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caffiend-queen · 2 years

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Caffiend’s Supremely Spooky As Fuck Halloween Reading Recommendations

I do not think the lovely and brilliant @devikafernando posts certain works on Tumblr, so i had to search through her AO3 account to find this gem. Jonathan Pine from The Night Manager is never anything less than delicious, but when The Writing Koala tackles a tasty little tale like this, he’s all kinds of dark and delicious. None of that pesky emotional turmoil. In Wet, he’s a man who knows what - and who - he wants and he’s not afraid to take it. The title here is meant figuratively and quite literally. God bless Koala.

By the way! You may not know this but our beloved Devika is a very successful published author. She’s got all kinds of lovely romances and more. Have a look at her author page on Amazon.com.

Caffiend’s Supremely Spooky As Fuck Halloween Reading Recommendations Masterlist

#@devikafernando #Caffiend's Supremely Spooky As Fuck Halloween Reading #jonathan pine fandom #Tumblr besties #super hot non-complicated Jonathan Pine

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hkthatgffan · 3 months

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The fact that Filbrick Pines was voiced by Jonathan Banks and he is STILL universally hated by the GF fanbase is a true testament to how much GF fans hate Filbrick.

Facts. Jonathan Banks is a legend but even he could not save Filbrick.

Though it would have been super funny had the original plan of having Bob Odenkirk voice Stan ended up being the case.

Mike is Saul Goodman's dad 0_0

#gravity falls #Ask That GF FAN #AMA #Ask #Bob Odenkirk #Jonathan Banks #saul goodman #mike ehrmantraut #filbrick pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #stanley pines #Alex Hirsch #gravity falls fandom

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number-one-van · 3 months

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Also sorry to be that person but, do you have a tom hiddleston special interest like myself or hyperfixation? /nf!! ^^

oh my god yes. it went from hyperfixation to special interest only last year, despite always liking loki before i knew anything about marvel. i watched the night manager and fell in love with his acting, as well as his ability to play such dark and multidimensional characters despite being an absolute ray of sunshine. i think he is rare individual, and i say that outside of any celebrity crush or bias.

though i know it is only me who did the work on my thinking and mental health, i’ve honestly used him as a guide. i watched an interview awhile ago (at nerdhq with zachery levi, i believe) and i think the question was “how are you so positive”. he answered so simply, that during a rough patch in his early career, he got up early and watched the sunrise and reminded himself of all the good in his life. so simple, because happiness really is simple. i always think of that when i’m down, honestly.

it’s also been mentioned twice now (by hugh laurie and ke huy quan) how he just lights up a room with his energy and i always admire that. whether it’s dancing or running (cause wow that man loves running) or anything! he is just a very kind, energetic spirit!

i will not pretend that i know him personally, of course. he has no idea who i am, and i only know what i see in interviews. but i always think that he would be a very nice person to just chat with, i feel like you could just talk and talk for hours, about music! soundtracks! shakespeare! absolute nerd that he is. again, i am aware that i don’t truly know him, but i admire him GREATLY.

he is also very, very handsome.

did that answer your question, my friend? /lh /j

#tom hiddleston #male actors #actors on actors #loki laufeyson #marvel #mcu fandom #mcu loki #loki season 2 #loki series #marvel loki #loki odinson #jonathan pine #night manager #nerd talks

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share-the-damn-bed · 9 months

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The year is 2016, you just finished watching Stranger Things for the first time and you're overflowing with Jancy feels...

AKA my favorite edits focusing on post-ST/pre-ST2 jancy longing and angst.

#jancy #jonathan x nancy #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #the temps dipped a few degrees and I'm filled with season 1 jancy feels #the pining!!!! the requited unrequited love!!#it truly was a great era in the fandom #life's been busy #but it's jancy season baby #I'll try to be more present ♥︎

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frostbitten-written · 2 years

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“Kitten”, Part 2! A Teaser...

“Is there a problem, kitten?” Jonathan’s smooth, rich, almost better-than-sex, voice called out from the bathroom. Yes, that’s right, he was in your hotel bathroom... again. With all of the time Pine spent here, you wondered if he even booked himself a room. His head peeked out from the doorway, soon followed by the rest of his body.

“I have no more underwear,” you stated plainly, your hands on your hips as you stared him down.

“That doesn’t sound like a problem to me.” Pine’s brows furrowed, seemingly in concern, but you spied the hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. You groaned and continued. “How on earth did that happen?” He remarked, sarcasm heavy in his words. You flopped yourself onto the bed. “Someone keeps ripping them off of me.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, and he shrugged, playing innocent. Your facial expression screamed ‘unamused” as you replied, “yeah, I wonder who that could be,” sarcastically. You glared at him silently, accusing him with a raised eyebrow.Jonathan’s features darkened as he stalked over to you. You couldn’t help but stare at how the muscles in his torso flexed and pulled as he walked; it was hypnotic.

“Be careful with your words, kitten.” He lifted a hand to caress your cheek, almost gently. If anyone had seen the gesture, they would have thought it was loving, even tender, but you knew better. It was a sign of ownership and dominance.

“I don’t like being accused.”

