"Is that thing getting you any extra tips?"

He shook his head and you laughed. "Nah, but it's fun. Tryin' to get into the spirit!"

"It was Maria's idea, wasn't it?" you yelled.

"Hundred percent!" he shouted back. You heard others off to your right trying to get his attention so you cut to the chase.

"Where's Joel?"

"Office! He was on the phone with some vendor last I saw 'em."

You nodded and shot him a thumbs up before you began your second journey, although mercifully it was shorter. His office was just down a short hallway behind the bar. Still, the crowd was thickest and rowdiest right where you were trying to walk. You had almost made it unscathed when you heard a curse and felt a splash of some cold liquid down your arm.

"Shit!" you exclaimed. You began to flick your arm of any excess when a young man's voice shouted out to you.

"I'm sorry!" he slurred, but when you looked up and your eyes locked, a slow smirk stretched across his face. He couldn't have been more than twenty-two, surrounded by his buddies who were giving him little shoves in your direction. He took a few steps forward and held out his hand.

"I'm Chris," he offered. "Lemme buy you a drink, make it up to you."

His eyes slithered up and down your body, clearly appreciating the short red Christmas dress you had chosen to wear that night.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," you said, giving him a wave and turning back towards the bar. He tapped your shoulder and you swiveled around.

"C'mon, it's the least I could do. Almost ruined that gorgeous dress of yours," he tried while licking his lips.

You sighed and crossed your arms.

"I'm dating the guy who owns this place. I can drink for free," you snapped, patience growing thin when you added, "And have anyone thrown out."

Chris whistled and rose his hands in defeat.

"Alright, suit yourself."

He backed away towards his friends and you made quick work of pushing through the remaining crowd to get back behind the bar. The moment you stepped foot in the small hallway, it already felt calmer. You sashayed a little drunkenly past the breakroom and employee bathroom before stopping at the closed door at the end of the hall that had a stocking hanging from it with Joel's name painted in glitter. With excitement tingling under your skin, you rapped your knuckles softly against the wood and pressed your ear against the door.

"It's open!"

The old door squeaked on its hinges when you opened it and slipped inside, smiling when you saw Joel hunched over his desk, scribbling something on an invoice. His office wasn't much to look at; dingy old laminate floors, a desk that looked like it was from the seventies, two tall file cabinets that were overflowing and shoved in a corner, and one measly light above your head that had one bulb burnt out. But it was peaceful. It was quiet. And by that point, it reminded you of Joel. His cologne hung in the air, even when he hadn't been in the room for hours. On top of one filing cabinet was a decorative Christmas tree and on the back of his door was a wreath, both of which you put in there when he wasn't paying attention.

He finally looked up and you saw the tension instantly drain from his face when he saw it was you.

"Hey," he said softly, dropping his pen so he could stand to greet you, chair groaning from the loss. He rounded the desk and pulled you into his arms. Your mouths sought each other out like magnets and you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck with a contented sigh when you finally felt his lips on you once again.

"Where have you been?" you pouted, gazing up at him while still hanging around his neck. His hands flattened against your back, the material of your dress bunching a little and exposing your legs even more.

"Been busy workin'. Sorry, darlin'. Lost track of time," he told you, but his eyes were drifting down your dress. "You been here this whole time wearin' this thing?"

"What? You don't like it?" you teased.

Joel scoffed and shook his head. "Like it a little too much. What's the occasion?" He finally dragged his eyes back up to meet yours.

"The occasion is it's Christmas," you said while your fingers began to fiddle with the short hairs on the back of his neck.

"Christmas ain't for a few more days."

"Well, maybe I wanted to give you your gift early," you smirked. Joel groaned in the back of his throat and pulled you closer so your body was pressed tightly against his. You began to pepper kisses along his neck, pausing when you reached his pulse to whisper, "Unless, that is, you're too busy."

"Lock the fuckin' door," he said lowly. A shiver rolled down your spine and you spun out of his hold to do exactly as he asked.

"Can't just wait, huh?" Joel scolded while he undid his belt and dropped it to the floor. You bit your lip, heart skipping excitedly in your chest as you backed up towards his desk. You stopped when you felt the edge press into the backs of your thighs and grinned.

"Sorry. I just thought you'd really want to open it now." You reached one arm behind you and slowly tugged at your zipper. Joel's eyes darted to lock onto the movement while his hands worked on opening his pants. You could tell he was loving every second of your little show. His lips were parted, breath coming in short pants, and his neck was already growing flush.

When your dress felt loose, you knew you reached the end of the zipper. Your chest heaved with anticipation before finally wiggling out of your dress and letting it fall to your feet.

You weren't lying. You really did have something for him under your clothes, although scraps of material like a see-through red teddy with a plunging neckline was difficult to define as anything substantial.

His eyes immediately bugged out of his head.

"Oh, Christ," he choked out. You giggled, pleased to have taken him by surprise. You hardly ever had the upper hand in the bedroom, not with the experience he brought by being an ex-pornstar, but on that day, you did.

His face paled when he saw your body in that teddy. Well, considering how much skin he could actually see through it, it hardly felt like you were wearing much at all, but Joel didn't seem to see it that way. He was absolutely hypnotized, completely unable to look away. His eyes greedily raked over every inch of you and you smiled to yourself when you realized he hadn't even yet noticed the panties you were wearing were crotchless.

"You like it?" you asked when his gawking had gone on long enough. You twirled so he could see the back, his throat bobbing when he saw the way your ass was exposed in your barely there panties. Joel forced his eyes up when you stood before him expectantly, feeling so excited and nervous that you had to bounce from foot to foot.

"You look beautiful," he finally whispered. You grinned and reached out both hands for him, laughing a little when he stumbled over his own feet to join you. As thrilled as you were to throw Joel off his game, it incited something deep within you when he took control again. He crowded you against his desk and dragged his hands fucking everywhere. Down your arms, over your stomach, across your back, feeling the lacy material under his big hands. And only when one hand cupped your breast and the other reached down to squeeze your ass did your own breath get stolen away.

"You're a bad girl," he murmured against the shell of your ear. Your eyelids fluttered closed as heat pooled between your legs, torturous and aching. "Wearin' this all night while I sat back here fightin' on the phone 'bout goddamn shipping rates?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth but it quickly melted into a gasp when his teeth pinched your skin, right under your ear.

"Joel," you moaned his name, tipping your head back while his mouth dragged down the column of your throat. You reached between your bodies, fingers searching for the inevitable bulge you knew you would find, and smiling to yourself when you felt his cock jump under your touch.

"Gonna let me fuck you?" you heard him ask. His lips trailed across your collarbone to begin their ascent up the opposite side of your neck. "Right here? In the back of a dirty bar?"

"I'd let you fuck me anywhere," you rasped, hopping up onto his desk and spreading your legs. He stepped between your knees, face buried against your throat and hips pressing stubbornly against your center as he continued to leave red marks across your chest and neck. He chuckled, the vibration from his voice sending shockwaves from your pulse point to the bottom of your stomach.

"Gonna hold you to that one day."

You were in a lust filled haze, completely absorbed with the way Joel kissed you, deep and messy and urgent, to notice when his hand traveled lower. His fingertips grazed between your legs, right where a thin strip of fabric should have been, but to his shock and delight, found nothing except your bare, leaking pussy.

"Fuck me," he groaned, leaning back to get a good look. He swiped his thumb through your slit and you whimpered, causing his dark eyes to snap up to yours with a deadly smirk.

"You liked this, huh?" His fingers spread your folds while your arms began to shake, propped up behind you and ready to collapse. "You liked dancin' around in that short dress, knowin' this soft little pussy was naked under there, waitin' for me to fuck her?"

"Mhm," was all you could muster. Not a single word could be formed in that moment when his middle finger prodded at your opening, testing you, before sinking inside. You tossed your head back with a shaky moan and spread your legs wider, encouraging him to continue, to give you more.

You could only imagine how you looked in that moment; elbows holding you up with your head hanging back between your shoulders in bliss, legs spread wide while wearing slutty Christmas lingerie across his desk as music thumped steadily through the walls. However it looked, though, was worth the hungry way Joel stared down at you with his hand working slowly between your thighs, one thick finger curling but purposely not touching the spot that made you come undone.

Your hips wiggled as you tried to chase his hand, desperate for him to give you what you needed, but he held you down, stilling your movements.

"Quit it."

"Joel," you whined, but he shook his head.

"This is my gift, remember?" he tutted.

He pulled out his finger and you huffed, frustrated. With heavy lidded eyes, you watched him pop the finger that was just inside of you into his mouth. He made a satisfied noise while reaching inside his pants. The second he pulled out his cock, your eyes drifted down and watched as he slowly stroked himself up and down.

You should have been used to him by then, but it never failed to send a wave of nerves through you when you saw the sheer size of him, something that served him very well in his old career and now something only you benefitted from.

One of his hands planted itself at your hip when he came to stand between your legs and he began to drag the tip of his cock through your arousal. You sighed and went to lay down flat across his desk, but he stopped you.

"Nuh uh. Want you to watch," he muttered. You caught his eye and your heart flipped in your chest at the look he gave you. You swallowed tightly and gave him a brief nod, confirming you would do as he asked. Then and only then did he drop his gaze to between your legs, spreading your lips with his thumbs to make room for the thick head of his cock to rest at your opening.

You watched together as he pressed forward ever so slightly, just barely kissing your pussy before pulling back entirely. He did it again and when he shifted back a second time, you gave him a pathetic little whine. His eyes darted back up to yours and he grinned.

"Be patient."

"C'mon, Joel... it's Christmas," you pouted. He chuckled, his stern facade fading, and shook his head.

"Alright," he breathed, and half a second later jut his hips forward, feeding you half his length in one pass. You gasped sharply and fell backwards onto his desk, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

He cursed under his breath, dragging himself back until just his tip remained sheathed inside you, then pushed forward once again, but that time he gave you every devastating inch of his impressive cock. You both gasped, sucking all the air out of the room with your heavy, quick panting as you each struggled to adjust.

"Goddamn," he murmured. Your eyes were squeezed shut, mouth agape as you focused on the stretch, but you pried them open so you could confirm he was just as wrecked as you felt.

"Oh, honey, you look fuckin' beautiful like this." His eyes were fixated on where you were connected, where red lace framed your exposed cunt. His dark eyes snapped up to yours when he very seriously added, "We're gonna get alotta use out of this gift, baby."

"That was the idea," you giggled breathlessly. There was a loud cheer through the walls when the song changed. It sounded like a bunch of guys right up against the bar, just twenty or thirty feet away who had no idea you were about to get fucked within an inch of your life.

"Good song," Joel said casually. He took a deep breath in through his nose and slowly began to rock his hips. Your mind went quiet, not a single thought drifting through your head except for how good it felt when he bottomed out inside you.

He was gentle at first. He knew he was alot to take so he always started with shallow thrusts, paying close attention to your cues. When your thighs relaxed and your breathing evened out, that was when he began to give it to you faster. Harder. Deeper. It was only a few minutes until his hips slammed into yours so forcefully that it had your back arching and your hand scrambling to hold onto the edge of the desk above you.

"Fuck - fuck - fuck," he huffed, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips. You whined and squirmed across the desk, trying to catch your breath. One of Joel's hands pressed flat against the desk for leverage, the other roughly gripped your waist to hold you steady, and his eyes remained fixated on the way your body stretched to accommodate his size. Every single time, it amazed him.

