Beckon-Call

Beanies and Negotiations (Part 2)

Originally posted by dailycwriverdale

Part one here

Anon requests: Could you PLEASE do a second part for beanies and negotiations?! I loved it!!

Another part for beanies and negotiations! Puh-lease

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: Archie observes Jughead and (Y/N)’s relationship, and realizes it’s not just his beanie that Jughead lets (Y/N) wear

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,033

A/N: ah you guys I’m so happy you’re enjoying my writing! I wasn’t planning on writing a second part for this piece, but since it was requested I wrote it for you guys. I was also gonna queue this and have it published later, but I’m so excited for you guys to read this! Enjoy!


Although he and Jughead had recently hit a rough patch in their relationship, Archie Andrews considered himself one of Jughead’s closest friends.  He also liked to believe that he knew his friend pretty well.  So when he saw (Y/N) roaming the halls wearing Jughead’s beanie, he was ecstatic.  He rushed through the school to find his friend.  In the lounge, Jughead stood with his arms crossed and raven hair exposed.

“Dude!” Archie exclaimed as he sauntered over to Jughead.  “Finally!”

“What are you talking about?” Jughead questioned, eyes narrowed.

“(Y/N), of course!” Archie answered.  “You asked her out, right?”  Jughead shifted and uncrossed his arms.

“No,” he scoffed, but his voice wavered a bit.  “Why would you think that?”

“Because she’s wearing your beanie,” Archie stated like it was obvious.  “The last time you took that thing off is when you proposed to her when we were six.”

“We were six,” Jughead emphasized, slightly leaning forward.

“But you like her,” Archie said.  Jughead opened his mouth to reply, but no smart remarks came out.  Instead, he closed his mouth and looked away from Archie, sighing.  “Ask her out, man.”  Pursing his lips, Jughead shook his head and walked away.  Archie sighed and turned around, spotting Veronica and Betty waving at him.

“Archie!” Veronica called, beckoning him over.  He moved to the couch they were sitting at and stood in front of the two girls.

“Yes?”

“You’ve seen (Y/N) wearing Jughead’s hat, too, right?” she asked.  Archie nodded.

“I don’t get it though,” he said.  “He never takes that thing off.  I asked Jughead if he asked her out, but he said no.  I figured she’d be wearing it because of that, since last time she wore Jughead’s beanie-”

“He proposed to her,” Betty finished, and Archie nodded.  All three of them simultaneously sighed.

“God he looked so smitten yesterday,” Veronica groaned.  Archie sent her a questioning look.  “Betty and I were at Pop’s yesterday, and we saw Jughead and (Y/N) there.  She had stolen his beanie and he was trying to get it back, but he was enjoying it. I swear he could barely contain his smile.”

“Yeah,” Betty smiled in agreement.  “They’re both smitten.”


Archie, Betty, and Veronica thought that the beanie incident was a one-time thing.  However, they were proven wrong when they spotted (Y/N) sitting in Pop’s wearing Jughead’s jacket a week later.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Veronica greeted, sitting down next to her.  “Where’s Jughead?”

“Working at the drive-in tonight,” (Y/N) answered, smiling.  Betty and Archie slid into the booth seat across from them.  

“Is that Jughead’s jacket?” Archie bluntly asked.  (Y/N) looked down at what she was wearing.

“Oh crap!” she exclaimed. “I forgot to give this back to him!” Veronica smirked.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you holding onto it for a bit,” she laughed, causing (Y/N) to smile and nod.

“Why’d he give it to you in the first place?” Betty inquired.  (Y/N) bit her lip.

“We were walking home from school, and I had forgotten my jacket at home.  I was shivering, and Jug insisted that I took his,” she explained. Archie affectionately rolled his eyes, smirking.

“Smitten,” he mumbled under his breath.


The next incident was two weeks later at a football game.  (Y/N) had promised her friends that she would come to the game to support them, and she managed to drag Jughead along with her.  Archie smirked when he saw them sitting together in the stands, knowing that it probably wasn’t too hard for (Y/N) to convince Jughead to come.

After the game, (Y/N) and Jughead got off the bleachers and walked over to the field where Archie, Betty, and Veronica were standing.

“You guys were all great tonight!” (Y/N) complimented, beaming at her friends.  They all smiled in gratitude, when suddenly Archie furrowed his eyebrows.

“Is that-” he paused for a moment, contemplating how to phrase his question.  “Is that a new flannel?”  Betty and Veronica shot him confused looks, whereas Jughead and (Y/N)’s fidgeted as their cheeks grew red.

“Uh, nope,” (Y/N) awkwardly laughed.  “It’s Jughead’s actually.”

“What?” Betty and Veronica exclaimed at the same time.  Archie suppressed a smirk.

“It was raining before,” (Y/N) stated, and Archie noticed Jughead refusing to make eye contact with him, “and we got drenched because neither of us had an umbrella.  Jughead had a dry flannel and let me wear it.” She shrugged at the end of her explanation, playing with the sleeves of Jughead’s flannel.  Archie was tempted to ask (Y/N) why she didn’t just change into some of her own clothes, but he decided not to for her and Jughead’s sakes. Betty and Veronica shared a knowing glance.  Finally, Archie managed to catch Jughead’s eye.  He smirked and Jughead rolled his eyes, but the small smile on his face didn’t go unnoticed by Archie.


Archie would have completely missed the last incident if it wasn’t for Veronica.  Some weeks later they were sitting at lunch with (Y/N), waiting for Betty and Jughead to arrive at their table.

“(Y/N), that sweater is really big on you,” Veronica noted, critiquing her outfit.  “Please tell me you didn’t just buy that.”  (Y/N) smiled bashfully.

“No,” she responded, “I’ve had it lying in my room for a while.  Figured I should put it to use.”  Veronica scrunched up her nose.

“You shouldn’t have. Not to be rude, girl, but green is not your color.”

“Oh well,” (Y/N) laughed. “I’ll remember that next ti-”

“That’s Jughead’s, isn’t it?” Archie interrupted.  (Y/N) bit her lip and pulled the sweater sleeves over her hands.