He leaned over and pressed his lips against your ear. The smell of his aftershave invaded your nostrils, and it felt like being under the influence of a drug.

“I rather like the idea of my kitten ready for me at a moment’s notice, should the need arise.”

Pretty and Pantless (in Paris) of the Kitten Series by @frostbitten-written and @just-the-hiddles coming to AO3 soon!

#tom hiddleston #jonathan pine #jonathan pine x you #jonathan pine fanfiction #jonathan pine x reader #the night manager #the night manager fanfiction #the night manager fic #jonathan pine fic #smut fic #tom hiddleston fandom

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

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July 7/23 Masterlist Update

✅ - finished 🆕 - new series

Series

Marvel

The Little Things In Life (Steve Rogers)

Never Too Late ✅(Steve Rogers)

Outside the Lines 🆕(Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)

All the Good Girls Go To Hell🆕(Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)

Watching, Waiting…🆕(Bucky Barnes)

In the Summertime🆕(Helmut Zemo)

Take Shelter🆕(Thor)

No Time This Time🆕(Tony Stark)

Other Fandoms

Who’s The Boss?🆕(Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man)

Wildest Dreams (Andy Barber, Defending Jacob)

River Below (Rafe Canerom, The Outer Banks)

Only Yesterday 🆕(Nick Fowler, The 355)

Laisse tomber les filles ✅(Lee Bodecker, The Devil All the Time)

Don’t Speak🆕(Andy Barber, Defending Jacob)

To be alone with you🆕(Clark Kent, DC)

Multifandom

Pretty Petals (Multifandom)

Crushed (Colin Shea, What’s Your Number; Jonathan Pine, Night Manager)

One Shots

Marvel

Graceless (Steve Rogers)

Other Fandoms

Through the Eye (John Wick)

God Mode (God The Bounty Hunter, Ghosted)

Double Trouble (Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man; August Walker, Mission Impossible: Fallout)

Drabbles

Series

Marvel

Drawn Together🆕(Steve Rogers)

Wallflower✅(Thor)

One (Steve Rogers)

Hide and Seek 🆕(Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)Watching, Waiting…🆕

Resistance (Bucky Barnes)

Other Fandom

Unexpected (Lloyd Hansen)

Multifandom

Sweet Treat Epilogues🆕

The Club AU🆕

One Offs

Marvel

Make You Feel My Love (Bucky Barnes)

Other Fandoms

Paradigm Shift (August Walker, Mission Impossible: Fallout)

Let’s Have A Picnic (Lloyd Hansen, The Gray Man)

Multifandom

Song Lyric Drabble Requests (Multifandom)

#masterlist update

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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 7 months

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Last Updated: 2023-11-11

Hi everyone, my name is Evelyn. Welcome to my blog! It's wonderful to have you here. I am just another university student finding solace and stress-relief in fandom and fan-fiction.

I like to think of myself as a fandom librarian and this blog as my library. I want to sharing all my favourite fanfics so that people in these fandoms have an easy way to find to a plethora of talented writers, both new and old and their many wonderful stories. Think of it as your one-stop-shop for fantastic fanfics.

Moreover, if you have a fanfic you'd like to recommend please D.M. me or send and ask!

A.O.S Star Trek

James T. Kirk || Khan Noonien Singh || Leonard 'Bones' McCoy

BBC Sherlock

James 'Jim' Moriarty || Mycroft Holmes || Sherlock Holmes

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Enola Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Game of Thrones

Robb Stark

Lucifer (Fox/Netflix)

Lucifer Morningstar

Marvel Cinematic Universe

James 'Bucky' Barnes || Loki Odinson || Stephen Strange

Tom Hiddleston + Characters

James Conrad || Jonathan Pine || Magnus Martinsson || Prince Hal/Henry V || Robert Laing || Sir Thomas Sharpe || Tom Hiddleston

#Evelyn's Navigation

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kermit-coded · 3 months

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You Said I Could've Been Your Courage (2341 words) by kermit_coded Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Super Sons (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Jonathan Samuel Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jonathan Samuel Kent Characters: Jonathan Samuel Kent, Damian Wayne, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Blood and Injury, Protective Jonathan Samuel Kent, Hurt Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne Speaks Arabic, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Good Sibling Kon-El | Conner Kent, Pet Names, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Jonathan Samuel Kent is a Ray of Sunshine, Damian Wayne is Robin, Jonathan Samuel Kent is Superboy, POV Jonathan Samuel Kent, forever thinking about jon knowing the sound of dami's heartbeat, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Superfamily (DCU), Panic Attacks, Broken Bones, super strength isnt all fun and games, stab wounds, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, hes a lil soft with jon (in his own way), Feelings Realization, Pre-Relationship, Mutual Pining, the existential dread of being 13 and realizing your best friend is very very human Summary: Damian gets stabbed. Jon realizes something.

#my writing tag #dc #dc comics #supersons #super sons #damijon #jondami #jon kent #jonathan samuel kent #jonathan kent #damian al ghul #damian wayne #dc fanfic #superfam #batfam

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caffiend-queen · 2 years

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This is me... coming here, telling you THERES A NEW CHAPTER OF NEEDS UP!!! :D

This is VERY EXCITING! You likes the Jonathan Pine fanfics Maybe with a leetle bit of BDSM? Here's Needs and Wants from my girl RayofDawn!!!