A loud knock came from the door. Your eyes locked, his hips slowed, and you shook your head. You mouthed the word don't. He made a face but acquiesced, then continued to fuck you, just slower and quieter. A second loud knock came and an annoyed Tommy yelled out, "Joel? C'mon, man, we need more Coors."

"Have fuckin' Steve do it, I'm busy!" he shouted back. You scowled then stifled a moan when he ground himself against you, rubbing your clit with the coarse hairs at the base of his shaft.

"Steve's on break!"

Joel snarled and reared back, grabbing the underside of both your knees and tugging you close.

"Gimme five minutes!" he yelled, voice only slightly giving away your compromising position when it cracked near the end of his sentence.

"Five?" you whispered with a disappointed look.

"Ten! Ten minutes!"

Finally you heard Tommy grumble under his breath and retreat back down the hall.

"I'll make you come in five minutes," Joel panted with a cocky grin. He began to pummel into you harder once again, picking up right where he left off. "Wanted to bend you over and come all over that perfect ass, but I'll save that for next time."

You groaned and tilted your chin to the ceiling as you felt that familiar tightness begin to pull low in your belly. Joel shifted, adjusting the way he was standing between your legs, and you cried out when the tip of his cock began to stroke against that spot that had you seeing stars. Blindly, you reached out to hold onto something, but only ended up scattering unpaid invoices and receipts onto the floor.

Words failed you. Heat flared deep inside, bright hot flames roaring to life in mere seconds that had your muscles going rigid and your spine curling off the desktop. There was no warning. There was nothing you could do except give into the intense pleasure as you choked on your words.

"Oh, shit," Joel grunted, hand reaching between you to rub firm circles over your clit. "S-shit, you're gonna come," he gasped right as your cunt clamped down around him. You wailed out a broken version of his name, legs trembling around his waist. He quickly fell forward, his body covering yours, and your lips connected in messy, wild kisses. Seconds later and with a deep groan echoing inside your mouth, Joel came, filling you with his thick, hot release until his cock stopped twitching and a shudder shot through his entire body.

You whimpered Joel's name and that was when he realized you were shaking violently. With his chest still heaving, he propped himself onto his elbows and slid his cock from between your legs before gathering you up in his arms and holding you close, enveloping you with his warmth.

"I got you," he murmured over and over into your hair. You nodded weakly, head still buzzing and hands still shaking. Slowly, your eyes reopened. Your pulse began to slow and your breaths grew deeper each time you pulled in air. You nuzzled your face into his shoulder, sighing from the comforting strokes of his hand over your back.

"You okay?" he asked after a few quiet minutes. You nodded and took a deep breath, the scent of his cologne mixing with his deodorant calming your frayed nerves even more.

"That was... intense," you whispered, lips searching for his throat. Joel continued to soothingly rub your back.

"You did so good, baby."

You smiled and nipped gently at his skin. "Did you enjoy your present?"

Joel's chest rumbled with a soft chuckle before he responded.

"This little number was a beautiful gift, but I don't need any of it, you know that, right?" he asked. "All I want is you."

"Are you saying that all you want for Christmas is... me?" You grinned when you leaned back to look up at him hazily. Joel laughed at your corny joke and cupped your face with both his hands to pull you in for a tender kiss.

"Yeah," he murmured against your lips. "Man can't ask for much else when he's already got everythin' he needs in one perfect little package."

You wrapped your arms around his neck as your cheeks warmed from his compliment. "I love you," you told him earnestly. Every time he heard those words, it made him smile.

"I love you, too."

Right when he leaned down for another kiss, a loud knock cracked against the door.

"Joel! The Coors!"

"God-fuckin'-" Joel grumbled before shouting, "I'm comin' right now! Jesus Christ!"

His eyes found yours and he gave you an apologetic look.

"You gonna be alright? Just gimme a few minutes-"

"I'm good," you told him with a firm nod, then gave his chest a little shove, pushing him towards the door. "Go. You have a bar to run."

He tucked himself back into his pants with a hiss and swiveled around before locating a box of tissues and handing them to you.

"Lock the door after I leave. This," he dragged his finger up and down in the air, indicating your skimpy lingerie, "is just for me to see."

"Yes, sir," you giggled with your legs still dangling over the edge of his desk. He shook his head in disbelief and fixed his shirt before disappearing out into the hallway.

Slowly, you cleaned yourself up as best you could and fixed the teddy before slipping your dress back on, concealing your little secret once again. You had your hand on the doorknob, poised to leave, when a thought occurred to you. Quickly, you shimmied your panties down your legs and hurried behind his desk to drop them in one of his drawers. You smiled proudly to yourself and headed back towards the door, already planning what new set you should surprise him with for Valentine's Day.

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[mint-and-authoress]

Slime HRT - Full Core Integration

<<| ⏯️ |>>

[The scene opens to a not before seen living room. Familiar decor can be seen alongside other furnishings. Elise sits on a couch inside a small plastic tub, where only the upper half of her body can be seen. Next to her is a shorter woman, speckled with red scales across her skin and small claws and horns. The timestamp reads ‘5½ Months.’]

“Oh gosh, how does she do these…

“This is Elise’s entry at five and a half months into transition. I’m Pandora, her wife, and I’ll be speaking for her for this entry and hopefully only this entry. I just started my own species replacement therapy like two weeks ago I think? I kept it hidden from her to surprise her but about three days ago Elise’s vocal cords finally dissolved. That’s why I’m speaking for her.

“Normally she wouldn’t have done an update this early but I encouraged her to make something, mainly because I think it’s important to have this documented. Anyone who goes through the same stuff my wifey has should know how things go when you absolutely need help around the house.

[Pandora retrieves a piece of paper from offscreen.]

“We did make a list of things to go over. My love is going to be demonstrating a few things, and it is her documentation series… thing, so she’s gotta be a part of it! First off is the obvious: no more muscles, and no more bones either!

[Elise outstretches an ‘arm’ to show the lack of muscle and bone. The entire limb is transparent and a vibrant green.]

“All she has left is a few organs and her brain. Everything else is just a little goopy puddle.

[Elise nuzzles into Pandora’s shoulder, and is met with a kiss to the forehead.]

“All the affection is just my wife being all cute and loving, like she’s always been. She’s basically been biologically a slime for a few weeks now, and definitely passes as one from the few I’ve been able to see.

“As a matter of fact, we learned that slimes are apparently part of the country’s No Fly List, since they’re made up entirely of fluid. We had to do a whole cross-country road trip, meaning four days full of driving for me. Loved that. But it just meant that my little goop got to be a little passenger princess all the way back to the west coast!

“Back to the ‘my wife’s organs are starting to dissolve’ matter, she’s actually about two and a half months ahead of schedule. Which meant I had to have a very strongly worded talk with Dr. Acosta from Something Else Solutions. 

“Something Else Solutions is not licenced by anyone in Hyper City. We had to hire a private investigator to find that doctor. Turns out, he gave Elise a fake name and the whole office turned out to be some shady black market coven trying to advance their practices. So, my last week and a half has been spent talking to doctors and specialists and actual fucking witches. That last one was actually pleasant, and I would’ve enjoyed it a bit more if it wasn’t my love’s life on the line, possibly.

“The only real reason we’re doing an update now is because Elise is going into surgery tomorrow to get her core formed. Normally, Slime HRT has the patient go through something called C3 surgery: Core Cell Conversion. They’d take all your organs and link them together, and after a few weeks they’ll turn into what’s called a proto-core, which basically just replaces the organs. Eventually that proto-core absorbs the brain after like a month and at that point it’s just a normal slime core.

“Buuuut, now that someone went and fucked up my wife, she’s going into an emergency surgery called FCI: Full Core Integration. What they have to do–and thank the gods that we did this before her organs got dissolved–is take all her organs and her brain and rapidly accelerate that core formation process with donated nuclei from other slimes and a whole bunch of other inpatient hospital stuff. It takes a week, and after that Elise is gonna have a few gaps in her memory.

[Pandora hugs Elise from the side.]

“It’s scary. But we’ve somehow made it through worse.”

[The segment ends. The next segment fades in and shows a still image of a hospital waiting room. An anthropomorphic boar, a human skeleton with glowing green eyes, a well-dressed vampire and two humans are present around the room.]

-captions-

-The waiting room in the Hyper City Interspecies Hospital. Elise’s surgery was 12 hours long. 

[A picture of many specialists and surgeons, human and nonhuman, with a blonde human woman in the centre.]

-Thank you to the care team for everything and an even bigger thank you to Dr. Therkin for walking me through every step of the procedure.

[A picture of Elise in a pressurised tank, connected to a series of tubes, wires, and monitors. A very small, almost invisible mass is at the centre of the slime.]

-This was my wife for nine days. Very glad to report that she pulled through.

[The final picture fades out. The next segment fades in where Elise sits in a long tub in a hospital bed, with an intact emerald green core. A timestamp reads ‘Five Days Post Surgery - 6 Months.’]

“...This is…my entry at 6 months during transition. Or at least that is what I’ve been told.

“I’ve been conscious for five days. In that time I learned how to speak and I was reminded who everyone was. Apparently I was in a…terrible condition. My core was able to save my life, and for that I am very grateful.

“I came out of surgery with near total amnesia, they said. Apparently that is a risk when you undergo such a procedure. It isn’t all bad, though. Relearning you have a wife is incredibly nice, makes the core sing something fierce.

“I’ve watched through those progress reports and learned about the journey I’ve taken to get this far, and to think that all that progress is behind me is incredibly inspiring. I’m going to continue living, all because of the work she did. I get to be happy, have a wife, all thanks to her. 

“I’m not the same person as she was, definitely not. I have her voice, her life, and eventually the memories will come back, or so I’m told. But I don’t have her face, don’t have the same struggle that she had. So, please allow me to introduce myself once more to you all.

“My name is Mint, and I am a slime girl.”

[The scene fades to black as Mint extends herself towards the camera.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SLIEM TIEM IS BACK EVERYGOOP!!!

Plot Twist: Mint is Authoress :3c

I've been meaning to get this out for a while and Solstice hit me with a lead brick of inspiration! Mint is now here to stay, but by no means is her story over!

Shoutouts today go to @ariathelamia whose character Dr. Therkin made an appearance to advise the surgery team! Tbh I do not trust Erian as far as I can throw him (and for therian standards that is not that far), so we got a second opinion and went to her!

Next time on Slime Ball Z: going to the solstice and definitely having a transgender moment[tm] with doubts about what makes oneself a 'real slime'

[ronearoundblindly]

Who would give the best presents? (For the holidays maybe)

Jingle bells 🔔 Jingle bells 🔔 Jingle all the way 🎊

This is gonna be focused on holiday/Christmas gifts, but it also describes why--due to the type of presents the guys do give--they are good or 'bad.' It turned out to be NO NONSENSE and shorter than expected, my bad.

Listed in (vague) order of worst to best!

Jimmy Dobyne

Doesn't much see the value in gifts after childhood. Might offer a present here and there. Mostly only bothers with gifts when told he has to get something, whether that is by you in reminder for a party he's going to or for you on an occasion a friend tells him.