“Maybe,” she mumbled, looking down into her lap.  Archie and Veronica smirked.

“You know what, (Y/N)?” Veronica said.  “Never mind what I just said.  That does suit you.”  (Y/N)’s cheeks grew bright red.

“Oh god, guys,” she moaned, but they could hear the smile in her face.  Jughead and Betty soon walked over to the table and joined the group.  During their lunch, Archie would occasionally glance over at Jughead and (Y/N).  He frequently saw one staring at the other.  Smiling at his friends, Archie couldn’t fathom how neither of them realize how smitten they were with each other.  

It all started with that damn beanie.

Part 3 here   Part 4 here

First Impressions // Barry x Reader

Request: Can there be a smut for you being a new intern at the police department and Barry takes a liking to you, soon you become his assistant and you guys end up having sex all around his lab?

Warnings: I got secondhand butterflies just writing this tbh. Flirty!Barry and steamy smut oooh

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Hunter Part One


Description: Assassins!AU; Private clients, high-profile targets, big payouts, underground layers - all part of the job when you’re a hitman in Kim Taehyung’s empire.


Genre: Action and smut (18+)

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: Jungkook’s POV, no reader insert, violence, character deaths, derogatory language, MAJOR BDSM themes (bloodplay, cumplay, knifeplay, breathplay), mentions of necrophilia. 

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED. I’m not kidding.

A/N: Here it is! Please understand, again, that this is not going to be a lighthearted fic. This will be intense, with dark themes, and will include death. To a large degree. I’ve planned a whole AU around this, so please do not ask me to insert something you want or complain that so-so isn’t how you would do things. I do hope you enjoy it. :) If it’s not your cup of tea, ah well.

Thanks to @ellieljade for inspiration, beta-ing, and making my lovely banner. :)

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NurseyWeek Prompt #3 - Challenge.


“Oh, it is fucking on, bros,” Lardo shouts over the incessant thumping of the bass. “You two are going to get obliterated.” She points an emphatic finger at Ransom and Holster, who stand shoulder to shoulder on the other side of the beer pong table. Holster cups his hand over his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully, and side-eyes Ransom.

“She shouldn’t be able to say words like ‘obliterated’ three cups of tub juice in,” he says. Ransom is just beginning to nod in agreement when he’s beaned smack in the middle of his forehead with a ping pong ball. Holster gets hit in the same spot half a second later, sending both of them reeling back, spluttering.

“You know, I figured four years was enough time for the two of you to learn not to underestimate my abilities,” Lardo says, tossing another ping pong ball up in the air. She cocks an eyebrow and catches the ball, meeting their gazes. “My mistake. Clearly, you need another lesson.”

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SugarDaddy!Cal Pt.2

Okay for starters…I made Y/BF/N Jamie because I’m typing this on my phone and typing Y/BF/N is annoying lmaoo sorry. And the anon who originally requested this has asked me to focus this mainly on black girls/POC, so I’m extra hyped.

Also I honestly think I might make this a series? The beautiful and most talented Gabby (@lukeysgirlkinda inspired me to, but I didn’t have a prompt. Might also steal her idea of a new chapter every 100 notes…what do you guys think?


One/ TwoThree/ Four/Five/Six/Seven/Eight/
Nine/Ten/Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen/Fourteen/Fifteen
SixteenSeventeen/ EighteenNineteen/Twenty{END}

You checked over your outfit once more in the full body mirror before walking carefully down the stairs. You’ve had more than one encounter attempting to run down the stairs before someone reached your house and it always ended badly.

“You look so pretty!” Jamie grinned as she turned around on the couch to see you.

“All I did was my hair and makeup, Jamie. I have on shorts and a shirt.”

“Can’t ever take a compliment.” She rolled her eyes playfully.“ What time is Calum coming?”

You checked the time on your phone before answering,“Any minute now.”

“You’re excited, aren’t you? I mean there’s a hot, young Australian who wants to be your sugar daddy. How much better can life get?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a sexual person, Jamie, how am I just going to be there at his every beckoning call?”

“You’ll do it, trust me.” She laughed, her smile widening when she heard someone knock on the door.

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anonymous asked:

#6 for Gaston?? ;)

HERE’S A LIL ONESHOT. srry if its not what you guys expected lol i was super tired while writing it! Thanks for reading, reblogs and likes are all appreciated! Have a good one.


Originally posted by good-gay-sherlock


Title: The Night Before.
Pairing: Gaston x Reader.
Words: 1,368.
Rating: T.
Summary: After sharing a kiss the night before, Gaston meets with you and tries to explain what he’s feeling.


Pretending that nothing happened isn’t going to help either of us.” Hearing that voice in the morning was the last thing you expected. Hearing it as the first sound to awaken your senses after opening your front door was also to say the least, a big surprise. Stepping down from your front door, you pushed on his chest to get him to back away so you could walk. He did, but only half a step. Sighing in defeat, you stopped trying to maneuver your way around his broad body and cocked your hip to the side. You were all to aware of what he was referring to. You had been thinking about it ever since last night. You had gone to bed thinking about it and you had woken up thinking about it. 

You didn’t quite expect Gaston to be outside your house door though, ready to pester you about the mishap in the tavern the night before. You figured he’d have been too hungover to actually be awake this early, but here he was in all his post-war glory. Reckon, he did look a bit messier than his usual self, with a few stray hairs, bags under his eyes, and disheveled tan jacket that clung perfectly to his structured torso.

Looking at him in astonishment, it appeared as if he didn’t sleep at all and spent the night waiting to see you again. Clearing his throat, Gaston fixed his jacket, buttoning a few buttons in the middle before slicking back his hair. Rolling your eyes at the thought of Gaston performing such a romantic task specifically for you, you acknowledged his words. Swallowing softly, you grasped your skirt and tugged the fabric out of his hands swiftly. It left him a bit starstruck as you flattened the front of your dress and muttered to him, “It didn’t mean anything. It was just a kiss.”

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À Triomphe - BTS AU

AU: Art Thief!Bangtan

Description:  You are a curator at one of the many museums in Paris, and have finally earned the bosses trust.  But after a strange meeting with a new coworker and his friends, you begin receiving messages from an unknown party.  

