#Don´t let them fool you

[pricetagged]

fool's gold (pyrite)

Got inspired by gougie's executioner asks and cloth's egging hehe 💖 have some pirate au simon breeding kink~

Content: 18+; breeding kink; dubious consent*; mean Simon; pirates; captured-by-the-crown reader; barest implication of potential soap/reader and future ghoap/reader; POV shift

*in a 'get out of jail' way, so take that how you will.

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It fluttered in your stomach. A nebulous, squirming little thing.

Not the baby, no. The lie.

You felt it, restless and hot. Kicking your ribs from the inside. It made you flushed, it made you sick-

It bought you at least another few weeks to slip the noose, to slide away in borrowed shoes meant to dance a gallows' jig. Maybe it would buy you more, if the stress held back your monthly the way it often did on the ship. Great, long stretches of time with too much work and not enough food.

You wore the lie like you wore your borrowed clothes, a too-tight bodice and heavy skirts. Impractical, sweet. Modest. A poor little dear caught up and brought low. Fallen woman, sunken to the depths before the law fished her out. 

Your thighs stuck together, warm and bare under the skirts. It was sweltering, damp. Clammy in the cell with its stagnant air and earthy, unfinished floors. The wood of your bench –and bedcot–was warped with age, woodlouse burrowed deep into the pulpy grooves. It was enough to make you shudder, sweat dripping down your spine until it soaked into the cotton of your shift.

It did little to cool you.

Nine months aboard The Watcher had spoiled you, coarse rope and sharp, sea air warping you into something new. Something wilder. It was hardtack and hard work, yes. But it was freedom. To toil under a flag of your choosing, to trust the waves and the Captain to take you to new ports and newer treasures–

You'd left your papa's place with little more than ill-fitting breeches and a pocketed purse. You'd passed the scars on your hands and the patches on your shirt as evidence of experience – hardy little stowaway, aren't ye–. The morals didn't bother you the way stolen scraps didn't bother a dog. Street rat or ship rat; at least this way you could put miles between you and your father. Nautical miles, bobbing away with the wood of the ship's log. You watched it often, knots of rope and grains of sand. Hourglass and paper in hand while you stood on the stern.

It was you who first spotted the English Man O'War, sluicing through waves with colours hoisted high. Three gun-decks, at least, and coming into port.

"–plead the belly–it'll spare ye the choppin' block. Might even get lucky and be sent t' the reformatory– ah heard they do that f'r expectant mothers–" you couldn't quite hear him over the ringing of the cannons and the ringing in your ears.  "–plead the belly, and I'll try tae come back for y–"

They echoed now in your sweltering cell, suspended in the humidity. The boatswain's last words before he was violently wrestled away.

You remembered him as you counted the bars of your cage. Iron-wrought and cruel. As cruel as the chain tethering you to the wall, cold metal biting into your bare ankle.

'–I've got the keys, girlie, if you want freein' from it. Don' have to sit against that wall, all shy. C'mere an' I'll make you a deal–'

You stayed silent, stone-faced. Weathered the taunts and jeers of your gaolers like a battered old rock. The guards took it as arrogance, the other prisoners took it as invite.

The priest took it as shame.

You let them all believe it, lips pressed tight lest you let loose sobs–giggles–something– as days passed and your sentencing drew closer.

You'd heard about him before you saw him. The Ghost. The last face you'd see before facing the faceless. The pitch-black eyes that would watch as you jigged to the jeers of the crowd.

It was the last face you'd see and it was only a mask. More macabre than the usual executioner's hood– a skull motif, bleach-white bones and empty sockets. A nasty minikin mockery of the reaper. It was gristly; it was sick.

But so was he.

A butcher, some said. Fingers caked in blood no matter to which job he attended. A pirate, according to others. One pressed into service, earning his freedom by sending others to the pits. 

And now you heard him for real.

The low, resonant whistle. The heavy tread of his boots.

It had you curling your fingers into your palms, nautical superstitions and fishwives' tales nipping at you like fleas.

–quit yer whistlin', you'll anger the winds and summon a storm–

                                                 –it's good luck, don't worry. It'll make the winds blow strong and steady, you'll see–

–I wouldn't do that if I were you. Cap'n'll think it's code between mutineers–

                                                                                                                                    –taboo–

The whistling stopped, a cheery solitary note wavering in the air before silence. Even the gaoler's dog had scarpered off, keys jingling around its neck until you couldn't even hear the echo.

A gravel-rough voice cut through the swirling tempest of your mind.

"Was told 'got a pregnant little birdie caught in the cage."

That pulled you from your reverie, neck-stiff as you turned towards the voice. It was more of a twitch than a conscious motion, a sudden flaring of deadened synapses as his voice rasped over them. Still, you didn't speak. Didn't even look at him fully, the hulking thing in your peripheral.

It was silent, now. Eerily so, like all the air had been sucked from the prison. Sitting in the eye of the storm, too calm and too quiet. You could hear the drag of his boots as he shifted closer. The rolling clank of iron scraping against itself, your cage creaking open.

The shadow in your peripheral became mass, then man as he stepped closer.

You risked a glance up.

He'd still be large, sturdy, even without you curled up on your dank, spongy bedcot. Tall enough to duck as he sauntered into the cell. Broad enough to block out the flickering oil lamps by the warden's desk. In the lambent glow of dusk it was already dim, hazy with sea-spray and the oppressive heat of wet season. But with him in front of you it was pitch-dark. A pall cast by his sheer size, all light swallowed up until you could just about make out his blurry edges.

The ghostly white of the bones bleached onto his mask moved and his voice rumbled out.

"Well, g'nna show me?"

You stretched out weakened muscles, unfurling as slow as a wind-battered sail. Joints creaked alongside the iron of your shackle, tight from where you'd clenched hard. Dug your blunt little fingernails into the pulpy, malleable fibers of the aged ironwood below you.

Standing was like finding yourself unmoored, sliding off the buoyant driftwood keeping you afloat. Your legs got tangled up in your borrowed clothes, damp petticoats and overskirts clinging as your feet finally touched the straw-strewn earth of the cell floor. It was cumbersome, made more difficult by the sliding of the heavy chain against the bench. You felt the weight around your ankle, anchoring you down.

Though you could barely see it, you felt as he studied you from top-to-toe. Flat, dead eyes followed every curve and dip of your body as you stood before him, your traitorous chest rising and falling in a way that made you grit your teeth. You used that force to steel your jaw, to look straight ahead and keep your arms lax and loose by your side.

Let him look his fill. Let him– your judge, jury and executioner.

He hummed. Circled you like a shark in a balmy waters. It was funny– you'd never felt more exposed than now in all your layers. Not even under the punishing sun in your loose, men's clothes. No, his eyes stripped you bare. More than cotton and linens, he peeled the flesh from bone. Flayed you open, eyes slicing through your skittish guise. Through your rabbity gaze hopping around the walls, the way you tried to arch your back and poke out more of your soft belly.

"You a liar, then?" You could hear the low, mocking note in his voice. "Or got a case of wishful thinkin'?"

That had you looking up, meeting him dead in the eye. Your hands hovered above the slight swell of your stomach, fingers twitching in an abortive gesture–

–you wanted to cradle it, the fluttering in your empty belly. Push down the sick, swirling terror and face the ghost you'd summoned, because you had summoned it–

He grabbed by your wrist, meaty paw pulling you close enough to brush against his expansive chest.

–Hadn't you? Bad luck. Malefic omen, having you on the ship. No prophets, no redheads–

There, in the cradle of his arms, you were frozen. Your wrist felt fragile, bird-like under the firm grip of his thick-knuckled fingers. You weren't weak, you'd rigged topsails in tempest winds with those wrists. But that was then. That was weeks ago, when you were part of a crew on the open seas. Here, it was just you and the beast that had sent stronger than you to their graves. The warnings from persnickety old seadogs tolled death knolls in your mind–

–no women. And now the sea had swallowed you up. Sent you down to the belly of the beast. A Jonah, locked behind something stronger than whalebone. Trapped. Unless–

Wishful thinking.

He chucked at your chin, calloused fingertips arching your head further back until your neck strained. Your heartbeat rushed past your ears, sending your head spinning. Dizzy, docile. An artificial calm; buoyant lifeline in the raging currents. He turned you slightly, left then right. Like he was measuring you up, the line of your throat. The fluttering of your pulse. That treacherous throbbing, sending oxygen to your brain that you were too erethic to feel.

He spoke again, rough and coruscating. You noticed that he didn't blink, just stared down at you. Dead-eyed as a fish, blond lashes spiked around dark irises. He kept you arched, unable to escape as every syllable struck you like a storm. You balanced on bare tip-toes, butterfly-soft fingers spread across his hairy forearm.

"The Beak's happy to let ya swing if it means 'e can catch the rest of y'r crewmates. And, 'round here, the only good pirate is a dead pirate," he must have felt how your fingers tightened, a futile brace against his butal strength and harsh words. "So, I tell him y'r a liar, get paid to do my job, and keep the governor happy."

He shrugged, bulky shoulders popping as he rolled them back. He shrugged like it meant nothing to him, just a matter of fact. The fisherman, fingers deep in guts and gristle. The butcher, hands stained copper and hardened on cannon bone. The executioner, calloused from rope neckties and the deadweight of the condemned–

But you catch the way his eyes follow your flinch. The way his lips move under his mask too as your mouth opens and closes. Hesitant. Dry.

You could only look up at him with wide, naïve eyes, dilating in the dark. The jejune jailbird. Doe-eyed. Caught.

The jig was up.

"Please," the words stuck in your throat, cracking and broken. "Please don't–"

He lets you go. Not a gentle action, no. No careful caress; he lowers you abruptly, chuckles as you scramble to face him. Stunned, you rub at your throat. Still there, still unadorned with the necklace of rope you swear he wants to place there. Coarse twine and hessian brown, constricting tighter until– no. You can't think on it, anathema to the lie you've worked hard to maintain. If he doesn't believe the plea of the belly, you'll– you'll–

You'll make it so.

As he settles his massive frame on the thin, wooden slat against the wall you wonder. Why did he come here in cover of night. Why did he need to see for himself what the priest confirmed as a priori truth? The seal of confession melts away, your moribund admittance flakes and crumbles under his heavy hand. He knows.

Solid legs spread wide, he makes himself comfortable. You follow the bulge of his thighs, easily as thick as your skull–more–, as the bench groans and creaks worse than the brig in a storm.

You worry that it can't handle the weight.

Even sitting, he dwarfs you. Stepping up between his thighs is like willingly stepping off the stern into still waters. It's terrifying, thrilling– your belly swoops and head feels light. You know there must be something lurking in the depths, some undulating hydra ready to slide its malignant limbs around your ankle and wrench you down–

He clamps a filthy boot down over the length of chain across the floor. Keeps you tethered to him, unable to pull back even if you wanted to.

"Clever enough t'come up with the scheme, clever enough t'get out of it." It's an offering, albeit a twisted one. Alms tainted by the greedy slap of his palms against his thighs. Rough, scarred hands frame the growing bulge between his legs.

Even in the dark, you see it. Heavy, perverse, Fattening enough to strain against the seam of his trousers. You can't look away, can't escape the muggy heat in the air and the scorching burn of his eyes on you. Incendiary, it sends heat pooling to your own belly. The damp, stickiness between your thighs seems cool now, sweat superseded by the slick gathering in your core. It's filthy, it's wrong–

It's blazing hot, shame seared away by a want that is not entirely born of desperation.

At first you think it's a tit-for-tat, your mouth stuffed full in exchange for his staying closed. Kneeling before him, you're suddenly grateful for your skirts. Matchsticks of dried straw and dusty smithereens dig into your knees, legs bent awkwardly as he keeps his boot on your chain. He's content to let you paw at him, to tug at the drawstrings and fumble with his waistband as he offers no help.

Eventually, he must grow bored.

"Don' need me to tell ya that's not how it works."

"What–?" He has you frozen, tableau vivant of a wanton grisette. Pupils-blown and lips-parted, you tremble up at him. Try to read the desire that he hides beneath harsh words and heavy breaths.

"Tryin' t'make me a liar, too?" He grunts, brushing aside your confused, hurried protestations. "Gonna make me a liar when I go out'nd tell them there really is a pregnant little birdie caught in the cage?"