Johnny Storm

Shows up with a last-minute gift every time. No planning ahead. Apparently considers his presence a gift...even for your birthday 😒

Lloyd Hansen

Gets you gifts that he likes, basically for him, not you. At least someone enjoys them, right? Correct. If anyone should be appeased, it's Lloyd.

Ari Levinson

Not much of a holiday or celebration person but will step up for very special things. (Hint: it's not for Christmas, and Hanukkah hasn't been gift-focused since he was quite little. Mostly cares about your birthday and big life events.) Sadly, Ari also knows he's not the best gift giver, so...he stopped trying to get better a long time ago.

Curtis Everett

Really against 'stuff' for stuff's sake, so gifts are rare and meaningful but not expensive (unless you two have agreed on the cost of something extravagant). This is a guy you have to do ring shopping with before he proposes.

Ransom Drysdale

Buys you expensive gifts but not necessarily with you and your likes in mind. Sometimes he gets lucky, they're just plain awesome, and you love them that much more.

James Mace

Excessively practical. The use-to-expense ratio is always considered, probably too much.

Bucky Barnes

Very thoughtful, small gifts. He's been afraid of really big gestures and public declarations of any sort. Bucky also staunchly refuses to let anyone else wrap his gifts to others; start to finish, it has to be him choosing, buying, wrapping, and offering each gift.

Steve Rogers

Consistent in giving something for every holiday, anniversary, or event, even if it's just flowers.

*Bucky and Steve fall into the category of if they can hand-make a gift, they will at least try to make it themselves. It's a point of pride. They also baulk at the cost of everything these days, so they tend to keep the price of presents down. Making things from scratch tends to help that.

Andy Barber

Not afraid to drop some dough on your gifts AND always considers what you like, what looks good on you, or what you'll really use.

Jake Jensen

I rank Jake as the best gift giver not because he spends the most money or puts the most thought into each. He spends enough and he thinks enough, but Jake enjoys the process the most. He's so fucking happy to see your face light up (or for you to give him the evil-eye at a joke present). This makes the actual act of gifting with Jake the most exciting. He tries to pick a setting and time that enhances the experience of the gift--no matter how small or goofy the present. Yeah, the rating system here is subjective, but Jake still wins. Sorry not sorry.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would... Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63

[admirationandromantics]

Painting Date

Another request, thank you for sending them!! I finally finished the prologue for the Chris story, so 1/12 parts done. Get ready.

Anyways, this is a little shorter than usual, because sometimes that just happens. This is an au where shit didn't go down, so enjoy <3

“Josh, get two glasses of water!” I shout to the kitchen, getting the last colours piped on the pallet. We were on Blackwood Mountain, a weekend getaway to relax and calm down, a way to disconnect from the bothers of the real world. The first day was painting. I brought a bunch of paint, a couple of canvases and some brushes. We sat up in front of the big windows of the lodge, looking out on the sublime mountain. We may not be master artists, but even they cannot do the landscape justice. Whatever it turned into, I would love it. Anyways, the most important thing was to destress, to merge into nothingness and build our relationship without interference. 

“Here we go” Josh exclaims, walking in with two cups, almost filled to the brim. I actually meant two cups each, but it’s too late to ask him about it now. He puts them on the table in front of us, kissing my head before sitting down beside me. 

“Damn, it’s beautiful outside” he says, eyes wide from the mesmerizing view. 

“Yeah, I know, we should come her more often” 

“We really should, shame about the snow though” 

I look out, seeing the white neat blanket covering trees and stone. It’s absolutely beautiful, whatever does he mean? The snow is untouched by both animals and humans, nature in its purest form. 

“It’s natural, untouched, what’s wrong?” 

“We could’ve at least made some snow angels, if you know what I mean” he answers teasingly. He’s turned to me, brow arched and a smirk plastered on his lips. I laugh at him, at his suggestive tone. How forward. 

“Get your head out of the clouds before the paint dries” 

“Doesn’t look dry to me” 

I comply, adding to the tension he’s building. My finger finds its way to the blue paint, taking a small amount before smearing it on his nose. His mouth opens in surprise, shocked by my challenge. I take it a step further, smiling as I tease him. 

“I guess you’re right, it isn’t dry” 

“You didn’t just do that” 

“I believe I did” 

He leans forward, and I do the same, meeting each other in the middle for a kiss. Lips collide, soft and hungry. His tongue licks my lower lip, begging for entrance. I let him, tongue roaming in my mouth as I deepen the kiss. My hand fares to his neck, pulling him closer. His wet nose graces over my skin, and I feel the paint stain my face. He’s adorable. 

He shifts, and I open my eyes to see his hand subtly coat itself in paint. He acts quick, hand shooting forward. Luckily, I notice, and pull back just in time. 

“Josh…” I try to calm him down, talking sense to get to an agreement. He stands up, walking towards me. I step back in response, mirroring the movement. 

“You so gonna get back” 

“No, Josh, it was just a little, that��s a lot” I explain, pointing down to his green-covered hand. He continues smiling, coming closer towards me. I take a leap, jumping over the sofa so we’re on opposite sides. He laughs at me, but keeps up his pace, walking around the furniture. I do the same, still being on opposite sides. 

“You think you’ll get away that easily?” 

“Well, you love me, you’ll let me off the hook in a couple of minutes” 

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really” I smile as I continue going round. He pulls a heavy chair on the other side, blocking the path I’ve been going three times already. Shit. He then starts running, making me yelp as I go the same route, trying to climb over the chair. 

I’m too slow, and he grabs hold of my waist with his clean hand as I squirm and shout. 

“I swear to God, Josh, I’m gonna kill you” 

His green hand comes closer, and I keep trying to get out of his grip. It doesn’t work. He’s caging me, arm strong as he holds me in place. 

“No, no, no!” 

His hand makes its way to my face, but I grab it with both my arms, holding him centimeters away. He’s strong, and I tilt my head upward as he makes contact with my throat, grabbing harshly. I choke a bit, air leaving as I try to kill a moan. His body is pressed up against my back, hand still around my waist to get me closer. He pushes more on my throat, causing my head to fall back on his shoulder, ear against his mouth. 

“Told you that you wouldn’t get away that easily” 

He kisses my ear, hand moving from my side up to my chest, groping. I let out a whine, feeling my heat pool as he continues touching me. Suddenly, he lets go, taking my hand with his clean one and dragging me back to the canvases. 

“What just happened?” I ask, confused by the sudden change in atmosphere. 

“Let's paint before it dries”

“Wait, you can’t do all that and just stop” 

“Yeah I can” 

“Asshole” 

He smirks, sitting down in front of the windows yet again. I do the same, taking a deep breath and feeling up my throat. The paint is dried, a green handmark showing exactly how he held me. 

“For once, it’s not red” he whispers, paintbrush already in hand as he starts painting. 

“Oh, just wait, I’m gonna get you back” 

“I’d love to see you try”

[jesmalestiel]

Writers Guild Presents: As You Wish Chapter Six: Before the Beginning

@goodomensafterdark

Rating: T

Summary: Warlock rarely got sick, all illnesses passing him by as though he was wholly immune, but today he felt surprisingly ill. Since his parents are at work and Nanny is on her honeymoon it's up to his Nana Agnes to stay with him. Much more interested in video games than books, he is surprised to find himself enthralled in the book she has decided to read aloud.

—

Do you not know? True love is ineffable. Death cannot stop it, only delay it for a while.

A classic tale of true love, ineffability, adventure, and miracles. You might think you know the story, but there is more to this edition of The Princess Bride than meets the eye.

Chapter Five Excerpt:

“Gabriel wasn’t supposed to be King? What does that mean?” Warlock asked curiously, and got visibly more upset. “And why is Aziraphale still going along with the wedding? Why hasn’t the wedding planning stopped? She can’t marry Gabriel. She has to marry Crowley, I’m sure of it. After everything that they’ve done for each other it wouldn’t be fair!”

“Well, who says life is fair? Where is that written? Life isn’t always fair. It’s ineffable.”

“I’m telling you, you’re messing up the story, now get it right!” Warlock cried out passionately, his hands balled into fists.

“Do you want me to go on with this?” Agnes asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes.” Warlock replied moodily.

“Alright then. No more interruptions. I think you’ll like this part actually, it takes place some years earlier…”

Continue reading on AO3

Note: Not gonna lie, I'm a little nervous for this chapter, because it's the one where I throw the established canon of The Princess Bride COMPLETELY out the window. It's also quite a bit shorter than some of the other chapters, but hopefully the content makes up for it! I really want people to like this one.

Many thanks to @tinymoondrops @skullfragments @so-so-somebody, and Nate for being my cheerreading squad as I worked on this fic, and special thanks to @so-so-somebody for the AMAZING art of Aziraphale and Crowley as Buttercup and Westley.

[abizarreyodelingincident]

Shovel Love

Snow tickled the tip of his nose as Jason fumbled with his keys. His gloves were too thick for his pockets, and his grocery bags made any maneuvering unnecessarily complicated. He was not dropping the cereals on the sidewalk. Half of it was covered in melted slush that would instantly destroy the package. He’d never live it down. 

So, he might have had to bite on his gloves, ignore the taste of leather and keep an arm elevated to balance his bags, but he did get his keys out without accident. 

The triumph was short-lived though, as the hair on the back of his neck suddenly tingled. 

“What do you want?” Jason asked, not looking away from the door. 

There was the faintest sound of snow crunching behind him. 

“I came to give a warning,” Nightwing hissed, his voice low and dark, as threatening as anything Jason had ever heard. 

And he had heard a lot of threats from his big brother. The perils of tugging Batman’s cape. 

“You’re a bit late for that,” Jason scoffed, a corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. “Already had the Arrows and most of the Titans give me their speech weeks ago. What took you so long?”

The scowl on his brother’s face deepened. 

Nightwing was the type of man that worked three superhero shifts and still tried to hold a day job. He was always in movement, always everywhere he needed to be. It made him reliable and popular with multiple generations of heroes at this point. But it also meant he had no roots anywhere. He got gossip later than most, and he was not always in a position to make good on that intel right away. Multiple crises owing.  

This was probably the first free moment he had gotten since he had learned that Jason was in a relationship with Roy Harper. 

Understandable. But Jason didn’t really care for that excuse. 

“I was busy. Others told me they’d already seen you, but I still wanted to show up for Roy.”

This time, Jason did snort. Sure. Everyone wanted to be there for Roy. And he had not ended up friendless in rehab either. God, he hated them sometimes. 

A gloved fist struck the door right next to his head. 

Jason turned around. Nightwing boxed him against the door. He was shorter, sure, but that did nothing to lessen the actual threat in his stance. Jason had seen him take down behemoths like Bane or Croc without a scratch after all.  

“Enough,” Dick growled. 

It was also hard to ignore the fact that Dick had shown up in armor while Jason only wore a winter coat for protection. And a bag of groceries hardly compared to escrima sticks with the power of cattle prods. 

“I don’t care what game you think you’re playing-”

“Not a game,” Jason bit out, irritated despite his best efforts. 

“When you break Roy’s heart, I will make you regret toying with my friend for another one of your fucked up taunts.”

“Not everything is about you.”

It took skills to convey an eye roll behind a domino mask. Nightwing managed effortlessly. 

“Of course not.” His voice turned snide. “When is it never not about Jason Todd with you?”

“Not even gonna dignify that one. So, you gonna break me in half if I hurt Roy. Cool. Message received. Are you done?”