Part: One / Two / Three / Four / Five

Warnings: Swearing

Teasers: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six 

Originally posted by donewithjeon

The door slammed behind him; he dripped in sweat, finally letting go of the ten-pound vase made of meticulously crafted marble. “Were you going to fucking leave me there?”

The driver laughed, jerking the wheel as he made a swift turn. “You’re not bad for a newbie, bunny boy.” The boys surrounding the van shared a hardy laugh, patting the youngest on his back. He slouched over, begging to catch his breath as the night lights of Paris reflected through the windows.  

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Meeting The Family

Modern AU

George Washington x Reader ft. kiddo hamilsquad

Author(s): Lil Laddie

Words: 1725

Warnings: Swearing, a bit cliche, kissing

Request: HI! Can I request a Christmas one with the dialouge number 2, and 26, with 18 and 19 for scenarios???? X’D WITH CHRIS/ GEORGE WASHINGTON PLEASE??? ILY

2: “Who keeps hanging all this damn mistletoe everywhere?” 

26: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN SANTA ISNT REAL???”

18: Getting stuck under the mistletoe

19: Christmas w/ Kids

A/N: I hope this is close to what you were looking for! I had a really fun time writing it. Thanks again for requesting! But I’m sorry guys that I haven’t been posting often lately. My immune system has like completely shut down, so I keep getting really sick. Sorry about that, but on a happier note…WE ARE 10 FOLLOWERS AWAY FROM 300! We’re really excited about this and want to do something special for it. I don’t know if anybody actually reads these notes, but please let us know if you’d like us to do an open ask time or really any kind of fun lil celebration thing with you guys. If we don’t hear anything then we’re probably not going to do it, but thank you lovelies! Hope your day is amazing and remember that holiday requests are open! I love ya’ll!


“Do you think they’ll like me?” You asked, nervously fidgeting your hands as you sat in your car on George’s driveway.

“Trust me, my kids will love you. They love anything that will listen to their crazy rants and stories.” George smiled reassuringly as he took your keys out of the ignition. “Come on, they can’t wait to meet you.”

You watched as George got out of the car and walked towards the porch of his house. You had been dating George for a while now and the holidays had finally rolled around. He had been begging for you to meet his many adopted children that he loved with all his heart. There wasn’t anything you had against meeting them, you were just deathly scared that they wouldn’t like you.

Unfortunately, when all the kids refused presents from Santa unless they could meet you, George put his foot down and set a date for you to come over. That date just so happened to be, Christmas Eve and Christmas day. That’s right, you could possibly be ruining one of their Christmas memories by just being there. This was a nightmare come to life.

“(Y/N)! Come on, I promise it won’t be that bad!” George called, beckoning you towards the door.

With one last deep calming breath, you marched over to him, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“Okay, let’s do this.” You said, determined to make the best out of the situation.

George looked at you and smiled, taking your hand in his and squeezing it tightly. George took a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob. Little did you know that he was just as nervous as you were. He was completely panicked at the thought of the kids being too rambunctious for you to handle.

“Boys!” George called in the house as he opened the door.

There were a series of yells heard scattered across the house. This was followed by pounding footsteps coming from all directions. You squeezed George’s hand a little tighter as you saw them all run into the room one by one.

“Boys, this is (Y/N) (L/N). They’re the person you were so interested in meeting.” George smirked as the boys blushed at his words.

“We weren’t that interested!” One protested, his dark hair pulled in a tight ponytail.

“Mhm, sure…Anyways (Y/N), these are my boys.” He took his time introducing each of them and you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to remember all their names.

“It’s nice to meet you boys.” You smiled, all of them wearing shit eating grins.

“HAVE YOU HAD SEX WITH OUR DAD????” Alex screeched, running at you with excitement.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY KIDS???” John yelled, latching his arms around your waist.

“ARE YOU GOING TO MARRY OUR DAD???” Hercules’s voice boomed through the house loudly, especially for such a small boy.

“WILL YOU STAY FOREVER???” Laf jumped onto your back, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“OUR DAD KNOWS SANTA! DO YOU KNOW HIM TOO???” Thomas asked, his eyes flickering between you and George.

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT WE’RE GETTING FOR CHRISTMAS???” Aaron jumped over the other boys, hoping to gain your attention.

“I hope we don’t scare you away.” James said in between coughs, taking your hand that wasn’t holding George’s into his.

“BOYS!” George yelled, the boys stopped their flood of questions to look at him. “Enough with the ridiculous questions.” George sighed, thinking his kids had already scared you away.

“I don’t know if I can answer all those at once.” You giggled, looking at the rowdy boys around you. “Let me think…Yes we have and no I don’t have any kids. About the marriage thing, he’d have to ask first. I would stay forever if I could, Laf. Santa and I are freaking homies! I don’t know what you’re getting for Christmas, and no James, I don’t think you can scare me away.” They took in your answers, before they all took a deep breath to ask more questions.

“No more questions! You’ll have plenty of time to do that later! For now, let’s go make some dinner.” George said, ushering the boys towards the kitchen.

Without a word, they all began working in unison. You laughed, watching them take orders from George and and carrying them out with such precision. They were chopping vegetable and fruits, some were stirring pots or putting things in the oven. They were like little soldiers.

“What would you like me to do, General Washington?” You asked with a mock salute.

“No guest of mine is helping in the kitchen. Go sit down at the table, dinner will be done in a moment.” George pushed you towards the table that John and Alex were supposed to be setting.

“So, how old are you two?” You asked, taking a seat at the dining table.

“I’m eight and John is ten.” Alex said, folding the last of the napkins

“Are you all pretty close to your dad?” You asked, watching as their faces lit up at the mention of George.

“We spend a lot of time with our dad. He’s the one that got us all out of foster care and orphanages, we owe a lot to him.” John smiled at the memory.

“Did you hang them all up?” Thomas asked, walking into the room.

“Yeah we did.” Alex said, the three boys sharing a mischievous grin.

“What did you three do?” You raised an eyebrow at the suspicious boys.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Thomas smirked, taking a seat next to you at the table. “I believe you will greatly appreciate it.”

