#other combos of those four

[transingthoseformers]

Oh,ok! Thanks

I was reading a set of fics and, mixing with what was already on the blog, came this plot here:

In this idea, the Lost Light accidentally ends up in the Tfp universe (they weren't even traveling at the time, but they parked on cybertron and were in wheeljack's lab), starscream came with them along with his sparklings

Here I will put the details:

1-Starscream is in his "true form" (which I particularly find beautiful)

2-The sparklings are the jettwins (tfa jetfire and tfa jetstorm)

3-He is in a polyamorous relationship with bumblebee, wheeljack and windblade (mainly because we couldn't decide which ship to use 🤣)

Obviously there is a lot of chaos as none of the three groups (the "intruders", the bots and cons) expected this

Ooo ok so that's gotta have interesting results, especially since thinking about when in tfp they find themselves in

[starwritesficsandstuff]

I read your headcanon regarding Craig Of The Future. Pretty cool. 👍👍. I know you don’t do fics of COTC anymore, but out of curiosity if you could write a plot for any kind of story regarding those headcanons what would they be?

(In reference to this)

I definitely can see quite a few different plot lines for Kelsey, Stacks, Wilderness, and Maya as a group. Them finding ways to all hang out, trying to find things that are adventurous enough, but not so dangerous that Stacks would feel out of her element and not destructive enough to make Wildernessa upset about the effects it might have on the environment. Them all pitching in to give that pet store an overhaul would definitely be cool to explore, too, with Nessa knowing what animals need, Kelsey being a bird expert and in general very in-tune with how the animals feel, Stacks being a good source of information on things outside of animal expertise like where to order things they need, how to keep the store running, being the stores treasurer, ect., and Maya just having great management skills overall.

As for Craig, he probably spends a lot of time freelancing. I think he ends up following a few bands around, helping them design and sell merch on tours, that kind of thing. It probably ends up taking him all around the US, so I imagine if there was a fic about it, it would be a small anthology of Craig coming home, showing a bunch of photos he took to his friends, and each photo having a contained story to it. He's probably been to New York and Austin and Seattle, a lot of big cities with interesting climates.

Omar definitely has a lot of plots. He goes to trade school instead of college like the rest, so there's a lot of potential stories there. He falls out of archery and then back into it when he has more free time, and there was a small story there in the original post where he goes out with some friends and takes them off guard with his archery skills and then is just like "haha, guess I'm a little rusty still" while they're just in awe of how well he did. Not to mention, he has a lot of fun dynamics with Craig, Maya, and JP. I think Omar might have the most potential storylines out of the main cast.

JP is a lot more difficult. His role in my headcanon is the guy who knows everyone, so if he were in a storyline, him being there would usually means a minor character of some sort is going to appear, too. I feel like JP appears in other plots as comic relief and an ideas guy more than he has his own plotlines. That being said, there are a few stories to be gotten out of him playing hockey in college, like him making the team and trying to figure out which role on the ice he'll fit best, him trying to get along with a difficult teammate, him having to seriously debate if sports is really what he wants to pursue in live or if its just an extracurricular he enjoys.

I feel like if any other characters got a Craig of the Future plotline, I'd love to see future versions of Jason, Handlebarb, and Sparkle Cadet. Jason probably is a scout leader, and is a lot more mellow. Handlebarb is probably a professional bike stuntman or a stunt double on movies, and obviously still has that love of biking. Sparkle Cadet is a teacher, and her goal is to make sure the school's art and theater departments stay well-funded so her students always have the opportunity to express themselves via art the way she did as a kid.

There are some thoughts. If anyone wants to use these ideas, feel free; just remember to credit me. Thanks for the ask!

[redstarfish-art]

I’m starting to think that I’m just going to have to accept that everyone who likes my YGO rarepairs also like thiefshipping...

[jianqzai]

...like son [2/2]

Like father [1/2]

[4giorno]

shoutout to this bitch for single handedly saving the name hifumi

[pnghoon]

daddy's in a tutu !!

(🩰) ── 𝓟ARK JONGSEONG [제이] ⁞ ㅤㅤ𝓰. fluff, humor, married auㅤㅤ୨୧ㅤㅤ warnings : est. relationship, not proofread, pet-namesㅤ⟡ㅤ!nonidol hubby !jay 𝔁 wife !reader ᯓ ꒰ wc : 1.3k꒱ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsynopsis .ᐟ in which you come back home to the sight of your husband in a pretty pink tutu (•̪ o •̪) ── 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ᡣ𐭩

juno's note ─ "unfortunately I can imagine him in a tutu if our daughter asked him too" is so jay coded. you will never not catch me yapping about husband jay..bc why is that man so hubby material. if you enjoyed reading this, please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

the snow was falling heavily outside, blanketing the world in a soft, white layer. inside your cozy home, you were busy getting ready for a day of much-needed errands.

bustling around the house, you pulled on your warmest winter coat and bundled up, ready to brave the icy roads.

before you left, you turned to your husband, jay, and your four year old daughter, yubin, who was sitting on the couch, hugging her favorite pink stuffed bunny.

you stared at your daughter's crestfallen face as she cuddled up beside jay. It was the inevitable that the four year old would be upset right now. due to the icy roads and heavy snow, today's ballet class was canceled, leaving yubin devastated.

“are you sure you'll be okay?” you asked, fixing the scarf around your neck and grabbing your purse.

jay looked up from the couch, where he was busy trying to cheer up yubin, her eyes still a bit puffy from the earlier tears and her nose resembling rudolph.

“we'll be fine,” he reassured with a smile, “right, princess?”

yubin nodded half-heartedly, a cute pout still present on her face as she clutched her bunny.

“you guys call me if you need anything,” you reminded them, pressing a kiss to jay's cheek and ruffling yubin's hair. “i'll be back soon.”

and with one last look at your two favorite people, you braved the snowy outdoors. the cold air nipped at your cheeks, but the promise of hot cocoa and a warm house kept you going.

you made your way to the car, shaking your head with a smile at how cute they looked together. little did you know, an adventure was unfolding inside.

jay and yubin huddled together in the living room, surrounded by the warmth of the heater and the faint sound of delicate snowflakes hitting the window.

yubin wore her little ballet outfit, a mini bun perched on the crown of her head as she practiced her pirouettes.

jay on the other hand, was trying his best to keep up with her, although his ballet skills were definitely less refined.

“okay binnie, let’s try that spin again,” jay said, puffing slightly. “i think i’ve got it now.”

yubin giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement as he watched her dad try to catch his breath from just a couple twirls.

“daddy, you’re doing great! but…”

“but what, sweetheart?” jay asked, glancing down at her with a raised brow.

“i think you need a tutu too!”

jay blinked. he hadn't anticipated that request. “a tu..tu? i don’t know if that’s a good idea honey...”

“pleeease, daddy?” yubin begged, giving him her best puppy eyes. “it’ll be so much fun!”

jay stared at his daughter for a moment, his heart swelling in his chest at the sight of her big round eyes staring up at him.

after a moment of thought, jay reluctantly sighed, giving in to her adorable plea. “alright, alright. if it’ll make you happy, i’ll wear a tutu.”

and with that, jay found himself sporting a frilly tutu that barely fit his hips, his face turning an adorable shade of pink to match the tutu. yubin clapped her hands in delight, twirling around in her own tutu.

“we're matching now daddy!” yubin cheered, jumping around in her ballet slippers.

jay laughed, looking down at the slight new change of wardrobe. it was definitely a combo to say the least, never in his life would he expect sweats to look so good with a tutu.

“isn't that right binnie?” he commented, extending his hand for yubin to take. “now, let's get back to those grand jeté's we were working on earlier eh?”

yubin squealed, immediately accepting his requests with the grasp of her tiny fingers and a wide smile plastered on her face.

“yes please!”

as they continued their ballet practice, the living room had turned into a makeshift stage for the two, with yubin and jay performing a whimsical ballet routine, the sweet melodies of the nutcracker adding the perfect touch to their chaotic performance.

“okay, let’s see your best grand jeté!” yubin called out, her tiny arms reaching out dramatically.

jay attempted a grand jeté, but ended up looking more like an enthusiastic baby goose learning to fly, his arms flailing in the air.

yubin giggled uncontrollably, trying to mimic her dad's moves with even more dramatizing flair.

they pranced around the living room for what seemed like hours, their tutus fluttering in sync with every twirl and leap. for jay’s sake, they would take periodic breaks throughout the practice.

during these breaks, yubin would watch in amusement as her dad rested his hands on his waist, desperately trying to regain his composure. let’s just say, it was like watching a wind-up toy wind down.

after what felt like ages, you were finally heading home. sure, the sweet jingle of christmas music and the warm smell of cinnamon from each errand stop were enduring, but what you were really looking forward to was being wrapped up in a warm, cozy blanket with the two people you love most.

as you pulled into the driveway, the house looked picture perfect against the snowy backdrop. you carried your bags inside, balancing them as you nudged the door open with your hip.