Wrong thing to say. His dismissive tone was obviously interpreted wrong, because Nightwing bristled. 

“If you think I won’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, ten out of ten, Dick. But like I said, you ain’t the first one to give that speech. I’ve already been threatened to be skewered, deafened, decapitated, frozen in the speedforce, drowned, pulverized, thrown to a hell dimension, etc. etc. with the promise that it would make what the Joker did to me seem tame.”

Nightwing did twitch then, but it was a small thing, and quickly buried away if it was ever there. Jason didn’t bother putting stock in it.

“I guess no one really threatened lobotomy if you want to go there. Wait, no, one of his psychic teammates did. Look, at this point, just say you’re gonna beat me to death with your bare hands and save us both the time.”

Nightwing’s fists clenched, and his skin paled another shade. 

It could be anger, horror, any number of things. Jason had no intention to decipher it. 

The scar on his neck was throbbing, like it wanted Jason to remember. Funny how that always happened around heroes. 

“I really don’t care what a bunch of hypocrites like you think of me, Dick. If you wanna break your moral codes on me, go for it, you wouldn’t be the first. Hell, it wouldn’t even be your first time either.”

The frown slipped for a second, replaced by surprise, by outrage. God, Nightwing was winding himself up again, and Jason just really wanted to go put this fucking carton of milk in the fridge before it went bad. 

“Night, Dick. Glare at me through the windows if you still want to be intimidating, but I’m done talking. You’ll kill me, message received. Now, fuck off.”

And he twisted his keys in, pushing the door open and slipping inside in an instant. 

He slammed the door closed behind himself, and he snorted when the doorknob immediately rattled. Didn’t open without a key to the building. Obviously, Nightwing could break in. He probably wouldn’t though. He’d said what he wanted to, and Dick had never wanted to speak to Jason longer than necessary. 

He would definitely be doing some surveillance tonight though. He would be on high alert, probably under the impression that now that the main player had shown up, Jason would be putting his diabolical plans into action. Damn. He should close the curtains first thing as he enters, but that would be just inviting Dick to bring in every friend he had to mount a ‘rescue’. 

Jason liked this apartment. They had picked it together. It had enough space for them, was in the right part of town to be close to action when they went out as vigilantes, didn’t cost both their arms to buy…  

It was in Star City, but nothing could be perfect. 

Jason climbed out the last of the stairs and played with the keys for a second before he entered his home. 

Roy dropped the arrowhead he’d been working on, and stood up from the dinner table.

“Jaybird!”

Roy had a tendency to light up whenever he saw someone he cared about. It didn’t matter if Jason was leaving for a black out ops that would take a week or two or if he was going on a walk, the second he was back, Roy’s smile went wide and the knots of tension in his body all went slack at the same time. 

It didn’t matter how many times Jason came back, Roy exuded relief every time. 

(Not a lot of people stayed for Roy.)

The grocery bags found their way to the kitchen counter. The carton of milk could wait. 

“Hey,” Jason said as he grabbed onto his partner’s hips, “missed me?” 

“Yup,” Roy chirped, right before he leaned forward and met Jason with a gentle kiss. 

For a second, all was right in the world. And because he was Jason Todd, that feeling truly only lasted a second. He wanted to abandon himself in his lover’s arms, those beautiful biceps that pulled incredibly powerful bows to nail insane targets from equally insane distances. Even if he did not deserve that kind of peace, Jason was too greedy not to want it. But he could already feel someone’s eyes on them. Huh. That really did fuck up the mood, didn’t it?

They parted. 

“Who was it this time?” Roy asked after a moment, his shoulders dropping in exhaustion. 

Jason offered the smallest smile. “Dear old Dickiebird. He’s probably watching us as we speak.”

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. He briefly closed his eyes, and muttered some absolutely filthy curses that would have made a sailor blush. Then, with a determined stride, he marched right up to their living room’s window. He made a show of scanning the night, then flipped off the figure perched on the rooftop opposite to theirs. 

Jason devolved into giggles. Giggles! Him! And in front of a witness too. It was a good thing no one would ever believe Roy that Jason was capable of anything other than snarls and sneers. 

The funniest part of all these threats was that all these paragons somehow thought Jason would still be alive after he lost the last person to ever care about him. Was he supposed to care if they chose to spit on his corpse or reduce it to ash? It’d only help make sure Jason would not come back again.

***

Nightwing’s visit was nothing out of the ordinary, besides the tardiness. Jason had a reputation. It pissed Roy off to no end how so many people would parade around their place now and offer him unconditional support in kicking Jason to the curb if needed. Jason honestly would have thought it was kind of sweet, if it was not disgustingly hypocritical. 

Roy had once been the black sheep of the hero community. 

But the blackest sheep of them all wore a Red Hood. 

Also, on occasion, an apron to cook. A cheesy, horny one that said ‘Kiss the cock’ with a cartoony rooster on the front. Roy always waggled his eyebrows at Jason when he wore it. What was he supposed to do? A man was weak. 

At least, the horny promises in those eyes usually waited after they had eaten whatever Jason had slaved over in his pots and pans. 

Tonight’s menu was a honey glazed salmon that had been priced just in that sweet spot of affordable on sale they always looked for. It did look good, if Jason said so himself. He poked at it with his knife, his mind on other things. He should not wait any longer. It was almost the twenty-fourth. Any later and it would hurt worse. 

He hated himself a bit more for it though. 

“Hey, Roy?” Jason said softly. 

Roy hummed lazily, blowing over the steaming piece of fish. “Jaybird? What is it?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to Queen’s for Christmas Dinner. ”

Roy froze. He stared, uncomprehending, his fork still suspended in the air with a piece of salmon, held in a tightly clenched hand. He stopped breathing. His eyes filled with an emotion that was so rare in him. 

Fear, in a way no army of mimes or evil robots or space dragons could ever evoke. 

“I got a lead on the trafficking ring,” Jason said. 

The shift was immediate. Whiplash even. Roy nodded, mind set. 

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Jason made a show of hesitating. The last thing he wanted was to pull his partner away from the people he loved. Especially when things had been so rough between them before. It would do no one any favor if Roy bailed on them now.  

“You should go see your family.”

“Jason,” Roy scoffed. 

“They wouldn’t be happy if I pulled you away from the holidays for work.”

A flash of fiery emotion burned through Roy’s voice. “So what? I should let you do this without backup because Ollie wouldn’t get into the Christmas Spirit otherwise?”

“We already scouted things. We don’t need to both be there to crash the operation. I’ll be on frequency. If I need the backup, I can call the rest of the birds. They’ll show up.”

They wouldn’t, because Jason would not tell them anything. But there was a slight possibility that they would have shown up if they knew the trafficking ring was legit and not a trap. 

“I don’t like this, Jaybird. We’re a team…”

“I’ll be fine. Nothing will happen to me. And it’s better this way. Do you really think the arrows wanted me polluting their dinner table? I can see Queen’s glare from here.”

“So you should be alone on Christmas instead,” Roy whispered miserably. “Jaybird… ”

Guilt started to gnaw at Jason’s bone, but he held firm. He wrapped his arms around his man and placed a light kiss on his cheek. 

“I’ll be okay, Roy. Not my first time. Trust me, you won’t miss anything busting up scum’s kneecaps. Okay, except maybe some catharsis, but we can do that any other time. Just go spend the time with your family. I’ll be there when you come back. What will you do with the gifts you’ve bought otherwise? Come on, Roy. You’ve been looking forward to that dinner for months.”

Which was exactly why Jason had timed everything to be unavailable at the last minute. He had taken the hints a while ago. He was not going to ruin things for Roy to impose on people that hated him. 

***

Jason did not react to the sound of their bedroom door slowly opening. 

He pretended not to hear Roy’s sharp intake of air, or his sigh of relief. They did not poke at each other’s open wounds. They’d never survive if they started acting like their families. For all Jason was the biggest stain on superhero society, that spot had once belonged to Roy. Blame was an insidious game. It snuck up on you. It made fathers throw their kids out in the street. So, they just didn’t. 

Jason pretended to stir only when the bed dipped, because it would be completely nonsensical for a bat not to notice. 

(Roy, of course, knew.)

(They knew a lot of things about each other that they never put into words.)

“Had fun?” he mumbled into his pillow. 

Roy pressed himself against Jason’s back, warm, almost feverish. His arms circled Jason’s waist, his nose tickled the middle of Jason’s back. Like he didn’t want to risk Jason seeing his face. 

“Yeah. You? Wiped out the whole operation?”

“Purged the whole thing. Got a bunch of kids to their parents, or the cops for those who lived out of town. ”

A faint tension seemed to fall into the room. 

Jason should not have said that. 

Roy’s body was trembling. 

“They put up a plate for Lian… ”

Oh, Roy. 

“Dinah gave a speech. It was…” Roy sniffed. “It was really pretty. Lian would have loved it. Everyone ended up crying. Fuck, I… I really would have given up everything for her to be there with us then. I… I would have wanted you there, Jaybird.”

Jason bit his lips, staring ahead at their bedroom wall. Anywhere but back.

“Sorry, Roy.”

Should he have gone anyway? In his guts, he knew it would have been a disaster. Everyone else would have been so pissed if he had witnessed their moment. He was well aware of what Queen thought of him. He’d hissed it to him once. 

Why in the name of all that was good was he the one that came back to life? 

Jokes on Queen, Jason had been having those thoughts long before he and Roy ever became an item. Before the whole of the hero community seemingly rallied behind Roy for once in their goddamned lives. 

As Robin, he had died under the impression that he had been loved. That he had been a good hero, and that he had had a better run than most kids in his circumstances would have. 

And then he had woken up in his own coffin. 

How many of them had told him he had wasted every opportunity to be welcomed back? 

To what? He’d thought about asking them again and again. To a father who had disowned him in death, turned him into a cautionary tale for the other sidekicks? To a community that had forgotten him? To a battle that featured all the same monsters, only bolstered by even more abominations like Professor Pyg? 

Jason had died thinking he had been loved, and some cruel cosmic force had decided to show him how wrong he had been. 

Batman had told him, between even more lectures, that it was natural that a father would be filled with righteous fury at the death of his son. That it was expected he’d try to retaliate. To kill his son’s killers. 

Funny that, right? But Jason had also forgotten how Bruce had claimed not to be Jason’s father. His fucking fault for getting it wrong. For letting himself believe. For giving Batman a second chance, one desperate chance to show Jason had not been just a fool to believe three years of partnership meant something. 

He had long stopped being annoyed whenever someone got his motives wrong. He had been screaming everything he wanted and needed and was trying to accomplish, and not one of them got it right. Half the bats thought he had tried to force Batman to kill the Joker, for fuck’s sake. 

(The irony of them thinking Bruce needed to be forced to kill someone made Jason’s scar ache.)

(The irony of them thinking he had only come back from the dead once .)

“Do you want to go see her tomorrow?” Jason asked. 

Roy nodded against his back, stifling another bout of sobbing. Tightening his grip as if he would drown without that touch. 

“We’ll buy her a bouquet of daffodils and white lilies.”

“And red carnations.”

“Yes. Those too.”

The keening sound Roy made threatened to rip Jason’s heart in two. He felt himself shudder, his insides growing cold as he placed his hands over Roy’s, as he leaned into his partner’s touch. 