Soon enough, everyone was seated around the table eating an amazing Christmas Eve dinner George and the boys had made. The boys watched and listened to you carefully the whole night. George had never brought someone home before, so there had to be something special about you.

“I think I’m going to catch Santa tonight.” Alex boasted, shoveling mountains of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“I doubt you can catch Santa.” Aaron rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah, why not?” Alex glared at him, holding his fork a bit tighter

“Because Santa’s not real, you idiot.” Aaron said smugly, half of the kids at the table looked up in shock.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SANTA ISN’T REAL???” James screamed, tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

“Oh no…” You hear Hercules mutter, turning to glare at Aaron.

“James, uh…you see Santa…” George attempted, only to have more of the kids at the table begin to cry.

“Of course Santa is real!” You interject, signaling to George that you could handle this. “Santa works really hard to visit you kids each year. He’s probably getting his sleigh ready right now! But sometimes, to prove that a child’s faith in him can stay true, he tells other children to spread the word that he’s not real. All those who still have faith in him will never leave the nice list. Whenever someone tells you he’s not real, they’re actually testing you.”

“Really?” Thomas asked, his eyes puffy from crying.

“Trust me, Santa’s as real as you and me.” George said, smiling at how quickly you had turned the situation around. “Boys, go change into your PJs. (Y/N) and I will clean up the table and then we can watch some Christmas movie with you before bedtime.”

The boys looked at each other with smirks. They walked up the stairs and began laughing and giggling when they thought they were out of earshot.

“They’re up to something…” You trailed off, standing up to grab the dishes.

“They’re always up to something.” George chuckled, leading you back into the kitchen to wash the dishes.

After washing the dishes in comfortable silence, the two of you entered the living room to be met with a surprise. Every inch of the ceiling was covered in mistletoe. George looked around the room in shock while you tried to stifle your laugh.

“Who keeps hanging all this damn mistletoe everywhere?” George yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

“Keeps? Like this has happened multiple times?” You giggled at George’s pained expression.

“The boys kept trying to hang it everywhere before you came over.” George blushed.

“That’s cute, but I don’t know how to tell you this…” You trailed off, looking at the staircase behind George that was currently occupied by his kids.

“They’re too much for you aren’t they? I promise they’re not that bad, they were just really excited to meet you. Please, just hear me out on this.” George began to rant, the only thing that stopped it was your hand over his mouth.

“First off, I love the boys and their craziness. Secondly, I was going to tell you that we can’t break a Christmas tradition, it’ll bring us years of bad luck.” You smirked, pulling George close to you as the boys gasped in anticipation.

“Hm, well I don’t want to be a Scrooge.” George smiled, pulling you in for a light kiss.

The kiss was short and sweet, but then again there were all his kids behind you. As you pulled away, you could hear the excited cheers and almost whispers from the boys. George rolled his eyes, turning to watch them all run back up the stairs.

“I’m glad you like them. I’ve really wanted to combine the most important people in my life for a while.” George smiled, pulling you close to his side.

“I’m glad you forced me into this. I think this may be my best Christmas yet.” You put your head on his shoulder.

“Well, if you’d like, maybe this could be the first of many Christmases like this.” George suggested, his voice slightly nervous and strained.

“That’s an offer I’ll have to take.” You giggled, watching the boys peek around the corner to look at the two of you. “Besides, I don’t think I’d want to spend another holiday without you and your boys.”

Dusk Till Dawn - Auston Matthews

A/N: This was inspired by the song ‘Dusk till Dawn’ by Zayn and Sia. So, maybe give it a listen?  I know it’s a bit short but this was just me trying to get back into writing. I’m hoping to start updating regularly again. Let me know what you think!

Characters: Auston Matthews

Words: 2,349

Warnings: Language, Mention of Sexual Content

Originally posted by suicidepokecheck

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Addewid (IX)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Kai (Jongin)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4,168

Genre: Fey!AU + Series 

Summary: You cannot appeal to my better nature, for I have none. I am not human, little one.”

You’ve always known you were different. You’re able to see them, after all, able to see the Others. You’ve also always ignored them. Until the day comes where you’re forced to make a choice - one that throws your world into chaos. And sends you down a path you might never return from.

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

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2manyfandoms2count-love  asked:

19 and Virgil

19) “You’re gonna make it, just stay awake.”
(In my head this goes with this drabble)

CW: Blood, mentions of injuries, mentions of death (no character death)


The ambulance was smaller than Virgil thought it would be. Or maybe it was just that there were more people in it than should be. Patton was there, and Roman, and Logan, and the paramedic, and him, and didn’t they usually just say one person? Roman said it was one person only. Hospital policy. 

Perks of having a doctor boyfriend, maybe. 

He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten into the ambulance. He wasn’t really even sure how long he’d been awake. It felt like he’d been staring at the ceiling for a very long time, but it also felt a little like he’d just awakened from a dream. Everything hurt, but it was…distant. Fuzzy. Like maybe he’d had a little too much to drink or something. 

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A Promise (A Maeve Fic) - ACOMAF and TOG Crossover

Okay, so this was a really interesting idea that I found on @greenfire2908art‘s blog. It gave me like a million ideas, so I decided to put as many as I could in here. Enjoy everyone! 

The throne room was dark. Shadowed, black walls curved sharply away from the ebon-stained tiles of the floor, tilting up and up and up to meet in a dome a hundred feet above. This should’ve opened up the room, dispelling any claustrophobic thoughts, but instead it made it seem as if there was no space at all, as if the walls were closing in and the floor collapsing. The lack of proper furniture and ornamentation only accentuated the crushing emptiness of the great hall, and any unfortunate visitor would feel like a deer in an open field. The current subject of this strange torture was sweating and wringing his hands nervously, his words stuttering and uneven.

Queen Maeve sat stiff-backed in her throne. She did not remember any other way to sit. Her bones were made of iron, same as her heart, and her backbone did not bend. The man continued his mumbling, and Maeve stared at him unblinkingly. His lips moved, but she could not hear.

Blood-red hands, plunging deep into a human chest.