“i'm back!” you called out, kicking off your snowy boots and setting the bags down in the kitchen. “i got all the goodies!”

no response. now you were curious.

you walked further into the house slowly, following the sound of familiar classical music you knew all too well. peeking around the corner, you stopped in your tracks, eyes wide and mouth agape.

there, in the middle of the living room was your husband, in a bright pink tutu that barely fit his athletic build. matching his outfit was your daughter, her own tutu flaring out as she twirled around, her giggles a melody of their own. they were completely in the zone, unaware of your presence.

If you were being frank, the scene was too precious to interrupt. jay was trying to execute an arabesque, but his balance was off, making yubin laugh even more.

“come on, daddy! like this!” she demonstrated with the grace only a child could have, and jay tried again, a bit more successfully this time.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, and jay’s head practically spun at the sound, his face turning even redder from embarrassment.

“oh- hey honey! um, well, yubin wanted to practice ballet–” he explained, his voice trailing off at the end.

“don't stop on my account,” you teased, revealing yourself from behind the wall as you took in the scene before you in all it’s glory.

yubin ran over to you, her eyes shimmering with excitement.

“mommy, look! daddy's my ballet partner!”

you couldn't help but chuckle, kneeling down to hug your daughter. “i can see that," you commented through giggles, your gaze flickering towards your husband for a moment. “and I must say.. he's doing a pretty fantastic job.”

“why thank you.” jay answered. he tried to pull off a graceful bow, but from the energy he had just exerted to his recent performance with his daughter, he stumbled a bit.

you couldn't stop laughing, tears forming in your eyes. “oh, jay, you're a sight.”

jay grinned, walking over to join you and there daughter. “anything for our little princess. plus, i think i’ve found a new appreciation for tutus.”

later that evening, after yubin was tucked into bed, you and jay found yourselves cuddled on the couch, the soft glow of the christmas tree lights casting a warm glow to the room.

“you really made her day today, y'know,” you murmured, resting your head on jay's chest.

“well, that's what dads are for, right?” he replied, his fingers playing with a strand of your hair.

“i think you might have missed your calling as a ballet dancer,” you teased, nudging his side with your elbow.

jay laughed, pulling you closer. “i'll stick to my day job, thanks. but for yubin, i'd wear a tutu any day.”

you smiled, feeling the warmth of his love envelop you. “and that's exactly why you’re so amazing.”

𝓢igning off... @pnghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni @won4kiss @jakesangel

[aeliuss]

Home pt.2

warnings: deadly smut and fluff combo, fingering, breeding kink (Chan obviously), and I think that’s it? I’ve been in my soft hoe era so you’re all going down with me. Lemme know what you think!

(@chvnmax look!!! I did three pics side by side 😃)

part one

Chan who wakes up first, because he always does. But it certainly doesn't help that you're squirming and whimpering in your sleep, the sheets twisting underneath you.

Chan who at first thinks you're having a nightmare, and is genuinely concerned. But upon closer inspection, at the way your thighs are locked together, the way you let out a breathy little sigh that sounds suspiciously like his name, he realizes, a flush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

oh. oh.

Chan who is flustered at the slight twitch in his boxers. He swears that he's not usually this needy, but it's been four months and now that he knows that you're craving the same thing as him, he has to have you.

Chan who pulls you closer towards him until your back is flush against his chest and softly kisses the back of your neck until your lashes are fluttering open. He can feel the hitch in your breath when his hands find the hem of your shirt, deftly slipping under them.

Chan who chuckles when you say, "Cold," at his actions. Who murmurs, "Yeah?" while moving his hands up and down your tummy. "You'll warm them up from me, won't you?"

Chan who can feel the heat radiating from your body, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. His fingertips trace patterns along your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he leans in to press soft kisses along your shoulder.

Chan who revels in the intimacy of the moment, the way your body fits perfectly against his, the rhythm of your breath syncing with his own.

Chan who innocently whispers, "Nice dream?" because he can't help but be a tease, and he loves seeing you squirm as you try to find an acceptable answer. Who's chuckle vibrates through his chest and into your back from how close you two are pressed together.

You tentatively hum in affirmation, wondering how much you gave away in your sleep and he nuzzles his face into your shoulder, nipping at the skin he finds there. A little sigh leaves your lips.

"Was I in it?" He asks.

You hesitate for a moment, feeling his warm breath against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

"Maybe," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan who continues tracing patterns across the soft skin of your stomach. "Interesting. Was I, perhaps, wearing any clothes in this dream of yours?"

"Chris," You whine indignantly.

Chan who laughs against your skin, saying, "Okay, okay!" Who's lips brush against your earlobe, hands now trailing down your sides, igniting sparks of electricity wherever they touch. "I'm glad, though," he murmurs, "Because you've been in mine for quite some time."

Chan who still sees the sleep in your eyes when he tilts your head towards his for a kiss. Who takes his time, kissing you slowly, hands tracing up your spine, entangling themselves in your bra straps. Who forgets every other mouth his had touched before you. Who nips at your bottom lip until you part yours for him.

Chan who chases your lips when you pull away for air, his own lungs burning. Who reassures you that he'll take care of you when you give him those eyes you know he can't resist.

Chan who's fingers find their place where you need him most, brushing over your clit and you're already bucking.

"My needy baby," he coos, using his fingers to spread you open. "It's been a long four months for you, hasn't it?"

All you can do is bite your lip and nod, trying hard not to make any embarrassing noises. But you can't help the mewl you make when he sinks a single digit inside of you.

Chan who takes his time, savoring each moment, wanting to etch this memory into his mind forever. He moves his finger in slow, deliberate motions, gradually adding another finger when your wet enough.

Chan who savors every gasp and moan that escapes your lips, his touch becoming more deliberate and precise as he learns your body's responses. He revels in the way you arch into his hand, seeking more of the pleasure he's offering. Who's thumb stokes your clit, fingers curling inside of you in the way he knows you like.

Chan who coaxes two orgasms out of you with just his fingers because it's been a while and he needs you prepped to take him. Who's already rock hard and throbbing in his boxers by the time you do. But he's patient.

Chan who nearly groans out loud when you grind down against him, whining, "need you. I need you, channie."

Chan who can't resist your plea, the desperation in your voice fueling his own. He's only a man.

Chan who can’t help the groan this time when he finally slips inside of you. Your walls are squeezing around him so desperately, so well. You feel tighter than you usually were, but you’re so wet from just fingers that he bottomed out in one go.

Chan who presses your own hand flat against your lower tummy. Who whispers, “I’m right here, baby. Feel me?”

Chan who goes achingly slow at first, because he wants you to feel all of him, every vein scraping against your fluttering walls until your crying and grasping at the sheets, begging him to go faster.

Chan who complies because he can never deny you. More selfishly, because he can’t deny himself the pleasure of pleasing you. Who gradually picks up the pace, rolling his hips into yours in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Chan who whines—whines—into your neck as your walls clamp down around him as you near your third orgasm. He could feel his own rapidly approaching, the coil taunt in his stomach.

Chan who always babbles when he gets this close. Who whimpers, “Wanna make you a mommy. You’ll let me, won’t you? You’ve been…nghh—f-fuck…you’ve been so good for me, baby. So so good. You’ll let me fill you up, yeah? Make your tummy all big and round with my kids? Hmm, pretty girl?”

Chan who snakes his hand around your hip so he can press against your clit while he fucks into you and you are gone. You don’t even have the energy to warn him before you are gushing around him again.

Chan whose entire body shudders and he buries his face into your shoulder when he finally comes undone, shooting his seed deep inside of you. Who fucks his cum back inside of you, moaning at the overstimulation but wanting to breed you so bad.

Chan who stays that way, his cock buried deep inside of you as he holds you close against his chest. Who knows you’re on birth control but genuinely hopes to have kids with you someday.

Chan who dreams of a future filled with love and laughter, of a family built on the foundation of the love you share, of a lifetime spent together in each other's arms. And as the dawn breaks outside, casting its golden light upon your tangled limbs, he thinks about the small, black box stuffed deep inside his suitcase he has yet to unpack.

Chan who is finally home.

[markrosewater]

I feel like the "testing every possible combo" discourse distracts people from the actual issue: Wizards prints cards like Nadu all the time, and you always use a plethora of safeguards to prevent it from going broken (limiting to spells only, to opponent targetting only, to one time per turn, etc). It's the fact that Nadu ignores all of these that's the issue in my view. I think your team does a great job and mistakes happen, but there's no denying this one is extra egregious.

No one is denying it was a mistake, or even a big mistake. There’s two points I’m trying to make:

1) No matter what system we set up, we are not going to eliminate all mistakes. We can lessen them, and we are constantly evolving processes to get better at catching them, but “don’t let mistakes happen” is not practical advice. Making and balancing Magic cards is inherently complex.