He pats at his lap, palming at himself and hissing through his teeth. Sound is muffled by that grotesque mask, but you catch it all the same. Every flash of the man beneath– of the desire wrought by your artless, ingenue fumblings– sends you reeling. You are not a creature of flesh and blood, not when both are fever-hot and itching. You can't breathe in your body under sweltering layers and sultry air. And he can sense it, too. The beast you let into your cage, bars bending as easily as your will to his.

And, through messily-tugged drawstrings, you see it. Tugged through the opening you'd hastily torn open. The thick, ruddy head of his cock is already leaking.

And as you slide into his lap, it all slides into place.

You think of– no, not now. You can't think of him now. When he comes back for you, if it takes, you could pass the baby off as his. He was sweet on you, you know it. A breezy, comfortable kind of affection. Small, just barely burgeoning but still there. He's a good man– You'll claim that you were telling the truth at your capture– that you and he already– He's a decent man– maybe you wouldn't even have to lie. He'd take you in, little stray and the seed that kept her off the scaffold–

Thoughts slip away, sea spray in the wind, as you work yourself open in his lap. You're drenched beneath your skirts, slick running down your thighs and into his. You're spread so wide across him that it burns, pinned open by his bulk. You can feel the power of his frame, coiled muscle holding you up from the worn wooden bench. The soft pudge of his belly presses into yours as you lean forward, shakily lining up with the swollen head of his cock.

It's already weeping, thick globs of his slick mingle with yours as he slides between your folds. Like he can't wait to be inside you, leaking his spend at the barest touch of your cunt. Like he can't wait to put it inside you, to make good on his word and yours and put a baby there.

You shiver, biting back a gasp as he nudges the aching pearl at the apex of your thighs. His chuckle rumbles through his hulking chest into yours. It jostles you, hitching you just right over his length until it notches against you. You press down, hole clenching against the initial pain, until you feel the throb of his slit inside. It's deep, sending your back arching as you grip his shoulders with white knuckles. And there's still more–

"Tha's it, tha's it, birdie," his voice is impossibly thicker, desire dragging it down until he growls at you. "Gonna have t'take more, gotta make it all fit if you want this baby–"

"Yes, yes, please," you babble at him. Voice high, whines catching on every breath you work yourself lower. You can feel him in your stomach, every inch sending sparks dancing along your spine until they're all you can see when you close your eyes. The sparks, and the spectral imprint of his ghostly mask.

He grunts below you, swallowing back groans behind a jaw that you know is clenched tight. Avaricious brute, he needs you closer. Hands that were meant to measure you for the drop dig into your hips, working you lower and lower. He forces you down to the root, bare thighs on hessian cloth, until you cry out. Shaking at the spread– the stretch– you pant in his ear. Hot little breaths, heady against the crook of his neck.

You can hear it, the obscene squelch of your greedy cunt. The creaking of the bench beneath you as you ride him with shaking legs, chasing pleasure that's already beginning to pool in your belly. You feel heavy with it, moaning behind your clenched fist. Through bleary eyes you catch his, cimmerian and heavy-lidded. His head is thrown back against the wall, guttural filth spilling as he waits for you to come undone.

"Want it, don't ya? Want my baby so fuckin' bad, just look at ya," he growls it, frothing with a hunger so biting it reads as rage. "I'll put one in ya, keep you stuffed full. Keep this chain around y'r ankle, too, keep you shackled to me–"

Eyes-watering as you lose yourself in it. In the sounds that that send blood rushing to your head, the deep ache in your core, the desperation– make him come, make him come, want to come, need to come–

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At first, he was happy to watch you. To sit back and watch you work yourself up, to perform for him until he sees you drop the mask. You wear the mantle of captive soubrette so well, sweat-damp petticoats clinging to curves that he wants to trace with his tongue. With his teeth. He saw the craft in your sweet, open face. You're a flighty thing, aren't you? Trying to slip the noose and slip past him. Luckily his grasp is strong.

He saw the scheme slip away as he got you speared open on his length. He can see it in your eyes, feels the way you suck him in–. You're dripping down into his breeches, sloppy and squeezing him so tight. Desperate, wanton little naiad. Riding hard like your life depends on it. He huffs out a laugh as he squeezes you tight, rough fingers digging into peach-soft flesh.

He doesn't tell you that you're already free, that the Royal Navy is already in hot pursuit of The Watcher and the pregnant, little skivvy is of as much importance to them as the ship's rats. No, you're a nuisance they're willing to hand off to him. Too big, too blunt, too bloody to find a respectable wife.

(There was a time, once, when he had no need of such comforts. Lieutenant aboard The Larimar's Revenge, he'd docked in many-a-port. But he'd always come back to those blue eyes. The haircut that had even the natives of Port Royal looking twice– Cheeky, cocksure pirate.

He'd thought about him, sometimes. On that godforsaken island with just a pistol and one shot for company. 'Mutineer', he was branded. Traitor to King and Crown. Lower than scum, not worth even a keelhaul. But not even grapeshot can kill a ghost–) 

He feels you reaching your end, thighs trembling from more than just exertion. His mask is damp, sultry air mixing with your musk into something that scatters his desultory thoughts. His belly tightens as he feels you clamping down, whining behind the knuckles you’ve got stuffed between your teeth.

When you're home, together in his bed, he'll bite down on those knuckles. Show you what real toothprints look like. Or maybe he'll let you slip his hand into your mouth instead. Let you whet your blunt little teeth on something with more gristle. His appetite for you cannot be satiated on mere flesh. He's got to pierce you, taste you, feel you from the inside and leave a part of himself there–

For now, he holds you down. Forces you to ride out the wave of pleasure-pain as he sets his own pace. Your thighs tremble, whole body seizing around him. He can feel the fluttering in your cunt, the way you shudder and drip until his cock is soaked and his coarse hair turns sticky with your release.

He ignores your whisper of another man's name– John, or Johnny, it's hard to catch with the way you swallow your whimper–it doesn’t matter. Not when he's the one pumping you full of his spend. His belly clenches hard, balls tight and heavy with the come he's going to give you. Going to force it in, plant his baby in you and still leave thick, white, globs leaking out of your poor, abused hole.

He's filled you up, is going to fill you up again. He'll take you back to his house and do it as many times as he wants. Make you grateful for it, for saving your life and giving you the baby you’ve been begging for. Keep you stuffed so full of him that the only name he'll hear from you is 'Simon'.

(And if you help lure Johnny back, well. It's been a long time, but good dogs come home when called.)

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Well, there is it. Shoutout to my beloved stelle and woolie for listening to me whine about pirate ship names 💖💖💖

[morlao]

Sisterly advice

▪︎Luke Castellan x fem!reader

▪︎daughter of Aphrodite

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You and Luke have always been close. So close, in fact, that newcomers automatically assumed that you were dating. The surprised look on their faces when the older campers told them you weren´t, was according to your siblings hilarious.

It's evening and you're sitting on your bed, your legs crossed, while Silena is braiding your hair.

Of all your half-siblings she is your favourite one. Loving, gentle and kind. She is the perfect definition of a daughter of Aphrodite, as she embodies everything that comes to your mind when you think about love - and you want others to feel the same way. They should also think of her and not your other siblings with their childish plays and cruel rituals of breaking others hearts. Maybe they themselves don´t understand what it means being the child of love.

Silena´s fingers run gently through your hair, parting it and intertwining the individual strands together.

“So… what about Charlie?”

You don't have to see her face to know that a smile flashes across her lips at his name. “What about him?”

“Did he finally ask you out?”

She laughs, trying to pretend that she finds the idea absurd. “We are just friends.”

You turn around and give her a look that expresses your opinion about it all too clearly. Don´t try to fool me, darling. I see what´s going on between the two of you!

Again, Silena laughs, gently turning your head forward again to finish the braid. “Okay, other topic. What about you and Luke?”

You copy her laugh. “What about us? We´re just friends.”

You could feel her rising her eyebrows. “Let me give you some sisterly advice: Just friends don´t look at each other like that.”

“Who did you quote? That sentence is so cliché!”

She laughs, taking a hair tie from your bedside table and wrapping it around your braid. “Well… maybe it is but it totally fits you and Luke.”

You turn around, giving her a skeptical look.

Silena shrugs and sits down beside you. “I mean… have you seen his smile when he looks at you? Also he constantly finds excuses to touch you. He improves your posture in archery, even though you are at least as good at it as he is. And – “ she looks at you triumphantly, “He gives you a kiss on the cheek every time he greets you or says goodbye.”

You feel your cheeks flush and cross your arms, trying to think of a counter argument. “A lot of people do that.”

“Yeah, but you´re the only one where Luke does that. Haven´t you noticed?”

To be honest: no, you haven´t. But now as you think about it in detail... it is true. When Luke greets one of the other girls, he just smiles at them.

“In addition, he immediately drops everything when he sees you”, Silena adds, “Yesterday he left in the middle of training because he saw you walking by and wanted to talk to you. Or on Friday, he was in the middle of a conversation with Chris and you waved at him. And what did he do? Exactly, he immediately jogged over. Also last week…”

“Enough!” You laugh, trying to make her shut up by covering her mouth.

Silena dodges you, laughing as you reach into the void. "He let you draw hearts on his sneakers! He watches the sunset with you! He bought you a bracelet for your birthday! You know, I could go on with this for hours." She steps closer, cupping your cheeks with her hands. “Believe me, sis: He´s in love with you!” Her voice is melodic, angel like even. Loving, gentle and kind.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks and embarrassed you pulls away and cover your face with your hands. “I´m pretty sure he isn´t! You´re overinterpreting!”

“Nope, I´m a daughter of Aphrodite, I can feel it!”

“So am I! And I don't feel anything!”

Silena grabs her cherry lipstick. “Your reaction makes me think that you like him too!”

Did you like him? You weren´t sure. Of course he meant the world to you, but did you like him more as than a friend? Wouldn´t that be weird kissing him since you know him for so long?

"I'm not sure", you finally manage to say, rolling off your bed and taking a look at the clock. Fortunately, you can at least put the topic off for today. "Oh, damn! Come on, we are already late!”

Silena grabs your hand and leads you outside of cabin 10. It´s already dark and in the distance you can see the flickering flames of the campfire. Most of the campers seem to have already gathered there, their drink in their hands and a smile on their lips as they talk to their siblings and friends.

“Finally!”, one of the Apollo girls greets you.

Chris Rodriguez grins. “Why are the Aphrodite girls always late?”

That is definitely not true! You're not always late. Just most of the times. God, you hate being a cliché.

Luke lifts his head as he hears his brother say “Aphrodite girls”. He spots you and his face lights up like a Christmas tree. Immediately he walks up to you and hugs you, his lips placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

From the corner of your eye you can see Silena rising an eyebrow, as if to say "Well, what did I say?"

“You look amazing”, Luke whispers in your ear, before breaking away from the hug and greeting Silena with a smile. “Charlie is already waiting for you!”, he grins, nodding towards said boy.

Silena giggles, before walking over to him. Gods, it was so obvious that she was head over heels for him.

Luke takes your hand and leads you over to his place next to Chris, where he had already a blanket spread out for the two of you. “Mylady” He pretends to bow.

You can feel your cheeks blush as you sit down. “Thank you so much, Mister!”

Gods, somehow Luke always manages to put a smile on your face. You sit down and stretch out your legs, feeling the comforting heat of the fire.

As Luke takes a seat next to you, you can feel him slide closer, his arm touching yours. Feeling him beside you was comforting, the closest feeling you had to "home".

Luke Castellan. You tilt your head back and look up at the stars as if you expect to see his name engraved up there. You have always liked his name. Luke Castellan. It feels like a secret incantation on your lips.

You can feel his eyes on you. The flickering flames make his face look almost golden. Golden boy. Why didn´t you notice before how handsome he is?

The next song starts and immediately everyone joins in. They lie in each other's arms and rock back and forth, bawling Country roads.

Well, maybe it was just because Silena had told you, but Luke really seems to find exuses for touching you. He leans against you, his arm around your shoulders - even after the song has already ended. You enjoy feeling him so close next to you. The heat he radiates. His soft skin against yours. The realization hits you straight in the face. You had fallen in love with your best friend.

He looks at you and you can't help but smile. Fascinating how beautiful an evening with a campfire could be. For a moment it feels like gods and monsters didn't exist. For a moment everything seems peaceful.