“Roy, I’m here,” he whispered urgently.  

“Don’t leave me, Jaybird. Please, don’t leave me. I can’t lose anyone else. I’m sorry. I know they hate you, I keep telling them to knock it off, but they never listen. They told me again tonight. They keep saying it’s Jade all over again. It’s not. I know it’s not. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave.”

“I’m here,” he repeated. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, he managed to twist himself inside Roy’s dead grip, managed to turn around to face his partner in crime and in life.

“Everyone leaves. Even Kori,” Roy whispered, despair choking him.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m here. Roy, I’m here. I won’t leave and I won’t die. I love you.”

Roy gave him a kiss mixed with tears. “I love you.”

Jason was certain that more heroes would come out of the woodwork and posture at him eventually. They would threaten and reason and bargain and every other thing they could think of to protect Roy from Jason. 

But when he held Roy in his arms after another nightmare, another beautiful dream where Lian was alive, another listless night when his arms itched with cravings , Jason knew he would be there until the day Roy got sick of him.

Like everyone else. 

But not a moment sooner. 

[elderwisp]

My 𝐓𝐨𝐩 24 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 from 2024 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

I was tagged by @mikachusblog @aurorangen and @moonwoodhollow however I put together a recap earlier this month! Instead I'll pick about ten story moments I enjoyed from this year under the cut as well as a very special screenshot. I did want to make sure I tagged some people as well! :D

I tag: @acidheaddd @likelyamused @pink-chevalier @changingplumbob @salemssimblr

@matchalovertrait @lre333 @swiftviolets @sirianasims @lynzishell

1. January 8th: Kai shares a secret

⋆ This was a really fun flashback scene! We got to see Kai, Frances, Dan and Atlas in the earlier years of high school as well as learn that Kai has romantic feelings towards Atlas, who happens to be his first kiss! This is also where his arc officially begins in my mind!

2. March 6th: Taryn's skepticism

⋆ I remember being so proud of this scene because it was one of the first scenes I fully posed the conversation. I really enjoyed of Atlas and Taryn's mannerisms peaked through. I think this conversation while it focuses on a different subject, the nature of it shows their personalities. Taryn struggling with self confidence while Atlas's facade starts to unveil just a bit.

3. March 12th: Frances's solo

⋆ I was really proud of these poses as well as the shots. The shots of Icarus and Frances while romantic do say a lot about how each views each other. Your greatest heartbreak being how Frances feels and the deepest regret being how Icarus feels. For the cello poses, I did reference through watching performances but also real life so it was neat combining the two. I am excited for Frances's future in De Sol Valley especially when new faces are introduced to the cast. It might be similar to Atlas's prologue where Frances is the focus but just in a shorter interval.

4. March 9th: A rose and it's bumblebee

⋆ March was a good month. Maybe not for the characters, but a good month creatively for me ! I'm gonna sound so toxic but I love the tension between these two so much like hold out a bit longer please JUSTKIDDINGPFFTorami? anyways structuring taryn's monologue came out of order. the frames where she says "A stubbed toe. A scraped knee. A fall." came first. Everything else was built around those three sentences. The scene following that was fun to put together because Atlas really does struggle to apologize and take ownership over his fuck up that he tries to smooth things over by being charming but Taryn, getting more comfortable, shows her newfound skill of setting boundaries (courtesy of Atlas LMAO) and calls him out on the bullshit.

5. August 9th: Theo's official introduction

⋆ Much of Theo's life is hush hush as following after the WR arc we dive more into their lives but I do want to talk more about them. I liked following their life throughout the day and the general reclusiveness they have in a new city. Their only friend at the time is Gabriel and with no goals of going back to their old life, the only way forward is through. I will say, something about the city has a way of helping people find themselves.

6. August 8th: Of course I had to freaking include this scene

⋆ Gonna be so real right now but I was terrified to post this. Terrified. We see the chaos of Atlas's vices revealing a very important detail, one Rowan reminded us all and that is, Atlas seeks out trouble. The most curious and pressing part is why and how does it end? Any scene with Atlas is scary for me because he leaves a lot of subtle little hints but the extent of his nature is like slowly pulling off a band aid. Are people gonna like what's underneath? I'm never really sure but I do enjoy exploring his character quite a bit.

7. September 3rd: Ojitos lindos

⋆ First, I love Jules. Dude was literally supposed to only be in the one scene and... He wiggled himself into a handful. Second, was very proud of how the dance came out, with Taryn teasing Jules and Jules chasing every second of it until the kiss. OUGH! The little fiend in me blurred out "tu y yo" in the kiss scene to sorta symbolize Taryn beginning to move on from Atlas but as we see later, that was short lived. Taryn's monologue was the easiest to write and it comes from a person struggling with the bitter emotions of heartbreak.

8. October 8th: A formal introduction to Ares's life

⋆ Little lore drop but the Langs have been longtime characters of mine. In fact, longer than everyone else. Chase, Ares's father, was a main character of a youtube series I made long ago over the summers of my school days LMAO! So to revisit and restructure them as has been... WOW ! I wanted everyone to feel like they were a plant on a shelf observing the dynamics of specifically the women in Ares's life as well as the structure of his home. It felt subtle but good :)

9. October 18th: Kai's revelation

⋆ I think I have one more scene left for Kai's arc. I specifically wanted to focus on the concepts of jealousy, cognitive dissonance and religion coupled with Kai being a closeted man. I will say in the beginning, I did struggle to connect with this character. While some elements I can totally relate to, writing about it is different. Envy can be classified as an ugly feeling. It isn't palatable to most and is quickly shood away but because of that, we don't talk about it enough. So I wanted to go into this really humanizing this common emotion but not making it as some caricature of an emotion. I do love Kai's growth, I wanted to make sure he earned it and it sure feels like it.

10. November 23: The freaking arts festival

⋆ There's still like four-ish more posts to go. Those will be a bit less crash-out packed but I think it ends on a high note. There's a lot in these six posts. Some of it slightly nudging certain characters arcs, other parts deepening your knowledge of other oc's. I wanted to start out on the disappointment that Atlas faces seeing that the only person supporting him there is Daniela and how he copes in the only way he knows how. The arts festival is something he helped put together but it seems to be a reoccurring theme that any accomplishment he ever has is always overshadowed. It's always something. Each frame, every detail, to the dialogue in these two posts are intentional. The following scenes after that have some really cool conversations. I think the last post also has some unique dialogue as well but we'll pick back up on January 2nd! :)

Also a bonus! I wanted to show one of these first photos of Tessellate. It's no longer on my blog after the reboot but I wanted to show how much has changed in two years.

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material Ch 9 (Captain Price Fic) - The Set Up!

Chapter 1  Chapter 1 (Shorter Version) Chapter 2  Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 Chapter 10

@darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal(To the other’s who want me to tag you when there’s an update, just tell me at the comments) A/N: Hello, everyone! So, it seems the Captain has you right where he wants you. No matter how much you try to slip away, there’s no escaping him—he’s determined, and he will have you. 😉 This chapter might feel a little longer as I’ve focused on building up the chase and the tension between you two. But I promise, it’s worth it! If you’re feeling impatient, feel free to scroll ahead to when the Captain finally ‘captures’ you. 😏 LOL! Enjoy the ride, and let me know what you think! ❤️

The door creaked open, and in stepped the doctor, holding a clipboard with the results of Y/N's x-rays and scans. He gave her a once-over, then glanced at the paper before meeting her eyes.

"Alright, Ms. Y/N, good news. No concussion, your neck’s just a little twisted from the impact. Your arm, though—well, that’s definitely going to need some time to heal, but we can work with it." He made a note, looking at her bandaged face. "The cuts on your face will need some care, but nothing too serious. Just take some painkillers when you eat, and you should be good to go."

Y/N sighed in relief but winced at the sting of her injuries. She was just about to ask if she could leave without the next part when the doctor added, “Now, we need someone to sign for you to be discharged and for the medication prescription. I’m assuming your partner—” He paused, glancing at Price, who was still leaning against the bed, looking annoyingly perfect—“can handle that?”

Before Y/N could protest, Price was already nodding, a smirk playing on his lips. "Aye, I can do that," he replied smoothly, as though he’d been expecting it.

The doctor, clearly oblivious to the irritation bubbling up inside her, glanced between them with a raised eyebrow, then nodded and scribbled something down on his clipboard. “Great. I’ll get the paperwork ready. Just make sure she follows the painkiller instructions.”

Y/N glared at Price, her good arm crossed over her chest. “I swear, if you start acting like we’re actually a couple—”

Price shot her a quick, playful wink. “You’re gonna have to get used to it, love!”

The doctor left, and Y/N turned to look at Price, narrowing her eyes. “You’re unbearable,” she muttered.

Price leaned in closer, his voice lowering to something almost flirtatious. “You know you like it.”

Y/N groaned and rolled her eyes, but it was impossible to ignore the spark of something—embarrassment, frustration, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of... affection?

As the minutes dragged on, Y/N lay there, staring at the sterile ceiling, her mind racing but her body unable to do anything more than ache in protest. Price sat beside her, arms crossed, exuding a mix of concern and frustration, and it was clear to her that the tension between them was building. The hum of hospital activity around them did nothing to break the silence, only adding to the weight in the air. She could feel his eyes on her, practically searing through her skin, and she didn’t know if it was his gaze or the pain in her arm that was making her more uncomfortable.

Finally, Price broke the silence with an exasperated sigh. “You’ve got some bloody nerve, you know that? Running around like a madwoman, getting yourself hurt like that.”

Y/N turned her head towards him, raising an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement breaking through the discomfort. “Excuse me?”

He leaned forward, his voice low but filled with that trademark commanding tone she couldn’t escape. “The moment I found out... and then seeing all those bloody gifs from your colleagues flooding the chat... I knew I had to come see for myself. Make sure you weren’t in a body bag. All for what? A USB?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the guilt trying to creep in. “I wasn’t the one in the body bag, now was I?”

“No, but you nearly bloody were!” He shot back, his voice sharp with frustration. “You fought someone twice your size, for god’s sake. What the hell were you thinking? And that slap to your face—” He gestured toward the ugly bruise on her cheek. “That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, was it?”

Y/N winced at the reminder but quickly covered it with a snarky smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, should I have asked them to go easier on me? I had to do what I had to do, Price. That USB had information that would’ve blown the whole operation to pieces. If I didn’t keep it safe, we’d be looking at a lot more than a bruise on my face.”

Her tone shifted, just a touch of defiance in her voice. “I did what I had to do. And they fought the wrong bitch. Unfortunately for them, though, I’m too bloody good at what I do.”

Price scowled, his brows furrowing as he leaned in closer. “Don’t make it sound like it’s just another day at the office, Y/N. You’re not invincible. You can’t just take a hit and keep moving.” His voice softened slightly, but the intensity in his gaze remained. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Her eyes softened, a small, almost imperceptible smile pulling at her lips, but she wasn’t about to let him have the last word just yet. “What do you care? I’m an operator. It’s my job. It’s not like—”

She stopped, realizing she had said too much. But before she could backpedal, Price cut her off, his voice suddenly more serious.

“I care because, damn it, I don’t want to see you thrown around like that. You’re not just some bloody operator to me.”

The way he said it, with so much sincerity, made her heart stutter in her chest. His usual teasing edge was gone, replaced by something raw, something real. She didn’t know how to respond, how to fight back against the warmth creeping up her neck.