2) What is obvious in hindsight is not always obvious in the moment. There is a famous video where you are told to count how many times a juggler tosses a ball in the air. Then, at the end of the video, it reveals a gorilla walked through the background. Many viewers don’t see the gorilla. Why? Because they were focusing on the juggler. Magic design involves paying attention to a huge variety of factors. Sometimes you’re so intent on making sure you get the juggler correct, you miss the gorilla.

On Twitter yesterday, I gave a stat that is relevant here. With every set we make, on average, between 30 to 50 changes in the last week, things that can’t be playtested because we’re out of time and making final fixes. Those changes are based on not just months of working on this set, but years of working on other sets.

We tend to make a card so egregious that it gets banned, again on average, about once every three to four years. Our hit rate on last minutes changes is very good. The game is better for us doing it. The game would have considerable more problems if we didn’t.

But it’s not perfect. We will still make mistakes. We constantly improve our processes to lessen that percentage, but it will never be 0%. And some of those mistakes, hopefully a minuscule amount, are gorillas (aka things that seem egregious that we missed).

[moonlightndaydreams]

Oh em goodness random thought. Maneater y/n and womanizer Chan, hyunjin, and Minho. Think about, Y/n things she has them all separated and wrapped around her fingers but, turns out they all know each other and have a little plan where one of them invites her and they all show up. Oh my goodness gracious IDC if it's f×m or m×m I needed to tell someone seriously or I might faint.🫧

I don't think I've ever imagined this combo before, but I am so happy you've share this juicy thought with me.

Here's what I am thinking...You're out and about seeing all three of them individually, thinking that you've got a wrapped around your finger. They take you on dates, buy you nice clothes, and then they fuck your brains out. I'm talking hard, raw, animalistic fucking. Because you love it like that.

Minho catches on first. He just has a sixth sense about it. You seem a little red and tender down there, but he hadn't seen you for a few days. So he spies on you. That's when he sees you're not just fucking one other guy, but two! And he fucking knows them!

Minho has a plan. He contacts the other two, and explains the situation. Interestingly, none of them are angry. But they do want to teach you a lesson.

You wanna take on three guys? Well you're going to take all three at once!

One night, you think you're going to have a lovely night of riding Minho on his couch, so you put on a sexy lingerie set, and a little skirt and tee and head on over.

That's when you realize you're in deep shit!!! What the fuck are Chan and Hyunjin doing here? At Minho's?

"So Kitten, you thought you could fool us, hmm?" Minho glares at you.

"Babygirl, Daddy needs to have a word with you." Chan clenches his jaw.

"You're gonna have to pay for this, you know?" Hyunjin bites his lip while he imagines everything he's going to do you.

You open your mouth to try to explain, but they are on you. A hand over your mouth, hands yanking your skirt off. Lips on your neck.

"No speaking, little slut. You do exactly as we say.” Minho hisses in your ear.

Hyunjin stands behind you hooking his arms around your waist and throws himself down in the couch. He holds you still as Chan kneels in front, big thick cock already out and pushing into your cunt. He doesn’t even prep you or tease you, just rams himself into you to the hilt. But you’re so wet that those obscene noises your pussy makes fill the room almost instantly.

You cry out in pleasure/pain as he fucks you, and Minho wants none of that. He climbs up onto the couch and forces his cock into your throat.

You fucking love it. Are you sick for wanting them to treat you so harshly? Is there something wrong with you for wanting them to actually hurt you?

As you try to take all of Minho in your mouth, you realise you can’t quite accommodate the entire length because of the angle. Hyunjin reaches up and pumps the remaining length with his hand. Minho throws his head back and moans.

Hyunjin pinches your nipple with his other while Chan makes rough motions on your clit.

That’s when your first orgasm hits you. You cry out around Minho’s cock making him shoot cum down your throat.

Chan follows, coming deep in your cunt.

Then it’s Hyunjin’s turn to squeeze his beautiful length into your still pulsating pussy while Chan gets you to deep throat him.

And Minho? Well he’s preparing your ass for double pen action. Once he deems you ready, he penetrates you slowly. But that’s all the mercy he gives you, because once you’ve accommodated him he’s fucking you as hard as he can.

You’re so stretched, wanting to cry out from how full you feel with two cocks fully seated inside you, and with Chan squeezing past the back of your throat, you felt well and truly stuffed.

They get you in as many positions as they can. Over the back of the couch, the floor, holding you up while they stand with you impaled on them.

You’re covered in cum, it’s all over you, leaking out of you, smeared on your face.

At one point they have you on all fours, chan pounding your ass from behind, the other two kneeling in front of you. Chan pulls your hair forcing your face up and Hyunjin and Minho alternate fucking your face! And Chan practically forces your mouth to their pubic bone.

They’re loving teaching you a lesson. They want you to feel them all. Feel them for days to come.

After three hours of continuous sex, they’re not even close to being finished with you. Chan throws you over his shoulder and takes you to the bedroom, Minho and Hyunjin on his tail.

You’re subjected to more torturous pleasure. All your orifices are fucked over and over with cocks and fingers (sometimes both). You’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve had. They’re insatiable and don’t tire until the sun breaks.

……

A/n: sorry there was basically no dialogue (my brain is tired). I hope that you still enjoyed it @bubblebisk 🫣

…….

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @enjaken @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @chuuchuu1224 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @yaorzu-blog @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @everythingboutkpop @jiminssluttyminx

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

hello !! if it’s not too much of a bother can you write another piece featuring Lion 🫶 maybe another angsty piece, maybe a lil lion + farah combo or something else like lion and gaz getting separated from the 141 during a mission and having to fight their way back to the extraction point (?). totally up to you !!! also thank u for keeping us well fed 🙇‍♀️

Lions and Ibexes

PAIRING: John Price x Wife!Reader 'Codename Lion'

SYNOPSIS: Impulsive was what John always called you - affectionately, of course. But he sure does worry when you disappear without him.

WORDCOUNT: 4.0k

WARNINGS: Blood, death, canon typical violence, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, banter, no connection to 'I'll Take the Night Shift' except codenames, protective!Price, suggestive jokes, etc.

A/N: I wanna give Farah a big smooch on her forehead.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“So this is the woman that the Captain won’t keep quiet about,” you smirk and place your hand into Farah Karim’s, eyes shimmering as you both share a tight grip. 

“Commander,” greeting the black-haired woman, your light gear hangs off of you easily and efficiently; clean and well-taken care of. 

“Lion,” she nods, smirking back. “A pleasure.”

“Please,” you huff a laugh, “I wish it could be.” Expressions dim as you instantly get to work, the hot sun and dry air sticking to your flesh like a second skin of humidity. Releasing Farah’s hand you sigh and look around the old town, skimming over the forms of other Urzikstan Liberation Force soldiers. 

Farah does the same, breathing lowly. 

“On that, I believe you’d be right.” Brown eyes flick to yours, looking you over before the woman nods. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

“Lead the way,” your feet push you onward, following behind the Commander as your wedding band clinks against your chest. Held on that long chain, a hand comes up to brush it carefully, letting the man who wears the mirrored piece bring you comfort even from so far away. 

John was set to ship out in two days—there were some other important operations that had taken precedence. While you could have stayed behind with him, as you had wanted to do, a plea from one of the far-distant operators of One-Four-One had caught your ear. The name Farah Karim was known. 

If you didn’t offer assistance, you’d never feel right with yourself. One call to Laswell and it was all set up. 

“I’ll be there in two days,” John had muttered into your scalp as you both lay in bed, tight to one another; lashes fluttering. “Wait for me, yeah? No running off.” 

Your smirk had made him sigh a chuckle. “No stunts of heroics, my Love? Please, do you know who you’re speaking to?”

“You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know?”

“Well,” the words are uttered into his neck and John pulls you tighter into him. “I think that’s just about the most romantic thing to happen to someone.” 

Smiling to yourself, you bring the ring to your lips and kiss it lightly before letting it drop. In your head, John is still in your shared flat in London, and you’ll be back by the hour. If only. 

“You contacted Laswell and said you had encountered more of Barkov's remaining cells?” Your voice carries easy authority; ingrained confidence. 

Farah looks back and nods firmly. 

“They’ve taken over a town in the mountains, my forces can’t break the line.” She sighs aggressively and you stare with a sliding frown. “Even dead, Barkov cannot leave my people alone.”

In the back of your throat, you hum, “Well, parasites tend to be resilient.” Farah leads you into a home with maps on the tables and low talking of strategies from others. They pause when you enter and you nod politely. Many here knew your husband as the Commander did—all those years back when he was still only a Lieutenant and had broken Farah and her brother Hadir out from the Russian’s jail; labeled as prisoners of war. 

John had told you about it during one of the many late nights in your joint offices. Eyes tired and his hands playing with your hair.

“What do you need me to do?” You ask genially, standing near the table and placing your hands down on it—standard M4A1 resting over your chest and your secondary weapon strapped to your thigh. Unlike most, you’d opted for lighter gear to allow you to move faster. 