“Me wife,” the farmer said. “She’s caught the flu and I’ve not a coin-”

A shrill wine, slowly, slowly building into a scream. Then many.

“Soon the kids’ll get it, too-”

“How many?” she said, not really wanting to know the answer even as she asked.

He swallowed, dark hair shifting as his throat bobbed. “Four-thousand.”

“So, you see, m'lady-Queen, that is-”

Her hands were wrapped around his neck, nails painted crimson looking like bloody claws as they gripped tighter.

“-to ask for help-”

Tighter, tighter. The fingers went white as they squeezed the life from her King. A wraith-like face laughed, taunting, skin pale and colorless but for her hair. The hair that seemed to grow brighter with every pool of blood spilled.

“O’ course, you don’t have t’-”

As those fingers went taut, a crack chased all other sound away, buried it in cotton. The silence made the noise that much louder.

“Rhysand!”

“My son, Queen. He-”

“That’s quite enough.” Maeve’s voice was calm, amenable even. It was a horrible contrast to the shrieking hum beneath her skin. She made a gesture to her guards, a single sweep of her left hand that had three full-blooded Fae males setting down spears in favor of sword or axe.

As they neared, the farmer seemed to come back to himself, glancing back at the approaching Fae. “What’s this?” he asked.

One of the males roughly pulled his hands behind his back. That was when the old farmer began thrashing.

“What is this?” he asked again, panic edging his voice. “Put me down!”

Maeve watched without speaking.

The second guard pushed the man to his knees, pressing against his shoulders to keep him from squirming away.

And the third, he snapped gloves onto his hands, to lessen the mess that came afterwards. He tested the edge of his blade on his thumb, found it satisfactory. The farmer screamed, twisting and turning, but the arms that held him were like iron bands. The third Fae hefted the sword and leaned back to give himself room.

“I’m innocent!” the farmer shouted. “I’m innocent!”

Maeve leaned forward then, a cruel light behind her eyes. “No one is,” she crooned.

“I’m inn-”

A rush of air, a geyser of blood, and the third male had eyes like granite as he wiped the farmer’s life from his blade and walked back to his place. The two Fae who’d been holding down the man did not speak as they took up their posts by the door, leaving a crumpled, headless body behind.

#

Mild irritation could be seen in the feathering of Maeve’s jaw. If she could have, she’d be drumming her fingers along the deep blue manchette of her armrest. One of the typical meetings again, complete with tittering court ninnies and pompous fools. Hundreds of kingdoms she’d conquered, and not one managed a decent court without its share of idiots. She’d gotten used to it, and usually the ordered murder of the courtier of her pick was enough to shut them up. But her guards were not currently present, out on a scouting mission in search of Aelin Galathynius.

A thrill ran through her blood at just the thought of the Queen’s name. She’d escaped the iron prison, somehow. One day, Maeve had pried opened the door and found it empty, naught a trace left but for a swirling series of marks, sketched out in blood. There had been no sign of the Queen since, but rumors spread quick, and Maeve heard the whispers of an army rising in the North.

A donkey’s laugh burst from one of the courtiers, bursting her bubble of calm. He was surprisingly ugly for a Fae, with a sloping brow and protruding nose, and his guffaw did nothing to help his predicament. Maeve’s eyes tightened, and she put just a bit more effort into ignoring them.

As her violet gaze drifted around the room, her thoughts burrowed deep into lost history. To a very different kind of promise.

“You will not die. Not now or ever. Not until the world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars.”

Those were the words that the gods had cursed at her, centuries ago, after the death of…everything.

“Your Majesty?”

Maeve flicked her eyes to the one who’d spoken her title.

Strangely, he did not balk. She’d have to break him in soon. “Your Majesty,” he said, green eyes bright and black hair waving, “Aelin Galathynius has been sighted.”

Maeve smiled.

#

No one knew Maeve’s secret, the one of the Queen Who Was Promised. Promised not just to Elena and her gods, but also to her. She did not fight for Erawan, not for pleasure, not for power or some darker purpose. No, she sought freedom. One that none could give her but Aelin Galathynius.

It was with cold anticipation squirming in her gut that Maeve watched, from the safety of a long-boat, her armada crawl forward to meet the approaching one. It was anxious suspense that gnawed at her stomach as she saw just how many men had been gathered under the same banner to kill. And it that was definitely fear that thrilled through her when she realized it was her they wanted to kill.

Another emotion bubbled to the surface, one that had been pushed down for a thousand years to keep her sane. It was excitement, joy, that turned into a burning relief. So long, and finally her dream approached. Her salvation came in the form of pikes and spears and longbows, warships slicing through the water. It came in the form of a golden-haired queen with eyes a blazing blue that would’ve been better replaced by the line of molten gold rimming the irises.

Terror coursed through her like never before. Of course, it did not show on her face, wouldn’t even if she’d wished it to. Maeve let a cruel smile split her face in half, throwing a hand in front of her. Her ship lurched forward, careening towards the opposite bank. Rows of archers stood along each and every of the ships’ railings, the ones at the head of the armada like tiny dots in the back of her vision.

“Fire,” she whispered, and it was black flames that licked at her fingers as the first volley of arrows clotted the grey sky. Shields emblazoned with a rising sun rose up to defend from the wicked-edged points, but still, faint shrieks could be heard from the lines of enemy men.

A trickle of shadow she sent, a calling, a beckoning. Immediately she was answered. A balmy wind slammed into their ranks, cutting and eddying through the sea breeze. Maeve looked up, and she met eyes of blue and gold, even from over a quarter mile away. Her raging emotions halted when she saw the prince of snow next to her. He stood taller and stronger than he ever had at her side, and through the severed bond, she could feel where his endless sorrow had been replaced by a strange king of fullness.

The hollow cave that had once housed her human heart was suddenly prominent. Once, she had been them. Happy and complete, with a wisdom that could only be gained through the acceptance of another into your life. Hatred raked its oily claws down her insides. Together, the Queen and her mate, a reminder of what had been lost, why she still wanted to kill them.

“I won’t let you.”