#Tumblr besties #beautiful tom hiddleston #Jonathan Pine fandom

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l0velylecter · 1 year

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i vowed I would always be yours ( cause we survived the great war ) — captain john price / f!reader

— "my hand was the one you reached for, all throughout the great war"

BOUND BY HISTORY, from the redwood forests during the age of kings to the trenches of world war ii, your family has served his family for generations. And so the story repeats itself. Yet the small part of you that dared to hope had wondered if it would always stay this way. Deep in your bones, you know this longing: forbidden yet tethering on the edge of your control, waiting to reach out, to explode, ran deeper than ancient oaths. You were a product of a hundred years worth of longing, and if Price keeps standing this close to you — drowning you with the stench of bergamot and tobacco, you will snap.

summary : where the reader and price's families have fought alongside one another as kings and knights, and now as his sniper, you can't help but ache to be more. pairing : captain jonathan price / f!reader | codename : angel fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii rating : m for mature and suggestive themes, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : descriptions of violence, cursing, brief descriptions of sex tags : military!reader, afab!reader, female parts, references to knights and kings, price's family being kings, and yours being knights,”where you go, i follow” +“ she fell first but he fell harder” trope, brief themes of magical realism, scent kink lol, mentions of unrequited love, angst, hurt and comfort, first times, loss of virginity, mirror sex(ish), female masturbation word count : 4.5k note : font is normal sized under the cut ! song used for inspiration : the great war, taylor swift

" Bravo six, state your position. Over."

The creek beside you trickled down the stones, whistling past the grass. Static crept up your ear, competing with the heavy, ringing sound of silence.

" Angel to Bravo six, state your position. Do you copy? Over."

Your breath hitched at the absence of a reply. Switching off your night vision and flipping the goggles up, you let the night breeze kiss your eyelids: your vision straining as it tried to adjust to the darkness. Across you, the shadows stretched past the pine trees and eventually into nothing, the wind stilling with the bristle of leaves to hold its breath with you.

" Price ?”

You tried again, voice slightly wavering, " John ?"

" I'm here."

You quickly spun, arms raised as if to defend yourself. Yet his hands flew to steady your shoulders: clothed thumbs digging into your shoulder bone — " Easy there, Angel."

Sighing, you took a step back, briefly noting that you had been chest to chest. You looked to the right, focusing on the pine cones littered across the moss-covered ground to ignore the heady stench of cedar and amber; noticing how you scrunched your face, Price let out a chuckle, " Don't tell me you also hate this aftershave too."

" I never hated any of it," You quickly replied. Clearing your throat before fixing the sentence, " I don't hate it, sir."

" It's just the two of us now, (name). Comms are down. The forest's too dense to pick up anything, and a storm is brewing." He gestured to the sky, and although the clouds blurred together with the night, the wind pick up its pace: the chill sinking past your mask and jacket. " We should head back."

You nodded, adjusting the rifle against your back — the sound of your name instead of your call sign falling from his lips caused you to ease your shoulders, jaws unclenching as the tension slipped off your body like a coat. He let out a small smile, "Walk with me."

The silence was immediately interrupted by the flicker of the lighter against the cigar (already hanging between Price's teeth.) And as if you've done the motion a hundred — a thousand times, you reached out to cup your hands around his to block the wind. As always, he'd pull away with a thank you, leaving you to flex your fingers quietly as if to preserve the skin-to-skin contact, trapping the warmth to savor the brief moment.

Occasionally Price would comment on the weather or make small talk, but aside from that, it was just the sound of your boots crunching the thin sheen of snow — the branches above a shelter of extended limbs, your steps guided by the pale, gentle light. Your shoulders, brushing.

" We need to address the elephant in the room."

You bristled, steps faltering.

" What do you mean?"

Your breathing quickened. Despite years and years of training, when you're around Price, you can never help yourself. Bound by history, from the redwood forests during the age of kings to the trenches of world war ii, your family has served his family for generations. And so the story repeats itself. Yet the small part of you that dared to hope had wondered if it would always stay this way. Deep in your bones, you know this longing: forbidden yet tethering on the edge of your control, waiting to reach out, to explode, ran deeper than ancient oaths. You were a product of a hundred years worth of longing, and if Price keeps standing this close to you — drowning you with the stench of bergamot and tobacco, you will snap.

He leaned forward to your ear, chest grazing your back, " You're hiding something from me."

This close, you can practically taste him; whiskey, cedar — the scent crowded you from all sides. If he didn't choose that moment to slip his hand into your pocket to fish out the paper-wrapped object, you would have grabbed him by the face and —

" Care to explain ?"

You exhaled shakily, gesturing to the gift with your chin and mumbling lamely, " Happy birthday."

He searched your expression, leaning against a bark to unwrap it, ignoring the oncoming rumbling of thunder ahead; cigar nearly falling from how wide he smiled.

" A hat ?"

" You'll be heading to the midlands next week."