Fewer packs sit on your vest, and the gleam of the knife on your shoulder was a testament to your preference to close, silent, encounters. Though you liked to use your silver tongue to get out of situations, unfortunately, that wouldn’t work in this instance. 

“Captain Price told me you’re one of the best undercover agents he’s seen.” You perk at this, looking over with raised brows.

“Hell,” your chuckle echoes, “when you said he couldn’t keep quiet I thought you were exaggerating.” 

Farah smiles cheekily at you before pointing to the map of a mountain town surrounded by red Xs.

“My soldiers have marked off choke points all around the area. They’re the only pathways to the town, but heavily guarded.” She glances around the room and you hear her sigh heavily. “I wouldn’t have asked for assistance unless I knew I needed it. I’d prefer to leave foreign fighters out of this conflict, unlike my enemy.” 

“I understand,” your head shakes. “It’s your home—I’ll go where you need me to. John should be here in two days to assist.”

Farah’s face flashes with surprise, her full brows rising on her head. “Price is coming?”

You shrug and laugh, “he’s stubborn.” 

The woman chuffs before moving to fold her arms over her chest. “I think perhaps he’s more of a smitten husband, hm?” At the sheepish expression on your face and dipping eyes, Farah barks a laugh.

The band around your neck clinks into the stock of your gun as you stand to your full height. 

“Is it that obvious,” you tease, tilting your head to her. You knew it was.

“I believe the simple action of asking is proof enough, Lion.” The commander looks at her work on the table, smiling easily but focusing still on her plan of attack. “But, regardless, I give my thanks for flying out on such short notice.”

“We help our own.” Resting your hands on the body of your weapon, you smile fondly. “Now, who do I need to kill?” 

—

As it turns out, killing was the very baseline of what you needed to do. 

Shuffling into the dark armor of the dead Russian soldier at your feet, you grunt at the slick spread of blood on the ground as you strap arm braces to your limbs. 

“Heavy as all hell,” you grumble under your breath, picking up the large helmet and shoving it over your head with a puff of air. 

Farah was going to lead a distraction on the far side of the western choke point while you slipped into the ranks, placing packs of C4 in some of the large-stocked weapons buildings. Easy enough for you, you admitted. You’d done things like this a million times over. 

When all was said and done, slipping your knife into the new belt at your waist, you gaze down at the dead man with a huff of air; seeing the blood still pooling from the very obvious signs of a slit up the left armpit. You blink and stuff your wedding band down your shirt. 

“Bad day, buddy,” grabbing his legs, you bare your heels and drag the body behind a large outcropping of rocks—long streaks of crimson left behind. “I’d hate to be you right now.” 

Grunting, you drop the limp flesh with a thump like a paper-towel roll meeting the counter. 

Shuffling back into the open, your feet make tracks to get you closer toward your targets. You hike the small pouch Farah gave you farther up your back without a word more. 

John had always said you were quick-witted, but when he got here he’d lose that hat of his in disbelief. The truth was that you had forgotten what little of the Russian language you’d initially known, and the situation you found yourself in now was frankly not ideal.

C’mon Lion, you think to yourself, just pick up social cues and you’ll be good. 

Oh, your husband was going to lose his shit.

—

“Come again?” The Captain barks. “What do you fuckin’ mean she’s in the base?!”

“I just explained it,” Farah levels, raising a brow. Blue eyes narrow with a growl until the Commander's lips flicker in a smirk. “We just had word three minutes ago. She’s fine, Captain.” Fingers find John’s nose bridge, digging deep into the flesh in large exasperation and worry.

He had caught a C17 and came here a day early after he’d gotten a bad feeling—internal wife radar going off as it usually did when you placed yourself in danger without him. Which was more often than not.  

I told her not to be impulsive. 

John sighs long and low, shaking his head. “Farah…you sent her in alone?” 

“She is quite capable, Price.”

“I fucking…” He stops himself and puts his hands on the table in the center of the building. Men and women were snickering from the corners, sending amused glances. “I know.”

Farah sends a glance to her soldiers and they turn away to cover their smiling mouths. Enjoyment was in her tone as she grabs the walkie-talkie from the table top and clips it to her vest. 

“There were more men than we anticipated—she had to be more careful when placing the charges. Captain,” John glares up at her when his eyes leave the maps. The Commander teases, “She is fine.”

As if on cue, the radio fizzles with your voice. Farah looks down with surprise and the Brit's eyes snap to it immediately; body tense. 

There’s a moment of garbled static where the Captain feels his heart beating out of his chest. The panic that had snapped through him when you hadn’t come out to greet him when he’d landed was primal; genuine fear stuck in his bones like spiky grass. The bond the two of you had was closer than anything on this plane of existence. It was rare to not see one without the other.

Your voice cuts through and John’s shoulders sag under a non-existent weight.

“You should tell your men to move unless they want to be scorched, Farah!” The woman in the room smiles ferally and raises a smug brow as she looks at John. 

“Copy, Lion. You have my thanks.” 

“I didn’t know you could improvise Russian—it’s like the Slavic blood just entered my body!” The Brit covers his eyes with his hand and groans at the base of his throat. 

“Tell her to get her arse back here before she gets bloody shot.” John takes off his bucket hat and tosses it to the table with a gloved hand, punching his hair back from his forehead. “Giving me gray hairs,” he grunts. 

Farah laughs and says eagerly into the walkie, “Someone’s here to say hello.”

“...Oh, fuck.” Your panting breath clears and after a long glare at the device, John hears you say in a slow and awkward tone, “Hello, my Love!”

Farah tilts the radio closer to him and looks highly pleased. 

“Get back here. Now.” John grunts out, fingers digging into his arms as he crosses them. “I told you to wait for me.”

You laugh nervously, deflecting, “...did you, Dear? I guess I misheard you.” The Brit’s jaw clenches but Farah can speak before he can.

“Lion, are all the charges set, then?” You seem thankful for the distraction, sighing over the line.

“All good over here! I just need the O.K from your men and then it’s about to get a whole lot brighter.” 

“I’ll relay the news—get away, as far as you can.”

“Already on it,” your breathy chuckle exits and you pause before saying. “See you soon, Love!” 

Tiny blue eyes bug, “Wait–!” The line clicks off and Farah is already tapping into the frequency for her soldiers, turning slightly away to converse in quick Arabic. 

—

Evening rolls around and you jog back into the Liberation Force’s base, greeting the guards stationed with a breathless sigh; utterly sweaty but happy you’d gotten half a ride back from some locals. You’re back in your original gear, sear marks on your cheeks and hair slightly burned, but nonetheless unharmed. 

Everyone welcomes you back with handshakes and pats on your shoulders—brushes to your arm as people pass. You guide yourself back to the main building with chuckles and deep smiles of achievement. 

“Someone’s happy.” John’s voice freezes you halfway into the home and you cringe like a leaf. After a moment your eyebrows slide up with a cheeky smile.

“John,” you draw out his name and turn, seeing him leaning against the house with his arms crossed and legs stiff. He looks unimpressed in all of his handsome glory. “Well, don’t you look nice—did you trim your beard before coming out?” 

Walking slowly towards him, you loop your hands around his waist and press kisses into his neck sweetly. The man sighs long and you feel his large palms rest on your hips heavily. You blink innocently into his orbs. 

“Your silver tongue won’t work on me, Love.” The glint in his expression eggs you on as his nose tints down to touch yours. You smile brightly, seeing the wrinkles on his forehead dim as he melts into you easily. 

Whispering, you utter to the air, “I’d say you like my tongue, you brute. Tell me often enough.” Not a beat is missed, but you feel his cheeks go slightly red.

“Keep it on a leash and maybe I’d like it more, yeah?” You snort loudly, head dipping only to feel his lips press into your scalp; his smile is teasing as his beard drags against you. 

John breathes you in along with the scent of sand. One of his hands travels up to lock into the back of your neck, playing with the chain of your necklace. The one that mirrors his own down to the very dents and scratches. 

“You alright?” The words are a murmur into your flesh. You let him play with your wedding band as your smile softens to the same sensation of warm pelts on a wooden floor. 

There was no use telling you to stop your crusades, the Brit knew that. You did what you wanted and damn the consequences; John was stuck with damage control but knew you had the skills and know-how to break all odds. You still held that same fire that the woman he married wore like a crown of fangs without fail.  

“Always,” you reassure him, hugging his waist tighter and staring into his eyes.

The both of you lapse into a delicate hold. John’s arms cage you in and you’d have it no other way as fingers drag over warm flesh, never mind the brutal dig of gear or the stain of blood. Neither could keep you away from the other. 

“When will you stop making my heart rip out of my chest, Sweetheart?” John asks, smirking down at you. “Trying to give me a heart attack before forty, eh?”