Maeve growled and whirled around, the shadows leaking from her in waves. Her eyes widened when she saw who the voice belonged to. A woman, with long, golden-brown hair flowing down her back and eyes like pale-blue ice. Her form was bright and shimmering, and the power that spilled from her was enough to rival that of Aelin.

“Long time no see, Mora,” Maeve snarled. “How’s the afterlife suiting you?”

Mora’s eyes tightened. “I won’t let you kill her,” she said.

“I know. That’s why you’ll have to go first.”

Quick as lightning, a needle-sharp thread of shadow shot out. Mora didn’t move as the shadow darted for her chest, merely twitched her lip. The shadow was swallowed by a cloud of ice.

Maeve bared her teeth. “Why are you here?”

Mora met her gaze evenly. “The gods have come to collect their Promise. I won’t let you kill her.”

No, and I wouldn’t even if you hadn’t threatened me.

“Of course,” Maeve said coolly. “But why are you here?”

“Because I asked her to be.”

The breath caught in her throat as she turned slowly to meet the hazel-brown eyes that she had not seen since her Mate’s death. “You,” she said, because she had no idea if she should speak in a familiar or formal manner, and the awe did not leak into her voice, even though it was there, thick and stifling.

Vaguely, she could hear the battle cries of her men, but she knew she was safe here, in the thick of her armada, for at least a few more minutes.

“Me,” Mab said, and a sad smile lined her eyes.

Salty tears spilled down her face, running through the blood that splattered her cheeks. She caressed the leathery membrane of the wing, brought it close to her chest. He was gone.

“Leave,” Maeve said bluntly, any good feeling lost as she realized a war raged around her. There was no time for distractions.

Mab flinched and took a step after Maeve’s retreating form. “I came to tell you something.”

Maeve paused.

“I came to say something He would’ve wanted you to remember.”

“Elain,” Mora ground out, and Maeve closed her eyes at that name.

Elain…

Mab ignored it, continuing, “He said he’d always love you. He would still love you, you know. Even with…with how you’ve turned out. And I-”

“Elain.”

“-I still love you. Nesta still loves you, even though she won’t admit it-”

Maeve turned just in time to see Mora strike Mab with an open palm. “Elain,” she said, and cold fire danced in her eyes. “I told you to stop. I told you-” Her eyes turned to Maeve, seething with hatred. “I do not love you, Maeve. I loved Feyre, and she’s been gone a long, long time.”

Gone, ever since her Mate’s death. When she’d felt that other line of the bond die, go taut and then snap, she’d erupted.

“He’s not breathing,” Mor whispered. “Shit. Azriel.” Her quiet sobs were muffled by the shadowsinger’s shirt, and he too let the tears fall.

They’d all been in a room together, and then he’d barged in, violet eyes wild.

“She’s here,” he breathed. “She’s here.” And when they all glanced at the doorway he’d come through, a shudder of fear passed through each of them. A woman with a plain face and blood-red hair, smirking.

“Hello, Rhysand,” she purred.

The attack came too quick to follow, and they were all frozen with shock anyway. When manicured nails had torn through his flesh, she had lunged. It was with half a thought that she killed Amerantha and rushed to her Mate’s side, the tears already stinging the back of her vision.

“Fuck,” Cassian swore, voice cracking. “Can’t someone do something?”

Slowly, they shook their heads.

Gone, gone, gone.

A scream was ripped from her throat, and the damper on her glamour fell. Wings extended, talons cut through flesh, and solid black filmed her eyes. She’d kill them. Kill them all. She’d burn the world.

And then she had.

Cassian. Mor. Azriel. Amren. All of them gone. Velaris, too. And so the gods had brought her before them, and they’d determined her fate. A curse, to live forever, until her Promise was born.

Hearing her name again brought immeasurable pain. She had learned to hide it behind a mask of porcelain skin and violet eyes, a wrath greater than that of her lover’s killer. And with each word against her, the steel of that mask thickened. “Leave,” the Queen of the Fae said, ice coating her words. “Before I lose my temper.”

In truth, she already had.

“Feyre,” Mab breathed. “You are good. You are kind. I see beneath your mask.”

The crackling of magic as the armada at last came upon the shore, and armored bodies heaved themselves into the shallow water. Maeve thought it cruel that fate decided to gift her sister with those same words as she had once told her Mate. It felt like a slap to the face. So it was with venom that she said,“We all start out good.” A cruel smirk. “But it doesn’t last long.”

The ship exploded into black mist.

#

Maeve let the madness show on her face as she crept up behind the Queen of Terrasen. There was none of the fear Maeve felt on her face, none mirrored in Aelin’s face.

“I’ve come to kill you,” Maeve announced, and the swirls of shadows thickened around her.

“Funny,” Aelin murmured. “I was about to say the same thing.”

And then she struck. Maeve dodged, quick as thunder, and Aelin whipped back into a battle stance. They fought long and hard, viciously trading blows. Their magic whipped out in time to the strikes of steel, up and over. Rowan did not make any move to help, she noticed, though his fists were clenched tight and his legs were tense, as if he was ready to jump in at his Queen’s first command. He glared at her with all the menace of four-hundred years of servitude.

Distracted for a moment, Maeve did not see the knife coming until the last second, and for the first time in a millennium, Maeve’s blood spilled. It flowed free and unabashed into the hard earth, hissing and popping like hot oil. The pain was nothing, a child’s hurt, but it still left her gasping. She hadn’t felt the ill of a wound in so long, that she found herself fascinated by the glossy beads dripping from the tear in her flesh, so like that deep scarlet hair.

Aelin had paused momentarily, watching curiously. She was still tense, on edge, but something had shifted in her. The hostility had lessened more to…wariness.

“Fireheart,” Rowan muttered, voice dripping with warning. “No.”

“But what if-” Aelin began, but then Maeve shook her head and was up again. The battle began anew, and she felt her strength flagging. Her well of magic was bone-dry, while Aelin continued to spew flames from her outstretched hand. She knew what was coming before it did. There was only a moment to quell that instinctual fear and replace it with the excitement, the possibility of-

The sword that plunged through her chest was burning-hot, and it rekindled something in that empty cavity where her heart should’ve been.