 “Can I talk to you for a second?” You can feel Luke´s warm breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.

Your heart skips a beat. Did he notice the way you looked at him? Did he suspect something? Was Silena wrong? “Sure!”

Your voice sounds more enthusiastic than you feel.

Luke takes your hand and leads you away from the campfire, away from the singing and the laughter of the others.

You look at him, smiling nervously. “Sooo… what is it? Or did you just want to escape singing Knocking on heavens door.”

He shakes his head, laughing. “No, why would I want to miss Drew´s wonderful voice?”

You cringe at the thought of your sister singing louder than everyone else – and on top of that terribly wrong. She doesn't hit a single note.

“No, actually… Y/N…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “Gods, you´re so beautiful.”

It´s not the first time that somebody told you that. In fact, being a daughter of Aphrodite, you had heard it thousands of times already.

Still his words felt special to you. Special because he wasn´t just anybody. Ä

He was Luke. Your best friend Luke. Luke who was always there for you, who comforted you when you had trouble with your family, who managed to make you laugh when you lay in your bed crying your eyes out over something your stepmother had said. Luke who you trusted with all your heart.

“I wanted to ask you if you'd like to go on a picnic tomorrow?” He avoids looking at you.

Why is he so shy about going on a picnic? That's quite strange since you´d done this a few times before. You had even found your very own spot with a fantastic view over the sea. There was nothing more beautiful than watching sunsets while drinking juice and eating biscuits. So why does he seem so insecure?

Luke seems to notice your confusion. “I meant as a date”, he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrow, your heart racing. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment you stood there, perplexed. Why was it so obvious to the others while you had no idea?

"So... what do you say?" Luke looks at you, biting his lip nervously. He seems to assume that you aren't answering because you're looking for a way to reject him as gently as possible.

Quickly you step forward, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Yes, I'd love to go on a date with you."

"Really?" Immediately he blushes deeply. That must have slipped out.

"Sure, why wouldn't I?" You giggle, taking his hand. "I've known you for years now. You're kind and brave and one of the most caring people I know."

A laugh escapes his lips. "Wow, if I had known that, I would have asked you way earlier." His hand slowly reaches for your cheek.

You hold your breath as he leans forward and places a soft kiss on your lips. It didn't feel weird at all. The opposite, actually. Seems like sometimes best friends can turn into lovers.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. Soft kisses become more passionate. His hands run through your hair, slowly brushing loose strands out of your face.

When he pulls away a huge smile creeps across his lips. "I love you, Y/N"

You return his smile, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers. "I love you, too."

As you walk back to the campfire holding hands, Silena beams at you. "I told you, Y/N, friends don't look at each other like that."

You shake your head, laughing. "Your advice really is the best."

[writers-potion]

International Slang, Slang, Slang!

I'm sharing this list of slang in different languages (English, British English, French, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Malaysian, Russian, Hindi) to use for dialogue:

English Slang

LOL = laugh out loud

OMG = oh my god

Noob = newbie

LMAO = laught my ass off

SFW = Safe work work

HMB = hit me back

XOXO = hugs and kisses

Txt = text

msg = message

cuz = because

kinda = kind of

outta = out of

'bout = about

C'mon = come on

'em = them

lil = little

lotsa = lots of

nope/nah = no

wanna = want to

dunno = don't know

lemme = let me

TBH = to be honest

gotcha = have got you

jack around = waste time

jillion = an immense number

nuke = destroy, delete

bushed = extremely tired

fab = fabulous

chicken = coward

grabbers = hands

grub = food

vanilla = plain

peanuts = very little money

British English Slang

skive = lazy or avoid doing something

knackered = tired

nicked = stolen

bugger = jerk

zed = equivalent to zzzzzz

nosh = food

dog's bollocks = awesome

bog roll = toliet paper

nutter = crazy person

punter = customer/prostitute's client

fiver = 5 euros

toff = upper class person

taking the piss = screwing around

pissed = drunk

wonky = not right

gutted = devastated

Tosser = idiot

Cock-up = screw up

Bloody = damn

Wanker = idiot

Fancy = like

Lost the plot = gone crazy

Kip = sleep or nap

Bee's knees = awesome

Dodgy = suspicious

Wicked = cool!

Know your onions = knowledgeable

Chuffed = proud

Bespoke = custom made

Give you a bell = call you

Hoover = vacuum

Tad = little bit

French Slang

Spanish Slang

Tu (me) fair chier) = (literally: you make me

shit) You are pissing me off

Ca me saoule = I'm sick of this

J'en ai ras le cul = I'm sick of this

Fringues = clothes

Grailler = to buy/steal/take/eat

Crever = to die

Crevant = exhausting

Gerber = to throw up

Defonce = stoned

Glander = to procrastinate/to do nothing/to

lay around

Va craver = go die

J'ai la dalle = I'm hungry

Avoir la flemme = not wanting to do

something

Japanese Slang

Tio = dude or guy

Guay = cool/great

Currar = to work

Fome = boring

Value = okay or sure

Colega = buddy or friend

Pasta = moneu

Majo = nice or friendly

Flipar = to be shocked

Bocachancla = gossip

Raro - weird

Papear = to eat

Resaca = hangover

Plomazo = boring

Loco = crazy

Chafa = Lame

Baka (ば��) = Stupid or idiot.

Bucchake (ぶっちゃけ) = To be honest or frank.

Chiruru (チルる) = To chill or relax.

Chō (超) = Very.

Dame (だめ) = No good or not allowed.

Dasai (ダサい) = Uncool or out of style.

Disuru (ディスる) = To disrespect or talk down about someone.

Egui (えぐい) = Awesome or incredible.

Gachi (ガチ) = Serious or real.

Ganba (がんば) = A short version of “ganbatte,” meaning “do your best” or “good luck.”

Guguru (ググる) = To Google something.

Gyaru (ギャル) = A fashion-conscious young lady with tanned skin and long nails.

Honto (ほんと ) = Really or for real.

Ii kanji (いい感じ) = To have a good vibe or feeling about something.

JK = High school girl.

Kimoi (キモい) = Creepy or gross.

Kira kira (キラキラ) = Sparkling, cute, or beautiful.

Kireru (キレる) = To snap or lose your temper.

Maji (マジ) = Seriously or really.

Moteru (モテる) = To be popular or attractive.

Mukatsuku (むかつく) = To be irritated.

Nampa (ナンパ) = To chat or pick someone up.

Sugoi (すごい) = Amazing or incredible.

Uzai (うざい) = Another word for annoying.

Wakannai (わかんない) = I don’t know.

Yabai (ヤバい) = Anything from “awesome” to “oh no.”

Russian Slang

Долбоеб (dolboyob_) = Fool, Idiot

Иди на хуй (idi na hui) = F*ck yourself

Сволочь (svo lach’) = Trash, Scum, Jerk

Жопа (zho pa) = Brat (typically used towards children)

Гавно (gav no) = Sh!t (used more when speaking to yourself rather than to insult someone)

лох (loh) = Stupid, Idiot, Sucker

Гандон (gan don) = Condom (Whilst calling someone a condom in English is just not a thing, it’s quite common in Russia. Used to refer to someone weak or just plain irritating)

Чушь собачья (chush’ sobach’ya) = Bullsh!tter

Malaysian Slang

Трахни тебя (trakhni tebya) = F*ck You

Ти дегхенераат (ti degheneraat) = You’re a degenerate

Отыебис от меныа! (otyebis ot menya!) = Move your ass / Get the f*ck away

чертовски дно (chertovski dno) = F*cking bottom (would be used when referring to hitting rock bottom.)

Bo jio = use when referring to friend who didn't invite them to a gathering (e.g. 'why you bo jio?)

Ýum cha = hang out over drinks or food at local coffee shops

belanja = I got you covered

Potong Stim = killjoy

Boss = waiters refer to their cusomters as boss, and customers call out for waiters using the same term!

Tapau/Bungkus = take-away

Ang Moh/Mat Salleh = "Western foreigners"

Kantoi = being cuaght red handed

Paiseh = shy or embarrased

Walao Eh! = brother

Macha = good friends (equivalent to "fam" in English)

Alamak! = shock, surprise, or frustration (punctuate with 'face palm' for dramatic effect)

Lah = This one really has no meaning, used to add "emphasis" and "flavor" to sentences. It is rather addictive...

Kawan baik = best friend

Jom = let's (inviting someone to do something together)

Best gila = crazy good, crazy fine (like "amazing!" in English)

Kantoi = busted

Fuyoh = WOW or OMG

Cincai = whatever

Italian Slang

Ma Dai = come on, imagine, stop it (express surprise, amazement)

Chi Se Ne Frega? = Who cares?

Scialla = stay calm

In Bocca Al Lupo = Good luck

Come Il Cacio Sui Maccheroni = like sheep's milk for the macaroni

Come Te La Passi = How is it going?

Trescare – Have a flirt

Camomillarsi – Calm down

Sbalconato – Be out of your mind

Incicognarsi – Get pregnant

Citofonarsi – Call someone by surname

Tirare tardi – To be late

Inciucio – Intrigue, a cheat, a mess

Un carnaio – Many people together in the same place

Abbioccarsi – falling asleep unexpectedly

Bordello – Problematic, confusing, and chaotic situation

Fottìo – Something that has happened or occurs in large quantities

Svalvolare – Loss of control

Rosicare – To be envious of something

Scazzato – A state of mind of malaise

Che pizza – a boring or bad thing

Sbroccare o sclerare – Getting angry and making a scene

Raga – Guys

Tranqui – abbreviation of the word “calm,” it means to stay calm

Che Figata – Cool

Meno male! – Luckily or thank goodness

Che schifo – How disgusting

Vivere alla giornata – Live in the moment

Pisolino – An Italian slang word that means “afternoon nap”

Hindi Slang

Yaar = Friend, used at the end of sentences for casual social interactions (including shopkeepers/autorickshaw drivers)

Achcha = good/okay/really?

Thik Hain = okay (+ head nod)

Arre = hey (with a higher tone = surprise, lower tone = exasperation)

Bas = that's it

Chakkar = dizziness

Funda = fundamentals

Ghanta = Yeah right

Jugaad = hack

Bakwaas = nonsense

Chalega = That will do

[spaceorphan18]

X-Men Fic (Rogue/Gambit) : Toys

A/N: Yes, this was inspired by that clip that's been going around of Gambit's VA for XM97 playing with action figures. I cannot believe this is what I'm writing for my first real fic for this fandom. Dear lord, forgive me for the shenanigans... also, unbeta'd. I just wanted to get it out into the world and be done with it.

I'll post this tomorrow on Ao3

Rated: T for suggestiveness

Summary: Rogue catches Remy playing with toy action figures of the X-Men. Shenanigans. Set in the 616 comic verse, but some fun meta-y references to XM97

****

Toys

Upon arriving home, Rogue comes in through the open kitchen window because why bother with stairs when you can fly? It’s been a long day, a long week, a long life… All she wants to do is curl up on the couch with the cats and a trashy book and hopefully Remy’s home so she can get a back massage.  Hell, forget the book, she’ll gamble for the massage first.  Save the trashy for later.  

She grins, thinking about her husband’s warm hands on her skin.  

Remy is, indeed, home; standing at the kitchen island, his back turned towards the window, so engrossed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t hear her come in.  And what he’s doing takes her by surprise.  

The kitchen counter is covered in half open boxes, plastic containers, cardboard, and little zip ties.  There are a good, half-dozen or so action figures all lined up in a semicircle; each one of them a well detailed, classically designed replica of, well… the X-Men.  Oh, dear god, what did she walk into? 

“I’ll take ya down in one slice, bub,” Remy says, holding the Wolverine figurine in one hand, his voice low as he attempts Logan’s gruff voice.  Remy LeBeau is good at a lot of things, Rogue would be first to give you a list, but doing impressions is not one of them.  She bites her lip, fascinated to see how this plays out.  Remy grabs the Magento figurine as his voice shifts to imitate Erik.  “You incels!” Remy screams; loud, exaggerated, and carefully enunciated.  “How dare you try to take down me; the questionably dressed, ego too big for my helmet, Master of Magnetism?” 