“Oh, please,” you whisper against his lips, eyes alight with mischief as he watches you closely—pulse pounding against yours. He could never be angry at you. “We both know that if you have one, I’ll be having one too. We’ll end up being brain-dead at the same damn time, no doubt.” 

He laughs against you lowly, having to pull back to shake his head at your bland confession. “You’re fuckin’ mental, Love.” He breathes in soft puffs of breath. You gaze up at him, laced with affection and care, as he rests his forehead on yours. “Ah, but that’s alright, isn’t it? We’re all a bit crazy.” 

“You might be a little bit higher on the metaphorical scale,” you tease, face serious but eyes betraying you. They always would when it came to John; the only person to break through that ‘cunning nuisance’ that everyone always mentioned in your file. 

“Really, now?” He blinks, smirking and rubbing at your hip absentmindedly and leaning closer—pushing your neck to the side. 

“Just a bit,” you huff, not even realizing. 

Before you can utter another word, firm lips capture you like a beast in iron bars, bulky forearms stuck at the curve of your spine. You chirp into John’s mouth in surprise but melt into him as his large purr resonates into your bloodstream. Singing, you bring your hands to his cheeks, digging through those bristles to feel the burn on your hands. 

Humming, your husband nuzzles his nose into your cheek like a dog would, letting him take in your scent as you feel your legs go weak. You enjoy the worship he gives you; always would. Your body is tightly held against his own and you gladly would have shown him how much you enjoyed him being here if only for the small fact you needed to talk to Farah. 

With one last pass of his reddened lips, you slip back and kiss his bristly cheek with a chuckle. 

“Later.” 

He groans into you. “Tease.” 

“I didn’t even do anything!” You laugh loudly, moving out of his hold to walk into the house as he follows at your heels. John’s hands go to the top of his vest collar to rest. 

He leans down and whispers, “Don’t need to, Love.” 

Your face burns for him and only him as he grumbles out chuckles at your blown pupils. Huffing, you turn and roll your eyes, trying to dispel your flaming blood. Farah waits for you and with a happy glance up she comes from around the table and claps you on both shoulders. You grunt in surprise but grip her elbows with a laugh. 

“Barkov’s remaining cell was wiped out—my soldiers are hunting down the remnants as we speak.” She squeezes your gear and you sigh in relief. “Thank you, Lion, for coming out when you did. The Captain was not wrong in his assessment.” 

You turn your head to the side and glance back at John. “Hear that my Love, I’ve heard you talk about me. That’s so precious.” 

His face goes red under his beard, and his feet shuffle as you and Farah share a joking glance. John releases under-the-breath grumbles before the Commander addresses him. The woman releases you but speaks past your person.

“Some of my younger soldiers wanted you to mentor them with the use of their weapons, do you plan on staying the night?” You and John share a look, a seeming telepathic communication going on. 

He nods at you and you smile. “Only tonight, we ship out at first light. I’ll do what I’m able.”

“Then you also have my thanks. They’ll learn much, I’m sure. Lion,” John comes and gives you a kiss on the cheek before leaving. You watch him go for a moment before rubbing at your dirty neck while you listen to Farah. “Come with me, there’s fresh water on the roof.” 

“Oh,” you perk, suddenly realizing the fatigue in your bones and the dryness of your throat. “Thank you, that’d be great.”

As you both ascend the stairs to the roof, there’s a still silence that falls, a calm nothingness. When you finally stand on the flat roof, you look over the vast land as Farah hands you a chilled water bottle from a mini-fridge. You take it with a small nod in thanks. 

“Nice view,” you motion with the bottle before taking a long sip—downing half of it in one go. 

Farah smiles and hums. “Urzikatan is a beautiful place,” you listen and wipe at your mouth; seeing people walk the streets below as the red sun grows even lower. In the wind, your nose twitches to sand and dust, with some hint of floral notes and arid cleanliness. Farah’s face seeps with a low sadness when she looks out to the land and you pause your drinking. Brows pulling in, you watch her. 

“Farah?” You ask, carefully. It’s a moment before she responds.

“I…” She crosses her arms and sets her feet. “I wonder if this place will ever see its freedom. We’ve been fighting for so long already. My family has known war more than anything else.” Brown eyes drift to you from the side of her eye. 

There’s a tightness in your chest. You can’t imagine what Farah feels right now, what she has felt. Years of this…and still her home is under foreign subjugation. A frown grows on your face and you put the half-full bottle to the small wooden table near the roof’s corner. 

“You’ll get your sovereignty, Farah.” You try your best to speak your mind to the woman but remain truthful to your belief. Farah stares out as you sigh lowly. “Maybe not now—maybe not in this generation—but someday the sun is going to set on a free Urzikatan. You’re plenty strong enough to assure that and you’ve done a proper job so far. The frames are already set.” 

The Commander hums and gazes at her soldiers below as they mull about, laughing with each other and enjoying the company of their fellow countrymen.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like?” Farah asks you, and you study her genuine interest in her own thoughts. “Who we would be if nothing ever happened to us.” 

You stare for a moment, skull tilting down to gaze at the top of the roof. It’s not an easy question to answer. 

“Sometimes,” your lips admit. Farch eagerly pivots to your form like you hold the greatest answer imaginable. She’s been through so much—losing her family, and her home. Humming, your eyes shift to the setting sun; blinking at it. Against all of this, your lips flinch up into a smile. “But not often.” 

Farah’s eager gaze turns confused, her brows furrowing deeply with a scrunched face. 

“Because right here, right now,” John walks down the street below, and your eyes fall to him as easily as a leaf dances to the ground. The expression on your face eases. “It couldn’t have happened if there were never bad days.” Your husband looks up, and you see him pause among the ranks of other fighters. You chuckle softly, head tilting to the side. 

John stares at you as if you’re the only person to exist, moving one hand from his vest to jerk two fingers in a subtle greeting. Farsh watches the interaction closely, tension loosening from her body. Your head nods slowly to your husband and you say to the woman, absent-minded, “I’m right where I need to be…And the sun has never looked brighter.”

Farah huffs a laugh, eyes running back and forth between the two of you. 

“He loves you,” she says, “deeply.” 

“God,” your laugh echoes, “I sure hope so.” The both of you laugh. 

It felt easy to speak to the Commander, truthfully. Being surrounded by four men all of the time can get catty even with such a strong bond as you had with One-Four-One. 

You dare to share more.

"In my mind, John and I are still in Hertfordshire for our wedding,” The words come out of you slowly, unwrapping emotions one layer at a time as if swaddled in a dark veil of internal nostalgia. You watch John as he walks along, oddly sad but filled with something that makes you want to take him up into your arms with a wet laugh. “Sitting back on the grassy hills outside of town in my gown and him in his tux. The wind is cold…but neither of us can find it in ourselves to shiver. The sun's setting on our heads and making everything glow gold. His fingers are running through my hair…” You pause and hear Farah’s soft breath in the air, but you don’t look at her. Your eyes stay stuck on one person only. “When I die,” your words continue, “I can't ask for anything more than just a glimpse of that again. Just a flicker of that hill. Of those blue eyes looking into mine. I don't think it would be all that bad if I could live in that moment for senseless eternity. If I could live in it for only one second." 

John looks back at you from over his shoulder, your form shrouded in the setting sun as he slowly walks away from you. You gaze with melted eyes, the ring around your neck shining all the brighter. 

“I’m right where I need to be,” finishing, you turn your glossy eyes to Farah, who stares with a wide pull to her lids. “And you need to believe that even if you never get to see that freedom—that hill—you’ll make sure someone else can climb it just an inch farther.” 

It’s a long moment before Farah answers.

“The both of you will do this until one of you dies, hm?” You blink before you shrug. 

“Not one.” Your tone is easy, and John’s shadow turns a corner; out of sight. “I’d never let him go without me.”

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[donnie-and-their-backup-turtles]

i'm also just sharing tmnt ones, they're not all donnie centric i promise (blatant lie)

Main WIPS:

Fool Me Twice (the purple game 2)

deleted movie scene kinda

And I Cannot Stress This Enough

the numerous deaths of donatello

Concepts with at least a few lines:

prototypes

hits you with my gender beam (as you can see this is a working title)

I don't know people here so uh go ahead and reblog if you want :D

WIP tag game!

RULES: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have WIPs!

I’m working on something super duper secret so I gotta censor myself here a little, but!

• And The Sky Was Endless

• “You’re doing the thing.”

• What is it that you seek?

• (Un)wanted: Dead or Alive

• Sir Michelancelot’s Quest for Knighthood

I do not know nearly enough people to tag 😭 let’s see… gonna go extremely bold with some of these lmao @mariethemage @mishacakes @rhinocio @galactic-aesir @lunar-lair Hey talented people, get blasted!!