“I love you, Feyre.”

Aelin jerked the blade free, leaving Maeve gasping on her knees.

I’ll love you, forever and always.”

She fell to the ground as her strength failed to her, chest still heaving. Two words burst from her lips in an unintelligible gasp. Blood leaked through her fingers. Despite her lover’s protests, Aelin moved forward to crouch beside Maeve. Her eyes were cold, and no pity shown in them, but-

Aelin leaned in, the smell of crackling embers punching through the sweat and tears. “Say it again,” Aelin commanded.

Maeve breathed, “I’m sorry.

The Queen of Terrasen studied her for a long moment, gaze assessing, then gave a sharp nod. That was all, nothing more before standing up and turning away to face her own fate. There was nothing more to do, she supposed wryly, and a bit of her old spirit returned, the one that lay slumbering beneath the mask. At least she’d die with dignity, her name whispered for years after the crows had pecked her bones clean.

She missed her Mate. She could admit it with the knowledge she’d be gone in a few minutes. Cassian would’ve laughed himself hoarse if he knew she had gone celibate for so long. But the passion she’d once felt had died with a pair of violet eyes that her shapeshifting magic could never replicate.

As the blood gushed from her torso, the fear subsided, and finally, finally the overwhelming relief took over.

Maeve, Feyre Cursebreaker and High Lady of the Night Court, lay back, closed her eyes to the darkness, and felt the completion of a promise that had been prolonged for a thousand years.

Ah, peace…

First Christmas

CUTE CHRISTMAS BUCKY ONE SHOT ALERT

(not my gif)

Characters: Bucky x reader

Summary: It’s Christmastime, and Bucky wakes up from a nap to find you baking cookies and singing along to Christmas carols. A glorious amount of cuteness ensues.

Warnings: So much fucking fluff holy lawd sweetness galore also bad edit (it’s a given sorry)

Words: 1848

A/N: Because why not have a cozy!bucky christmas fic in summer? ALSO FCKN REQUEST THINGS WOULD YA I NEED INSPO SLIDE INTO MY DMS



Bucky woke up from a nap on the living room couch, a spot he seemed to frequent whenever he was feeling sleepy. He yawned, blinking a few times to let what was left of the sunlight of the day filter through his eyelashes as he sat himself upright and stretched. He straightened out his warm jumper and smiled at the coziness of the room he was now looking at. 

It must’ve been sunset outside, he could tell that much from the fading light coming in from the partially closed blinds. Soft Christmas music played on the Victrola across the room, causing a hint of nostalgia to prickle under his skin. A bare tree sat in the farthest corner, boxes of decorations just waiting to be hung at its feet. Fairy lights were strung along the staircase leading up to his bedroom, and the smell of gingerbread and fresh pine hung deliciously in the air.

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In Your Dreams, Potter.

It first happens on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday night. Harry is completely unsuspecting and unprepared when he falls asleep. His dreams are usually rather plain bar the occasional war-related nightmare, however he’s been getting less and less of those. 

So, you can imagine Harry’s surprise when he has a very graphic – there’s only one way to put it although he tries to resist categorising it in that way – sex dream. Well not sex, per se, but sexual. And graphic, did he mention graphic? And surprisingly realistic. So much so that during he thought perhaps it might be real, but then, of course, that would be impossible.

But he’s getting ahead of himself. The dream. Yes, the dream. How to describe the dream? At first everything is dark and Harry isn’t paying too much attention, his sleeping mind drifting from one unconscious thought to the next, but then a small light catches Harry’s eye – or his mind’s eye he supposes as this is all happening in his head – so he walks towards it – or mind glides or whatever the equivalent is. Okay, you get it.  

Now, when he gets to the light, things become a little clearer. He’s not just in darkness anymore. He’s in a Hogwarts dorm. A Slytherin dorm he’s willing to bet from the dampness of the room, although that could just be what all dreams are like. He can’t remember any others right now. The beds are all empty in the dorm bar one, which is where the light is coming from – the source is a wand tip on a bedside counter, shining light onto the sleeping occupant of the bed.

Harry walks further towards the light, to the bed. He can’t help it. It is as if he’s being drawn in, beckoned, called to. Who is he to fight such a divine call? But this is where the trouble starts.

You see, the occupant is not sleeping. Not sleeping at all. Unless they have a sleep disorder that causes them to pant in their sleep. Or moan in their sleep. Or…er…make repetitive movements with their hand under their blankets.

And there’s one other thing as well. The occupant is Draco Malfoy. Yeah. Exactly.

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anonymous asked:

could you do where s/o surprises the boys with a kiss on the nose? cute confuse flustered bros, thank you lovely!

Listen anon, nose kisses are the best kisses and anyone who disagrees can fight me right here right now. They’re just so soft. So pure. 

That being said, I really enjoyed this request! I hope you enjoy these little scenarios :)

Noctis:

He was sitting on the pier of Galdin Quay, feet dangling above the water as he clutched to his fishing rod. Noctis had left to enjoy his favorite pastime as soon as he awoke, but the sun was already high in the sky. You needed to get moving.

The boys decided to send you to retrieve him, insisting that you were the “only one who could take his eyes off the water.” The suggestive wink that Gladio sent your way was enough to make you blush as you turned on your heel, rushing in the direction of your boyfriend before anything else could be said. Within minutes you were only steps away from his still figure, the young prince seeming completely unaware of your presence.

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The Collector being gentle with you would include :

(Woooo more prompts! Woooo Tivan 😊 Hope it is as requested and you all like it :3 Gif not mine/found it on google/credit to the original owners.)

