#the way i put so much thought into all these colours

[josephquinnswhore]

the day your heart stops yearning - pedro pascal x female reader

summary: pedro is tired of the two of you dancing around your feelings for each other.

word count: 1.2k

content warnings: bitta jealously, insecurity from reader, mentions of sex, suggestive comments etc. Pedro is the loml I swear these new pictures have altered my brain chemistry.

Wrapping the towel around yourself tightly, you sit down as your swimsuit soaks through the material. Hair dripping wet and skin cooled down from the sea water. Pedro looked incredible, his hair wet and curly. Droplets of water running down his toned chest.

His board shorts tighten and stick to his thighs and crotch. Swallowing thickly, you help him put his sling back on to support his shoulder injury.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” His voice calls to you softly, drawing you out of your thoughts, every time you were with Pedro, you seemed to be lost in them. Somewhere far away from him.

There’s a moment's hesitation where you process what he’s said, reeling yourself back to the serenity around you. The two of you are on a small boat, surrounded by clear blue water, bright and mirroring the clearness of the sky. Not a cloud in sight.

There’s a formation of an unnaturally curved rock, shaped by erosion, perhaps the gods. The sight would’ve been worthy of such creation. Pedro was wearing nothing but his multi-coloured board shorts, and a deep blue sling.

“That doesn’t even come close to it. I can't describe how it feels to be here.”

With you.

But the words are lost, dying on the tip of your tongue as they had many times before. More often than not the two of you had done this, your own separate outing together aside from everyone, co-stars and friends.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” The concerned murmur is met with a smile that he reserved for you. All teeth baring and eye wrinkles exposing themselves, the smile that reaches his eyes. His deep brown orbs aren’t much to be seen now, eyes squinted as he laughs.

“You’re worrying about me at a place like this?” He tilts his head, the one curl from his messy brown mop of hair falls onto his forehead, and he runs his hand through it, pushing the hair back off his skin.

He’d always found a way to lighten the mood, sending some kind of solemnness emitting from you today, he knew you better than anyone. The feeling had his insides clenching with anxiety.

It had been happening for years, the two of you having some unspoken moments where you couldn’t deny that there was a connection between you, something so effortless and heart wrenching at the same time. So many unspoken words and almost confessions.

“Hey,” he draws you out of your head again, lost in the fog of heartache and doubt.

He looked so good with Connie, that’s all you’d thought about since you’d flown to Malta with Pedro. They seemed so perfect for each other—the way he looked at her while he filmed their shared scenes. It felt real.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m just thinking about some things.” It was easy to brush off, or to pretend to anyway.

“Since when do you keep things from me? Somethings going on with you, come on, spill your heart to me honey.” Meeting his gaze, the brown orbs suck you into an intoxicating familiarity of the love you so desperately crave.

“Can this wait? I don’t want to ruin all of this.” Gesturing to the view, the lapping sound of the water against the side of the boat, the gentle rocking sensation sends your stomach spiralling into more unease.

“You aren’t ruining anything, talk to me.” Setting his can of beer down, he shuffles closer to you, placing his hand on your exposed thigh. “Talk to me.” He pleads again.

“I miss you.” The simply utter broke the silence between you, cutting through the background noise.

He knew what you meant. There hadn’t been much time for the two of you to see each other. Between filming for Gladiator II and the new Fantastic Four franchise. Yet—he knew it ran deeper than that.

You missed the picnics, the shared gazes of knowing and mutual love. The late night dancing and his hands running through your hair, the two of you unable to let go of one another.

The sex you miss, too. But not nearly enough as you crave for his skin on your own, for his hand in yours and his heart in your hands.

“Oh, sweetheart—“ he sounds so sweet, so sincere, but you cut him off anyway.

“Pedro.. don’t. We don’t need to do this today.”

He stares at you, wondering what’s happening in that head of yours.

“You know how I feel about you, right?” He murmurs, tracing unnamed shapes over your skin.

“I suppose so.” All he gets is an uncertain shrug from you.

He frowns, the stress lines on his face appear on his forehead. “My heart is yours, sweetheart.” He utters your name softly, fingers leaving your thigh to caress your cheek.

“What’s it matter how we feel? We can’t be together. You practically are married to the entire internet and it’s not practical for us to date.” Finally, he was getting to the root of it all.

“Fuck being practical,” he murmurs. “Tell me how you feel, just say it to me, I’ll do right by you.”

It feels like your throat is swelling up, preventing you from uttering the words you’ve longed to tell him for years. Somehow, you blurt them out in an anxious whisper.

“I love you.”

Before you could process the admittance of your love, he had pressed his own lips softly against yours. It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, but this time felt more authentic.

Your fingers caress his face, his facial hair tickles your fingers as you hold him against you, his nose is pressed into your cheek and it’s a little awkward. But your heart is pounding erratically in this moment, eyes closed and focusing on the feeling of his lips, his hand clutches the back of your neck.

After a few moments, he pulls away from you, pupils blown wide take up most of the mass around the deep brown iris. “I love you,” the whisper in return was made against your lips, his nose against your own.

“Tell me you’re mine, that we’re going to do this properly.” He pleads, he’s too close for you to look at anything but his eyes. The pleading gaze of hope in them.

“I want that, want you.”

The words aren’t lost on him, the entire afternoon is spent in seclusion, the two of you holding each other, kissing and wrapped around each other as if you were two halves of a whole.

Your fingers are white, lathered in sunscreen as you apply the substance on Pedro’s back. “We really should’ve done this hours ago.” You scold lightly, to which he laughs, shaking his head.

As you trace his back while you’re applying the sunscreen, making sure to cover all the freckles on his skin, and his arms as you trail down. Fingers running up the muscled limb as you return to the base of his neck to give a light massage.

He’s not subtle when it comes to how you made him feel, a loud breathy groan escapes his lips.

“Feel good?” The purr turns his cheeks red—he turns to you.

“Such a tease. If we weren’t in public you’d be in trouble.”

“Maybe we should head back to the hotel now then?”

He perks at your suggestion. The corner of his lip tugs upward in a slight smirk. Pleased with the idea of having you all to himself.

“My girls just got all the right ideas, don’t she?”

My girl—his girl. After years of pining and yearning over more from him, he’s given you the chance you’d dreamed of.

[simp-ly-writes]

Hope in a Bottle

─────── · ·

Pairing: AU!Silco x Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You had died many years ago, or at least that was true in Silco's world. He had learned to live without you but when graced with the opportunity to see you once again- he can't help but indulge.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, ANGST (but no seriously there are no happily ever afters), some fluff/comforting moments, suggestive themes.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,668

─ · · A/N: I cried like at least four times when writing this, this show HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD.

─────── · ·

Silco often thought about you in passing moments. These moments he remembered sharing with you amongst your friends and in the comfort of your arms used to be coated in blue that he would drown and surround himself in; but as your presence forever lingered in his mind blue turned to pink and rose-tinted glasses glossed over every moment- every memory with a certain degree of fondness that he would catch himself smiling even when no one was in the room.

You would always manage to light up the room, tell him a joke when he needed it most, told him off and raised him up. He put so much of himself into you into your presence that when you left... it was like he had to redefine who he was but forever remained unsuccessful.

Silco learned to live without you physically but that did not mean that your jacket was still not waiting for your return on the back of his couch or your glass still half-filled by the bedside. Your chair at the bar was always kept at the back, awaiting your return as you both shared kisses in the storage room. He would always remember how the stained glasses reflected in your eyes, the colour breaking across your skin in a forever radiant presence just like you.

Vander would catch Silco in these moments when wiping down the bar top or taking a walk down by the Zaun bay, overlooking the artificial lights and hints of sunlight being cast upon the black waters. Watching as the mans hand opened and tensed before falling back down to his side.

"You doing alright there. brother?" Vander asked in a soft tone as they both crossed over to topside for the day. Silco looked up, a strand of his hair falling from his salt and pepper hair- blowing with the wind. "We are always alright in the hope to be better, and when we get better we hope for it to stay only to be alright once again; stuck in the cycle of it all I find myself on the better side today."

Vander hums along to Silco's words as they stop at the various market stalls to see their offerings a few new bottles for the bar from another region across the sea and a bag of sweets for the kids in the area. The men are suddenly greeted with another body stepping in between the two and falling inline with their pace.

"And how are we doin'?" Powder asks with a wide smile, trying to squeeze her arms together to encompass both of their sides before turning around to walk backwards and hold conversation.

Silco winces as Power almost misses lamp post after lamp post by mere millimetres. "We are fine, just about to make our way back home actually. Anywhere your headed, young lady?" Silco teases, his voice sharing sincerity in every syllable.