Rogue puts a hand up to her lips, holding back an amused snort.  Oh, Remy… 

Remy loses the impression as he lunges the Wolverine figurine at the Magneto one.  The Magneto one floats away.  “You fools! Don’ you remember I control the metal?”  Shaking the Wolverine figurine violently, Remy lets out a feral scream and the figure is flung to the side, landing with a clatter in the sink.  

Magneto is discarded for a moment as Remy picks up the Scott and Jean figurines.  Scott has his hand to his visor while Jean has both her hands on the sides of her head.  “Jean! I seem to have made a tactical error,” Remy cries in Scott’s no-nonsense voice.  His voice then slides higher as he mimics Jean.  “Scott, my telepathy.  It out o’ whack!  Oh, Scott!... Jean!… SCOTT!.... JEAN!!”

Rogue is dying inside.  She holds herself tightly, trying as hard as she can not to burst out laughing.  

Scott and Jean are shuffled into one hand as Remy picks up the Magneto figurine again.  “Enough of this!” Remy says, back in the Magneto voice.  He then lets out another dramatic scream as he tosses the Scott and Jean figurines onto the pile of boxes, scaring Oliver, who had been inspecting one of the twist ties.  

He picks up the Storm figurine next, raising her arms to the ceiling.  “An’ now you deal with Stormy, who will smite you with her lightning blasts.” He jolts the Storm hands into Magneto, making little sound effect lightning blasts as he does so.  “Fool, I am impervious to lightning…  How dat possible? Lightning an’ magnetism are not the same thing!... I can control static electricity!... Dat…still don’ make any sense!... Begone, weather witch!”  

Rogue has tears in her eyes. She’s biting her lip so hard, it’s beginning to hurt.  Thankfully, Remy is so lost in his make believe world that he can’t hear her snickering.  

The Storm figurine is placed gently face down on the counter as Remy picks up the Gambit figurine.  Rogue’s eyes grow wide, intensely waiting to see how this will play out… 

“Ohh, you goin’ down now, mon ami,” Remy’s voice grows low and serious.  He starts making explosion sound effects, as if the Gambit figurine is throwing little playing cards at the Magneto one.  Remy then throws his head back in a villainous laugh as he goes back to the Magneto voice.  “You seriously think a few mild explosions could ever touch me?”  

Remy stops, and grins that cocky, beautiful grin of his.  “Non, but it enough to keep you distracted.”  He starts turning the Magneto figurine around, as if it’s confused.  “See, I always gotta ace up my sleeve.”  

In a quick second, he drops the Gambit figurine, and grabs the Rogue one.  Her arm is out, one leg up, poised to fly.  Remy slams the fist of the Rogue figurine into the Magneto one’s head.  “Howdy, sugah.” 

Rogue tilts her head, amused.  Remy’s imitation of her own voice is so comically off, and yet incredibly endearing.  

“How ‘bout you leave my family alone!” The Rogue figurine crashes into the Magneto one again.  This time, Remy charges the Magneto figurine, causing it to glow purple.  He tosses the charged Magneto figurine up, letting it explode in mid-air with a bang.  The charred remains drop to the counter with a clang before it bounces into the trash next to the counter.  

Remy then picks up the Gambit figurine and brings it in close to the Rogue one.  “Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you’re punching people, chere?...Why don’t you shut up and kiss me, Remy…” Remy starts clicking the faces of the two figurines together, making little kiss-y noises and ‘mwa’ sounds as the action figures ‘make out’.  

Rogue grins wildly, expecting nothing less.  She crosses her arms across her chest, casually walking forward to let her presence be known. “Whatcha doing, sugah?” 

Remy gives a startled jump, the figurines dropping out of his hand with a clatter.  He’s not the least bit sorry he’s been caught, however, a devilish grin quickly sliding onto his lips.  “Jus’ havin’ a bit of fun testing some of these toys that show sent us.”  Rogue picks the destroyed Magneto figurine out of the trash.  “Some of dem defective,” he says slyly. 

“Defective huh?” She drops the figurine unceremoniously back into the trash and comes in close, wrapping her arms around his neck.  She knows the show is a sore spot, no matter how much free merch they’ve gotten from it lately.   “You still salty about all that?”

He lets out a grumble, but still wraps himself around her, just the way she likes.  “Don’ act like you wouldn’t be, too, if they killed you off like dat.   Middle of the first season, too.  What’d I do to deserve dat?” 

“They just knew you were the best one.” She runs her fingers through his hair.  “Who else gonna go out in a fiery blaze of heroism like that?” 

He smirks, though she can still see a hint of sadness in his eyes.  “It was pretty epic, non?” 

“The best…”  She draws him in for a kiss, sweet and gentle and comforting.  “Forget that show, Remy.  That ain’t our life.  This is.” She kisses him again, a little bit harder, grounding herself in his embrace.  He had tortured himself wanting to keep watching that show, but she couldn’t.  She wouldn’t.  She didn’t want to imagine herself going down a path she would never recover from.  “Besides…” she says, trying to keep it light.  “I’m sure season two will have me pulling your pretty ass back from the dead one way or the other.  And if it doesn’t, you best bet I’ll get those writers fired and write it myself.”  

“I ever tell you how sexy you are when pulling me back from the dead?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Remy.”  He does and they do.  Forget the massage tonight, they’re going straight to the trashy.  She’s hungry to feel him everywhere tonight.  

They break apart once again, breathing heavily as Rogue leans her forehead against his.  “Hey, Remy?” 

“Oui?” 

“Why don’t we leave this mess for later and go play with some of the toys we’ve already got.”

He laughs into another kiss.  “You always have de best ideas, chere…” 

****

Later… 

In the stillness of the night, long after Remy’s fallen asleep, Rogue gets up for a glass of water.  

The kitchen is how they left it hours ago, a mess of trash and action figures scattered around the room.  The cats had gotten into some of it.  Poor Scott had fallen to the ground.  She picks him up, placing him next to Jean, giving him a little pat as she does so.  

She wants to ignore the others.  Wants to ignore the strange sensation it is to have your likeness in toy form.  Still, she’s drawn to the little action figure her. She picks it up, inspecting it.  It’s her old green and yellow uniform, one she hasn’t worn in years. She doesn’t even know where it is, probably having been trashed in some long ago fight.  Unsurprisingly, the boobs are a little too big, the waist a little too small, and the hair a bit ridiculous.  But it’s oddly still her.  A little version her.  

She looks down to the Gambit figurine and smiles.  The trench coat, the staff, the ridiculously abbed pink breast plate.  The cocky little grin.  They got his likeness perfectly.  And yet it doesn’t even hold a candle to the real thing.  

“Love ya, Remy,” she says softly, as she takes the Rogue figurine and gives the Gambit figurine a kiss with it.  She laughs at her own silliness, but still takes a moment to place the figurines together, resting against each other, as they should be.  

She grabs her water and turns off the light and heads back to the bedroom, where she’ll soon curl up against her husband and fall asleep.  

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Mr. Fix It

For a man who refuses to don a hat unless he’s in uniform, Steven J. McGarrett sure wears a lot of them. A decorated Navy SEAL, leader of the governor’s task force, expert pilot, sport pro, amateur (although he’d argue with you on that) mechanic, occasional ukulele player, son, brother, friend, uncle, husband, dog dad, and now race car-bed-putter-together. The man’s talents clearly know no bounds.

Leaning against the doorway of Charlie’s bedroom in Danny’s house, you can’t help but admire the view before you. Your husband has traded in his usual cargo pants and t-shirt for a pair of form fitting jeans that hug his lower half in all the right places and a plaid button up that shows off his muscular back and arms. A tool belt is slung low across his hips, and a few dirty jokes featuring the hammer and screwdriver tucked into their designated slots pop into your head unbidden. Steve slides the pencil out from behind his ear to make a mark on the wood, then grips the writing implement between his teeth to free up his hands. That draws your attention to the scruff currently dotting his cheeks and the sexy patch of gray along his chin that’s been steadily growing with every birthday that passes. He bends over to fit two pieces of the bed frame together, and your promise to Danny to not fool around in his house is suddenly dangerously close to being broken.

Passing Steve on your way to collect more wallpaper, you gather two handfuls of denim in a firm squeeze and appreciatively murmur, “Nice ass, stud.”

Your husband lets out an amused grunt, straightening up to his full height and tucking the pencil back in its rightful spot before turning to you with one eyebrow raised. “What was that, you cheeky little brat? Huh? You objectifying me again?”

“I said,” you emphasize as you climb the ladder with your next few feet of racing stripe wallpaper, “that’s a nice brass stud!”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Hey, lemme ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You think Danno could fit in this bed, too?”

You turn to your husband, trying and failing to bite back your laughter. “You’re objectively the worst. And I’m telling him you said-”

Steve’s phone ringing interrupts your threat, and he brandishes his cell with a playful grin. “Speak of the Jersey devil.” He answers the phone, the smile melting off his face at whatever he’s hearing on the other end. After a few tense moments, he ends the call and then walks up to you on the ladder with a sigh.

“Duty calls?” you ask knowingly.

“Sorry, baby,” he pouts, leaning up to kiss you three times for I love you.

“Don’t get hurt, Steve!” you call to his retreating form down the hallway, getting a confident, “I won’t!” in response.

“I’m serious,” you yell louder as his footsteps grow quieter. “You’ve reached your allotted hospital visits for the month!”

__________

Later that night, you find yourself in the same position as this morning at the entrance to Charlie’s room, this time admiring the way the space has transformed into a little boy’s dream and enjoying the Indy 500 animatedly playing out before you.

“…and the crowd goes wild,” your husband declares, whisper-yelling cheers as Charlie grins proudly beside him. Steve tucks a victorious Charlie into bed before smoothing the little tyke’s hair down and pressing his lips to his forehead with a quiet, “I love you, buddy.” He joins you in the doorway, and your heart swells at Charlie’s voice sleepily calling out, “Goodnight, Uncle Steve! Goodnight, Auntie!”

“Goodnight, bubba, we love you,” you respond softly, flicking off the light switch and leaving only the glowing CHARLIE’S ROOM on the opposite wall as a nightlight. 

“Hey, race you in the morning?” Steve asks, head tilted in question. Charlie nods enthusiastically and his uncle reciprocates his excitement with a resounding, “Boom.”

Steve pulls the door shut behind you, and as you make your way down the hallway, you wrap your arms around his waist and lean into his solid form. “Should we make one?”

Your husband looks down at you, one eyebrow raised, and squeezes your hip. “You want a little race car bed, too?”

“Steve-” you groan, but he carries on with, “I mean, sure, but I’ll smoke your ass every time, babe.”

Laughing, you grip his face in one hand and smush his cheeks together until his nose scrunches up from a smile. “No, you doofus,” you correct him, “I meant should we start trying? Make a mini you?”

Steve’s eyes shine with adoration, and he shifts your hand to his mouth to press kisses against your palm. “You want to have a baby?”

“I think being a daddy would suit you well, Commander,” you purr, trailing your fingers down the sliver of skin peeking between the open buttons of his plaid shirt.

“That turn you on?” your husband teases in turn, taking note of the glint in your eye.

“I mean…” You trail off, looking up at him with a suggestive smirk. Using the collar of his shirt as leverage, you tug him closer and confess, “Uncle Steve with his kiddos is a hottie, don’t get me wrong, but Daddy Steve? One baby tucked up in each of those arms?” Your hands glide along his muscular biceps and you let out a hum of appreciation.

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he stills your wandering hands. “Woah there, two? At the same time?”

“Well, we can’t have one of your biceps getting bigger than the other,” you clarify. “You’d look dumb.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” he acquiesces, nodding. “You really want twins?”

“Steve,” you tut. “Don’t tell me the big bad Navy SEAL is afraid of dealing with two tiny humans.”

“I’m not afraid, I’m just, y’know- one is- is a lot already. Joanie could be a handful, so think about two of ‘em, two at the same time would be-”

“Hey,” you cut off his rambling, pulling him down to your level for a sound kiss. “How ‘bout we go home and get some practice in, and we’ll talk more about this tomorrow?” Steve’s hands glide down your body until they settle on your backside with a firm grip, and you take that as a yes. Pressing your lips to his again, you murmur, “Sound like a plan, McGarrett?”

He fixes you with a devilish grin in response. “Hooyah.”