-Him speaking to you in a much softer tone, especially whenever he beckons or calls you closer to him, surprising you with how calm he is

-Him always touching you with the utmost care, tucking your hair away or stroking your back as you’d sit on his lap and tell him about your day or just talk to him

-Him wrapping you in his own fur cape or jacket to keep you warm whenever he notices how underdressed you are, only to reassure you that it’s fine if you keep on the whole day

-Him always checking your hands and afterwards your body to make sure you aren’t in any way harmed or dirty, holding onto you quite preciously

-Him carefully pulling you to bathe you and relish in taking care of you completely, from washing your hair to your body to drying you off and dressing you, only to laugh along with you as you’d tease him about it

-Him always giving you his arm or his hand to hold whenever you’d both walk around the city to make sure you don’t get scared of losing him in the crowd

-Him reassuring you that it’s fine to fall asleep whenever you’re tired as he’d always pick you up and bring you to the bed

-Him cupping your cheek or feeling your forehead just to make sure you aren’t sick or anything, making you realize how caring he is

-Him showing you how much appreciates your body in so many ways, truly taking his times with the way he’d kiss it and look you in the eyes, making you get flustered

-Him making it a promise to you that he’ll care for you for the rest of your life and give you exactly what you deserve


Tags : @dontaskmemyfavoritesong, @nikkinikki97, @lynn8dabeast92-blog, @uss-lesbian, @tearsofebony, @shortoneofabakersdozen, @rootbeergoddess, @unlaceddoll​, @hurried-and-anxious​, @greek-freak101, @madamrogers,@shersuperwho-blog, @angel-with-broken-wings, @meloz-draws, @kylorenlover15,  @stargazing-in-space@Erikaaferns, @ecurrier109, @purplemuse89, @fandomwritingismylife, @ichimaruai,@samwinchesterhasbeensaved, @happyshaddow94,@master-of-schadenfreude, @my-youth-is-my-own, @iammostdefinitelyonfire26, @girlmeetsbullshit, @withered8dandelion, @forestraccoon, @byzantium-glytch, @redleavesoffall, @darling-delyn, @klutzbeefy @jedionironthrone

Oh, Baby (Namjoon x Reader) Pt. 3

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] | [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [Pt 7] [Pt 8] [Pt 9]

Pairing: Namjoon/Rap Monster x Reader
Rating: M
Genre: Smut/Mafia-ish AU

Words: 3,117

Summary: You were only supposed to have seen him twice. Only twice, no more, but now you’re getting dragged into situations you never wished for and Namjoon just keep showing up.

A/N: 20+ PEOPLE MESSAGED ME ASKING FOR MORE AND HERE YOU GO!! :D I really love getting messages from you guys, it’s touching to see you all enjoy it.

So! From now one this isn’t strictly smut!! I plan to incorporate some in here or there (or at least have some frisky moments), so don’t expect smut every chapter~

Alright, let’s see how this goes~


Oooh? Who’s that little beauty I see?” the copper haired male gasps happily, scooting forward in his seat when he spots one tiny, angry looking Min Yoongi tugging you down the street. He can see the peeved creases on Yoongi’s forehead, and also the confused and scared look on your face, and he becomes intrigued.

He watches the front of Namjoon’s building every day and yet nothing like this has ever happened. Yoongiis a normal occurrence, coming and leaving the hotel at least once a day, but you, on the other hand, are an unforeseen piece in this puzzle.

He’s excited.

“Who are you~,” he singsongs quietly, sipping on his cup of coffee as he fetches his phone from his pocket. With practiced ease he zooms in the camera, snapping a pic or two of you before Yoongi hauls you into the lobby.

Once the two of you are gone, he looks the photos over, humming appreciatively at your features. You’re pretty—but why is Namjoon’s right-hand toting you around like a toddler that fucked up?

Once again, he’s intrigued.

Humming, the male twirls around in his seat, his playful attitude not seeming to match his neatly styled hair and unbuttoned suit attire. However, even so, people know that he does his job right.

He’s known by few—but he’s feared by many. The feeling is nice. It helps him sleep at night.

“And now you’re gone,” he mumbles when, a few minutes later, Yoongi slinks out of the building, hands shoved into his pockets angrily.

He’s alone.

“But where is she…?”

Eyes narrowing with suspicion, the man smirks in interest at the scene laying out before him. It’s not uncommon for Namjoon to drag random girls back to his home, but none of those girls are you—dressed appropriately with so much emotion written onto your features. You contain a spark of life, whereas his cheap prostitutes don’t. You look like a girl who hasn’t seen the darkest corners of world, whereas the other girls know struggle, and the corruptness of human kind.

You are a clean slate, just waiting to be tainted—and if you’re involved with Namjoon, then it won’t take long.

Sighing, amused smile stretching at his lips, the man continues to stare out of the large window on the second floor of the café across from Namjoon’s building. A quick glance at his watch tells him that he’ll be late for his 4 o’clock meeting, but he doesn’t care. He’s currently watching the best show he’s seen in a long while, and wants to see how this episode will end.

However, 20 minutes in his phone rings, and he knows his fun is going to end.

“Hello?”

“Taehyung!” his receptionist scolds. “Jaehyuk is here for the meeting! Where are you?”

“People watching,” Taehyung hums uncaringly, eyes shifting back to the front doors of Namjoon’s building. He doesn’t want to miss you if you come out—because a part of him wonders if you’ll even make it out alive.

“Can’t you reschedule?”

No! You already put him off twice!”

Taehyung sighs irritably. “Fine. I’ll be there in 15.”

Before his receptionist can respond Taehyung drops her call, quickly scrolling through his contacts and clicking on another number.

What?” the male on the other end questions when the line connects, voice gruff with sleep, and Taehyung raises his eyebrow in amusement.

“Rough night, Jiminie?”

Shut up,” the older hisses, sheets shifting. “What do you want?”

“There’s been…a development.”

“…do share.”

“Well,” Taehyung grins, pushing to his feet and smoothing out his suit. “A girl caught my eye—because she seems to have caught Namjoon’s eye as well.”

There’s a pause, and then a quiet laugh.

I like her already.”

Taehyung’s eyes twinkle.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

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CHAPTER 2 | UNLIKELY FRIENDS | 4.2K | MASTERLIST

A/n: This chapter is a little heavy on explanation and set up, but the next one is going to be filled with pure fluff n angst n drama!!!! 

Tags: @bluesnowyangel@lovelikecalamity @alchemysaesthetics @miraclesabound @ohokaybyethen @kingbouji3 @whatisthisthingcalledlife @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn @marisol-solar @weasley-parker (sorry i forgot to do these when i first posted whoops)

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