Powder rolls her eyes before turning back around, head tilting over her shoulder before she disappears back amongst the crowd, "Going to see this new invention Echo has been telling me about!" Vander shakes his head with a loving stare where Powder had just stood.

"She's going to change the world one day, you know?" Vander says to the wind, hoping that it catches her ears but it only does Silcos.

"I'm afraid she already has for she is your own world," Silco comments, placing a hand on his friends shoulder before powering forwards. "I hate it when your always right," Vander teases before taking two long strides to catch back up.

"Well I perfected it only from the best." Both mens minds go directly back to you, smiling and twirling in the bar to a new record you had found on the topside. Somehow you had already known all the lyrics after this being your supposed first time listening to the piece.

"They always knew, huh," Vander says, looking down to catch Silco small smile. "Yes, but not everything I wanted them to..."

─────── · ·

When back in Zaun and at The Last Drop, bar-goers had already flooded the decorated space for tomorrow night it would be the inventions fair, a bar local already chosen to set the mood for the night and a few university members stationed with scholarships in mind.

Both Vander and Silco were excited to witness the extraordinary kids they knew have the opportunity to show their talents to others and hopefully the collective dream of them changing the world would come true but fate always had to make its presence known in the doorway.

Blue sparkled out of the corner of Silco's eye as he leaned against the bar top waiting to continue his conversation with Vander. A half eaten apple sat beside his notebook that he was picking away at while conducting the accounting for the month. His back burned with his age from being hunched over for so long as he stood up to stretch.

Laughs echoed throughout the bar, feet dancing against the wooden plank floors, drinks clashing and spilling against the tables as another gets thrown out the side door. Powder had left a few moments ago with Echo, a certain mischievous look in her eye that Silco did not find unusual at the time would only shock his system now when he caught from reflection in the glass of his amber filled cup.

Your name graced his lips, remembering the feel, imaging your warmth against his skin and to feel it, to see it. He thought to be surreal, to be going senile as he looked to Vander for support and only found him smiling with a wink before turning back around to serve another customer.

Your skin was a thousand colours coming to life in his eyes, his hand drifting from the back of your fingertips, up your arm to your shoulder, neck upon which you shiver and rest your forehead upon his own. "How I've missed you," words that he only hoped to hear, have only read to himself in comfort written by his own hand- a fantasy turned reality now spoken to truth between your very own lips that Silco had to claim.

You melted into his touch, decades without the familiarity- him haunting your body with memory of his touch now appearing as goosebumps in recognition. You smile against his lips, hand running up against the smooth fabric of his vest before lacing in the silver locks of his hair.

Out of breath, you both pant, hands still gripping one another tightly as if afraid the other would disappear once more. "I thought to have lost you, to be so alone for so long. Why is it now that you appear just when I was surviving once again off of scraps?" Silco asks into your ear, not wanting to break this moment between the two of you. Even when in a crowded bar, it is only the two of you present in this moment.

"I would ask myself the same questions when I came back alive thanks to the technology developed in my universe and by what force I have yet to know, I am forever thankful for returning me, my soul, back to you to rest finally," you speak through tears mixing with Silco's silent ones dripping down his cheekbones and falling against your clothes that stain the fabric dark.

"I should thank that force as well," Silco murmurs, lost in your eyes, brushing away your tears. "I think it best we have the rest of this conversation elsewhere," Silco grabs your hand before pulling you out of the bar. The cheers and claps becoming distant as he leads you back to his apartment.

He locks the door behind you both, watching as you gently let go of his hand and walk around his space. Your hand feels the leather of your jacket still sat in the same place where you left it, against the couch in a forgotten moment of need. You continue towards the kitchen, seeing the various crayon pictures of Violet and Powder attached to the fridge who Silco explained to you before walking towards the bedroom. Your glass still waiting for you beside an unopened bottle you remember gifting Silco for his birthday.

"Why did you never open it?" You ask, fingers tracing around the neck of the bottle coated in a layer of dust you blow from your fingertips. "You said not to open it without you there to try it, I kept to my promise in hope for an impossible day like today. It was a reminder of not to drain my hope as many other's do."

All you can do is nod before holding the bottle in between your hands, a sickness suddenly washes over you as you take in Silco's form leaning against the doorframe. His arms crossed, leg tucked over the other and the scar of his yellow eye glowing warmly- lighting up the room amongst the candles.

He expects you to open the bottle, you understand that in doing so means you are to stay but that is something you cannot do. Not when Echo and the Professor are building a time-machine, not when your world is about to erupt in ruins.

You want nothing more to indulge more than you already had into this word of perfection and wrongs written right but that would be a cruelty brought upon this world. You knew you shouldn't have gone up to him, kissed him, felt his skin upon you skin only to take it away like the hopes of everyone else who had died during this war.

But you were only human, your heart already shattered and in need of repair, of warmth and kindness but you would only be selfish just as much as those you were out to strike down. "I-I can't open the bottle Silco. I-" you start to sob, hands shaking before placing the bottle back upon the nightstand.

You bring your knees back up to your chest, breaths heavy as your head spins, blood starting to drip down your nose, the reflection of blue out of the corner of your eyes as you gripping the sheets, knuckles turning white as Silco runs over, falling to his knees as he begs to see your face.

"Please, whatever is the matter, darling?" Silco asks, the sweetness of his tone doing nothing but to further indulge your nausea as you spiral. "I shouldn't have come to you, have done any of this!" You shout, trying to shove the man away but Silco only stands, wrapping his arms around your body as you do your best to kick and shove him away.

You look over his shoulder, watching as the sunsets through the window and sheer blinds. "Silco," you sob, fingers digging into the material of his vest once again in a panic rather than in reverence. "Silco, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that this was not forever, that this will only be another memory and perhaps the once that hurts the most knowing that I left rather than was forced to..."

"Then let me hurt, allow me to bleed, allow me to weep for I have endless time for that but only a finite time to be truly happy. So please, indulge me, drink it all and leave me once more with the knowledge that you are out there somewhere in another place, alive. Please, please," Silco begs turn into whispers as you press your tears into his neck before leaving a lingering kiss.

"Until the sunrise we shall be happy in the night," you speak softly in between kisses, your vision still clouded in tears.

"Until the sunrise," Silco restates before capturing your lips once more and sighing heavily. The moons bask ignites you both, lighting the liquid in your bodies burn as you take pleasure in one another.

You feel him, your hearts and souls connecting, rekindling in what is only to be heartbreak that makes you both press harder into one another. Leave marks across each others skin and kiss them delicately afterwards. It is in you both taking a bath afterwards until the cold waters have you both frozen still in realization as the sun rises and fills the room. Its warmth lost as you pick up your clothes and leave your jacket leaning against the couch once more.

You stare at the empty bottle at the bedside and watch as Silco picks it up and looks at you through it was a wavering smile. "Goodbye, my love and know that it was always you my soul yearns for and you who I define myself as."

"I really wish this didn't have to be the end, Silco...." you try your best not to sob, chocking on your words yet standing firm in your positions knowing that comforting one another would only make the hurt worse than it already was burning. "...in another life, I can see how easily we could have had it all- could have been happy."

"I wouldn't want any other memories than the ones we share," you nod in agreement, your body shakes, skin burns in want as you reach for the cold handle that sends shivers down your spine.

"Goodbye, Silco, I love you, forevermore."

"And I you."

─────── · ·

The walk to Jinx's place is a long and cold one, a thousand pairs of eyes stare at you with their condolences. You refuse to meet any of their stares, knowing that by just one look you would be running back into his arms for comfort.

Echo and Heimerdinger are already there and waiting for you, Echo extends his hand and lifts you up onto the platform. A swirl of arcane magic mixed fits the seeds of that all-too-familiar blue have you floating with a scream as the Professor sacrifices himself with one last salute to you both. Echo holds you, the loss of today holding heavy yet his touch is not what you yearn for as you cry into his jacket, gripping the collar of it as colours swirl around your vision and you are brought back to the battlefield once more.

Bullets wiz past your had, another graces your cheek as your blood falls like tears against the broken pavement. The roar of a monster rumbles the ground as you sprint towards the closing barriers, throwing yourself over them and into a sea of dead blue enforcers.

Screams haunt your ears, echoing distantly through your memories and brought forth into reality as you step over cast aside limbs and guns. You watch as Vi ahed of you holds another as they take their final breaths, a machine gun makes you loose hearing in your left ear and next thing you knew, a burning sensation was coming from your right leg where a ghastly wound had planted itself.

Hoisting and forcing yourself to stand you carry forth with a limp and defend the entrance, holding cover and watching as the trojan horse gets rolled in through the barriers all you can feel is Silco's marks as you charge forwards with an unrelenting cry.