__________

[A/N: I 👏🏽 love 👏🏽 this 👏🏽 man 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 My McGarrett obsession is somehow reaching dangerous new heights sos 🥵 And the thought of Daddy™️ as a daddy? Jesus take the wheel]

[outsidereveries]

hello! I am new in kpop and i am starting to accompany enhypen,bts and IVE. They overall are good people?Because i don´t want stan bad people persona in behing camera ik. What cards say?

I asked about the members' overall personality (whether it's good or bad).

most likely to be nice

ive's jiwon (liz): the devil rx

might be the most nice out of all of the mentioned members in these 3 groups. she tries to show the most authentic side of herself - the good and bad. to me she's first because i appreciate the raw side more than anything. liz tries to be really pure with dives and her solo stans, so i can feel whatever she shows is genuine.

bts' jung kook: 6 of pentacles rx + 10 of cups

to me he is possibly the second most nice person out of these 3 groups, i feel so. jungkook is helping other people, sometimes even more than needed. this might make jungkook more naive than he really is like, but he actually loves to do that. he's very optimistic boy, very happy, there's only positive things i can see and feel. like i said before, a total sunshine. to you, he might be the most nice out of the members of these 3 groups.

enhypen's jungwon: 2 of cups

very communicative with people, he loves to get close with his audience and he actually cares for engene and not only them. it feels like he's someone who's willing to help even if he cannot to do it.

bts' yoongi (suga/agust d): knight of pentacles

very determinated to work what he loves! despite everything he's been through, suga loves to do music, beats and these things that are related to his idol job. suga is working for the feeling of the hobby itself and to him is pure admiration of the job itself. it makes him happy and if army and his solo stans are happy, like his work and so on, he'll be even happier. he lives for the job, it makes him happy and feel that there's purpose for his life. (compared to other people, i see suga has changed quite a lot and has grown up as a person. he'll do the same with his friendships and not only, the relationships with people)

bts' jimin: page of pentacles

he is pretty much a perfectionist. jimin's intentions to everyone are purely good but he tries to have the perfect friendships and etc. with people which sometimes isn't good because sometimes we have to get into any hardships. jimin seems to have this perfectionism as a habit. overall the vibes i am sensing are good but he has some traits that are hard to change.

bts' seokjin (jin): 2 of wands

since he got out of military recently, i see he tries to adapt. jin also seems really nice person, like without a doubt, but he has hard time with adapting and re-adapting. since i feel his thoughts rather than is he good or not, jin might not know either not because he did something but rather than the environment in hybe has changed too rapidly. jin seems to not be used into the corporation as it is nowadays.

enhypen's jake: page of cups

compared to jungkook, jake is also a bit naive. he might be a fool at times, but i sense he's not that experienced in real life for some reason. he might be introverted in some aspects and even have issues to communicate properly, but he's not as bad as some people might think. he's really nice person and might sometimes look like a lost puppy, but once you "get to know him", he's not that bad.

enhypen's sunwoo (sunoo): 5 of wands rx

also nice boy but doesn't like arguments. sunoo's very chill and hates quarrels. he'd prefer to either not take a side or give something to someone else just to not hear screams and feel bad. i am not sure if it's related to how he grew up in his family, though. this seems to be a side he has for some time.

bts' hoseok (j-hope): 7 of cups

he's also nice, like really nice. why he's low compared to his other members though for me is because he's extremely multi-layered. he's not only sunshine, he's not only the main dancer of bts. hobi has a lot to say, if you let him to do it. he wants to be raw and pure and just himself (to be as similar as liz) but considering his status and other circumstances, he cannot do that just yet. currently hobi is overthinking more than usual and if hybe just make him free to talk what he wants to say, he'll just do it, but just not yet..

bts' taehyung (v): the moon

even more multi-layered than j-hope. nowadays he is harder to get mainly because he wants to "break free". the freedom he seems to long for is rather related to his beliefs, they seem to be the main key. he feels too many emotions at once. why he's so high, though, compared to the other people, is because i sense this blockage is temporary and possibly because i've been in a similar situation before. he's not bad at all but he currently is going through a period that make him feel mixed. despite him being in the military, v seems to be around coworkers there that are trying to wake him up spiritually.

bts' namjoon (rm), enhypen's heeseung: 5 of swords rx

both boys are neutral to me. so, about namjoon, i see he's a bit better compared to heeseung. rm has been through a lot too but he seems to be in a "not this but not that" situation. heeseung on the other hand, i cannot sense much except that he might be currently really passive. heeseung seems to be harder to get. both boys are deeply in their thoughts and in different situations but they aren't as bad as they might be. currently they just are a bit harder to reach simply because they're overthinkers, especially bts' leader.

ive's gaeul, ive's wonyoung: 4 of pentacles rx

wonyoung is better to me. her mental health is so and so and that affects her a lot. despite how popular she is, wonyoung seems to get through the things in a odd way and it just cannot be explained by everyone. she's very generous and thankful for this lifetime but nonetheless she tries to be chill and to strengthen her mentality (psyche). gaeul on the other hand, my intuition said "uh she's so and so as a person". i don't have anything else to say.

enhypen's sunghoon: 5 of pentacles

he's currently getting through a lot and i am unsure where to put him. intuition-wise and through older readings, he's more introverted but despite that, he's also really nice.

enhypen's riki (niki): 9 of swords rx

from older readings i've sensed his personality differs a lot from most of the members, so that's why he's this down.

ive's rei: ace of pentacles

she's workaholic to the extent she doesn't think about anything else, like work is her only purpose. rei's "more nice" than yujin because she doesn't have ill intentions behind all of this and that's her way to cope with .. anything. i don't feel much for her too.

ive's yujin: king of pentacles

another workaholic to the extent her work is only on her mind. the difference is that she gets so obssesed over the work she has that she loses herself.

enhypen's jay: 4 of swords

.. very passive person, more than heeseung if i have to compare with him. he's down here because this trait of his is prominent.

ive's hyunseo (lesseo): 3 of swords

sometimes she's too brutal with her words. exteremely honest but also critisize a lot without working on herself for example. basically, she has traits that aren't good. i don't see she's manipulative but she has some work to do if she does want to change.

least likely to be nice

my ask was based on one card for each member and it's allegedly the "overall look". there might be some discrepancies here and there so i also used my intuition.

done on 29.06.2024

[madhatterbri]

Birthday | W.O.

Summary: Will spends time with his favorite little lady on her birthday. Peaky Blinders esque.

Author's Note: Happiest of birthday my dear @multi-fandom-things730 . ❤️ May your day be as wonderful as you. I hope I do you proud. I had to include your other men. 😈

Will Ospreay Masterlist

Taglist: @hotgirlgraps @plentyoffandoms

Will Ospreay gazed at the man who begged for his life at his feet. The miserable bloke was groveling for the assassin to spare his life. Despite multiple warnings, he didn't get his financial affairs in order. The bored Will grabbed his pocket watch from his coat pocket.

"You got any idea what day it is?" Will asked spontaneously. His blue eyes scanned the face of the scared man. He was confused about the question. Maybe even a little afraid to answer the question.

"June... June 14th," the man stuttered. "You wish for me to announce my death day?"

"No, you bloody idiot. Today is my girl's birthday," Will answered with a smile. "I'm going to take her out tonight,"

The man's face fell. He wasn't following what one of Don Callis' boys was saying. "Okay?"

"That means," Will smiled and grabbed the man's coat that rested on his right shoulder. The man didn't struggle as he stood to his feet. Maybe he was accepting his fate. "I can't get bloody as I've just looked at the time. You go in the river for a little swim and get another week to get my money,"

"Thank you," the man sighed and closed his eyes. He was beyond appreciative that he would be able to walk the Earth a little longer.

Will's eyes darkened. He pulled the man closer to him. The normal joking man had one final warning for him. "Have my money, or the next time we meet, I won't be so friendly,"

A loud splash sounded when the man was shoved in the river. Will walked to his Ford Model T. He lit a cigarette and drove off to pick up a couple of things before he made it home to the birthday girl.

Will walked to the front door and checked himself on the window. He wanted to look pristine for her. Despite his life in the gangster world, his missus was always his number one priority. After meeting his standards, he walked inside the home.

He was immediately greeted with his Y/N standing in front of a mirror. She was in an active debate with herself on which jewelry to wear for tonight's celebration.

"Happy birthday, love. Might I say I like the dress you decided to wear," he greeted with a smile. The moment he saw that dress weeks ago, he had to buy it. She always looked good in white. It reminded him of the angel that she was. Fallen from the heavens to be with a devil like him.

"Some bloke got it for me. I made a promise that I'd wear it today for my birthday. Unfortunately, he didn't buy me any jewelry to go with it," she turned her head to look at him. Her face brightened at the sight of her favorite flowers.

"Man is a bloody fool. You should kick him to the curb. I'll take better care of you," he smiled and placed the flowers on the table before them. Will wrapped his arms around her waist. He pulled her close to him.

"He's the jealous type. He doesn't like to share me. Are you sure you can handle that?" She asked. Will moved her hair to the side and kissed her neck. She sighed happily and rested against him. He pulled a jewelry box from his coat.

"Picked them up from the jewelers today. Let me know if this will solve the problem," he informed her. She grabbed the box and opened it. Y/N couldn't believe the ones he bought. The very ones that were on display at the jewelers. She touched them gently as if they would break under her touch.

"I thought someone bought them. It was you?" She asked. "You spent all that money on me? You shouldn't have,"

"My missus smile is worth more than what I paid," he answered. Y/N placed the earrings on herself. He bought the perfect jewelry set for her dress.

"Would you mind?" She asked and handed him the necklace.

With careful fingers, he clasped the chain around the back of her neck. The necklace hung perfectly. He grabbed the bracelet and placed it around her wrist. Once he was finished, he kissed the top of her hand.

"Beautiful as ever. Shall we head out? I was able to get the T back," he smiled. "I know it's your favorite,"

"O'Reilly was able to fix it up that fast?" She asked. Her question was answered when they walked outside. The car looked like it never had any issues.

They made it to the car and drove towards her birthday party. The car ride was filled with witty banter and laughter.

Y/N suddenly remained stoic when she saw a group of men on the side of the street. "Is that who I think it is?"

The head of the Senerchia family from New York stood on the sidewalk. He must have been paying someone a visit in England. He was still angry with Will for what he did to his son.

A rather nasty break up between the Senerchia boy and Y/N's friend. Boy didn't get the message to cut his losses and move on. Kept harassing Y/N's friend at all hours. Will decided to give him a permanent message. Don Callis wasn't exactly happy until he heard the reasoning.

"It's fine, dear. We are almost at the speakeasy to celebrate your big day," Will smiled and kissed her hand once more. Y/N ignored the old man and turned her attention to Will.

Will parked in an alleyway. He hopped out of the car and walked over to her side. Ever the gentleman, he held the car door open for her. She smiled and looped her arm with his. They walked to the door.

A secret knock granted them access inside. The gentleman in charge of watching the coats grabbed Will's coat from him. They were given masks to wear for the party. He placed his mask on and assisted with hers. They looped arms once more and walked through a velvet curtain.

"Happy birthday!" A group shouted at them. Her mouth dropped in shock as their family and friends were there to celebrate her. She put her hand over her mouth. Tears sprung to her eyes at Will's dedication to making this day perfect.

Her favorite colors decorated the room. Pictures of them together sat on different tables. She wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

"Best birthday ever, thank you," she smiled and they shared a kiss.

[redybearsent]

Paper Mario: the Heirlooms of Doom

Paper Mario: the Heirlooms of Doom It´s a little concept some friends and I came up with some time ago, it was made (like any other fan Paper Mario project) with the propose of writing a story like the ones from the first 3 games with some elements from the newer instalments of the saga.

-Plot Summary:" A thousand years ago, a powerful mage collected 6 cursed artifacts that had the powerful sprites within them, the mage sealed them on a chamber protected by a spell so no one would use the heirlooms for evil... Until one day, Bowser, Kammy, and a strange cloaked figure arrived at the chamber where the heirlooms laid... The mysterious figure broke the seal so Bowser would take the heirlooms. With those relics on Bowser´s claws, a series of unfortune events would start to happen all around the kingdom, and thus, starting a new adventure for our hero."

-Characters:

Mario: "It´s a him! You already now him."

Orbert: "The assistant of the mage of the legend, he was tasked to protect the chamber and now, with the help of Mario and Co. is on the search for the 6 heirlooms."