[beaniegaebie]

i don't really have any solid conclusions about this yet but i noticed A Thing in a rewatch and i haven't found it mentioned elsewhere yet so here we go

(apologies for the appalling image quality you're about to see, i can't screenshot easily rn pls bear with)

OKAY so in the scene where crowley confronts gabriel about "shut up and die", something about the arrangement of book stacks caught my eye a little

the majority of the books are angled so that we mostly just see the page edges and not the spines clearly, EXCEPT for a particularly shiny and familiar colour combo right here-

but nothing too weird going on there, i thought, crowley coloured books in a bookshop so what? right up until i registered crowley's line when we get a closer look-

hhhhmmmmMMmmmm yes yes "everything just the way you wanted" huh, very interesting considering that we know how much thought goes into props huh

and for most of the shots we get of crowley in this position those freaking books are just quietly nestled right there in the corner-

look at that god damn framing i fuckin see you, you glorious bastards

so i paused to see if i could figure out what the hell was up with those fuckers and this is when i absolutely lost my mind, your honour

A and C you say?? in crowley colours???? framed like this?????? localised entirely within your kitchen???

anyway long story short they're two books from an Agatha Christie Crime Collection set (24 volumes, three stories per volume) and guess whats on the mfing front covers I'm-

(its a rant for another post but when paired with this other set of initials spotted in s2 i want to scream actually)

ANYWAY back to the books, through an absolutely unhinged comparison of the formatting of gold text blobs i reckon the two we have here are:

(on top) The Pale Horse; The Big Four, The Secret Adversary

(on bottom) 4:50 From Paddington, Lord Edgeware Dies, Murder in Mesopotamia

(I'm fairly confident but if anyone has a better image to confirm/correct this pls do)

now here is where I'll need a bunch of help from some Christie-heads out there bc I haven't read any of these and I've only seen the tv adaptation of one of them, so i dont know for sure if these are like A Clue, or A Cool Thing, or if I've just fully brainrotted myself into a fun lil corner here? wa-hoo

but here's some initial stuff that jumped out at me after skimming the basics:

(some of) the titles: Pale Horse/Big Four - death's horse ofc, the four horsemen mayb? the them+adam?? ; Mesopotamia is a very biblical choice bbz ; 4:50 From Paddington- azi likes trains i guess? idk that one's tenuous lmao ; honestly no idea with the other two but Secret Adversary feels a tad ominous

iirc Big Four just has kind of an unusual history, it was initially twelve short stories that she later compiled into one, and it was published fairly soon after christie's mysterious disappearance/reappearance

in Big Four, poirot fakes his death at one point and doesnt even let hastings in on it and I'm hoping sure its totally irrelevant to the ineffable bois

part of the Pale Horse story is a group of assassins that basically try to pass off all their murders as being actually caused by like ✨satanic powers✨ which is interesting

christie knew a fUCkton about poisonings thats why she wrote so many into her work and, while i don't believe the poison coffee theory myself, it sure is an interesting link with how cyanide is associated with almond smell/flavour and that metatron chooses almond syrup in particular

(ALSO random side note that is mostly meaningless but I've worked in a good few uk coffee shops and have never worked anywhere that stocks almond syrup; almond milk yes, hazelnut syrup yes, but never almond syrup...? prob just the places i worked though lmao)

EDIT forgotten point: I've seen some speculation that the bently's plate reading "CURTAIN" could be a reference to poirot's last story, along side that alternate scene of crowley ordering the sherry for "miss marple", its just one too many agatha christie references for my melted brain to handle and I'm SUS

so this is where i run out of idea steam and hand it over to you lot because i have no clue what this could mean, if it even means anything other than a cool set feature

is there something here actually or am i yelling into the void just for fun?

who knows, who cares!

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex x Reader x John Wick WIP Part 5!

Ready evil geniuses? @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake

John lets you rest after wrecking you for the umpteenth time, disappearing off somewhere. You put off leaving the bedroom for as long as you can, but in the end you can't stand it anymore. You rummage in the closet for a new shirt. Your choices are black, black, and you'll never guess... black. 

This house must belong to John.

How many safe houses does that man have?

When you walk out of the bedroom in your new getup you find Tex in the living room watching TV. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“We have got to get you some clothes, baby girl.”

You shrug. The boxer t-shirt combo is actually pretty comfy.

You think you might make your way to the kitchen, but Tex snaps his fingers at you as you try to walk past.

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. 

“Can I help you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, obviously. 

His grin is that of a hungry wolf. 

“I bet you can. C'mere, darlin'.”

You sigh, but after your little lesson with John, you're not quite so inclined to defy him. 

Yet.

You're going to have to get smarter about how you expend your energy. 

Easier said than done. 

You pad over next to him. He pats his thigh in invitation, but you opt to sit next to him instead. This lasts for about two seconds, before he hauls you into his lap with his big hands and his strong arms.

Goddammit.

“That's better,” he says with a sly grin, holding you close. 

You take a moment to look at him—really look at him, from up close. The sweep of his almond shaped eyes, his high cheek bones and the short scruff of his beard. He stares back at you, unabashedly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, bumping his forehead with yours. You wish it wasn't adorable. Fucking man child, making you feel things.

“Wanna watch tv?”

It beat anything else he could dream up, so you agree. You hadn't forgot that he still owed you for your flipping of the bird earlier. You're sure he hasn't either. 

He turns on some stupid gratuitous action flick, and you kind of zone out. Your thoughts drift to John, and the things he told you in-between fucking you silly. 

He'd said that he and Tex would not take on the FBI just for a plaything, or a whore. Deep down, you knew what that meant. 

It meant, they had no real intention of letting you go. The thought filled you with equal parts dread—and wonder. 

Why the fuck would not one, but two fine ass men like this want you, for keeps? It's beyond your comprehension—and if you're honest, kind of flattering. Bat shit fucking crazy, but flattering.

Either that, or it's just...convenient. Your circumstances created a perfect storm from which to snatch you without a trace or a person to care about getting you back.

"Want to see somethin'?" asks Tex, interrupting your reverie.

"Okay?"

He clicks play on the remote once he has your attention. You watch as a 1970s muscle car jumps an impossible ramp, then lands roughly on the other side of a canal. "That was me."

You lift an eyebrow, looking back at him. "In the car?"

"Yeah."

He's grinning like a little kid, clearly proud. 

"You were a stunt man?"

"Uh huh."

You tilt your head, trying to put pieces together and failing. The square block is not fitting in the circle hole. 

"Then why...?"

"Killin' people pays better, believe me. Less dangerous, too."

A chill runs down your spine. 

"Oh."

Your gaze drifts away, but he turns it back to him with a hand on your chin. Those jet black eyes bore into yours, like he can see into your soul. His eyes flick down to your mouth, a moment before he leans in to kiss you. Your first instinct is to offer teeth, before you remember if you have to have sex one more time in the next twenty-four hours, you might literally die. You slip your tongue into the seam of his lips, and feel him smile against your mouth. 

"Mmm. A man could get used to this."

He slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips sneaking past the loose hem of your boxer shorts. 

You wrap your fingers around his, praying. "Tex, please."

"Like the sound of that," he says between kisses, outmuscling you to move his hand higher.

"I'm so sore."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. John gets you to himself but I don't?"

"It's not my fault you're both hung like horses."

This appeal to his ego makes him grin. "Ain't you a lucky girl?"

"Only if you don't hurt me."

He has the gall to give you a pouty face. Again, it should be fucking ridiculous, but somehow it's cute. He cups the side of your face, pushing his thumb between your lips. "How sore is your mouth?" he asks, eyes glittering.

It's not high on your list of things you want to do, but you're having to weigh your options these days. You suck his thumb, and you swear you watch a fire ignite in his eyes.

"Also sore," you say around his digit, sounding ridiculous as he presses down on your tongue. Your jaws hurt. Even your mouth is bruised from kissing. Jesus. You're not a goddamn python.

You try to retreat, but he forces his thumb deeper.

Absolutely out of instinct to defend yourself, you start to bite him.

Maybe you stop yourself before it can hurt or you break skin, but for the wicked gleam in his eyes you know it doesn’t matter. Suddenly you find yourself flipped on your stomach over his lap, as though you are nothing but a doll.

“You are a nippy little thing, you know that?” When he wrenches down your boxers, propping your ass in the air with his trunk of a thigh beneath you, you’re afraid you know exactly what he has in mind.

“No—”

His hand between your shoulder blades pins you down. “You’re just going to make it worse for yourself,” he says in a sing-song tone, almost as though he hopes you will fight him more. His fingers fanned out over your butt cheek rub lightly, soothing over your copious bruises. It feels so good that the first stinging smack makes you jump sky-high.

“Hey!”

“Hush and take your licks, little girl.”

“I hate you!”

“I was gonna say five, for flippin’ me off, but now it’s six. Comprende?”

You whimper, but for the first time since this whole fiasco started, you do the smart thing and shut your dumb fucking mouth, hanging your head in the pillows with resignation.

He’s just spanking you, you reason. How bad can it be?

He has a hand like a catcher’s mitt and arms corded with muscle.

Bad. The answer, is bad.