─────── · ·

Silco fell back into the bed and stayed in that exact same numb position until Vander came to find him, "You know, there was a part of me debating weather or not to distract you from 'em and theres a part of me now that regrets not doin' so."

"It wouldn't have mattered anyways, the hurt of not seeing them when I got the chance to would have hurt just as much if not more. But I appreciate the sentiment, brother," Silco responds, rolling the cork of the bottle in between his thumb and finger.

"Finally drank it, huh?" Vander comments, picking up the bottle from the stand as gently as possible between his large hands. All Silco can do is smile, a singular tear dripping down his cheek that gets cast away, "yeah, something like that."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: so... what did y'all think?

[grahstumhurts]

2. Putting it into gear

Cheerleader!Megan x Loser Band Member!Reader

A/N Not proof read lol so it might have some weird wording and shit.

The late May air is starting to feel slightly humid and hot as it usually does by this time, Megan's waiting outside. Leaning on the side of the school fence looking effortlessly beautiful as she does.

“Hey” you greet her, “What did you need to talk about?” She looks up from her phone, then looks around behind you to see if people are watching.

“Look, I owe you an apology and-” 

“That's an understatement.” You cut her off. “Two years of ignoring me should get me something better than an apology”

“Just hear me out” 

She looks you in the eyes, Her pupils glistening with the caramelised apple colour it's always been.

“Please,” 

“Fine” You cross your arms in anticipation “You gonna tell me or what?”

“I need to fake date you, for friendship reasons I guess.” Obviously that stuns you, A girl you had a crush on for the past ten years of your life is suddenly asking you to fake date her. 

“What?” Your face contorts in a mix of surprise and confusion “Why me?”

“You're the only gay person I know, I’m trying to come out to them and they won't believe me till I date someone who fits their “Gay” vision” She sighs, her face portrays her obviously conflicted emotions. “Look its okay if you won't do it, You don't owe me anything especially since i abandoned you but at least sleep on it for me.”

She pauses, trying to read your face, noticing the slight differences in your eyes.

“I also needed to say sorry, I wasn't there when I promised I would be.” 

“I wont accept your apology for now, you need to earn my trust back, Megan.”

 You sigh at the dilemma, do you chose to help her with her fake dating thing, or do you leave her behind. 

“I’ll help you under one condition, We will stay friends afterwards.” 

You expect her to say no, the wavering tone in your voice saying so.

“Thank you so much, seriously I appreciate this. I owe you, N/n” She hugs you, Her scent lingering of fresh citrus and light berries. Her arms wrap around your waist, you instinctively wrap your arms around her shoulders.

“We need to figure out a plan for this whole situation.” You comment as you two break the hug, still feeling the lingering warmth of her. 

“Are you free this week to meet up?” 

“Tuesdays and Thursdays I meet up with my band, any other day we can meet up after school.”

“How about wednesday? I have practice, can you come watch and we can go somewhere after?” The thought of her friends seeing you makes your skin crawl as your reputation with these “Popular” people is not exactly great. Considering that you and Lara are the ones who stand up to Greg when he feels the need to degrade Yoonchae. You may or may not have gotten into some physical altercations with said Greg. 

“Sure, It’ll sell the idea that we are dating a bit more,” It’s a trade off that is worth it to make Megan happy. You shrug just as her phone rings, Her ringtone was not the same as the one you had remembered her to have. It had been her favourite song, Perfect Lover by Britney Spears. But now it's one of those default ones, Removing some of the personality from her.

“Yeah?"

"Oh, Okay."

"I’ll see you soon, Mom. Love you bye”

You can vaguely hear her moms voice throughout the quick phone call, her familiar tone isn't something you can forget easily. 

“You gotta go I assume?” you pick at your nails, “I can walk you home if you want?” You look up to her, trying to gauge her reaction through her body language. “Unless you dont want me to.. You know what forget i even said-”

“NO!” She suddenly cuts you off mid sentence “I mean, No” She clears her throat repeating her affirmation in a softer tone, “it’d be nice for my mom to see you again, She used to ask me about you all the time.” She presses her lips into a line, her face covered with embarrassment. 

“Lead the way,” You slightly smile at the thought that her mom still wondered where you had been all this time, She starts walking in the direction of her house. Making small talk to catch up on each others lives during the two years of absence, Your hands brushing together as you walk on the pavement.

“I missed you, you know that right?”

The smallness in her voice juxtaposes her usually large demeanour.

“I hoped you did,”

You chuckle slightly,

“I missed you too.”

“This is me,” she stops in front of the house you used to know, “You wanna stay for dinner? I mean you don't have to or anything.”

“Sure, It’ll be nice to say hi to your mom.” She leads you into her house, The recognisable scent of her moms cooking wafting into your nostrils. Filling your senses with memories of years prior. “Do we have to fake date in front of your mom aswell?” You tease her, Slipping off your shoes.

“Yeah, I guess so..” She replies nervously, just as her Mom wraps around the corner from the kitchen. “Hey, I brought home a special someone.” 

“Oh my gosh, YN! I didn't realise you were coming tonight for dinner.” She embraces you in a warm hug. “Feels like I haven't seen you in forever.” She lightly jabs at Megan with her elbow. 

“Just been busy with school work and college applications, you know how it is.” You lightly giggle at Megan’s mom’s actions. “Glad to see you Mrs. Skiendiel”

“Oh please, Yn. You know not to call me that, Just aunty is okay.” 

-

“Wow aunty, this is seriously delicious.” You moan as you wolf down the rice and pork on your plate. “I'm grateful that your cooking skills haven't deteriorated in the period I haven't seen you” You say in between bites.

“Im happy you like it, feel free to come over and eat when you want to, Honey” She chuckles

“Uhm Mom, We have something to talk about with you.” Megan’s words shift the energy at the table. You swallow your latest bite and glance at Megan, Giving her a reassuring look. 

“You guys are dating? I know, it's not that much of a shock.” Aunty takes the words out of Megan's mouth, “I've been patiently waiting when you two would realise your feelings for eachother. I have a standing bet with your mom, Yn.” She matter-a-factly comments,

“No funny business in my house alright?” 

“Yes aunty, I don't plan on doing anything with Megan till she's ready. Don't worry”

You try to clear the air quickly, Megan grabs your hand on the table. Interlocking her fingers with your ring clad ones, The slightly cold metal meeting her warm skin. The embarrassment of your words settling in with the two of you.

“I wouldn't dare hurt Megan, I hope you know that aunty.” You stupidly grin at her.

“I know, Yn. Just double checking, I know how you teenagers can be.” She lets out a deep sigh of relaxation. “I have some work to do. all I need you guys to do is the dishes, can you two handle that?” She squints her eyes at us, 

“Yeah, dont worry about it, Mom.” Megan stands and starts clearing the plates from the table, You follow her actions grabbing plates and silverware and bringing them to the sink in the kitchen. 

“I’ll be in the office working if you need me, Good night you two.” Megan’s Mom announces before the door closes.

“Oh my god i swear that was the most awkward i've been with your mom in forever.” You let out a deep sigh as you lean against the kitchen counter, Megan places down the rest of the dishes.

“Yeah no that was really awkward.” She giggles “Yes aunty i don't plan on doing anything with Megan till she's ready” She mockingly says in your tone of voice. You shove her shoulder lightly. 

“Come on lets finish the dishes, I rinse, you dry?” You stand over the sink, turn on the sink and scrub the dinner plates with a soapy sponge.

“Mhm, sounds like a solid plan” She hums, picking up the drying towel from the towel rack as you start to hand her some rinsed dishes. You cheekily smile to yourself as you get a devious idea. Megan is suddenly met with a warm splash of water from the sink head

“You did not just do that” She looks at you astonished, Mouth agape. “You little shit, Yn” 

“Such hurtful words require punishment” You giggle as you spray her with more water,

“What the fuck!” She squeals, feeling the water soak her shirt, “that's not fair, i don't have a sink to spray you too.” Suddenly it seems as Megan gets an idea for your payback.

“Come here, YN. Give me, your girlfriend, A hug. why don't you?” 

“No! I'm not gonna hug you, Meg. You gotta catch me first.” She roars with laughter as she chases after you in the kitchen. 

“Im gonna get you!” She loudly shouts, Running you into the corner of the kitchen.

“I’ve got you trapped now don't i?” She pants.

“I guess so, And what are you gonna do about it?”

You tease her, She pulls you into a wet hug “Eughhhh, it's so cold” You groan feeling her damp top spread the water on your shirt. She pulls away, Snickering at the sight of your now also damp shirt, 

“You get what's coming for you.”

“Can i atleast borrow a shirt or something?” You pull your shirt away from your chest to unstick it from your skin.