A bird perched on one of the branches above. Snow lightly dusted his hair.

" You shouldn't have, kid."

" That's what you say every year."

You suddenly feel an ache within your chest, a slow, dull pull that reminds you of what's to come: while it wouldn't be the first time you'd separate from each other, it will be the first time since you enlisted in the army that you'd be apart. And he was the reason you joined in the first place: to make up for the times you weren't there with him, starting from when you were too young to play football with the high schooler next door. You were both ships passing in the night, and now that you were both anchored to each other, the tides have come to drift you apart. It hardly seems fair.

It won't take longer than a year. He promised. If I'm lucky, I'll visit.

You tried to take his word for it, but it didn't remove the dread pouring off you — always observant, Price walked closer.

" Chin up. I'll come back."

The moon was beautiful that night, and so was the rain: it started with a drop on your forehead, followed by another, another, and soon you were caught under a deluge, pouring over the two of you. Yet you both stood your ground as if trying to savor this moment. Price only moved to unclip his cape to drape it over you, pulling the hood over your head before walking away to get a head start, ignoring your protests.

Looking back, you would have given anything to know what he was thinking that night, his eyes young, hopeful, and electric blue past the mist.

When you saw him again, his eyes were grey — sure, they were still blue, but under the streetlamp and peeking through the hat, they burned silver like steel: steady and sharp, burdened by hardship. So when his voice drops almost fondly, softly, to greet you, a familiar ache bloomed in your chest.

“ It’s good to see you again, kid.”

The words caught in your throat, the sentence you practiced in your head for years, dissolving into one stiff nod. And when he crossed the distance, the men behind him stood their ground to watch.

A heartbeat passed before he gestured to your — well, his cloak, " That old shabby thing can't possibly do you any good, sergeant."

He was right, you thought. Despite your best attempts at preserving it, the fabric was worn and old and falling apart by the seams, barely protecting you from snow, wind, or rain. Yet how do you tell him that it still faintly smells of the earth, of gunpowder, of him? And it didn't matter how many times you washed it: the faint, sweet fragrance still lingers; a phantom trick that keeps the yearning at bay. So you settled with a curt: " It gets the job done, sir."

You gripped the strap of your rifle, subtly resting the fist above your heart in a poor attempt to soothe it, and his gaze followed your subtle movements: eying the family crest. Realizing that he would probably want the heirloom back, you started to unclip it from your neck.

“ Don’t,” He ordered, and you obeyed. Fingers pausing.

“ Keep it. It looks better on you.”

You wanted to say so many things: to tell him that the beard suits him, that you still couldn’t believe this was real, that you’ve missed him to the point where your bones ached. With him towering over you with only a footstep away from being chest to chest, the saccharine smell hit you square in the stomach. This time you didn’t need to imagine him.

Rumors were questions going about you and Price. And only during rare moments like these did the questions begin to materialize in the air like clouds, heavy and unsaid, suspicion gathered like precipitation: waiting to pour out of everyone's mouths like rain. Throughout the entire interrogation, you stood by the entrance, quietly observing the scene unfold, not wanting to interfere. You only moved once the captor opened his mouth to spit on Price's face. Immediately, you pressed yourself to the front, ignoring your teammate's protests to hold the edge of your blade against his adam's apple, only lowering the weapon when Price placed a hand on your shoulder. An amused smile crept up the informant's face: thinking, suspecting, plotting.

" I'm impressed that you keep your dogs on a tight leash, Captain. Can't you do the same for your bitch ?"

You didn't know who shouted for Price to stop: it must've been either Gaz or Ghost, both men hauling him off the prisoner: the cracking of bone echoing down the walls. Kate had every right to be angry — He has diplomatic immunity, John! What the fuck were you thinking?

Next to you, Ghost crossed his arms together, taking shelter under the rooftop from the pouring rain, " Bastard would have died if we didn't cut a hole in his neck. A bloody nose makes it hard to bloody breathe, don't you agree, sergeant?"

His eyes narrowed as if to ask. No, as if he already knows and maybe even understands. Not knowing what to say, you chose instead to watch as blood: fresh and wet, trickled down Price's knuckles, slowly washed away by the downpour. ( You weren't worried, it wasn’t his blood.)

“ What’s his name?”

Almost immediately, Fahrah tucked the picture back into her pocket. Alert, her hand reached for her gun, only to relax once she saw you. Outside, the desert was tame under the full moon, breathing with each howl of wind rolling down the hills. That was her habit: when it seemed as if no one was looking, Fahrah would sit by the corner to rest her head against the wall, gaze zoning into the man by the very end of the group polaroid almost longingly.

“ Alex.”

“ My condolences.”

You shifted in place.

“ Do you miss him?”

She pursed her lips as if to think, but you knew it was because she didn't want to hear how easily the admission would slip past her lips as if his name was something she feared.

“ I do.”

On serene nights like this, when there wasn’t a single cloud to block out the moonshine, you were compelled to seek comfort in the presence of one of the only women on the team. And on the rare occasions where the noise fades with the rest of the battlefield, Fahrah lets you.

Resting her chin atop her knees, she put her novel aside: A Collection of Urzikstan Fables.