“John…” she whispered, her voice wavering slightly. She wanted to say something sarcastic, to brush off the strange flutter in her chest, but his steady gaze had her frozen. It was almost as if, for the first time, he was letting her see the concern behind the bravado.

“You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, haven’t you?” he said softly, almost to himself.

Y/N was silent for a moment, her pulse racing. She didn’t know what to say, how to make light of it, how to respond without revealing too much. Finally, she simply said, "You should probably stop before you start singing ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love’."

Price’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. But then his expression shifted—his gaze darkened, those piercing blue eyes locking onto hers with such intensity that her breath hitched. It was the look. The one that said more than words ever could.

Y/N felt her stomach flip, her heart racing faster than she could process. She tried to look away, but his stare held her captive, his blue eyes pulling her in like a magnet. The room seemed to shrink, the noise of the hospital fading into nothing as she became acutely aware of every inch of him sitting so close. She felt her face heat up, warmth spreading across her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Price…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She had to look away, had to break the spell he’d cast over her. But her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her eyes fluttered, and for the first time, she couldn’t find the right words to shield herself from the effect he had on her.

He leaned in just a little, his gaze never leaving hers. “What’s wrong, love?” he asked, his voice low, the teasing edge gone, replaced by something softer. Something that made her heart feel like it might burst out of her chest.

Y/N had never wanted to look away more in her life, but she couldn't. She swallowed hard, her mind spinning in a haze, cursing the fact that her face was no doubt as red as a tomato.

"Never mind," she muttered, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. She quickly turned her head, avoiding his intense gaze, though she could still feel the weight of it on her skin.

Her eyes darted to the side, desperate to find something—anything—to focus on other than him. But she swore she caught the smallest, most self-assured grin tugging at the corner of Price’s lips. It was as though he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and it made her feel utterly exposed.

She shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of how her pulse quickened every time she thought about his gaze. She didn’t know how to escape it, and for the first time, Y/N realized there was no hiding from the effect John Price had on her.

----------

Price insisted on driving her home, a suggestion that, under normal circumstances, Y/N might have entertained. But these weren’t normal circumstances. She was still too suspicious, too guarded to let him know where she lived. The last thing she needed was him showing up unannounced, and she wasn’t about to let him in on that little detail.

“I’m fine, Price,” she said quickly, sitting up a little straighter. “I’ll head to the unit’s base. My stuff’s there, and I’ve got work tomorrow. I’ll be better off just sleeping there for the night. You know, book in at camp, like we sometimes do.”

Price’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening in that way she knew all too well. “Book in? You sure about that? Something smells off.”

Y/N waved him off with a feigned nonchalance, trying her best to sound convincing. “I’m fine, seriously. No need to worry about me.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’ve got that ‘I’m trying to get away from you’ look on your face. What’s really going on?”

She met his eyes, her resolve firm. “Nothing’s going on. Just, you know, work stuff. Base. I'll go home tomorrow.”

Price just stared at her for a moment longer, then sighed, clearly giving in to whatever bizarre reasoning she had going on. “Fine. If you’re so determined, I’ll take you back to the base. But this isn’t over.”

“Great, thanks,” she muttered, trying to suppress a grin. She had won this round.

----------

Once they arrived at the unit’s base, Y/N made a swift exit, eager to put some space between herself and Price. She stepped out of the lift, onto her floor, and walked briskly down the hallway toward the unit’s office. Before she could make it inside, however, a loud chorus of voices stopped her in her tracks.

Her colleagues had clearly been waiting for her, and as she stepped into the room, they erupted into loud cheers and applause.

“Look who’s back! The turtle’s shell is tougher than we thought!” one of them called out with a wide grin, prompting an exaggerated cheer from the others.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Stop it, you lot. I didn’t ask for a bloody welcome back party.”

Another colleague, waving a mock trophy above his head, added, “Give it up for Y/N, the toughest of them all! No one’s messing with the turtle!”

Her teammates were practically in hysterics, and the teasing continued for several minutes before it finally died down. Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to keep her composure, but deep down, she couldn't help but feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. It was moments like this—surrounded by her quirky, loyal team—that made all the madness of the job worth it.

“Alright, alright,” she said with a raised hand in mock surrender, her grin impossible to hide.

As her colleagues finally began to disperse, she let out a deep breath, still chuckling at their ridiculous antics. But despite the laughter, her mind wandered back to her earlier encounter with Price—and how, for a brief moment, she almost didn’t mind the idea of him getting a little too close.

----------

Later that evening, Captain Price discovered the truth. Y/N wasn’t staying the night at the base as she had claimed. He saw her—half waddling, half hopping—onto the unit’s bus just as it was about to depart. It was meant to take staff to the nearby train station, a clear sign that she was heading home despite her earlier insistence.

The sight of her settling into a window seat on the crowded bus made him pause. Y/N, caught off guard, locked eyes with him through the glass. Her face froze in surprise for a split second before she quickly turned her head, pretending she hadn’t seen him. Her fingers fidgeted with the strap of her bag as she tried to appear indifferent.

Price stood there outside, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. He didn’t have to say a word; the weight of his stare said enough. Y/N could feel it pressing on her even as she resolutely avoided looking back.

Her only saving grace was that tomorrow was the weekend. She wouldn’t have to face him—or his inevitable questions—for at least two days. ----------

Y/N stretched lazily on her sofa, her stomach pleasantly full from her third takeout meal of the weekend. A collection of cartons cluttered her coffee table, evidence of her commitment to staying in. Wrapped in her coziest blanket, she scrolled idly through the endless void of streaming options, her mind blissfully blank—except for the persistent notifications on her phone.

Captain Price.

The messages had started Friday evening, a steady stream of charm, wit, and mild exasperation, each one left on read. Ignoring him had been easy at first, the kind of defiance that felt both amusing and oddly satisfying. But by Sunday, the guilt was beginning to creep in, as was the awareness that she was, perhaps, enjoying his attention a little too much.

Friday Evening Price: "Ah, so you are seeing these. Leaving me on read, are we? Cheeky. How about this: a quiet drink, no fuss. Just say the word, and I’ll pick the spot."

Saturday Morning Price: "Still not a peep from you. I’ll bet you’re curled up in bed, hiding under a duvet and feeling quite smug. Enjoy it while you can, love. I’m not that easy to ignore."

Saturday Lunchtime Price: "Alright, Y/N. What’s it going to be—coffee, tea, or something stronger? Whatever it is, my treat. Unless, of course, you’ve decided to make ghosting me your weekend hobby."

Saturday Evening Price: "You’ve got a talent for this, I’ll give you that. Leaving me on read again. What’s the matter, too shy to say no? Let me make it easy for you—just meet me for a bite. No questions, no pressure. Don’t let me starve alone, eh?"

She chuckled softly at that one, but still didn’t respond. Her takeaway had arrived moments later, and her commitment to laziness outweighed any inclination to text back.

Sunday Morning Price: "You’re relentless, aren’t you? Can’t even send me a cheeky little ‘no thanks.’ Fine, I’ll play your game. But if you’re still hiding come midday, don’t think I won’t find out where that flat of yours is."

Her eyes lingered on that one a little longer, her lips twitching into a smirk. She shook her head and set her phone aside. He was bluffing. Probably.

Sunday Lunchtime Price: "Alright, love, this is getting predictable now. Another takeaway, is it? No shame in admitting you’ve run out of ideas. Let me take you somewhere. I promise I won’t bite… unless you ask."

Her laughter bubbled up unbidden as she read the latest message, a part of her almost tempted to respond. But the lure of her blanket and the promise of another nap won out. She placed her phone face down and curled up, thinking smugly that he’d give up eventually.

But then, her phone buzzed again. This time, something about it made her pause. She reached for it hesitantly, her heart skipping a beat as she unlocked the screen.

"You’ve got a wicked streak, leaving me hanging like this. But fair warning, Y/N—I’m even more wicked when I’m crossed."

A moment later, another message buzzed in.

"Monday’s coming, love. You think you’ve won this little game of hide and seek, but let me tell you exactly how it’ll play out. First, I’ll find you the second you walk into the office. Don’t bother looking for an escape—I’ll already be there, waiting."

"And when I do, you’ll have to face me, love. Every glance you’ve been dodging, every word you’ve ignored—it’s all catching up to you. I’ll stand so close you’ll feel my breath against your ear, hear every word I’ve been saving just for you."

"I’ll tell you how much I’ve enjoyed watching you test me all weekend, how much I’ve been looking forward to seeing that pretty face go red when you realize you’ve pushed me too far. And then, Y/N, I’ll make sure you know exactly what happens when you leave me on read again. Ignoring me wasn’t the safer option, was it?"

Y/N’s hand froze mid-swipe on her phone, her heart thudding against her ribs. She could practically feel the heat of his gaze through the screen. The words lingered like a challenge, daring her to respond, but instead, her thoughts raced.

Monday loomed ahead, and with it came the inevitability of seeing Price. If he caught her, there’d be no way to avoid the fallout. The office teasing would go from lighthearted to unbearable in an instant. After all, they were already buzzing with rumors that Captain Price fancied her. The jokes and side-eyes were one thing, but if she gave him an inch, it could spiral into something far worse.

Unprofessional. Embarrassing. Impossible to ignore.

She reminded herself that this wasn’t forever. Just one more week. One week of keeping her head down, playing cordial when necessary, and dodging Price’s relentless pursuit. When her reservist period ended, she could vanish—no awkward confrontations, no more tension.

With that plan in mind, she took a deep breath, determined to defuse the situation. Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, finally drafting a reply she hoped would put him off—without fanning the flames.

"I’m sorry, Captain, for the late response. My dominant hand is the one injured, and I can’t really type easily," she typed, knowing it wasn’t entirely a lie. Her arm had been hurt during the operation and again when she got hit by the police van. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

She hesitated before adding, "As for drinks and dinner, sorry—I’m not feeling well. The painkillers and meds are making me drowsy." Another half-truth.

Satisfied, she hit send, her heart still pounding as the message delivered.

A few minutes after sending the message, her phone buzzed again—this time, a call. She wasn’t even surprised. Of course, it was the Captain.

Y/N stared at the screen, debating whether to answer. She had already crafted the perfect excuse in her message; surely that should have been enough. But the insistent ringing told her otherwise. With a sigh of resignation, she tapped the screen, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hello, Captain,” she said softly, infusing her voice with just enough weariness to sell her excuse. She wasn’t feeling her best, that much was true, but she leaned into the sluggish tone, exaggerating it just a touch.

His deep voice cut through, warm and laced with concern. “You don’t sound well, love. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I didn’t want to trouble anyone,” she replied carefully, keeping her tone neutral. “It’s nothing serious, just the meds making me tired.”

“Still, you should’ve let someone know. You’ve been through the wringer; no one would’ve blamed you for taking it easy.”

She hummed faintly, feigning drowsiness. “I’ll be fine, Captain. Just need to rest.”

There was a pause, long enough to make her glance at the screen to check if the call had dropped. But then his voice came through again, low and insistent. “If you need anything—and I mean anything—you let me know. Don’t go toughing it out on your own.”

“Of course,” she replied, her tone measured. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Get some rest,” he added, the warmth in his voice undeniable. “And Y/N... don’t think for a second I’ll let you off the hook for dodging me all weekend.”