“Yeah, Come on. Let's go upstairs and dry off.” She grasps her hand with yours, Her nails graze your wrist. She drags you up the stairs into her room. You stare in awe, It looks similar to when you were last here but different at the same time.

“You took down the BTS posters?” You take a glance at her as she rummages through her closet for two shirts.

“Figured it was time to grow up i guess” She sighs and pulls out the shirts. 

“You sure it wasnt just your new friends pressuring you? Not that it really matters honestly, just curious.”

“Yes its fine, seriously, YN. I dont get whats your problem is right now, they were just posters.” She throws a purple oversized shirt at you.

“Just asking, No offence and all that” You exhale deeply, “Should i go to the bathroom and change or?” She just nods and you take that as your sign to leave the room.

You reenter the room and she's laying on her bed, Phone in hand. You knock on the door frame, she glances up then pats the side of the bed for you to sit down.

“Sorry by the way. Its not really my place to ask those types of questions.” You sit on the end of her bed.

“Its okay, I'm sorry too by the way. I overreacted a tad.” You observe as she hesitates to interlock hands, You take action as you interlock your pinkies together. 

"I guess i realized how much you've changed. And i guess i wasn't ready to fully realize it." You lay next to her, Brushing shoulders.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Then it would only be second to death.....

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: this shouldn't have taken me a month.

Masterlist

Summary: Following their chance run-in at the farmers market, Andrew shows up at Y/n's house. Part 2 of What if this is the last time I see you?

Warnings: Angst

“I’m right here,” he threads his fingers through his hair, “right here. We’re getting married, it doesn’t get any more present than that.”

Y/n scoffs, turning away from him, and Andrew knows that it’s because he’s brought her to tears – she hates when people see her crying. He hates making her cry. “Is that why we’re getting married?” Her voice breaks and she quickly swipes at her cheek, “so you can prove to yourself that you want to be here?”

“I want to be here,” when he takes a step towards her, Y/n takes one backwards and shifts her shoulder. He winces at the gesture, as if she’s actually pushed him away – though he supposes that in a way, she has. “I’m here –”

“You keep saying that but you’re not!” When she finally looks at him, her eyes are wide and glassy. He’s trying to think of the last time he heard her yell, but he quickly realizes that such a memory doesn’t exist. “You're at the studio, you’re in L.A….you’re on tour –”

“I'm working,” he grits.

“So am I. But I don’t forget that you exist when I do.” He’s irrationally offended by her comment; Andrew has never forgotten that she exists, he’s just been…..compartmentalizing. When he’s at work, he’ll work – when he’s with her, they’ll be together.

But when was the last time they’ve been together? When was the last time he’s taken her out or just sat down with her on the couch with her? Gone to bed the same time she has?

He can’t immediately remember – it must’ve been months ago.

But she should understand; that's what being with him means sometimes. It's not some well-kept secret, Y/n knows him – and he's the same person he was when they first met.

So he says that.

“You have always known who I am,” the minute the pointed words leave his mouth, Andrew regrets them and the only thing he wants more than to pluck them out of the tension-riddled air and shove back into his mouth. The look on her face is one he’s never seen her wear before, and it might be because she’s never been hurt that badly before.

The tears in her eyes. The quiver in her lips. The visible tightness in her throat. The way her cheeks suddenly seem hollow and it looks like she’s holding her breath.

“Right,” the word is broken up by a strain in her throat, “you’re right. You have much more important things going on. It was silly of me to assume that for once you’d put us first –”

“No,” he reaches out, but Y/n pulls away and grimaces, as if the thought of his touch is physically painful, “honey, that’s not what I meant,” he swears, breath is escaping him and he’s struggling to come up with the words that will fix things, “you’re misunderstanding –”

Again, Y/n brushes her face with the back of her hands, “no, I think, for the first time, I understand you perfectly,” he protests when she starts taking her ring off, but Y/n doesn’t seem to hear it – or particularly care. “I’ll come back for my things,” she says, slipping the little, emerald cut, Welsh gold ring into the breast pocket of his camel-coloured coat.

“Please don’t go,” he rasps, loosely gripping her shoulders, “please.”

“I just need to get away for a while,” Y/n offers softly, standing on her toes and holding onto her shoulder as she reaches to kiss him. He bends his head mechanically to allow her lips to meet his cheek. When she pulls away, it feels like he’s suffocating and while Andrew knows that going after her as she heads for the door has the potential to make all the difference, he can’t get his legs to move. The air is thin, his head is swimming and his legs feel like they're made of cement. So he does nothing but regret everything.

There’s so much he’d do differently, but Andrew thinks the thing that he’d change first is that moment when Y/n told him that it felt like there was an immeasurable distance between them. It was following a forgotten appointment with a wedding planner he’d meant to hire as part of an early wedding present but had neglected to, he hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten until he got home and found her on the sofa, coat and keys discarded on the coffee table and eyes red-rimmed. Andrew can’t quite remember what had made him forget, but in the moment it had seemed more important than their wedding – except now he’s forgotten all about it but the memory of her telling him that she’s lonely in their relationship, and that he feels light-years beyond reach is still fresh in his mind.

Unbridgeable – that was the exact word she’d used.

“I can’t get to you,” she says, the hazy blue film of such a bruising memory shrouds the glassiness of her eyes but barely hides the thick emotion in her throat, “I keep trying, hoping you'll let me get close. I want to be with you, be there for you but most of the time I can’t tell what you’re thinking — I'm not sure if you even want me around. Whatever’s between us its……unbridgeable.”

Unbridgeable.

It makes him think of oceans and gaping canyons. That unmeasurable distance between the deepest point of the sea and the barest end of space. Unreachable – was he really that bad?

So far away that for every time they kissed, Y/n felt like she was locking lips with a memory she never made?

It doesn’t matter though, because to her, it certainly felt that way.

Andrew is sitting in the driver's seat, glazed over eyes staring at the way rain beats down on his windshield. He’s been parked outside her house for longer than anything that would constitute a normal amount of time – though, he doesn’t exactly know where the threshold between normal and creepy ex-boyfriend is.

Well, ex-fiance. Though, he isn’t sure if semantics matter.

The gentle buzz of the engine is the only thing joining the swoosh of the near violent downpour. They haven’t experienced rain like that in a while; swollen droplets pouring from the milk sky in a slanted fashion. So intense that even the tallest trees seem to be weighed down by the weight of it, branches adopting a downward curve and leaves hanging despondently.

And still, it isn't the prospect of getting drenched on the brief walk to her front door that stops him from getting out of the car. It's the fear that he’s making a bigger mistake than he did five years ago that rivets him to the driver's seat, fingers still curved around the bottom of the wheel, the tips of his toes tapping the gas pedal as the car lingers in park.

She’s been more of a constant on his mind since that meeting at the farmers market a week ago, than she has been in the past few years. Still, Andrew wasn’t going to drive to her place that night, but somewhere between his first and second beer of the night, with a record that she gifted him playing as he tried to read – but couldn’t – it dawned on him; what if she was it?

Andrew hardly believes in true love or anything of the sort, but he does believe that every once in a while the stars align so perfectly that constellations are more visible and more beautiful than they’ve ever been, and you meet someone whose life changes the trajectory of yours forever. You're meant to be intertwined, like roots twisting and tangling around each other in that graceful, effortless way.

What if she's all of that to him, and much, much more, but he never sees her again? Because that was the last time; it must be some kind of death – to never feel her eyes on him again, to only ever hear her voice in his memory for the rest of his life, like a phantom haunting his mind. To never again feel the way it does when her arms go around him and she presses her body to his, and suddenly they’re nothing more than two puzzle pieces, made with each other in mind.

That little epiphany came over Andrew in a rush, knocking the air from his chest and making him feel as if he’d just been tackled by a wave and smashed face first into freezing cold water. In his chest, he felt a sort of panic that he could only associate with drowning rise up, threatening to spill out of his throat. He didn’t think he could live like that.

He still doesn't think that a life that she is gone from is survivable.

But as he parked along the curb near her driveway, one fear gives way to another;

What if Y/n doesn’t feel the same way at all? What if she doesn’t regret their untimely demise as much as he does? What if the best love he’s ever gotten nothing but a figment of the past? Lost forever, so far behind him that its entirely out of reach.

What if he does get out of his car, beats against the angle of the rain and trudges to her front door, only for her to tell him that she doesn’t want them anymore?

That she’d actually heard when he said he’d missed her, but pretended not to so she wouldn’t have to deal with the messiness of his feelings.

That might be the only thing worse than never seeing her again. And that is why he’s still in the car.

But he won’t know unless he tries, right? It isn’t the reasoning with the most integrity, but its the only thing keeping him there – he just wishes it was enough to get him out of the damn car.