Yet he doesn’t lay into you immediately, soothing you with featherlight touches over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. That part feels good, actually, and fuck you if you don’t start to feel the stirrings of desire between your legs.

What. The ever loving. FUCK. Is wrong with you?

“So pretty,” he says, toying with the bend of your knee. It makes your toes curl, and he offers up a deep chuckle that you almost feel more than hear. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you answer meekly, closing your eyes.

“See, I can be sweet, if you’re sweet to me.”

The next smack on the other cheek makes you jump again, but this time you do not protest.

“Ahh. She can be taught.”

You whimper, but keep your expletives to yourself. This is not exactly what you would call sweet…but the contrast of the stinging blows with his featherlight touch afterwards is doing things to you that you do not understand.

“Take this off,” he demands, lifting the hem of your shirt up your back.

For once, you obey him the first time, squirming in your awkward position on your belly and pulling it over your shoulders, leaving you bare and totally exposed upon his lap. He runs his fingers up the curve of your spine, making you shudder upon him. You can’t see his smug grin, but you know, you just fucking know it’s there.

Smack.

You can’t help but cry out, but the pleasure and the pain is strangely starting to meld together. Your treacherous, stupid little cunt has begun to throb, and as his fingers caress dangerously close to your crease you find that you wish he would touch you there.

By the time he’s finished with your licks you are a finely trembling, aching mess on his lap, your fingers like claws in the throw pillow, your ass in the air as though begging for it of its own volition.

Finally he does dip his thick fingers into your weeping slit, groaning to himself for the wetness he finds there. He circles your bud with the thick tip of his finger, making you moan and arch into him like the stupid little hypocrite you are.

“That’s a mighty nice little pussy you’ve got there,” he says, his voice turned pure gravel with desire. “Too bad you’re too sore.”

He withdraws and shoves you off his lap as he stands, leaving you in a heap of pliable naked limbs on the couch. The frustrated sound that escapes your throat is barely human, and the grin he pays you is the baring of teeth from a predator to a rabbit across the wood.

“Now don’t let me catch you touchin’ yourself,” he warns, looming over you. “You won’t like what happens next.”

 On that note he struts off, and you watch him go with a glare, unable to stop yourself from thinking he has the nicest, tightest little butt this side of the Mississippi river.

Bastard.

[vampirememory]

Intuitive PAC: What is your next partner's appearance?

Hi guys! Here is a simpler, intuitive pick a card today about what your next partner's appearance may be.

Now go ahead and pick a pile 💖🎻🪿

Disclaimer; remember that people are very vast & unique, meaning that there's a chance that this reading won't resonate. Just make sure you use discernment and let go what doesn't resonate 💖.

Also, the PAC's intentions was to be for your next partner, but it is possible to ask for your future spouse/there is a possibility they may be your future spouse, but take what resonates as it's different for everyone.

Pile one is the silver & pink tiara, pile two is "baby", pile three is the hello kitty radio, and pile four is a heart.

Pile One

♡ Brown hair and blue eyes.

♡ Somewhat of a shaggy hairstyle. Their hair may touch slightly below the ears (regardless of gender). Might have a blue or teal streak in their hair or previously had one (or will have one in the future).

♡ Baggy clothes, streetwear. Might also have somewhat of an interest in cyberpunk.

♡ May have a unique facial feature (ex: uniquely placed freckles, moles, or skin dis/coloration). Might also have acne marks or scars that you find to be attractive.

♡ I'm seeing paler skin, although darker skin is a possibility. I'm seeing that you find their skin very attractive regardless. Their skin has somewhat of a natural glow. Vitiligo may be in the picture.

♡ Taller, more lanky (regardless of gender).

♡ This is the shortest pile, spirit/the universe/whoever you believe in may not want you to know specifics about this person.

Pile Two

♡ Muscle man. Might have somewhat of an appearance of those strong guys from circuses ? (Unsure of the name, but a very stereotypical, burly & muscular man with a full beard/mustache and tattoo combo).

♡ Might have lengthy hair. Their hair may reach past their hips.

♡ I keep seeing/hearing body hair, they have a lot of it (I'm seeing this regardless of gender. Women may feel more comfortable letting their body hair grow OR may constantly be complaining about it/shaving it. She might shave in some areas and not shave in others (ex: regularly shave her legs, but her arms are unshaved)). Might have something characteristic like sideburns or a unibrow (ladies w a unibrow: btw I love you you're so pretty ily genuinely)

♡ Brown hair or darker colored hair.

♡ This particular person might be Asian, specifically hearing Middle Eastern or South Asia (Pakistan? India?). Also possibly Egypt or North African.

♡ They have medium toned skin. Obviously, the countries listed are a lovely spectrum of skintones and there is not one particular skin tone for one region, but they are more than likely brown versus being white or black.

♡ lovely voice I heard, not particularly a physical characteristic but you'll love their voice.

♡ might have very nice...feet? You'll like their feet, something about them is lovely in a foot model way but also sturdy, or they may have a certain gait or way of walking you find to be attractive.

♡ may smell distinctly of roses or some other flower, like jasmine. A very pungent, beautiful flower that you don't forget (I'm being reminded of night-flowering jasmine, which in my household is known as "lady of the night").

♡ People here are more than likely asking for a woman. If you're trying to find out about a dude, they might have a goatee ?? They may appear to have somewhat more feminine traits; his eyelashes are beautiful holy shit !!!!

♡ lovely, lovely eyes. May be very dark but you almost get lost in them, very beautiful. Or they can be a unique shade of brown or green, you love them regardless.

Pile Three

♡ excellently fashioned. Specifically said. You might really like their fashion taste. Best dressed (being brought to the best dressed game on animal jam, they may model or just have top notch fashion, always on top of trends or may wear things that are classy, chic).

♡ may be genetically French. Not seeing them being from France (obviously if you are in Europe this is more likely, take what resonates), but a similar appearance to Pile One's person.

♡ stronger, square jawline.

♡ I'm being brought to an image of some tiktoker, but his female version for videos? She usually has freckles from the filter & longer brown hair.

♡ might dress in blue a lot or blue is their favorite color.

♡ pale af. Nothing wrong with pale people but they're pale lol. Whatever you consider pale is them.

♡ might be well off, as seen with the first choice, might come from old money OR they might be a tiktoker and making bank (infinite money glitch was the exact phrasing).

♡ might look very good in gold jewelry, they dont think silver isn't really their color BUT I'm seeing that they probably have a cool/green/blue undertone.

♡ very nice nails, regardless of gender they always look very nice.

♡ might be tall, 6'0-6'4

Pile Four

♡ darker skin, brown locs

♡ might have colorful extensions, you'll find their hair style very beautiful and unique, "fresh"

♡ lemony fresh, might have somewhat of a fresh & clean feel to their essence and appearance

♡ bluish brown vest, might like wearing vests or layering their clothes. Somewhat of an academia look.

♡ might wear glasses or might have contacts, might change out the color occasionally just for fun.

♡ might own a pair of pink contacts

♡ aura is very friendly and "fruitful", they have a really nice aura to them that shines in their physical appearance.

♡ skin, nice skin.

♡ has very nice teeth, they might be eerily perfect. Whatever you consider to be nice or perfect teeth for a partner is what they'll have.

♡ if you've been manifesting or trying to script a perfect partner, they might be the exact replication of your desires.

♡ "fantasia", something important for someone out there.

♡ "ET" (the song), women might somewhat have a similar appearance to Katy Perry, or this person might embody the music video in some way. Fringe & chrome.

♡ high cheekbones with fuller cheeks.

Thank you so much for reading! As usual, feel free to check out my masterpost with more readings, or you can support me by purchasing a reading by clicking here. Thanks for the support, let me know which pile you picked and if it resonated or not :)!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ok so, before the indigo disk released I heard there was going to be people with competitive movesets, so before it released I literally made myself an entire competitive team. IM A CASUAL PLAYER 😭😭 and I just think it’d be really funny that carmine and kieran would probably think i’m just gonna stroll up with my usual team but nope swords dance + scale shot 💃 if you could write their reactions to the new squad I just think it’d be funny lmao

(If you want the team I made for reference, it was koraidon, ogerpon, chien-pao, blood moon ursaluna, armarouge, and a shiny slither wing because I felt like having a shiny so I hunted one lol)

- 🪑🥚

Bro I went into the Indigo Disk 100% blind so you can imagine my shock when I realized double battles were gonna be everywhere </3

I mostly had a "fuck it we ball" mentality going through it (which made some battles go on for WAY too long), but later I taught my Ceruledge Poltergeist when I realized almost every NPC in the dlc uses held items.

Funny enough Ogerpon (with Spiky Shield) and BM Ursaluna were on my team. He was an absolute TANK with the assault vest and he knocked out Hydrapple with a Moonblast

Anyways enough rambling and onto the request!

......