She smiled faintly despite herself. “Goodnight, Captain.”

“Goodnight, love.”

She ended the call, sinking back into her sofa with a quiet exhale. Neutral or not, conversations with Captain Price always left her feeling like she’d just walked a tightrope.

---------

And so, Monday arrived. Y/N was officially excused from the drills due to her injuries, leaving her with more downtime than she cared for. By the afternoon, she had retreated to the rooftop, seeking a quiet moment to herself. The crisp air and the hum of distant activity below offered a brief reprieve.

She wasn’t startled by the sound of footsteps approaching or the creak of the rooftop door swinging open. She didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

John Price.

The Captain strode toward her with the same calm, unshakable confidence he carried everywhere, his boots crunching softly on the rooftop gravel. His eyes locked onto hers, steady and intense, as he stopped just a few feet away.

“You know,” he began, his voice low, tinged with amusement, “I’d say you put up a good fight this whole time. But technically... you lost.”

Y/N sighed, her fingers momentarily clenching into fists at her sides. Of course. That deal. That ridiculous deal. If he outscored her in the drills, she’d agree to a date. Now, with her injuries keeping her sidelined, she hadn’t even had a chance to compete.

“That’s not exactly fair,” she shot back, leaning into her chair, throwing him a half-hearted glare. “I couldn’t even join the drills. Doesn’t exactly feel like a win for you.”

Price tilted his head slightly, a teasing smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Rules are rules, love. No score from you means my score wins by default. Doesn’t seem like a problem for me.”

She exhaled a quiet laugh through her nose, frustration mixing with reluctant amusement. “So, what? You’re here to rub it in?”

“Not my style,” he replied smoothly, though the glint in his eye said otherwise. He took a step closer, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m here to collect. You owe me a date. After your reservist period, of course. I’ll give you time to prepare yourself.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, caught between irritation and something else she wasn’t ready to admit. “Fine. After the reservist,” she replied finally, her voice firm, though her lips betrayed a faint, reluctant smirk.

Price grinned back, triumphant but impossibly charming. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Her lips twitched as though she might scowl, but she kept her composure. Instead, she turned her gaze back toward the horizon, letting his words linger in the air.

Keep cordial, her inner voice urged. Make it look like you gave up. Just until the reservist period.

----------

Throughout the week, Y/N kept things cordial with Captain Price, her responses measured and her expression neutral. She made sure to maintain a distance, neither too distant nor too familiar. Her usual sharp edge was subdued, but she wasn’t about to let herself get too comfortable, not with the promise of a date hanging over her head.

On the final day of her reservist period, Y/N made her rounds, bidding her chief and colleagues farewell. She offered a polite smile, keeping it brief. "See you all for the next round," she said, her voice calm and steady. She’d done what she came for—no more, no less.

She surrendered her building pass, her movements slow and deliberate, the weight of the week pressing heavily on her shoulders. Her mind was already elsewhere, focused on the quiet evening ahead. The plan was simple: order a ride from the app, go home, and finally take a moment to breathe.

But as she walked toward the gate entrance, her steps faltered. There, leaning casually against his vehicle, was John Price. Arms crossed, his expression unreadable, his posture relaxed but commanding all the same. The sight of him made her heart skip an unexpected beat.

She hadn’t expected him to be there, not like this, not after the deal had been made. She stopped a few paces away, the weight of the evening, the past week, settling into her chest.

Y/N schooled her expression into neutrality, masking the flicker of surprise that threatened to surface. She came to a stop a few paces away, meeting his steady gaze without wavering.

“Captain,” she said evenly, her tone as measured as her face. “What are you doing here?”

Price straightened slightly, his arms uncrossing as he pushed off the vehicle with an easy grace. His hands slid into his pockets, his demeanor as unhurried as ever. “Thought I’d drive you home,” he replied, his voice calm but laced with a teasing undertone. “Get you comfy, send you off proper.”

Her brows lifted, skepticism flickering across her features before she quickly subdued it. “I thought we had plans for the weekend,” she countered, tilting her head. “Isn’t that what you’re waiting for?”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, the faintest hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. “We do,” he confirmed, his voice low and deliberate. “But I figured tonight’s about seeing you off, not keeping you waiting. Besides,” he added, stepping closer, “I wanted to make sure you didn’t disappear on me.”

Y/N held her ground, her gaze steady despite the subtle tightening of her grip on her bag. “I gave you my word,” she said simply. “I’m not backing out.”

Price’s grin widened slightly, his head dipping in acknowledgment. “Good,” he murmured, his tone carrying the weight of certainty. “Then let me take care of you tonight. Call it a preview of what’s to come.”

She sighed softly, shifting her weight but making no move to walk past him. “I can handle getting home on my own, you know.”

Y/N sighed softly, her voice steady despite the weariness weighing on her words. “Captain, we’re already seeing each other this weekend. Can’t that be enough?” She straightened her posture slightly, trying to inject just enough firmness into her tone. “I’m tired. I’d really like some space tonight. Besides, I’ve already booked a ride—it’ll be here any minute to take me home.”

Price tilted his head, his lips quirking into that infuriatingly knowing smirk. “Booked a ride, huh?” he drawled, his tone edged with playful suspicion. “Sounds a bit fishy to me.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she let out a quiet, deliberately exasperated sigh, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Fishy? Really?” she asked, her voice drowsy, tired, as if the conversation itself was draining her. “What could possibly be fishy, Captain? You’ve already got me cornered, don’t you? What else is there?”

For a moment, he didn’t reply. Instead, he looked at her, his cerulean blue eyes piercing and unyielding. The intensity of his gaze felt like it could strip away every layer she’d carefully constructed, leaving her flustered and raw. Y/N could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, her throat tightening slightly as she swallowed hard. She considered looking away but found herself unable to break the moment. Against all odds, she held his gaze, her breath catching in her chest.

Her heart raced, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was from the exhaustion or the way his stare seemed to unravel her with disarming ease. It was as if the entire world had narrowed to just the two of them, the quiet tension filling the air like a tangible presence.

Just then, the sound of a car pulling up shattered the spell. Y/N blinked, the moment breaking as her ride arrived, offering a welcome distraction. Price glanced toward the vehicle, his smirk softening into something less teasing, more gentlemanly. Without a word, he stepped forward, pulling the door open for her with effortless grace.

Y/N murmured a quiet thanks, slipping into the car with relief as her pulse began to steady once more.

----------

Saturday arrived, and much to Price’s chagrin, his suspicions were confirmed—she had ghosted him. His messages went unanswered, his calls ignored, and every attempt to reach her was met with the cold reality of being left on read. At first, he tried to rationalize it. She was recovering, after all—injuries from the last operation and being hit by a van weren’t minor. Surely, she just needed time to herself.

But the nagging doubt refused to be silenced. Something didn’t sit right. Price wasn’t one to let things slide easily, especially not when it came to her. Eventually, suspicion got the better of him. He picked up the phone and called Gaz.

“Check on her, mate,” Price said, his tone firm but edged with an undercurrent of frustration. “See if she’s alright or if she’s just... dodging me.”

Gaz, ever loyal, agreed with a chuckle and promised to get back to him.

When Gaz finally called back, his voice carried that unmistakable tone of amusement. “Price,” he began, clearly holding back a laugh, “I hate to break it to you, but it looks like Y/N’s ghosting you. She’s fine. Healthy, alive, and very capable of responding—injuries or not. She’s just… apparently not interested in answering you.”

Price groaned, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. Gaz's teasing on the other end only made it worse. “You’re really going to let her play you like that, Captain?”

Price shot back, trying to suppress his irritation, “I’m not letting her play me. I just need to get her attention.”

Gaz’s voice was laced with amusement as he responded, “Need some help, Captain? You want me to help smoke her out, get her to show her hand?”

Price paused, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. The idea wasn’t half bad. He might’ve preferred a more subtle approach, but if it came to coaxing her out of whatever funk she was in, he’d take any route that worked.

“Yeah,” Price muttered after a beat. “Smoke her out. Let’s see if we can get her to respond.”

Gaz chuckled. “Roger that, Captain. I’ll keep you posted.”

----------

A day later, Gaz messaged Y/N, inviting her out for another meal at the grill house. “Fresh out of reservist, thought you’d fancy a proper catch-up with the team,” he wrote, his tone lighthearted and familiar.

Y/N hesitated before responding. “I really can’t go out right now,” she explained. “Still healing from the injuries. Maybe once I’m fully healed up, I’ll join you guys again. Heck, I can’t even use my dominant arm to put on makeup or cover the scars on my face.”

Gaz read the message and nodded to himself, respecting her honesty. “Fair enough,” he replied. “Rest up. We’ll catch up when you’re back to full strength.”

The days turned into weeks. With time, Y/N began to recover, though it was a gradual process. The bruising faded within a month, and while her broken arm and leg required more time—closer to 8-10 weeks for proper healing—she was at least mobile again, albeit cautiously. By then, she could sense the weight of her inactivity lifting, her focus shifting toward regaining her full independence.

----------

Y/N opened her phone and checked the group chat, where one of her friends had organized a dinner at a sleek, smart-casual bar for the upcoming Friday night. It sounded like the perfect opportunity to get out, and nearly everyone would be there, including Gaz.

She typed a quick reply, “That sounds perfect. I have something scheduled that day, but I’ll be able to catch up with all of you afterward. I’ll be looking presentable enough after my meeting with the gallery curator. It’s a nice bonus that the bar is smart-casual, so I won’t have to worry about changing. I’m almost back to normal now—my arm’s almost fully functional, and I can walk without wobbling.”

The chat quickly filled with confirmation messages. It was settled—the group would meet on Friday night. Some of her friends couldn’t make it as they were deployed or on duty, but a good portion would be there, and Gaz would be joining them as well.

The meeting with the curator was later that day, and it went better than she’d hoped. He loved her work and was eager to feature her pieces in an upcoming exhibit. The only thing left was to wait for the official paperwork to sign once the contract was finalized.

After the meeting wrapped up successfully, Y/N headed to the bar. It was sleek and modern, exactly the kind of place where she could unwind after a busy day. When she walked in, the warm glow of the bar greeted her, and she quickly spotted her friends gathered around a large table. They greeted her with cheers and hugs, their laughter blending easily with the soft buzz of the place.

The table was filled with canapés, finger foods, and cocktails, everyone sharing bites and chatting comfortably. It was mostly her close lady friends, with Gaz as the only guy in the group. Some of the others couldn’t make it due to duty or deployment, but it didn’t dampen the mood. Y/N smiled as she settled in, feeling a wave of contentment as she finally had a moment to relax and enjoy the evening

As the evening wore on, more drinks and food made their rounds, fueling laughter and stories that bounced from one person to the next. The atmosphere was light, filled with the easy camaraderie of good friends catching up. Y/N, feeling the effects of the drinks and the good time, excused herself to the restroom, tossing a playful request to one of her friends. "Watch my bag for me, yeah?"

She returned moments later, her steps quick as she anticipated diving back into the fun. But as she approached the table, her brow furrowed in confusion. The table where her friends had been sitting was now empty. All the glasses and platters of finger foods that had once littered the surface were completely cleared away. Her eyes scanned the bar, only to find that everyone had vanished—everyone, including Gaz.