Andrew is staring at a window, a window that he knows with absolute certainty looks into the living room, when he notices the thin, sheer curtain shift slightly. The movement doesn’t last long enough for him to determine who the person behind the window is, but when the front door swings open a handful of seconds later and Y/n steps into the middle of the doorway, Andrew spares himself from thinking too hard on the matter.

She’s holding her cardigan closed at the front, and it falls to the middle of her thighs, effectively hiding the shorts he knows she’s wearing underneath. By the silvery glow of the rainy evening and the sickening yellow hue of the bulb mounted over the porch, Andrew can see her form on the threshold, frozen, like something plucked out of his memories.

He can see her again, one leg crossed over the other as she leans on the doorframe as she watches him playing the piano;

“That sounds nice, its new?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, lifting his fingers off the keys and turning to look at her, “like it?”

Y/n hums, pushing off the frame and sauntering over to him, feet bare and dressed in nothing but the crewneck he’d been wearing the evening before. When her fingers, delicate and gentle, clasp his broad shoulders, Andrew leans into her touch, allowing her to eventually slink them forward. “I love it, its so beautiful,” with her fingers splayed on his chest, Y/n bends so her chin sits on his shoulder, “would you teach me how to play it?”

He chuckles. In all the years they’ve known each other, Y/n has never been interested in learning to play an instrument – she always jokes about being tone deaf. “You sure?”

“Positive,” her lips on his cheek are quick, he almost misses the sensation before fully registering it and if it weren't for the resolve in her eyes, Andrew would pull her in for another, longer kiss.

“Alright,” he reaches for her hand, encouraging her to slip it off his shoulder before guiding her around the small, varnished, oak bench. Y/n goes to sit beside him, but Andrew’s hand on her hip, sneaked under the hem of the thick jumper, urges her onto his lap. “This is better,” he rasps, breath tickling her jaw as he presses his cheek to hers, the bristle of his beard on her skin making her giggle.

“This is how you’d teach somebody?” She laughs, and the sound, coupled with the way she leans against him, makes his chest feel full.

“This is how I’d teach you, sweetheart.” When Y/n angles her head to catch a glimpse of him, he can see the warmth in her cheeks, and takes the opportunity to steal a peck off her lips, “now, pay attention.”

Her hands are much smaller than his, making it easy for him to completely cover them with his long fingers. “I’m gonna show you,” he breathes, “and then you’ll try on your own.” Slowly, he guides her through a single line of the melody he’d been working on. “Do you understand?” He props his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers. He loves having Y/n this close, he isn’t sure if he’s ever told her but there’s something about the weight of her on top of him that stirs a sensation that he’s never felt anywhere else. Maybe its peace or comfort or safety – maybe its some combination of all three, wrapped into one magical thing.

“No,” Y/n returns, tone flat, albeit just as hushed as his.

Andrew barks a chuckle that turns out louder than he expected it to be. “You’re not paying attention,” he reprimands gently.

“I’m trying,” Y/n defends, voice pitched, “but my teacher is…….distractingly close.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” he scoffs, wrapping his arms around her middle, squeezing her to him. Her shoulders shake in a fit of laughter as he peppers her neck in a series of ticklish kisses as he loses himself in the way the cologne still clinging to his jumper mingles with the remnants of lavender left behind by her body wash.

“I’m not gonna learn to play this, am I?” Y/n shifts when he pulls away for a brief moment. Her head is tilted a little, mouth barely a hair away from his and the barest tips of their noses are touching.

Lifting one of his hands to thread his fingers threaded through her hair, Andrew eagerly closes the sliver of distance, “not today you’re not.”

A crack of thunder jolts Andrew out of the memory and in an instant, he’s back in the confines of his car, gaze fixed on Y/n as she lingers in the doorway. He needs to get out of that damn car – that prison that's kept him from her long before she pointed it out.

On impulse, he hastily shuts the engine off, and pushes the door open. Within a minute of getting out and shutting the door, Andrew’s coat and the sweater he’s wearing under it is soaked through and his hair is matted to the sides of his face. His shoes hit the gently sloped driveway with a wet, squishing sound with each step as he trudges towards the front door.

“Andrew, what the fuck?" Y/n breathes when he stops at the bottom of the porch steps.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The rain is still pounding against his back and head, but he doesn’t dare take another step forward. “I had to see you,” he explains simply. Roughly, he brushes some wet hair away from his brow, “I just-I can't…..I can’t live like that –”

“Andy –”

“No,” he cuts her off desperately, “I know you don’t want me here,” he licks his lips, “but you need to hear this – I need you to hear this,” he pauses, but not near long enough for her to get a word in. “I just….I was thinking….what if that was the last time we saw each other? Could you live like that? Cause I couldn’t. Not without looking for you everywhere I go; every bookstore, at the grocery, every street. At the fucking farmer’s market,” where he’ll linger at every vendor selling strawberries on the off chance of running into her. “Just everywhere,” in every reflection when he pauses to look at a storefront and on planes that take him to places she wouldn’t go without plausible reason, “But I’d never find you because that was the last time.” Swallowing thickly, he ducks his head and wet tendrils fall over his face, disrupting his view of their feet, his clad in water-logged converse, and hers bare with blue, painted nails. “I know you said that I’m good on my own, and I guess I used to be,” Andrew slumps his shoulders, “but I’m not anymore. And I’ll never be again –”

“Andy –”

“Please,” finally, he comes up the trio of steps that leads to her small, covered porch. “I’m different now.”

Y/n slumps her shoulders, tilting her head slightly to the side as she blinks away tears, “I was just gonna tell you to come inside,” she says softly when he stops, “you’re gonna catch a cold or something,” there’s a crack in her voice and Y/n scoffs when a lone tear creeps down her cheek. She doesn’t even want to think of him getting sick on her account, especially when he’ll probably be all alone and miserable. She thinks about that sometimes – who’s taking care of him when he forgets to take care of himself?

With the back of her sleeve, Y/n brushes at her cheek before reaching for one of his hands. “I never wanted you to be….different. I wanted…..I wanted you to be who you are….but right next to me,” her thumb grazes his knuckles and Andrew revels in a miniscule shred of contact. It's nothing compared to having her in his lap or her arms around his shoulders, but it's more than he’s had in a damn long time and he’s never been more grateful for anything else.

“I can do that now,” Andrew promises earnestly.

Sighing heavily, she glances away, “but I don’t know that. I won’t live like that again,” so haunted by something she almost has, but never truly will. The ‘almost’ that he became. Almost close enough to let her in, almost ready to let his guard down, almost her husband.

“You won't have to,” Andrew gives her hand a promising squeeze, “I swear. I swear to you, it’ll be different –”

“But I don’t –”

“I can’t live like this,” he urges, “I can’t….” Andrew shakes his urgently, “do you still love me?”

Y/n’s slumps her shoulders, “of course I do.” How could she not? After pouring so many years into their relationship, after years aching to break the wall he kept between them. After spending every minute since the one she took the ring off – the one that makes her hand feel like it's missing something even now – thinking about what they could have been. Really, dare he ask her that?

“Then how could you never want to see me again?” He asks desperately.

A sharp inhale is her initial response, and Y/n thinks back on those first moments after Andrew had approached her the week before – the relief she felt in seeing him, the way that when they hugged, it felt like something was finally going right in her life. There’s so much she’d kept to herself that day, mostly because she was so sure that he was over her and couldn’t possibly still be thinking of them, not the way she does. Everyday when she steeps tea that she doesn’t really like, or goes out into her garden but can’t think straight, because it was something they'd done together.

Its why she let the strawberry bushes die, and weeds overtake the flowers along the back fence before clearing them out.

“I could never want that,” Y/n finally manages, voice soft and fragile, “I think about you all the time.” The strawberries have been rotting in her fridge because she can barely stand to look at them without recalling what it felt like to slip that ring into his pocket.

The warmth the metal had soaked up from being on her finger, the crack in his voice when he said, “honey, please.”

“Then come back,” he rasps, letting go of her hand in favor of taking a gentle hold on her hips.

Y/n’s find his chest, fistfuls of his wet hoodie bunching up in her fingers, the fabric heavy and cold. “Don’t hurt me again,” she pleads softly, inching closer.

Andrew lifts one of his hands from her hip to cup her cheek, his long fingers dwarfing the side of her face, “I wouldn’t.” He roves his thumb over the apple of her cheek, and his breathing settles a little. He hadn't realized just how on-edge he’d felt since she left until right now, when he’s touching her again and it feels like the first inkling of peace he’s had in five years. “I don’t want us to be strangers,” Andrew adds.

“Just let me in then,” Y/n encourages in the same, hushed tone.