“ Do you believe in fairytales ?”

You let the words mull, sparing a few seconds to think, “ Sometimes I do.”

The comms were stagnant, quiet: a few stories wouldn't hurt, Fahrah suggested. And so you told her a story — the only story you had chosen to believe in: weaving a tale of kings and knights, where oaths are sacred, and crowns are heavy.

“ And did the knight love his king?”

You pictured a knight cradling her majesty's body on the forest floor, unmoving and ruined by grief. You imagined a trooper limping past the minefields with his captain on his back, body: broken yet persevering through the pain. You thought of Price bleeding out in your arms, eyes blue and blood red.

“ Very much.”

“ But did the king love her back?”

You laughed as if the answer was obvious, “ No.”

“ Why not?”

“ They say kings were often needed elsewhere, and sometimes, they were needed in places where knights can’t follow.”

" Well that's hardly fair, isn't it?"

Her voice was sad, sorry even. You tugged the cloak closer to around your body.

" No, it’s not."

Once Gaz had asked you how to tell if Price was angry. You told him it was easy: if he starts cursing and throwing chairs, he's angry. But if he stays quiet, then he’s furious. You’ve seen Price make threats and shove tables in retaliation, but you’ve never quite seen him like this — jaws clenched and eyes burning. Silent throughout the car ride back to base. He couldn't even bring himself to look at you.

" I told you to take the shot."

He spat through gritted teeth.

" I could have hit you.” You reasoned, “It was too risky, sir."

" Don't fucking sir me, (name)! Not now! " His fist collided with the metal table as he pushed himself off the chair, the table dragging against the stone floor. " I trusted you to take out the enemy, no matter the cost."

Your frown grew deeper as you looked back on the last few hours. You could still feel the wind against your ears, rushing past you as you supported your elbows against the ledge. With a finger against the trigger, you shouted against the comms for someone — anyone, to come and pry the captain away from the enemy. Yet no one came, and Price was directly in front of the target's body, looking straight into the crosshairs and ordering you to shoot.

" I can't."

" Can't or won't?" He challenged, stalking forward to crowd you against the wall, "Answer me !"

" I won’t hurt you! "

His eyes flickered to the fresh cut across your cheek, dripping blood down your chin. The consequence of your reluctance: an opposing sniper had aimed his rifle right at you. His copper bullet zoomed past your temple and knocked you backward. And Price was shouting from afar when Soap had come to collect you back inside the chopper; From below, it looked like a headshot.

" And because of that, you could have...people could have been hurt tonight. You let him go, and he will kill civilians — children! "

" I..." You struggled to find the right words. While there hadn't been any reports of casualties, civilians within a fifty-mile radius were currently under evacuation, the sound of helicopters in the distance creeping past the windows.

The corners of your eyes burned.

" I'm sorry."

He tore himself away from you, a hand wiping down his tired face: crestfallen, his voice was low and angry.

" Don't make yourself a liability on my fucking behalf because if it was up to me and you were down there, you bet your arse, I would have pulled. that bloody. trigger. Do I make myself clear?"

When you gave no reply, Price stormed out of the room, and only an hour later did you finally find the strength to follow suit.

The helicopter rocked sideways, dipping past the clouds before catching itself. You already have your arm extended, reaching for Price. Yet his expression told you to stay put because the fire was growing by the minute. But you were crying: nearly hysterical the moment Gaz placed an arm over your waist to hold you in place. You thrashed and kicked and begged him to let you go after the captain on the other side, feet tangled in one of the seatbelts.

The chopper won't hold. There wasn't enough time.

When he finally cut himself free, the helicopter was already plummeting, and in the small timeframe where he could've leaped to grab your arm, his hands slipped past the tips of your fingers. Within seconds, he had plunged past the smoke and into the waters — your screams swallowed by the blaring alarms.

By the time you pry your eyes open, you were already gripping someone’s forearm, bracing yourself to hurl and cough the water out of your lungs. A set of familiar hands pulled your hair back, running down your nape in a shaky, soothing motion, “ You broken?”

You didn’t need to lift your head to know it was him, “ N-no sir.”

With your vision still blurred, you can’t see past the haze, and sensing this, Price moved his hand against your face to swipe his thumb over your eyelashes. In the background, the engine from the helicopter exploded, sending debris into the ocean. The tides might have been causing havoc underneath you, rattling the metal beams, but for now, above the oil rig: you were both safe. By the time you were fully conscious, the enemy plane was already sinking halfway down the Atlantic, allowing Price to lift your body against his chest to carry you inside.

Seizing the moment, you began to sob, tears pouring down your cheek because you knew the seawater would wash it away: salt and smoke, burning the small incision.

Similar to the hull of a ship, the room creaked and faintly rocked sideways with the tides, the storm above barely letting in any light. None of you spoke, yet you could sense it: you just wished you knew what he was thinking.

After three hours and a half, with rolls of gauze scattered everywhere, you snipped the fourth and last wound. Price let out a curse, the sharp hiss ringing down the hallway and nearly causing him to drop his cigar. You spared one last look at the old scars littered across his torso, a pang of guilt ringing in between your chest. He pushed himself to sit up.