Kieran

He was expecting your usual team when you started challenging the BB Elite Four, rolling his eyes at the thought of you trying to use the same old tactics to defeat him.

But he's changed. He's gotten stronger and wanted you to be surprised by what he can do now.

Instead, though, when you arrive to the championship battle...not only did you bring out Ogerpon with her teal mask to (supposedly) insult him, but you also had Chien-Pao, which may spell trouble for his Dragonite.

He'll admit, you were clever to bring a Pokémon who could lower the defense of all the others and cut their HP in half with Ruination..but he doesn't give up yet.

Seeing a shiny that looked like a Volcarona but fluffier was certainly bewildering--as is the Bloodmoon Ursaluna you managed to tame back in Kitakami and the Armarouge who sets up a Psychic Terrain to boost its Expanding Force, allowing it to hit two of his Pokémon at once.

Oh, and apparently you have not one but TWO Koraidons, with the one you brought into battle being more brash and a fierce fighter in its Apex build.

You set that one up with a Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo that absolutely kicks ass, somehow striking your opponents 4-5 times whenever you command it.

Kieran's certainly gotten smarter about his team, but so have you, and he's livid about it.

It was like you enjoyed knocking him down over and over again...yet he can't hear the reluctance in your voice as you utter the final move that finishes off his Hydrapple.

You knew you had to win. He needed to be humbled.

But it didn't feel good at all as you watched him crumble and Drayton rub his loss in his face.

Carmine

When you battled her, she (like her brother) expected to see some familiar faces on your team.

Yet you surprised her (in a good way, very much unlike her brother) with Ogerpon, and she smiles and asks if she missed her, with the legendary responding with a small hop and a happy trill....

Followed by a devastating Ivy Cudgel that lands a critical hit on her Pokémon.

Yeah, she can definitely tell you've been training the Ogre a lot, but she's proud of how confident she's grown nevertheless.

Seeing you have both Chien-Pao and another Koraidon working in tandem is impressive, especially with that Ruination + Swords Dance + Scale Shot combo you pulled.

BM Ursaluna and Shiny Slither Wing are the only two that genuinely shock Carmine, as she's only seen one in myths and the other....she's never seen in her entire life.

But after the trip to Area Zero, she understands Slither Wings better (although she's amazed you managed to find a shiny down there).

Either way, those two are powerhouses.

She remembered you talking about a little lonely Charcadet you found during an outbreak, and to see it has grown up into a mighty Armarouge was such a sweet thing to see.

You clearly took the time to plan out your team before coming to the Blueberry Academy.

Carmine found your battle to be fun.

Although she can't exactly say Kieran will feel the same way..considering Ogerpon is with you and you have some new tricks up your sleeve.

But she figured he oughta find that out for himself.

[toomuchracket]

late night talking (sweetheart!george x reader smut)

calling it smut is lowkey misleading, but it's definitely extremely very sexy. day 7 of summer75, set in the weird tentative dating era after you and george reunite. enjoy <3

you're in bed when your phone buzzes beside you, cocooned in blankets while watching a third consecutive episode of drag race; when you see the caller ID, you extract your arms as fast as you can, one hand scrambling to mute snatch game while you answer the call with the other, smile surely audible. “hi, george.”

“hi, angel,” comes the reply, the always-devastating combo of gravel voice and pet name awakening the butterflies in your stomach. fuck, you've missed him. “how was work?”

“was okay. busy.”

“you're settling in alright, though, yeah? nobody giving you grief?”

“yeah, everyone’s nice. how was your day?”

“busy, too. really busy, actually,” george sighs. “still found time to miss you, though.”

you smile. “i missed you too, babe.”

“missed you calling me that and all,” he giggles after he speaks, the same stupidly high laugh that's always made your heart feel funny. “sorry for how uncool i'm being, by the way. i know we said we'd be cool about everything, about us, but…”

“s'alright. i get it,” you reply, not unkindly, because you do get it, you understand completely. choosing not to rush back into a relationship seemed like the sensible thing for you and george to do after four years and a few countries apart, but it's proving to be much more difficult in practice; he is your first (and honestly only) love, after all, and you never could resist that voice. or those eyes. or those lips, actually - the first time you kissed him again recently (just a normal smooch, mind you), you almost swooned. like, actually swooned, proper virgin behaviour. “feel like a teenager all over again with you, to be honest.”

“so do i, baby - can i call you that, or-?”

jesus. you hope you don't sound too breathlessly desperate. “of course.”

“thanks, baby,” the grin on george's face is obvious, and yours widens even more as you wriggle further out of your blanket cocoon and roll onto your stomach. “but yeah, i genuinely do feel like i'm seventeen again…”

“good film, that.”

“knew that was coming as soon as i said it,” he sighs down the phone, before joining in with your giggling. “genuinely, though, angel - feel like it's still 2007, because all i can think about is kissing you. m'serious. can't get anything done.”

you kick your legs back and forth, overjoyed to hear him admit he feels the same as you. still, you don't miss the opportunity to take the piss out of him. “jesus, it's the new gucci perfume fiasco all over again.”

“christ, don't remind me of that,” george groans, voice slightly muffled by what you know is him facepalming, dragging his hand down his face slowly; he's a creature of habit, your… well, your george. “thought i’d died and gone to heaven when i got a whiff of it the day we ran into each other in the shop, when we first saw each other again.”

“shut up.”

“m'not kidding, baby. driven me mental since day one, that perfume.”

you rest your head on your folded arms, wistful. “i remember. you walking into the art classroom door because you were that distracted trying to lean over and smell me? how could i forget?”

“yeah, well, it had its benefits too, that day,” george retorts. “if i recall correctly, it motivated me to get all my homework done quickly so i could kiss you, no?”

“that's true,” you allow yourself to briefly get lost in the memory, so strong you swear you can feel the shitty bic pen in your hand now. the flashback progresses to a scene you almost wore out repeating at the time, the workbooks and pencilcases shoved off the bed, and school uniforms following as you and george took advantage of having his house to yourself that monday afternoon. despite not having even discussed doing that with george in the modern version of your relationship yet, the mention of that after-school activity leaves your lips before you realise. “and if i recall correctly, we did a lot more than kiss that night.”

there's silence from the other end of the phone line. a very particular, pregnant type of silence, one that you intuitively know will end with something pivotal to you and george's relationship; despite this make or break moment, you keep quiet, not wanting to make it worse by fumbling an apology or explanation, even though you've got a growing sense of creeping dread that you might've just fucked the whole dynamic up beyond repair already.

and then he speaks, and you can exhale again. “i think about that a lot, you know.”

the atmosphere shifts again - it's still one of anticipation, but of the more… sensual variety, you'd say. heart pounding against your sternum, you wriggle out of the blankets completely, clicking the tv off so you can give george your complete, undivided attention. “yeah?”

“yeah. that night, and my eighteenth, and your eighteenth. prom, and all our holidays, and christening your uni flat,” george hums, giggling after he's done listing. “just any time we fucked, really.”

“you miss it?”

he sighs. “a lot.”

“so do i,” you say softly. “i really miss… no,” you close your mouth, shaking your head. “i can't say it. not yet. s'inappropriate.”

“baby,” there's a hint of forcefulness in george's voice, and it goes straight to your already-slick core. “tell me, please. wanna hear you.”

fuck. you really have missed him.

you sigh. “you're sure you wanna do this?”

“angel, i've never been more sure of anything,” george replies, and you know he means it. “talk to me.”

“alright,” you can't help smiling, both at george and the memory. “was gonna say that i really miss the way you would hold me after we both came, you know? you'd just wrap your whole body around me and kiss my neck, and i'd just feel, y'know, so safe, and happy,” you pause, then grin. “i mean, i miss the actual sex too, of course, but…”

he laughs, and your heart flutters. “i miss that too, the post-shag hugging. you're cute, y'know, baby - thought you were about to say something filthy, honestly.”

you twirl a strand of hair around your finger, flirty. “well, if you want me to be dirty, g, i can. can be whatever you want me to be.”

george groans. “don't fuck me about, angel.”

“m'not!” you decide to be proper serious for a second. “i just want to make you feel good, george. i miss doing that. i miss you,” you bite your lip, releasing it slowly in a poor imitation of the man at the other end of the phone line. “and i want you. i really, really want you.”

another brief silence, then he replies. “how do you want me?”

you smirk. “you tell me. like i said, sweetheart, whatever - and however - you want me to be… i'll do it.”

“well, in that case,” god, his voice. “i want you to come over. right now. how does that sound?”

“perfect,” you aren't lying. “is there anything else you want me to do?”

“be my girlfriend again, but we can discuss that when you get here, yeah?”

you beam, kicking your legs excitedly. finally. “yeah. alright,” you roll out of bed and make a beeline for your lingerie collection. “i'll be over as soon as i get changed, babe.”

“please be quick,” george sighs. “oh, a final thing, baby?”

“yeah?”

the smirk on his face is crystal clear. “bring a vibrator.”