Swallowing thickly, he nods, “I will. I want to,” lowering his head, Andrew presses his forehead to hers. “You’re the only person I want this close – for my whole life, I just want it to be you.”

When their lips meet, he feels her shudder just as a shiver runs up his back. It isn't from the cold, or the uncomfortable way in which the fabric is sticking to his skin. It's from the realization that there's never been a homecoming quite like this one. There isn't anything that compares to this; it's like having some lost part of himself snap back into its rightful place.

“Please,” he rasps against the plush softness of her lips, “please let it be you.”

Whatever little resolve she's managed to build up over the years, the scraps that kept her from seeking him out after she walked out, has been entirely ebbed away. Staying away is easier when he isn't at her doorstep, offering her exactly what she's wanted for so long. “Always,” with one hand flattened against the center of his chest, she reaches up to brush away some wet hair matted to his damp brow. “It’ll always be me,” she promises earnestly;

No one can love him the way she does anyway, its a fact that Y/n is entirely certain of.

When she presses her lips to his again, the rain is still coming down around them, though while the sound has been suffocating, Andrew finds that its fading now – all the noises that seem to make the world a little unbearable is so much quieter, and he thinks it might be the universe’s way of telling him that this is the way things are meant to be.

******

Tagging: @tungledotfuck

[deadboydetectives-confessions]

Maybe this'll be really unpopular (guess that's what this blog is for lmao), but with all the new spoilers dropping I'm starting to get a little glad we didn't get season 2. I'm sure they'd do everything really well, and I'd love to see the gay bar episode, but bringing back Esther and the Cat King? I had such a visceral negative reaction to both those pieces of news.

To explain myself: I think there is a massive problem in series', across a lot of different types of media, of having recurring villains, people who come back just because no one can be bothered to think up a new villain, and it ruins a lot of things for me. Imo Esther was really well dealt with in season 1; considering she'd technically immortal, I think they got rid of her really neatly and in such a beautifully appropriate way. She's being punished by the goddess whose gift she used to feed hundreds of little girls to her giant snake. That's such a wonderful ending. It's fanfiction's job to bring her back over and over, just like it's fanfiction's job to put Edwin in Hell over and over; it's the show's job to come up with a new villain.

I very much don't ship Catwin - I like the Cat King as a character but I am very strongly against the ship for reasons I have given before (the Cat King's loneliness means he needs friends, not a boyfriend, and I don't think it would set a good precedent for Edwin's future relationships to sleep with the guy who tried to coerce him into sex) - so that might be colouring my thoughts against his reappearance in season 2, but I just... I think he's served his purpose with the Agency. Maybe a spin-off or something about him, Monty, and Tragic Mick making friends and dealing with the fall-out from Esther's end would work, but I don't want him becoming part of the Agency or even really interacting with them much because, to me at least, it would just feel forced.

And also, it just feels like both Esther and the Cat King are very rooted in Port Townsend. They've been there for centuries. And now that Niko has 'died' and Jenny's considering moving to London, there's no reason for the Agency to ever go back there. I know a lot of people are attached to Port Townsend as a location because that's most of what we see in the show, but I'd love to see the Agency in London, where they've been already for years. They must have quite a large network of supernatural acquaintances, if not friends, in the UK and I think it would be a shame for the show not to properly explore all the potential that has.

Overall, I don't know. I think Dead Boy Detectives is an amazing show that deserves to have loads of seasons exploring lots of different characters and locations, and the number of characters that feel like they should have been a one-off in the first season but were apparently going to come back in season 2 suggests to me that it was only going to get one or two seasons anyway.

.

[therowdymagpie]

Arcana Main 6 as Animation Styles

A/N: Here's some short headcanons for what what style of animation the Main 6 remind me of. These are mostly based on vibes.

Asra: Psychedelic animation

...Come on, you know why I picked this

To be fair, I also see Asra as 2D because of the sense of wonder and whimsy, but this was too fun to pass up on(It's what they would have wanted)

It's just perfect for him, it's literally Asra's flavour of mystery and what the heck aura, it's colourful and very Lisa frank in vibe

No thoughts, no purpose just trippy landscapes and bright colours with underlying meanings

Julian: 3D Animation

Like Julian, it is very popular with the crowds as well as the industry itself

There's also a connection with the theatrical as 3D is meant to create the illusion of real life in 2D animation by lighting and using the right setup

It's main purpose is to (aesthetically at least) please the audience, adding debth and life to the world, which I feel like really goes well with Julian's personality and effect he has on others

Moreover, It's one of the only types of animation that get used in the Medical Field to illustrate how diseases develop and progress in the body, which Julian would definetely be fascinated by :D

Nadia: Graphic Animation

This is frankly the only style I could see Nadia as

Have you Seen this woman's cursive? This works really well

Graphic animation needs creativity, it's efficient, practical and always aspires to be stylish and desirable, much like the Countess herself

I think it also makes sense from the perspective that Nadia has to be always well-presented herself as a person in a position of power(I mean this style's most popular uses are in Marketing and Business)

Muriel: Stop-motion Animation

The use of an unmoving and limited movement material that gets manipulated to create a very specific line of action hmm...

Honestly, aside from traumatic connotations, I really feel this style suits Muriel because it just does.

I mean from vibes alone...It's uncanny, eerie but also very life-oriented and grounded which are so him in the start of his route.

Also a very versatile style of animation that can use an array of objects(often more environmentally friendly) to work, so maybe it can be compared to Muriel choosing to live in the middle of the woods.

Portia: Rubberhose/ Traditional Animation

Just Bubbly, energetic and vibrant, it feels like classic 2d is just perfect for Portia.

I especially love rubberhose for her because of her lively nature and child-like wonder she presents.

Plus seriously Portia is all about her fictional books and fantastical adventures so it's not too hard imagining her just being so immersed even in modern cartoons.

Don't be fooled though this style of animation took (and still does) incredible dedication and putting your soul in it, which could subscribe to Portia's strength and hard work ethic.

Lucio: Rotoscope Animation

Rotoscope animation looks like being between the real world and another entirely, which is just very reminiscent of Lucio's state for a certain 3 year period...

It essentially "uses" or "takes" elements from real life to create movement, which I think is just a very funny pararel to Lucio basically wanting to snatch MC's body to come back to life XD

Much like the man himself though, there's also some controversy with it as a technique, as many people think it just a way to trace and a shortcut to animation .

Using it in projects can also be quite expensive too so yeah, very Count all in all.

[blackberrysummerblog]

Wow, it feels like FOREVER since I posted anything. Thanks so much for the tags today @roomwithanopenfire, @meanjeansjeans, @monbons, @orange-peony, @nausikaaa, and @forabeatofadrum. And thank you so much to everyone else who’s been tagging me! I really do appreciate you all <3 It’s nice to see so many people creating! I’ve been feeling supremely UNcreative the past few weeks, but these things come and go, especially when life gets busy.

I do have some things to share! Here’s a snippet from one:

“We can send it to Oxford if you don’t want it in the flat, love,” Baz tells me as I sit on the bed and stare at the floor. He sits beside me and nudges my shoulder with his. “I can hide it away so well that you never have to lay eyes on it again.”

I let my head flop over so that it rests beneath his jaw. “Yeah, maybe.” A little snort escapes me as I grab hold of that thought. “Your dad’ll lose his rag if he finds out it’s there, imagine.”

And another:

Simon is cute, I suppose, in an apple-cheeked hero-who-saves-the-day sort of way. He’s gotten taller this year, although we’re still about the same height. You can see he was made to be broad, and he’s put on a lot of muscle. His skin and hair are nearly the same colour—a literal golden boy. Simon looks like what everyone expects for me. My magic isn’t particularly exceptional, and neither are my grades, but I’m pleasant to look at and refined—I have better manners than to be wearing shoes on the bed and letting my skirt ride up over my knickers, like Philippa is doing right now. I’m the sort of girl people expect to see on Simon’s arm. The sort of girl who will raise his perfect children.

A different one:

“Please,” I whimper. It sounds pathetic, but his smile is like the sun bursting out from behind a cloud. We kiss for what feels like hours; I’ve learned that he likes to treat making out like a mission, one whose mysteries he has to unlock and pry loose to succeed. He likes when I tell him what to do, and when I praise him for getting it right. The day I found out what ‘good boy’ could do for him was a very, very interesting one indeed. And most of all, his name. I’ll never tell him that I deliberately hold back calling him Simon lest it lose its power. “Simon,” I whisper now, with his hands on my waist, his mouth latched on my throat. “Good boy, Simon.”

And finally:

Dev’s makeup is more dramatic than mine, but I have to admit that bright colours suit him. His searing red lipstick is somewhat unfortunately applied however, having been slicked on well after getting in his cups. He still looks brilliant, full of life. A deep, abiding warmth settles into my gut as I watch my little family—it feels good to be together like this again. Dev’s free spirit is catching, and I move behind the kitchen door to pull the silver dress on, much to Fiona and Ebb’s delight.