" You couldn't have done -"

" I could have saved you," You interrupted.

" If I had known sooner, I would have come for you."

You pictured Price, beaten and bleeding all over the dank and dirty prison cell, enduring weeks and months of torture. The regret was wrung out of your heart and into your words, " They shouldn't have separated us."

Thunder rumbled overhead, the wind howling and spraying against the glass. When his gaze softened, the silver in his eyes melted into cobalt. No longer angry, his eyes burned softly instead: warm and apologetic.

" Why are you here, kid?"

" I...I want to be with you."

There was no use in lying. Yet Price remained unconvinced, slipping a hand against your jaw to lift your chin. Still kneeling beneath him, you inhaled sharply at the sight of Price looking down.

" Because of some bedtime story your parents used to tell you before bed? Fuck tradition, love. I doubt this is what it's all about."

" Why are you here?" He repeated.

Again, you not knowing what to say, you stayed quiet with his face dangerously close to yours. Even with the soot and salt on his skin, you can still smell him : tobacco earth oppressing you, speeding up your heartbeat.

" Because you're my friend, John."

" Aye. That I am," He whispered, voice dropping and breath warm against your cheek. You shivered, hands clutching his shoulders to keep yourself upright when he pulled you against his chest: bodies flushed. “ But when I ask you a question, sergeant.”

There was a weight in the pit of your stomach, a growing heat that fluttered — pulsed.

“ I expect a proper answer.”

Everything moved so quickly, his hands, his mouth — and you should really tell him to slow down, but not when he has you against the wall, an arm next to your head while a hand angled your face to him: lips warm and feverish against yours. Only when he pushed his tongue past your teeth did you still, making him pull away. The aroma of bergamot grew stronger around you. Price's brows knitted before it dawned on him.

" Is this your first time?"

With his knee pressed against your crotch, your nipples hardened against his chest, and the thin cotton fabric of your t-shirt did nothing to hide the heat, the want. For a minute, Price did nothing, and from your peripheral, you can sense him staring. You braced for him to leave, but instead, he trailed his lips up your neck, a hand against your throat — thumb skimming your pulse.

" Bloody. Tell me to stop, and I will."

With that, he went back to kissing you, slower this time. Each move was calculated and deliberate. All those nights you spent wondering, yearning, craving leading up to this very moment. His fingers tugged your hair, and you sighed, overwhelmed by emotions and pure fucking pleasure. You pulled away to breathe, letting him pepper kisses against your collarbone while you moaned.

" Have you been imagining this ?" He whispered: voice dangerously low.

You imagined all those times you stood on the sidelines to observe — standing beside him, yet always at arm's length. " Did you ever touch yourself thinking about me, love?"

Your cunt clenched at that, not knowing how to tell him that the night after he gave you his cloak, you had laid in bed with your legs spread open: fingers experimentally probing, pushing past the wetness. You had wrapped yourself in nothing but the fabric and fucked yourself til morning, hands sore and body vaguely reeking of palm leaf the next day.

As if hearing your thoughts, he pulled you down by the waist to the flat surface of his knee, the friction from your jeans causing you to whine.

" Answer me."

" I- I did."

He maneuvered you onto the steel bench, and across you was the locker room's long, full-body-length mirror. With your back against his chest, he spread your legs apart, helping you peel back your clothes. He lazily ran his hand down your side, prying your arms away when you subconsciously covered your chest, the other finding its way across your neck to tilt your head up.

" Then show me."

Without thinking, you brought one hand to the cleft between your thighs, using an index finger to part the folds. You slid a finger in slowly, and Price watched, digits finding your clit before rubbing it in circles. You closed your eyes, cheeks wet with tears: body tense and mouth open to let out a high-pitched whine.

" Always so obedient. Always so good. You've been saving yourself for me, haven't you, sweetheart?"

All you did was give him a nod, making some kind of needy sound at the back of your throat. “Please, John.”

Price cursed under his breath when he watched your second finger slowly disappear inside your hole. Not able to resist, he pushed his finger inside, causing you to unconsciously grind your hips: feeling a little ashamed when you sensed his digit curl inside to slowly massage the roof of your — " Jonathan, please."

Hearing him groan against your ear made you shiver, the warmth further spreading throughout your stomach.

“ Patience, love. Patience.”

You found it ironic that he was telling you to wait. After more than a decade’s worth of silent pining, you were more than entitled to have him bend you over the chair, but you know he wouldn’t do that. He’d take his time to stretch you open, exploring, savoring, and by the time you opened your eyes to look in the mirror: blue, clouded eyes that were akin to diving into a storm stared back.

“ Look at you, always taking care of me. And who takes care of you, eh?”

He was touching you everywhere, the stimulus too much for you to handle: you understand it now. This was raw and unbridled desire pouring out of a man tired of holding himself back. And when you trapped his wrist between your thighs, body seizing and clamping down, Price grabbed one of your nipples and pinched it with his free hand, making you arch back. With a grunt, he tried to ease you off the orgasm, whispering words of encouragement against your nape.

“ Don’t worry. I got you. I got you.”