Niff T.: "An errand toad that knows a little bit of everything. He´s your first partner and the one with the ability of Tattling The Enemies"

Koorrow: "A deceased Koopatrol who fell during a fearsome battle against a legendary beast. He´s your second partner and the one with the Shell Toss ability"

Sherifit: "The bold bringer of peace and order of the Wild East Desert town. He´s your third partner and the one with the ability of Blowing Thing Up with his bullets."

Baketty: "A young baker rookie from the Luncheon Kingdom. She´s searching for the perfect recipe to earn her "Master Baker" tittle. She´s your forth partner and the one with the ability of Flying Mario Across Gaps"

Kenny Boom: "A heartthrob actor with great strength and aim. Don´t let his appearance fool you, he has a heart of gold. He´s your fifth partner and the one with the ability of Throwing Mario To High Places."

Yuki: "A yo kai from a snowy land where cherry trees blossom. She harnesses the power of cold hails. She´s your sixths partner and the one with the ability of Blowing Wind."

Miney: "The foreman of the Monty Mole Wrecking Crew. He was tasked with constructing a tunnel to the Mushroom Kingdom and somehow... He got dragged into the adventure! He´s your seventh and last partner, he has the ability of Hiding Mario Underground."

Check out the DeviantArt post: https://www.deviantart.com/redybearsart/art/1086784084

[in-my-loki-feels]

WIP Wednesday

Thought I'd run out of time but managed to find something to share after all. This is more of the "President Loki and Don ride a jet ski" fic (which someday I will finish...)

Thank you @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @kcscribbler and @lokimobius for the tags!

Loki could have thought of plenty of activities to while away the time now that the children weren’t around, but Don apparently had other plans. At least it meant he’d changed out of his awful work uniform into something more appealing. Gone were the loose long-sleeved shirt and wrinkled khakis. He now wore garish bright blue swim trunks with neon green stripes down the sides, paired with a blue t-shirt. When he held up a second pair of trunks in an alarming shade of red, Loki gave them a baleful look and changed with a mere thought.  His usual three-piece suit was exchanged for dark green swim trunks and nothing else. Don’s cheeks had flushed prettily when he took in all of Loki’s bared skin and then he disappeared into the bathroom to dig through a drawer. He came back holding up a bright orange tube.  “And that is?” Loki asked.  “Sunscreen,” Don said, popping the top off and squeezing a generous amount of white lotion into his palm. He stepped towards Loki.  “Absolutely not.” Loki stepped back, his nose wrinkling at the smell. “I will not have something so pungent slathered all over me.”  “I guess gods don’t have to worry about sunburn?” Don said dryly. He went back into the bathroom to rub the obnoxiously odorous cream onto his arms and legs. He did his face last, but when he turned to Loki, there was a smear of white across his nose, like he’d forgotten to fully rub it in.  Loki turned away. Let him look like a fool.  Except as Loki watched Don scurry around the car, ensuring the trailer was properly connected and the personal watercraft was secure, he couldn’t stop staring at that white smear.  Ridiculous man, he thought, but the words lacked bite.

No tags other than an open tag. My brain is mush and it's late in the day. <3

[possessedopossum]

I didn't want to romance Solas at first bc of all the angst but the more I played the more I realized how fucked up the inquisitor Lavellan is even without romancing Solas. Especially in case of a mage...It feels like the game is punishing you for siding with mages and elves or being one yourself. Your companions don't like you, you lose your faith, your entire history is one big lie, you can even lose your entire clan. Both the mage rebellion and the dalish are constantly demonized. You have to listen to racist or pro templar bullshit. No one understands you except for Solas who leaves in the end. I gave his romance another try and oh god. This is like ultimate loneliness and isolation. I had no idea why would someone like Solas fall in love with a modern elf but now I know why. Because Lavellan is like the only one who can see a real person in him. In modern Thedas, he is nothing but another pair of pointy ears. An apostate. An elven hobo. During the days of ancient elves he was nothing but a title. The Dread Wolf. A symbol, not a real person. And literally the same thing can be applied to Lavellan who is being crushed by the weight of their title. Who is being devoured by the narrative until there is nothing left of them. They are so alike, damn. Inquisition companions mostly act like a group of coworkers and Solas doesn't trust even his own agents (hi Felassan). The game ridicules a player for certain opinions and Solas conditionally says he was called a liar, a fool, a madman by both his enemies and his allies alike for trying to share his knowledge. I used to think Solas romance was kinda empty and unsatisfying and holy shit how wrong I was. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Solavellan to me is about finally finding a person who understands you under the shittiest circumstances possible after accepting that you will probably die alone. And then...Being completely destroyed by your own sense of duty. With all the Solas hate in this fandom I kinda forgot he actually...Cares about Lavellan? It wasn't an easy decision to leave. And it was even harder for Solas to not let Lavellan join his cause. He had to get rid of his own humanity for the sake of other elves and he doesn't want his vhenan to do the same. And the most tragic thing about this, that there is not much humanity left of Lavellan anyway. They are tired and lost and alone. Inquisition has changed them, they can't go back and pretend that nothing happened. They are not the same person they used to be. Solas greatest fear is dying alone but in the end of the game my Lavellan felt like they are the one who is slowly dying alone.

Also Solas is bisexual to me I don`t care what bioware say.

[wpnovakcrystal]

The LU Boys Play Monopoly - 6 - The way of the Sky is Beautiful.

(SURPRISE NOVAK POST. I've been lurking for a little while since I been busy, but since both of my social groups cancelled tonight when I wrote this, I figured I'd actually W r i t e S o m e t h i n g lol. Part 2(7) of this is also rough drafted, and just needs to be fixed lel. Enjoy!)

It was now Sky's turn, and as Four had reminded everybody, it was still only the first round of rolls. The realization of that began to weigh pretty heavy on Legend's mind, as so much had already begun to happen in just this short a time....

. Nonetheless, Sky took his dice and gave them a limp little roll.

Snake eyes; a two.

Everyone, as if on cue, began to laugh once more. Everyone with the exception of Time and Four. Legend spoke first.

"Sounds about right given your stamina!" he mocked.

"What did I just say about being nice, boys?" Time interrupted. He was still trying to keep things relatively civil on account of his wife's previous inquiry. Though he knew it wouldn't/didn't horribly embarrass her, he personally didn't enjoy all the noise. Sky only gave Legend and the others a grumpy little frown as he slid his little wheelbarrow the short two spaces, onto the Community Chest space; And With a rigid expression on his face, He drew the card.

"You have won second prize in a beauty contest… Collect $10 Dollars..."

He read it aloud, and before delightfully smiling as if to prove the card's point: "Heh, perhaps I am a little beautiful… hehe…"

Sky chuckled to himself, garnering various 'ughs' and other sarcastic expressions from everyone at the table. Legend in particular made a barfing/gagging motion, which made Hyrule chuckle.

"Don't fool yourself, just because you're the first Link doesn't mean you're the most handsome..." Warriors informed the skyward hero.

"YEAH! Everyone knows that I look the best, anyway!" Wind piped, perhaps finally getting in on the growing attitude of pride that was consuming the them all. Warriors and Legend replied to that with rude laughter. Twilight, in conciliation, reproached himself for his own light chuckle, and gave the boy a reassuring smile instead. Though he himself still had his own thoughts about that....

Sky meanwhile ignored the group's opposition, and gracefully took his ten dollars from Time's outstretched hand. Time took the chest card, and moved it back into the deck.

Sky's measly little snake eyes were still doubles, so naturally they let him go again. It was the rules, after all…. So with this second roll, Sky rolled a five. This landed him on the Chance Square now, and he once again donned a face as if to say 'Seriously?' A few of them again began to giggle, as it seemed like no matter how Sky rolled, he would always end up on one of these special spaces, and not a property. It was still way too early in the game to be making those sorts of claims, but it was still a claim promoted by the tryhards. However, this was where Sky's 'chance' would pay off, and Legend's luck would begin to crumble.... Sky once again began read his card aloud....

"Advance to St. Charles place… If you pass go, collect $200 dollars..."

"...Sweet!" He concluded, as more groans and even boos could be heard from around the table. And as he began to move his wheelbarrow the four short spaces around the corner, Legend's mind began to plan something… Intro | Previous | Next

[gilgamushroom]

HOW TO SELL YOUR SOUL TO BILL CIPHER ‼️‼️ (+ Terms & Conditions CRACKED)

It took.... way, way too long to decode this, so I'm just gonna post it here lol. So!!

From the adorable baby bill page, we've got "ONE EYED KING" which once you put it in the laptop leads to.....

A totally normal recording with no secret messages! Nope, it's never that simple. Morse code reveals a "NAITSUAF" which can also be used in the laptop...

Well, that's fun, now let's click on and go to the contract

Which has a silly little code at the end which translates to "YOU ARE NOW TWENTY ONE GRAMS LIGHTER" and that should be all! except... jesus fucking christ...

Now HERE are the hours of my life that I will never get back. The translation goes:

this contract is legal and binding 🟨 we reserve the right to use your likeness 🟨 voice and small town pluck in whatever nefarious manner is deemed necessary 🟨 sans soul 🟨

your soulmate will not recognize you and will walk right past you on a cold autumn day 🟨 never making eye contact 🟨 not even processing that you have eyes at all 🟨 no amount of interaction will move them to a place where they can remember 🟨 in feeling 🟨 they thousands of lifetimes you have already spent together 🟨 each time choosing whatever form would keep you closest like otters holding hands in a tumultuous rivers 🟨

you were birds 🟨 you were trees with roots entangled 🟨 drinking in the sunlight together 🟨 wherever we go next 🟨 whatever you choose 🟨 I will always be right there with you 🟨🟨 thats done 🟨 buddy 🟨 congratulations 🟨 you have chosen bill instead

mcdonalds reserves the right to put a giant yellow m on your torso and forehead and send you walking through a crowded times square while you scream 🟨 the fries 🟨 the fries 🟨 they don🟨t degrade in nature 🟨🟨🟨 it🟨s an immortal food 🟨🟨🟨 they will be in the landfills long past our deaths 🟨🟨

good god 🟨 the things🟨s i🟨ve seen 🟨 me 🟨 who am I 🟨 oh i🟨m bill🟨s previous lawyer 🟨 he put my soul into a quill pen so I can write his legal documents until the sun snuffs out like a candle in this sick universe 🟨 I used to be so hot 🟨 I was so fine 🟨 now i🟨m fine print 🟨 speaking of which 🟨

bill reserves the right to put your soul into an inanimate object 🟨 a strange creature 🟨 a concept 🟨 a sentence 🟨 a tasteful but rusty mason jar with wildflowers in it 🟨

if at any point you wish to have visitation rights with your soul 🟨 you will be swiftly denied 🟨 unless you had a cool day planned for the both of you 🟨 then bill might want to come along 🟨

by signing this document you forfeit any rights to eating soul food 🟨 it will turn to ash in your mouth 🟨 a fitting punishment for a fool who squandered the only true gift life owes you 🟨 bill reserves the right to dress your soul however he deems necessary 🟨 especially if your soul was a nerd before acquisition 🟨 soulmakeoverrr 🟨

your soul may become fractured and placed into different objects 🟨 this has no purpose and will not resurrect you if you die 🟨 signee has forfeited all rights to any afterlife 🟨 including but not limited to 🟨 heaven 🟨 hell 🟨 purgatory 🟨 big corner 🟨 flow state 🟨 the dream house 🟨 the reincarnation processing center 🟨 axolotl🟨s tank and consequences hole 🟨

signee can no longer board the soul train and is advised to discard all bellbottoms 🟨 signee can no longer have a puppy as a best friend 🟨 they can sense what is gone 🟨 cats are indifferent 🟨

signee may experience occasional demon possessions from horculus the red 🟨 plabos the merciless 🟨 morbus son of mortem 🟨 plaga the oozing and other such common demons roamimg earth searching for weakened 🟨 empty vessels 🟨

tips for ripping your soul out at home 🟨 watching youtube commentary channels 🟨 attending an extended family event with an open bar 🟨 using generative ai and asserting that you are creative 🟨 turning a blind eye to human suffering 🟨 amassing more wealth than needed 🟨 purchasing a blue checkmark

AND THAT'S THAT. I am seeing this code in my sleep :D Anyways, as they say, always read the fine print, unless it's THIS long in which case by god just take this post instead 👍🏼

I'll go back to seeing these symbols whenever I close my eyes now. Take care and don't sign your soul away uninformed <3

[miguellover07]

Ok ok I wanted to request something

Highschool/college au

Badboy!miguel x chubbyfem!reader (well she an nerd,if u want to know)

(I'm what to say, but I hope u can create something with this idea)

I HOPE U HAVE AN WONDERFUL DAY 😘😘😇😇

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH my first request, I`m kind of excited huh

Around 1200 words, High-school au, BadboyMiguel x chubbyfem!reader, fluff

Jump, little mouse

Again, you are being pushed against your locker and you can already tell who did it.