I hope everyone has a great week, and if you’re planning to celebrate Thanksgiving, have safe travels and good times with friends and family <3

No pressure tags: @rimeswithpurple @valeffelees @best--dress @stardustasincocaine @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @c0nsumemy5oul @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @tender-ministrations @basiltonbutliketheherb @ghostpepperworld @larkral @artsyunderstudy @letraspal @cows4247 @fiend-for-culture @palimpsessed @thewholelemon @hushed-chorus @shrekgogurt @raenestee @cutestkilla @mooncello @imagineacoolusername @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @iamamythologicalcreature @beastmonstertitan @ic3-que3n @supercutedinosaurs @stitchy-queerista @alexalexinii @asocialpessimist @shutup-andletme-go @prettygoododds @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @wellbelesbian

[call-sign-jinx]

Cpt. John Price X Reader - I don’t want to lose you.

summary - when you go on a mission you see someone from your past, when you go out of your way to save them it almost costs you and price your lives.

warnings - mentions of war, war flashbacks, PTSD, violence, meltdowns, unaliving, vivid imaging of violence, mentions of torture

Main Masterlist John Price Masterlist

a/n - i am british so when i say first floor it's the second floor for US readers xx

john price x fem!reader

I had been in Task Force 141 for around 3 months now. I had gotten closest with Gaz, Soap and Ghost. The only reason I had gotten close with Ghost is because he had heard me screaming from a bad dream about my time in Iraq.

We were sort of a tight knit group, that didn't really let others in on our "games". We tended to do things just the four of us. Plus Price, our captain. God he was an image. I've never ever liked facial hair on a man until I met him. And his eyes look absolutely ethereal. They're a sort of hazel or green colour and looking into them makes my heart melt.

Anyway, that's all besides the point. We're on our way to a serious and dangerous mission. Price briefed us earlier and we have to infiltrate an Iraqi base for information on a very dangerous and intelligent extremist group.

The fact that we had to go to Iraq brought back memories. Very bad memories. On the jet to Jordan - right next to Iraq - I felt my palms become sweaty and my breathing become jagged. I cannot be doing this on the way to the mission. Luckily, Ghost was right next to my and held my hand for reassurance. He was the only one who knew about my time in Iraq. Well everyone did, but Ghost really knew.

I begin to take deep breaths and close my eyes, after repeating this a few times I had finally calmed down. I looked around the jet and Price had his brows furrowed as his eyes darted between me and Ghost. I dismissed it and focused on my breathing.

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

We have finally arrived in Jordan and are now getting into RG-33 SOCOM Vehicles. Luckily, one was all we needed as we only had 6 of us for this mission - me, Ghost, Gaz, Soap, Keller and Price.

As we got closer and closer to the base in Iraq, the pit in my stomach grew bigger and bigger. I pushed all my thoughts and memories down until I became calm. This isn't what the mission needed. Isn't what anyone on the Task Force needed.

We had finally arrived at a location close-by to the base and gathered behind our vehicle. Price had put a map of the base against the RG-33, the map had red dots to represent the entries, blue dots to represent the computer rooms (where we'd be getting the info from) and green dots to represent where we will make our exits.

"Ghost, Soap, you enter through the South West entry and go up through the South bound stairwell, get the information form Room F304 on the first floor then come out of the closest window you can. Gaz, Keller, you go through the North East entry and go up through the East bound stairwell go to Room S215, get as much information as you can from the computers and exit via the North bound stairwell. Y/L/N, you're with me. We'll go up through the North West entry, go up the West bound stairwell, grab what we need from T680 and exit via the North bound stairwell, the same as Gaz and Keller. Everyone got that?" Everyone nodded in agreement or said "Yes sir."

As everyone split into the pairs Price gave them, I went up to Price as we were in a pair. He looked up to me after checking he had all the PPE (Personal Protective Equipment) he needed and gave me a tight smile.

"You're going to be fine Y/L/N, you don't need to worry." I was confused as I had no idea how he knew. "And before you ask I saw you in the jet, I wanted to ask what was wrong but Ghost helped you before I could. Now let's go, we've got a mission to do."

Me and Price began our journey to the base and found our entry. We checked the area for any enemies patrolling the area and silently took out the ones who saw us before they could say anything. I got to the door and picked the lock and carefully opened the door. We looked around the corridor for anyone but didn't see anyone. We carefully made our way up the West bound stairwell and finally made it up to the room we needed to find.

Price tried the door and it was unlocked, he meticulously opened the door and the room was filled with computers, we scanned the area for anyone and there was no sign of people in the room. We went to one of the computers put a hard drive into the PC and downloaded every single piece of information off of that computer.

As the hard drive was downloading final bits and pieces of information, I heard screaming. Specifically, a boy screaming. I looked to Price and silently begged him for us to go get him.

"We can't Y/L/N, it may jeopardise the mission. I'm sorry..." He looked genuinely remorseful. But that didn't stop me. I immediately darted for the source of the screaming. Price decided he had no choice but to follow me, I could tell I was gonna get an arse whooping as soon as we get back from this mission.

The screaming got louder and louder until I finally reached the room where the screaming was coming from. I picked the lock of the door and kicked it open and pointed my gun in the room. There were two men in the room, one man had the boy's arm in his hand, his grip looked uncomfortable and way too tight for my liking. The other man was actually videoing, maybe for a ransom video.

"Put the boy down!" I shouted at them as I aimed for their heads. The men, who were obviously unarmed, put their hands in the air and stepped away from the boy. I ran over to the boy and got down to his level.

"Are you okay honey? Have they been hurting you?" I was checking the boy for any cuts and bruises until I noticed a birth mark on his neck, a very weirdly shaped birthmark that was very familiar. My mind immediately flashed back to Iraq.

When I was in Iraq, I was captured and tortured for information. When they were done with me they threw me in a cell along with a mother and her baby, Suleiman. He was a beautiful and surprisingly healthy baby boy. And he had a birthmark on his neck.

One day, after I was tortured and then thrown back into the cell, the mother was hysterically sobbing and screaming. When I calmed her down she said to me, "They took my baby boy! They snatched him right from my arms!"

I swore to that lady that I would break out of here and find her baby boy for her, a few days later she was killed and I never forgave myself for not fulfilling my promise.

I looked to Price with horror on my face. Tears began to brim my eyes and my jaw locked shut. I couldn't help the memories of the little boy, Suleiman, and the promise I made his mother.

"I know this child Price. We need to get him out of here now." I grabbed the little boy in my arms and we headed for our exit. But as soon as we got to the North bound stairwell, it was covered with Iraqi soldiers. I told Suleiman to go and find a man by the name of Ghost and gave him directions and that he'd be safe with him. Suleiman began to run as fast as possible.

Price and I pulled our guns out and began to shoot at them until the stairwell was clear. As we descended the stairs, we must've missed one as a man grabbed me and put a gun to my head. I yelped out Price's name and he immediately pointed his gun at the man.

"Let her go!" Price's voice was filled with rage, and so were his eyes. they had grown so dark you couldn't see the hazel-greenish colour of them anymore, just black.

"She has our information, she can either give it to me or suffer the consequences." He pressed the gun harder into the side of my temple.

I began to panic, memories came flooding back and I was beginning to lose sight of what we have to do. My only goal is to either kill this man or somehow get away. But he is a lot bigger than me. And when I say a lot I mean a lot.

"Put the gun down now!" His voice echoed in the empty hallway. The hallways, rooms and stairwells seemed quiet. Too quiet. My eyes widened as I realised.

"Price! Go! It's a trap!" As soon as I had said that the floors underneath us exploded with a loud boom. Fire began to spread, floors fell apart, and we were going to die if we didn't get out now.

I acted quickly by stomping on the man's foot, elbowing his face grabbing his gun and shooting him. I quickly grabbed Price's hand and led him to the South bound stairwell hoping that it wouldn't be destroyed. It was. We then tried to East bound stairwell and the West bound stairwell, they were both destroyed.

I looked out a close by window and there was a building that was still intact. We had to jump across. It was a risky jump but it was the only option we seemed to have left.

"Price, we're going to have to jump across to that building and get to the ground floor through that roof door." I showed him the building and he nodded.

"You go first." I told Price, he looked at me with worry and anger. He shook his head.

"Fine, but you better follow me close behind, can't lose a soldier like you." He patted my shoulder before taking a runup to the window and successfully. He stood, eagerly waiting for me to jump across as well.