The rain was starting to lull, the clouds dispersing to make way for the moon. And in the darkness, you adjusted your eyes to make out his silhouette. With your body propped up against your elbows, you were entranced, unable to look away as he undid his belt in one fluid motion. To have him kiss up your thigh had you moaning into your arm. Even from this position, he still oozed control, his eyes alight and electric. Nails clipped short and digging against your hips.

And when he had eased himself inside of you, slowly, gently, with so much restraint as not to hurt you, tears were still coming out of your eyes. Your fingers dragged down his back as you fluttered around his cock.

" Shhh, easy now," He groaned. And as you inhaled the smell of sex and musk and him, your body ached for more — even when he buried himself at the hilt.

And somewhere in the midst of him pistoning in and out of you, you had confessed: urgently, desperately, the words crashing down along with your high; bodies, sliding against each other.

" I..." He trailed off, still panting as he pulled you close, heartbeat pounding against your back, " I’ve always known.”

He held you close, nose buried into your shoulder, " That night... I didn’t mean what I said. Fuck, love, I thought I nearly lost you."

" Me too," You sobbed, threading your fingers down his hair, " Earlier today...John, don't go where I can't follow. Please."

His grip around you tightened. Under the shadows, your breathing was loud, fighting with the blood rushing past your ears. Yet the moment he nodded, you immediately relaxed against the sheets, relief interweaving itself between the serene silence of the room.

By morning, his touch still lingered down your spine: one of the many reminders of last night. And when you found the space next to you empty, a shot of panic had woken you, followed by a wave of sadness. Just as it was about to melt into pain, the door swung open to reveal him: already dressed with two cups of coffee in his hand.

Past the window, the sunrays drenched the room gold. The ocean was clear and bright in the distance.

“ Bravo six, to Angel, are you in position? Over.”

You adjusted the earpiece before repositioning yourself over the brick ledge, pulling back the hood of your cape to allow for better aim.

“ In position, sir. Over.”

“ You have my back, sergeant?”

You let a faint smile creep up your lips.

“ Always, sir.”

a/n : to be fair, i believe i can do better with this : it was rushed and it has been sitting in my drafts for ages so i apologise if the plot is too quick and somewhat disorganised, i suck at making long fics 🤣 but i just have to go through with this idea because it has been scratching my brain for ages ! i hope you all still enjoyed it, and i hope he wasn’t ooc or misread as a character in this piece <3 notes : → the great war by taylor swift has so many other lines / verses that fits specifically to this fic i highly recommend everyone to listen to it while reading this ! → in medieval times, knights will receive a form of token from their kings or queens to carry as a blessing. It could be a piece of clothing, which in this case, is the cape gifted from price to you. → yes, alex was fahrah’s knight 🥺 → the folklore i read usually also describe knights as hunters/trackers, hence the strong sense of smell. Price assumed you hated how he smells like based on your strong reactions. False, you were incredibly confused and turned on every time. this is also for the bestie @nfr89s because you’re daddy price’s & taylor’s number one fan 😻☝🏻

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ao3feed-jonmartin · 4 days

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tasted friendship tasted heartbreak(but that's dessert!)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/iAheR0F by Tia_Gem “God, I missed mum's kimchi,” Tim smiled. He popped the lid off the jar on the table and the smell hit Martin with enough force he had to turn his head. It was such a strong scent of pure spice that his eyes watered a bit. “She made a huge batch last weekend when my aunts came to visit. First time she's made any since… well, in a few years, anyway.” “What… what is it, exactly?” Martin asked with trepidation. He sat down near Tim and fought the urge to cover his nose with his hand. Tim's smile widened into a grin. Or: a look into the lives of the Archivist and his assistants, through food Words: 3055, Chapters: 1/5, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives) Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker Additional Tags: Food as a Metaphor for Love, Martin Blackwood Has a Crush on Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood Has Self-Esteem Issues, Pining Martin Blackwood, Martin Blackwood Has ADHD, Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, The Lonely as a Metaphor for Depression (The Magnus Archives), Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tim Stoker Is Korean, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist is Bad at Feelings, So much of this fic is just my headcanons, No beta we kayak like Tim, Pre-Relationship read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/iAheR0F

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #tma #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin fanfic

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fellfirst-fellharder-fight · 8 months

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Round 2: Fight 2

Jonathan "Jon" Sims/Martin K. Blackwood (The Magnus Archives) vs Xie Lian/Hua Cheng (Heaven Officials Blessing)

Propaganda under the cut!