"What the hell?" she muttered to herself, half-expecting to find some sort of mix-up. Had they really just gotten up and left without a word? Why would they do that? It felt... off. Her eyes darted around the room, but there was no sign of her friends. No lingering goodbyes, no explanations.

And then, she spotted him.

Sitting where she had been just moments ago, as if he'd always been part of the scene, was none other than John Price. He was dressed in smart casual—fitting the ambiance of the evening, but with that added flair of his usual commanding presence. Arms crossed over his chest, he looked at her with that infuriatingly smug, victorious grin that always managed to make her feel like she’d lost some sort of battle.

This must be why everyone disappeared. A setup. A setup by John and Gaz.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of her Chanel bag resting comfortably on his lap. The bag, the one she'd inherited, and more importantly, the one that contained her essentials—her phone, her wallet, her cards, tissues, and yes, even her meds—lay there in his hands, as if it was a trophy.

She blinked, then stepped closer, feeling her lips twitch into a mix of disbelief and irritation. “Are you kidding me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

Price didn’t even flinch. He just leaned back slightly, clearly amused at the scene unfolding before him, and tossed a cheeky glance toward her. "You took too long," he said smoothly, his voice low and teasing. "Figured I’d make myself comfortable while I waited."

His blue eyes scanned her, taking in every detail from head to toe before returning to her face. A playful grin tugged at his lips. "You look stunning," he said, his voice smooth. "Didn't know there was this side of you—besides the muddy aprons, overalls, and tactical uniforms. Not that you weren't beautiful then, but... there's something about you when you're all put together."

She stood before him, dressed in an off-shoulder navy blue midi dress that elegantly flowed to mid-calf. The neckline revealed her collarbone and her petite, delicate shoulders—features that had him fighting the urge to lean in closer. The sleeves of the dress were slightly puffed at the shoulders, tapering down to fitted cuffs at her wrists, adding just the right touch of drama to her polished look.

On her feet, a pair of navy blue velvet pumps completed the ensemble, elongating her legs and accentuating her graceful posture.

Her makeup was understated yet stunning, enhancing her natural beauty. Her well-groomed eyebrows framed her eyes perfectly, while a subtle smoky eyeshadow with neutral tones made her gaze captivating. A thin line of eyeliner defined her upper lash line, complemented by mascara-coated lashes that gave her eyes a soft, smoldering depth. A rosy blush brought warmth to her cheeks, while a bold satin mauve lipstick drew attention to her lips.

Her jewelry was minimal yet refined—a pair of gold hoop earrings added a hint of sophistication, while a delicate gold necklace with an intricate blue-eye gem pendant rested lightly against her collarbone, catching the light with every slight movement.

Her hair was styled in long, loose waves that cascaded down her shoulders and back. The soft, voluminous texture of her hair, parted in the middle, framed her face beautifully, striking the perfect balance between elegance and effortlessness.

John’s gaze lingered a moment longer, his appreciative smile deepening.

She exhaled an exasperated sigh, stepping forward with determination as she reached for her bag. Yet, his long arms moved swiftly, keeping it just out of her grasp. Her frustration mounted, but before she could protest further, his other hand slid around her waist in one fluid motion, pulling her close. Her breath hitched as his head came to rest lightly against her stomach, his blue eyes gleaming with playful defiance as he looked up at her.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, her pulse quickening at the sudden closeness. His hold was steady—not forceful, but firm enough to leave no doubt she wasn’t going anywhere. The smirk tugging at his lips was maddening, and the noise of the room seemed to fade, leaving only the charged space between them.

To anyone glancing their way, anyone who might have seen them at that moment would have easily assumed they were a couple.

"Give back my bag, Captain..." she murmured, her tone a mix of frustration and amusement.

His reply came without hesitation, the timbre of his voice dropping low enough to make her shiver. "No," he said, his grin widening. "How about we strike a deal instead? You owe me for ghosting me, and now..." He paused, letting his words linger between them. "You're going to make it up to me."

She let out an exasperated sigh, though the telltale flush creeping up her cheeks didn’t escape John’s sharp eyes.

“Could you let me go?” she asked, her voice betraying a mix of frustration and embarrassment.

He didn’t budge. Instead, he shifted, turning his body fully toward her. Seated as he was, he wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist, trapping her against him. Her hips now pressed lightly against his chest, and he looked up at her with a gaze so intent it made her pulse falter.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with challenge.

She crossed her arms defiantly and turned her head away, refusing to meet his smoldering blue eyes. “What are you playing at?” she muttered.

His smirk deepened. “I’ll tell you what. Keep this up, and I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”

Her head snapped back toward him, eyes narrowing. “You’re a neanderthal!! Oh, You wouldn’t dare!!”

“Try me,” he said, his tone casual but laced with intent.

She stared at him, weighing her options. The sheer audacity of him left her fuming, but the steady determination in his expression left no room for doubt. He would absolutely do it.

For the sake of her dignity—and her reputation—she sighed in defeat. “Fine,” she muttered, her tone laced with reluctant surrender.

John’s victorious grin was infuriating, but she couldn’t deny the spark of heat that danced in her chest. Once again, Captain John Price had won.

John rose from his seat, and her eyes widened as she was suddenly reminded of just how tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing he was. Even in her heels, she barely came up to his chest. The sheer presence of him made her feel small in a way that was both frustrating and... a little disarming.

A slow smile spread across his face as he reached for her hand, his fingers naturally intertwining with hers. She noticed, with some irritation, that he was still holding her bag by the straps in his other hand—clearly not planning to return it anytime soon.

“Uhmm... wait,” she blurted, gesturing vaguely toward the bar. “I need to pay for everything.”

John’s smile widened, his voice calm and reassuring. “Don’t worry about it. Your friends took care of it. They send their compliments... and their best wishes for you to enjoy your time with me.”

Her lips parted in disbelief, and she let out an exasperated groan, her head tilting back slightly. “Ugh, of course they did,” she muttered, the realization sinking in that her friends had been part of this elaborate setup all along.

A/N: And now... the Captain has finally CAUGHT YOU! No more running, no more escaping—you're in his hands now. 😏 So, what happens next when you're completely at his mercy? Get ready for some intense and seductive moments to come... because John Price is about to seduce the hell out of you. Trust me, it’s only just beginning. 😉 Enjoy the ride, and don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Edit: Here is the next chapter------->

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about the way ghost doesn't hesitate to start killing shadows when graves betrays them but soap only takes one hostage

you can almost hear the voice in his head telling him it doesn't have to be this way; they can still talk it out

"i'm calling shepherd"

his first instinct when confronted with betrayal is to play it by the books: to go up the chain. that goes against everything we've seen him do. he bucks authority at every chance except for the one time he's confronted with the barrels of his allies' guns

he wants a peaceful resolution; for the first time we've ever seen, he doesn't want violence to be the answer. there has to be another fix, a solution that doesn't end with him killing the same men he's been working with; his friends

nothing's happened yet

it doesn't have to go this way

but ghost has been betrayed before. he knows the way this ends; either with him six feet under or his enemy

he doesn't hesitate

it's only when they knock alejandro out that soap shoots; when they spill the first blood and cross a line they can never come back from

only when ghost orders him to run and he has to cover his retreat

and somewhere along the line, between civilians’ screams and taunting voices, between his shaking breath and ghost steady in his ear, that naivety is stripped away; his trust turned to teeth that he uses to sink into throats of men he'd have given his life for

"be careful who you trust, sergeant; people you know can hurt you the most"

he's learned the price of trust

just like ghost did

but unlike ghost, he has someone to guide him through the aftermath

"good advice, It"

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[naturecalls111]

[remxedmoon]

You should tell us about color psychology that sounds cool as hell

YES… HA HA HA… YES!

GGGOD I WISH I WASN’T OUT OF THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW. but i’ve been thinking about colors literally all day so you all get to be subject to my madness! sorry this is long and rambly wauaua. nightmarishly long post under the cut.

okay. first things first, a few basics. color theory and color psychology tend to get confused a lot in discussions, but they usually refer to different things. color theory is more about we physically perceive colors (color wheels and color schemes the like), while color psychology focuses on our emotional response to colors. if you’re familiar with the children’s hospital color theory post, that poster wasn’t actually talking about color theory, but color psychology (and also it’s incredibly surface level and heavily misunderstands the subject because in what fucking universe does the quantity of positive associations with a color matter more than the context it’s used in and sorry i have personal beef with this tumblr post).

color theory is also a special interest of mine but i’m not gonna touch on it too much here because it’s not entirely important. mmmaybe another time…

essentially, certain colors (and color combinations) have associations in our brains and that affect our behavior and emotions. these associations are also very much affected by the context a color is used in. colors don’t exist in a vacuum! so while red can symbolize passion and love when used in something like a dress or a bouquet of flowers, it has a very different connotation when it’s, say, splattered on the walls or smeared on the ground in a snail trail.

or for a less Children’s Hospital Themed example, i’ll put my euphrasie and king designs here!

(of course the saturation and brightness of these blues play a massive part in how they’re perceived but this is not a post about color theory this is n)

and, of course, combining colors in a piece can also change their meanings!! i’m about to get real fucking normal.

i’m gonna be focusing on the color combo of red and yellow here because it’s the one that’s most relevant to my art (and also it’s really interesting.) basically, seeing these two colors together activates the part of our brain that controls our appetite, making us actually feel hungry. this is why so many food companies use red and yellow in their branding! it’s neat stuff!!

also, if you’re familiar with it, this is why the mv for butcher vanity uses this color palette!! along with red’s general associations with danger and blood, the color combo also physically induces hunger. pretty fitting for a song about cannibalism!

(there is also red’s association with lust and passion and how that intersects with the double meaning in the lyrics but i cannot derail this post into being an analysis of butcher vanity i’m sorry. we’d be here all week. maybe another day... wipes a tear from my eye)

and i think this might be the reason why some people feel hungry when they see my art, even when i’m not drawing food. while i don’t tend to use red outright, most of my art has very warm undertones (red-oranges and yellows especially), which could be activating that hunger response??

(ah fuck color theory managed to weasel its way into this post again)

admittedly this part is just speculation on my end. i think my rendering style and Shapes also play a role in it, but it’s interesting for me to think about!!

this is only scratching the surface of how complicated colors can get. i was going to go on an entire tangent about color grading and how green lighting can make a scene feel unnerving but this post is already Too Fucking Long. aaaa super sorry if this is Rambly or hard to understand!! i’m not Entirely sure how much the average person knows about color theory and psychology so if there’s any confusing terms here i’m fine with adding stuff for clarity!

wauauuaa thank you so much for asking!!!! i love talking about colors.

tl;dr colors have a bunch of different emotions and meanings tied to them, but you’ve gotta pay attention to the context in which it’s being used. so maybe take a step back before you put that thick red trail on the floor of your children’s hospital.

[bluuscreen]

oh yeah. full drawing of the masters outfit from the first part of my lil fic series since i never actually drew it in full

[bluebutlikenotalways]

We shall try again, now with bonus doodles!

And go read this fic. This isn’t a scene in it, but character design is from the au.

Look at them go

If you saw this before I’m sorry you’re seeing it again, here’s some bonus stuff!!

Base from

go read the original comic pls it’s funny

[mandalora]

There’s this vision I have and I’m manifesting it

[sollucets]

favorite characters x favorite color: yok