Miguel who keeps messing with you by either stealing a pen, scribbling on your paper, hiding your backpack or in extreme situation either pushes you against the locker or even slightly pulls your hair.

He is standing there with his group already laughing as you pick up your books and notes that got knocked over.

You however try to ignore them and keep your face as neutral as possible because if they see any kind of reaction they will only push you further and perhaps do something worst.

The culprit is quick to snack one of your favorite comics away and you can´t help but panic.

"NO! give that back please" you try to reason with him as you step forward to take it back but he only lifts it above your head.

"Give me one good reason why I should do that? Hm?" he teases with a smug smirk and in your paniced state, you do exactly what he wants and that is: jumping.

"Miguel! It´s a special edition, there are only 50 of them, pleaseee" you say with tears in your eyes as you remember how you´ve spent your whole pocket money on this comic.

But he doesn´t care instead he answer your explanation with little 'oh', 'ah' and 'uh-huh'.

He relishes in the sight before him, he even gets bolder by pulling it behind him so that you lean against him while your hand tries to reach your favorite comic but to no avail.

"Oh, come on now, you can do it, I believe in you, my little mouse" he coos teasingly at you.

His friends are mocking and hollering as they witnes the scene before them. One of them even tried the same thing by taking another comic but you don´t care since your eyes are only on the special one.

Miguel´s smirk only grows wider, the way he can feel your body against him makes him go feral and he needs to bite his lip as he fights the urge to put his arm around your waist in order to press you tighter against him.

He can´t lie, he always had a thing for you but you two are too different which makes it difficult to connect.

Sometimes he even feels bad for treating you like this, he would much rather take you out on dates and just treat you right but you always act so skittish and shy around him which makes it even harder for him.

So, his only way is to tease you a little bit, in order to get your attention and hoping that you would maybe let a little lose around him.

He also made sure that he is the only one who could do this to you. Everybody else would get threatened or beaten by him.

By now there are other people watching the scene and some even take pictures and videos of the two of you.

Seeing how it´s hopeless to get your comic back you try to step back and find a teacher who could help you with him.

The unwanted attention already makes you uncomfortable and only now do you realize that you´ve made a fool out of yourself by jumping.

But before you can step back, he finally gives in to his desire and puts his arm around your waist and presses you tightly against him.

With shock in your eyes you look up at him as you open your mouth to protest but suddenly you feel his hand against your side and he squeezes it really hard.

Yelping and perplexed you look up at him.

For a second you don´t know what to do, frozen you stand there and only stare up at him. Even he seems shocked by his doing.

The loud hollering and noise tears you back to reality and you push him away from you, tears already streaming down your face as you run towards the bathroom.

Quickly you lock yourself up in one of the stalls and you can´t hold back the sobbs and tears.

He just squeezed your side. Why would he do that?

Not a minute later there are knocks and calls from girls, telling you that you should come out and reassuring you that everything will be alright.

But you aren´t ready to step out just now so in your defence you start accusing them "Leave me alone now! You could have done something before this happened but you all only watched!"

Some try it again but most of them just left you and after some stubborn minutes of your silence, the remaining ones left as well.

Now you can finally try to calm down, taking deep breaths and wiping your tears away.

Then when you feel ready you open the door only to get jump scared as Miguel stand in front of you, in the middle of the female bathroom.

Again you try to close the door and start screaming but he is faster and stronger as he pushes the door open and puts his hand over your mouth while closing the door and just holds you like this.

His hand over your mouth and his arm around your shoulder, his eyes never leaving yours as you try to break free from his hold.

"Calm down if I get caught it´ll be your fault," he hisses, "I promise I´m not going to harm you... I just want to say sorry...".

You don´t trust him but his threat scares you so against your will you calm down and he sighs while removing his hands from you.

"I´m sorry I obviously pushed your boundaries but... I couldn´t hold back... and I know this sounds like I´m some kind of animal... but I just needed to feel you," he sighs as if he was disappointed with himself, " I like you... a lot but you´re always so cold to me and I couldn´t find another way to get your attention and I thought it would be enough to tease you a little here and there but... I´m sorry you didn´t deserve any of it".

With his confession he suddenly looks like a kicked puppy and you want to forgie him but what he did today was really unacceptable.

The little bathroom stall makes you two stand very close as he puts his hands next to your head to lean on them and your heart starts racing while your cheeks blush but you're too mad and hurt to give in your feelings.

"Miguel-" you start but are quickly cut of "I would´ve never damaged your comics, I swear I know how much you like them and for an apology we could go to the bookstore down the street and I´ll buy you whatever you want there and after that we could also get your favorite coffee and some snacks together, what do you say?"

And the suggestion does sound nice, especially since you could never buy these overpriced figures.

So, after a bit of thinking you slowly nod but raise your pointy finger at him, trying to be intimidating "But no more teasing, you hear me? And no more squeezing"

Nodding he takes your hand in his and gives it a tender kiss "yes of course anything but... could I at least pinch your cheeks? Just once, please"

Rolling your eyes, you agree with a little ´fine´ and he pinches it so gently while his other hand keeps holding onto your hand.

His expression is the one of a puppy who go their treat which makes you chuckle a bit.

You can´t believe that this is the same Miguel from earlier, it´s like he is a completely different person but you don´t complain since he is so much nicer like this.

And you can´t deny it, he does look good, perhaps if he is better and gentler with you, you might accept his confession.

🕷🕸

I just wrote around 1200 words. I actually had two ideas but I decide this one was better because I wasn´t sure whether you wanted some smut in it so I just went with the fluff and I also wasn't sure if you wanted the two of them to be in a relationship or not so i kind of just made the "beginning" <3

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

How do they confess to fem reader

Fluff

Fir chrollo and Feitan (seperately ) plz

Of course 💕

Chrollo x gn!reader (200+ words), Feitan x gn!reader (500+ words)

Navi.

Warnings: mention of murder and torture in feitan´s part bc he´s feitan, reader bakes and cooks in feitan's part, Fei likens the reader to a bunny

The night was cool, though the sky was already clearer, signifying the coming of spring. He had picked you up in a sleek black car, waiting for you leaned against the door, dressed in a tuxedo. He drew you towards him by the waist, smiling lips finding your temple in a soft kiss before he opened the door for you and let you in.

It was quite the sensual night, air buzzing between you both. While you waited for the food, he sat leaned forward, gently holding your hands in his over the table. His thumb brushed over your skin as his eyes were fixated on you and only you.

The entire night his eyes never left yours for more than a moment, always finding them again after a quick glance at the waiter or your lips. His hands always sought yours out, and when you were eating, they were itching to feel your skin underneath them again.

He would soon enough, however. Under the starlit sky then, standing before the door to your home, he held your cheek and tilted your face up for the moon to illuminate. You were for his eyes only, your body only for his fingertips to caress. Your lips only for his lips to part.

You assume he had finally gotten used to you. After many months of being part of the Phantom Troupe - friends with the Phantom Troupe - he actually acknowledged you when you entered a room, shared a meaningful look with you when Phinks yet again made a fool of himself and once he even tried food that you had made.

He liked you, that much was clear even to you. He trusted you as much as he trusted the founding members, and he seemed to worry for you - in his own twisted way. When you got injured trying to capture someone, he would be far crueller than usual as he interrogated them.

It was Chrollo who called you to his side with a smile. Unlike Phinks and Nobunaga he had stayed quiet, not mentioning the obvious change in Feitan´s behaviour - let alone teasing him. You sometimes wondered, if the other two had a death wish making these kinds of innuendos towards Feitan.

Your face was still heated from their teasing when you followed Chrollo. Behind you, you could hear laughter turn into terrified screams as Phinks tried to flee his friend´s wrath. As the door closed, for a moment, you could feel a cold stare sending shivers down your back.

Chrollo - albeit often shockingly emotionally destitute - was very good at reading people. While understanding them seemed to be quite difficult for him at times, in this case, his taste in literature must have come in handy.

"You are incredibly lucky to have gotten on Feitan´s good side so quickly. I even doubt he´d eat food I made for him."

"To be fair I don´t think-" you broke down with a light giggle at the little scowl he sent you. Chrollo shook his head, before his expression turned serious.

"Most importantly, I want to let you know that from here on out a single misstep can signify your or another person´s death. If you are hurt - by anyone and in any way - they will die. Choose your words carefully or the Phantom Troupe or even your loved ones may not live to see another day." You tensed. "That is the love of Feitan. Fiercely loyal, but terrible. One misstep and you are dead. Remember that before you make any decision concerning him and you."

You nodded.

"Thank you, Chrollo."

He only hummed as you left.

Feitan awaited you as a shadow lurking before your room.

"What Boss say?"

You opened your mouth, but unsure what to say, you closed it again. Feitan laid his head to the side, before kicking himself off the wall and gesturing for you to open your door. Inside, he sauntered to the couch and reached out for a box of self-made cookies. When you still didn´t answer, he looked back at you, eyebrows raised.

"What? Cat bit your tongue?" his sharp teeth glimmered in the light.

"He simply told me that as a Phantom Troupe member, I should mind my actions."

Feitan frowned.

"That clear, no?"

"Well...more so because he said I am on your...good side?"

Feitan clicked his tongue.

"Like Phinks, so childish." He bared his teeth for a second before his eyes found yours. His gaze was calculating, as if trying to read you. Then, a smile broke out on his face.

"And what if true, hm?"

"Ah-" your eyes widened, and you fiddled with your fingers. Feitan laughed at that.

"So nervous. Like a bunny in cage," he hummed. "True. I like you. Question is: do you?"

You were unsure what to feel under that piercing gaze.

[horizon-verizon]

It’s funny to see some delusional Stannis’ stans pretending that he wouldn’t murder Myrcella and Tommen.

Stannis means Myrcella and Tommen will be executed as part of his “scouring” of the court. Their mere existence is perceived as a sin. GRRM uses the word “abomination” for a reason. It’s lost so much of its power in today’s society, but it means the worst possible thing, something that’s a horror, something that goes against nature, something that shouldn’t be allowed to exist. Abomination = not worthy of life.

“Joffrey is not my brother’s seed,” Stannis said bluntly. “Nor is Tommen. They are bastards. The girl as well. All three of them abominations born of incest.” –ACOK, Catelyn III

The Lannister woman gave him horns and made a motley fool of him. She may have murdered him as well, as she murdered Jon Arryn and Ned Stark. For such crimes there must be justice. Starting with Cersei and her abominations. But only starting. I mean to scour that court clean.” –Stannis, ASOS, Davos IV

“Traitors have always paid with their lives. […] It is law. Law, Davos. Not cruelty.” –Stannis, ASOS, Davos IV

Stannis here refers to Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen as crimes. For which there must be justice. He follows it up by talking about scouring the court clean. He means to murder Cersei’s children, given the chance. He tried to sacrifice his own nephew, Edric Storm only survived because Davos acted behind Stannis’ back and smuggled Edric away. There’s no way in hell he’d let “bastards” born of incest and adultery live.

NOW, here’s a queen consort who actually have legitimate reasons to fear for her children’s lives....

Aside from liking how his character presents the conflict that is in hypocrisy and being sexist, I never understood the allure or hype for Stannis. I even understand Robert's stans, at least Robert had some amount of humor or charm or provided some funny lines.

And yes, 100%, anon. It's pretty in your face. And I don''t think modern people "don't know" the implications of when people use the word "abomination" bc we still will use this word for the exact meaning. People just love to be contrarian to the pressure to practice accountability or be bothered in acting out the process of understanding others' boundaries. Stannis is a rules man....but if it works for him. So no one can be really "safe" with him unless you manage to be able to shift "perfect" obedience to whatever value system he has in his moments when you have to.