Jonathan "Jon" Sims/Martin K. Blackwood (The Magnus Archives):

they're so silly!!!!!!!! they have ruined my life with their silliness. can't believe martin spent 4 seasons pining on this pathetic little man.

martin has has a crush on Jon since about the start of the series,and when he notices that Jon is having trouble due to the horrors,he tries his best to help him out we are only sure that Jon fell in love after Martin did,but it is fairly accepted in the fandom that jon had Fallin in love with Martin at around season 3-4(?) mostly due to the point that Jon was the one to ask Martin to gouge his own eyes with him so that they would both be safe from the horrors,and it is presumably Jon that was able to acquire Daisy's safehouse (a lovely home in Scotland) and was able to convince martin to run away to a different country with him(they lived in London) not to mention that at the end of the series,Jon had decided to use himself to try to slow the apocalypse down to make it barable,but the moment martin was in danger due to that mistake,Jon switches gears and sacredixes himself,the world,and martin,just so he wouldn't have to be alone during the apocalypse if that isn't fell first,fell harder,idk what is!!

martins canonically got feelings for jon since at least the late second season, and aside from a few moments of jealousy and his very obvious doting, he manages to be pretty normal about it. jon realises he has feelings for martin and he literally never shuts up about him. finds any excuse to talk to the man despite martin (at this point) trying to cut himself off from everyone. 'hey martin this woman neither of us care about that actively tried to kill me once is in danger do you think i should save her' as if he has an opinion? and then theres of course the wonderful 'lets gouge out our eyes and run away together 💖' love confession of the century. when they do start dating jon wont stop saying 'my boyfriend 💞💞💞' with the most lovesick and proud voice

im sure you're gonna get so many submissions for them but to summarize: Martin is the one who started writing love poetry all the way back in S1 but Jon is the one who suggested they both BLIND THEMSELVES AND RUN AWAY TOGETHER in S4

Xie Lian/Hua Cheng (Heaven Officials Blessing):

Hua cheng literally fell of a building and Xie lian caught him and has been silently ping for him for thousands of years like, making statues of him, following him around in disguise, wearing a string on his finger to mimic the hair that xie lian put there once. And Xie lian once he figures it out is willing to disobey heavens direct orders to smooch Hua cheng even though he was explicitly told that Hua cheng was dangerous and not to be associated with. They make me crazy insane. Ndheuaisbdudhdjdi

#tournament bracket #tumblr polls #tumblr tournament #poll tournament #tournament poll #tumblr tourney #polls #fellfirst fellharder fight #jonmartin #jmart #tma jmart #tma jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #hualian #tgcf #mxtx tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing

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bylrlve · 4 months

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Warning! Potential leaks for season five of Stranger Things!

Alex (aka @dyersfilms on twitter, used to be swiftlynatalia) is the person who successfully leaked most of season 4 due to her knowing a source. She did, however, insist Byler was entirely platonic that season and they fought for most of it and only made up at the end in the pizza van, so…

Here’s her saying she won’t post any byler leaks this time around, which she has said previously.

She got a message saying they’re all fake, and she thinks they all are, so keep that in mind.

Here’s a short one: Will distancing himself from the party bc it’s too hard to be closeted and to be around Mike. If real? Endgame fr.

A ‘leak’ from episode one where shit goes down after the opening scene of Will singing SISOSIG, Will falls, and Mike helps him up,

Here’s an extremely detailed one that casually drops Mileven breakup, Robin-Mike bonding over Vickie and Will, Will trying to avoid Mike ‘confronting him about the painting’, Mike and Jonathan fighting over Will’s safety. Nothing here is debunkable but…. Yeah. God, would it be nice, though.

The two most interesting ones. First, an ask that’s almost entirely plausible except for the mileven part - and that part, specifically, I’m calling bullshit on bc it claims that Hopper is still on the Mike Hate Train. It was made abundantly clear, after their talk and their awkwardly long hug at the end of season 4, that that’s in the past. Besides, it just wouldn’t fit tonally. S3 was the heterosexual-cliché, silly filler season. S5? Nah. Can’t 100% say it’s fake, but even Alex agrees this one isn’t real.

Lastly, an interesting one that’s plausible throughout which claims Mike gets seriously injured and spends some time in hospital. Will stays by his bedside after everyone else leaves and kisses Mike on the forehead. Mike wakes up after he leaves - I think the insinuation is that Mike does a Half-Blood Prince and wakes up knowing that someone he felt safe with was there, but he doesn’t know who it was. If that’s legit? As I said, endgame fr.

I do want to note that both the mileven and Byler asks word the ‘main character getting injured part’ as everyone being ‘shaken up’ so there are a few options: it’s the same person with legit leaks, and Byler isn’t endgame. That, I’d be more willing to accept, cautious as I am, were it not for the Hopper part, which sticks out like a sore thumb. Second option: it’s the same person messing around. Third: it’s two people, one building on the other.

Cannot emphasise enough that these are most likely just bored people having fun, but I figured I’d share them all. The last one is getting passed around the tag sans context, and I wanted to clarify everything else Alex has received. Do not get your hopes up about Byler based solely on these.

Letting my imagination run absolutely wild here for just a moment, however: Maya and Vickie are confirmed to be filming at the hospital set, presumably visiting someone. There’s also a pic of someone with bloody shoes. Imagine if Robin visits Mike in the hospital, witnesses some Platinum-Tier Will Byers Pining™️, and ends up talking to Mike after he wakes up - no mention of how long he stays there.

Lastly, it is fun comparing these to the more doom-and-gloom (re: Mike) leaks Sapphicjopper on twitter got. The awesome @solgmorell has a post explaining those in detail.

Oh, and an interview came out today where Shawn Levy said something insane but, you know, water is wet.