As I began to run up to the window, someone hit my in the face with a gun. Price saw and didn't know what to do, he couldn't get back up to the building but he couldn't just leave me either.

"Y/L/N!" He ran to the building's edge and tried to get a better look. A woman walked up to the window and laughed at Price.

"She's going to die where her true life started, in Iraq. And the information you stole will die here with her!" Price got ahold of his gun and pointed it at the woman.

"Give her to me or I'll shoot!" All the woman did was laugh.

"You better go now or you'll die along with us!" Price reigned fire on her but missed as she ducked down until the window. When he ran out of bullets she stood back up straight, but holding a dead man's switch in her hand.

Before she could even speak, Price saw a hand drag her down and he slightly hears grappling and groaning until all he can hear is the roaring fires down below and the infrastructure of the building falling apart.

The next thing he sees is a bag being thrown and me flying through the window and the rest of the building being destroyed by an explosion.

Price grabbed the bag and ushered me to the roof door as we had finally escaped. We made our way to the stairwell and as soon as we exited the building it exploded. We made our way back to the RG-33, where the others were worriedly waiting for us.

Ghost and Soap immediately ran up to us and checked me for anything on my face. I looked past them and saw the boy with a blanket around him. I quickly made my way to him.

"Are you okay Suleiman?" The boy was silent, of course he would be. He also looked scared after I called him by his name.

"Suleiman, I knew your mother, Amneh, a long time ago when you were just a baby. You're safe with us now, I promise." He nodded and we all got into the vehicle, Suleiman sat down with me and I wrapped my arm around him. When we got back into Jordan, a man was waiting with a few of our men. He quickly ran up to Suleiman and held him in his arms. The boy backed away from him immediately.

We reunited Suleiman with his older brother and father and then boarded the jet back home. I immediately lay down on the seats and anticipated how much Price was going to rinse me for saving Suleiman.

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

We were now back on our base in England. Soap, Gaz and Keller were celebrating another successful mission while me and Ghost sat on one of the couches in the "common room" as they all call it.

"You did good saving that little boy today. Even though Price is going to absolutely murder you for almost dying and 'jeopardising' the mission." I chuckled before I took a sip of my drink.

"I was with that little boy and his mother back when I was captured in Iraq y'know?" My mood completely changed as memories came back. "They took her little boy away from her, he was only a baby at the time, and I told her that I would get us both out of there and get her boy back. They killed her a week later. And I never fulfilled the promise I made her... It kills me every day to know they will never see each other again..." Ghost put his arm around my shoulder and rubbed my arm as a way of comforting me.

Price then entered the room and his eyes immediately darted to me. He did not look happy at all.

"Y/L/N. My office. Now." He didn't raise his voice. You knew you were in shit with Price when he didn't even raise his voice.

I got up from the couch and followed Price to his office. When we got inside he ordered me to sit down in the chair in front of his desk.

"Do you know how stupid that was? Apart from saving that boy's life you could've risked mine and yours! That was absolutely irresponsible!" I didn't even mutter a word, I just wanted to let him let out his anger before I spoke.

"You have nearly died 3 times today! Three times! Do you know how upset the team would be? I would be? If you had lost your life? What went through your fucking head?! All for that little boy!" Now I was angry, how the fuck could he be so insensitive?

"I made a promise to a mother in Iraq... That I would bring her baby boy back to her after he was taken away from her... And that boy that I saved today, was that baby boy." Price's eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed, he had no clue what to say.

"Y/N... I'm sorry I-" I cut him off before he could speak, anger running through my veins now.

"You should be sorry! I made a promise to a woman in Iraq and if I couldn't keep it for her I'd keep it for their family that searched far and wide for the both of them. That boy's father and brother had to find out that woman had fucking died today! So yeah! You should be fucking sorry."

I was nose to nose with Price now. There was a deafening silence and a heavy atmosphere around us now. You could cut the tension with a knife.

"I didn't know... what you went through in Iraq... I'm sorry." He seriously meant the apology this time. I could tell, the look of remorse on his face made me upset.

"It's just... I don't know what all of us... what I would do if you had died. I don't want to lose you." He looked down to the floor, not wanting to look me in the eye.

"Are you saying you care about me Captain?" I raise an eyebrow and smirk at him. His eyes immediately dart to mine and his mouth contorts to form a straight thin line.

"Yes, I do Y/N. What of it?" He straightened his posture, towering over me. It made me quite flustered.

"Just wondering Captain." I look down to the ground in hopes he doesn't see my face going slightly red. This was not how I planned this to go in my head.

"You wondering cause you feel the same sweetheart? I've heard what you say about me to Soap. It's no secret to me anymore." He took a step towards me, our chests now touching. The lack of distance made blood run to my cheeks.

"That was a private conversation Captain." Price chuckled, he raised his hand to put under my chin so that I would look up at him.

"You aren't denying it though are you?" His smirk only grew as my face grew redder and redder. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Why the fuck am I being like this? I shouldn't be, I am a fucking soldier not some little school girl with a crush.

"No..." I gather up the courage to look at him and he has this certain look in his eyes. Something like want, or desire.

"Good." And before I could say anything he cupped my cheeks in his hands and connected our lips. It was exactly like how I imagined it. It was warm, passionate yet soft and fucking amazing.

He backed me up against the closest wall and presses his body against mine. The kiss grew deeper when he put his knee between my legs and I gasped so he took the chance to swipe his tongue against my lips and into my mouth.

It grew sloppier and sloppier as we both got more desperate. One of his hands travelled down to my waist and squeezed it which made me yelp into his mouth.

We both finally pulled away for air and he looked at me with care and want mixed into one.

"I have wanted to do that every since I laid my eyes on you sweetheart."

[needanaccount2readarcaneposts]

so i think you can reasonably speculate that the chain of events went something like:

everything in the two timelines remains the same up until S1E1.

timeline divergence point: vi is killed during the apartment heist.

the other kids, as shown, are discovered by enforcers; presumably arrested.

at this point in the timeline, silco already has his cannery full of shimmer, weapons, and goons; and his plan to either recruit vander or coup him.

silco kicks down vander's door, and makes more or less the same pitch for the same plan: "I don't need to beat them. I just need to scare them."

in this timeline, because vander has already lost his children (in no small part due to his apathy keeping zaun stagnant; a very effective bit of emotional leverage for silco), he agrees to join silco and take up the cause once more.

silco, vander, and the shimmer squad execute silco's original plan: scare piltover badly enough that they come to the table to negotiate.

(this may or may not involve a shimmer-powered jailbreak for the kids; otherwise, they are likely freed as part of the negotiations.)

piltover, without the technological advantage afforded by hextech that later allows them to outstrip zaun, makes concessions.

zaun achieves (some measure of? total?) independence, and is able to develop independently of piltover's exploitation.

3-4 years into this timeline, heimerdinger pops in from the main timeline and is able to help accelerate zaun's development.

not that i think the writers put this much thought into it at all, as their repeated fumbles of the silco & vander backstory suggest, and not that i'm inclined in any way to do their homework for them. but just based on the facts with which we're presented, this seems the most likely course of events to me.

(supporting evidence: AU vander is styled similarly to revolutionary silco, with a tattoo of the hound of the underground. this visual language, IMO, is intended to indicate that he took up the cause once more. and there are chemtech elements in a couple of different AU scenes that look distinctly shimmer-coloured, which suggests to me that shimmer is still around in some limited capacity, but used primarily for its chemtech functions.)

was the alternate universe Ekko ended up in meant to feel disturbing and like everyone was an artificial husk of themselves? the whole time I was waiting for it to be a Arcane induced hallucination trick. none of that made me go "aww look at how it could have been" it made me go "oh this is WRONG. there is a trick here"

[chippdhearts]

the women of CSI

Marg Helgenberger as Catherine Willows Elisabeth Shue as Julie Finlay Elisabeth Harnois as Morgan Brody Jorja Fox as Sara Sidle Louise Lombard as Sofia Curtis

[hinamie]

quick lmhs itafushi because god help me i have Not been able to get the concept of yuuji smiling/laughing into kisses out of my head

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[akai-anna]

I thought it might be interesting to share the process of making this particular piece...🥺

And yes, I do use both sides of the paper. *puts on sunglasses and flips canvas in traditional style*

[bmpmp3]

11 fish

[found--family]

am i the only one who sensed some jilted lover vibes from jensen? 

[imflyingfish]

working in an art gallery and talking to a lot of full time artists has given me CRAZY imposter syndrome btw lmao

[themidnightcircusshow]

Every new thing I learn about James Somerton's process just drives home how he almost (but really doesn't) knows what he's doing. Yes, of course you use the sources you read as a jumping off point. Of course you copy and paste the important sections into your outline document so you can reread them. That's why you put them in quotation marks.