So people will pretend that the implications of words and the spacing, syntax, vocab don't mean what they imply to mean or likely do bc it makes it easier for them to not be subject to the processes of being held accountable.

[moonlight-presence]

Last Effort

Category: M/M

Fandom: Good Omens (tv show)

Relationships: Crowley X Aziraphale

Words: 2 385

Summary: What if Crowley had not left after kissing Aziraphale? What if he had tried one last thing to convince him to change his mind? Can one thing that is damned from the start, come together in the end? Well...Read more to find out.

OR

I wrote this to deal with the s2 finale and I ended up making myself cry harder... so yeah.

MATURE CONTENT 18 +

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, his face torn between anguish and despair, a mixture of expressions Crowley had hoped he would never see on his face.

"I need you!", he yelled, his voice breaking, coming stuck in his throat as it struggled to get out, "I don´t think you understand what I am offering you..."

Crowley remained with his eyes locked outside, his heart beating faster than it had ever beaten in his very long life. Not when he had fought angels, not when he had challenged Heaven, not even when he had thought Aziraphale was in danger...But it was like a thunderstorm now, bursting inside of his ribcage.

"I understand...", he said calmly, his eyes meeting his traitor, "And I understand it a lot better than you do..."

"Well...Then there´s nothing more to say." Words of betrayal, spoken by someone Crowley had never imagined they would have been.

The demon felt his heart shattering, his last bit of hope slowly fading away as he looked at Aziraphale´s determined face.

"Listen. Can you hear that?", he asked with a finger pointed up.

"I don´t hear anything!"

You stupid idiot...You fool. "That´s the point. No nightingales.."

Aziraphale´s effort to remain unfazed shattered as a wave of sorrow washed through him. He locked his eyes with his friend- his partner, his lover, his everything- and sent him a glare that seemed to translate to "How dare you.." Crowley remained firm.

"You idiot, we could have been...Us.", Crowley´s voice nearly broke down as he forced those words out of his mouth.

He knew he had lost but he had to try this at least once. Crowley would not leave Aziraphale without at least doing this just one time. Yes, he was going to lose but he wasn´t going to let that stubborn, arrogant, beautiful, stupid, fool of an angel off the hook that easily.

Aziraphale turned his face away from him and, in an act of pure despair, Crowley moved towards him and grabbed him by his jacket, their lips crashing together.

Crowley heard Aziraphale gasp against his mouth but continued pressing their lips together. He would not leave without showing him how much he cared for him, how much he mattered to him. The kiss was not filthy, or deviously unpure as one might think a demon would kiss, but it was rather pure... Kind and passionate and so very shaky.

Crowley felt Aziraphale´s hand against his back, his fingers not knowing what to do as they shook against his jacket. He could sense the angel trembling against him, trying to gain the courage to fight him back but failing miserably. Crowley knew that he wanted this... He could sense the passion between them, the longing that was brooding during the millennia they had known each other for.

Crowley broke the kiss first, surprisingly, and Aziraphale let out a shaky breath, his face furrowed in a mixture of emotions the demon could not figure out. He looked at him with tears behind his black glasses, his lips still tingling with Aziraphale´s warmth.

The angel took a step back, his mouth trying to find words as shaky breaths escaped his lips. He looked like somebody who was not expecting a poisonous snake to bite him, to stick its fangs upon his flesh, to intoxicate his system and weaken his body.

"I...I forgive you."

You stupid fucking idiot.

Crowley took off his glasses, throwing them to the ground, and stepped forward. He should be leaving, he should be gone by now but that stupid heart of his, too soft because of Aziraphale, told him to remain there.

"I don´t want your bloody forgiveness, angel, I want you. I want you and me, together.", he said, black tears flowing from his bright yellow eyes.

"I-I... I can´t. We...Can´t. Crowley, please.", Aziraphale said with a strained voice, his own beautiful eyes filling with tears. Crowley grabbed his jaw and placed a kiss on his lips again, and again, and again, and again.

He tasted Aziraphale´s golden tears in his mouth as their lips moved together. He felt the angel´s shaking body press against him, so weak and fragile. Fuck, he was going to fight for all eternity before letting that stupid idiot do something he would regret.

Crowley grabbed AZiraphale´s jacket and began sliding it down but the angel placed his hands on top of his. "Crowley... Please. I-I...You have to leave."

"Do you want me to leave?", he asked in a whisper, their foreheads pressed together.

"Y-Yes."

"Swear it. Bloody swear it and I will walk away and leave you alone for the rest of eternity."

Aziraphale´s eyes released a flood of tears as his lips trembled with the ultimatum Crowley had just given him. He placed his hands on Crowley´s chest and slightly hit the area, not hard enough to hurt but strong enough to make the demon realize the pain of his words.

"You bastard.", the angel cursed, much to Crowley´s surprise.

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley and brought their lips together once more, his hands grabbing the demon by his shoulders and pulling him close. Crowley smiled between kisses and took off Aziraphale´s jacket quickly, his fingers already working on the buttons of his vest.

They began undressing each other quickly, the bookshop soon filling up with books on the ground as they bumped against shelves, tables, pillars... They did not say one word to each other as Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by the thighs and put him on top of the nearest table.

The angel watched as Crowley took off the last piece of clothing from his torso and threw it back, his eyes red with tears and sorrow. He kicked his shoes from his feet, forgetting about the pain in his chest and the little voice inside of his head that told him to stop that immediately.

Crowley, on the other hand, was busy shutting the blinds and ripping Aziraphale´s blouse from his chest, his fingers working on the belt of the angel´s pants with an incomparable hunger. He did not know what would happen after they had had each other but he did not want to find out, so...As fool does when he´s in love, he looked at his everything and admired him.

"You are beautiful.", Crowley said as his fingers unbuttoned Aziraphale´s pants and slid them down his legs.

"Oh...Well, thank you.", Aziraphale said with a smile that soon turned sour from the thoughts inside of his head. He watched as Crowley removed his pants and then grabbed his wrists, "You are also beautiful."

"Oh...I have been told before, yes...", he replied in an attempt at a joke. Aziraphale rolled his eyes playfully and gave him a warm smile.

"Thank you, angel.", Crowley said with a serious tone of voice this time. He got down on his knees and spread Aziraphale´s legs, his lips already brushing on his skin.

"C-Crowley...", he said with a whimper as Crowley began kissing his inner thighs slowly.

"Sssshhhh, no more of that, okay? It´s just us, now. It´s just you and me, angel.", he whispered as he softly palmed Aziraphale´s cock through his boxers.

The angel let out a shaky moan and bit his lip, his fingers grabbing the desk with immense strength as he tried to remain composed. Crowley took that as a challenge and licked the slit of his hardening cock suddenly, making Aziraphale gasp.

"Oh...Oh...", the angel whispered with eyes half shut, his hands now on Crowley´s bright red hair.

The demon wickedly smiled and grabbed the boxers, pulling them down softly and freeing Aziraphale´s penis. The angel blushed at the sight of Crowley looking at his erection, but said nothing as the demon grabbed his shaft and slowly began pumping it.

"You have no idea for how long I have wanted to do this, Aziraphale.", he whispered as Aziraphale threw his head back and moaned a bit louder.

Crowley brought his mouth to his shaft and parted his lips, wrapping them around the angel´s cock and swallowing him down. Aziraphale gasped and bit his lip, nearly drawing blood as immense pleasure washed through him.

Crowley moved up and down fast, his tongue swirling on the shaft and his hands massaging Aziraphale´s thighs in a shooting way. It had been ages since he had last had sex and well...Sex with demons is just kind of nasty so Crowley would not very much like to repeat that experience. But this...Fuck, this was beyond Crowley´s dreams.

"Oh...I feel so good. It feels so good...So this is what...Ah...Sex feels like.", Aziraphale tried to say between breaths, "No wonder humans like it so, argh, much. Oh, Crowley...Yes."

Crowley could feel that Aziraphale was getting close so he removed his mouth, earning a whimper from his lover, "I know, I know, angel... I am going to make you feel even better now, okay?"

He got up and kissed him again, their tongues dancing with each other. "Turn around and put your belly on the table, beautiful." Aziraphale blushed a bit but nodded, his body covered in sweat and a few tears that had dropped from his face, earlier.

As he moved, Crowley removed his belt from his pants and pulled his pants and boxers down, freeing his aching erection from his confinements at last.

"This might feel a bit weird at first but it´s going to feel just marvelous in a few seconds, okay?", Crowley said as he put his fingers on his mouth and coated them in saliva.

"Okay...Can I look at you?", Aziraphale asked with his eyes locked on the table. Crowley´s heart ached and he nodded, black tears dripping from his eyes again.

"Y-yes...Of course you can, you idiot.", he smiled as Aziraphale looked over his shoulder and met his eyes. He was crying too.

Crowley pressed his fingers on Aziraphale´s entrance and slowly pushed one in. The angel hissed a bit in discomfort but Crowley kissed his back, shooting him away.

"It´s okay...It´s okay...I am here. You are safe with me.", he whispered against the sweaty skin.

Crowley began moving his finger inside and then Aziraphale gasped as he hit his prostate. The demon smiled and hit it again and again until Aziraphale was nothing more than a chain of moans and whimpers.

He added another finger, slowly at first, and then another until Aziraphale grabbed the edge of the table and pre-cum dripped from his cock to the floor below.

"P-Please...I need you. I need you."

Again with the words...Oh, those wretched words.

"You have me.", Crowley whispered, taking off his fingers and pumping his cock with saliva from his mouth.

He lined himself with Aziraphale´s entrance and then slowly pushed inside. The angel gasped in a bit of pain and Crowley stopped, letting him adjust.

They proceeded with that- Aziraphale adjusting to the size of Crowley and the demon fighting his urges not to fuck him senseless. In the end, Crowley´s cock was fully inside Aziraphale´s burning and tight walls.

"C-Can I move? Fuck...", Crowley asked with urgency as his forehead dropped on top of Aziraphale´s shoulders.

"Y-Yes.", the angel said with a nod.

Crowley sighed in relief and began fucking him, slowly at first and then a bit rougher. Aziraphale could do nothing more but whimper below him, his mouth parted in pleasure and his eyes shut.

"You feel so good. So good for me, angel."

"A-argh... I...Oh, I love you." Crowley stilled his hips suddenly.

"You...Aziraphale, look at me.", he begged and the angel refused, his eyes locked shut, "Please, fucking look at me!"

He trembled with the louder tone of voice and finally opened his eyes, meeting Crowley´s.

"Say it again.", he begged, moving his hips again, his hands on Aziraphale´s hips.

"I...Crowley...", he shuddered as pleasure began pulsing through his body again.

"Please. Please.", he begged over and over again with each thrust.

"I love you! Oh, I fucking love you!", the second time Aziraphale cursed that day. What a fucking day...

"I love you too. I love you so much.", Crowley confessed, grabbing Aziraphale´s cock and pumping it fast.

"Oh...OH! Crowley, I think I am going to-"

"It´s alright. Just let it happen. I have you.", Crowley moaned in Aziraphale´s ear, breathing against his eardrum.

Aziraphale tightened around Crowley´s cock as he orgasmed and that was the last of the demon´s control. He halted his hips as his own orgasm burst through him, his whole body trembling in waves as he spilled inside the angel.

They remained there, inside of each other, for a few seconds before Crowley kissed Aziraphale´s back and removed himself. The next few minutes consisted of them getting cleaned and dressed, both not saying a word or looking at each other.

In the end, after they had taken each other, after they had both confessed their feelings, Crowley reached for Aziraphale, and the angel moved away.

Oh... So it is going to be like this.

"Aziraphale-"

"Leave, Crowley...We are not meant for each other, we can´t keep doing this forever. We...For the love of God, Crowley, nothing lasts forever.", Aziraphale spat out with his eyes fixed on the floor.

Crowley´s last piece of hope vanished and he accepted the harsh truth. He accepted his fate.

He did not say one more word as he turned around and left the bookshop, his glasses hiding the tears in his eyes.

As Crowley walked towards his car, he reminisced on the day he and Aziraphale both watched "Romeo and Juliet" being performed for the first time... He remembered how they had talked about the play and congratulated Shakespeare on it, praising him for the tragic love story. On that day he had wondered how humans could write such things, such tales of heartbreak and anguish over this so-called "love"...Now he understood.

Now he knew what it was like.