#i am probably alone with this but it’s making my skin crawl

[flowercrowngods]

let men be pretty without calling them girls actually

[starringthesturniolos]

baby it's cold outside - chris sturniolo

summary: you are forced to share the air mattress with your long time enemy, chris, on a camping trip.

"Since you two wanted to argue the whole way up, you guys get to share a tent together. Yay!!", Matt says while jumping up and down in fake excitement.

On the way to the camp site, Chris and I did argue a lot. But in my defense, the idiot kept pushing my buttons! He kept turning my least favorite songs on and blasting them at full volume so I couldn't sleep. When we stopped at 7/11 he grabbed the last of my favorite drink and gulped it down in front of me. When we finally arrived, he dumped all my heavy bags on the ground and laughed at me struggling to pick them up. It was like he was asking to get yelled at, or like he wanted me to be mad at him.

"No, Matt please!" I grab onto his arm desperately. "I'm sorry but please don't make me stay with him!"

Matt rolls his eyes at me and folds his arms over his chest. "Would you rather sleep outside then?" I scoff and shoot a glare towards Chris who isn't standing too far behind Matt. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"Sleep outside then. That's fine by me, princess." Chris sneers responding to my comment while turning his back on me to set up his tent. I take three deep breathes and close my eyes. I am not going to let this idiot keep getting under my skin. I stomp away from Matt and Chris over to the log Nick was sitting on and he laughs at me.

"Well hello, Mrs. Grumpy"

"Oh shut up" you sigh.

I plop my bag down on the floor, my chest heaving from hauling ass. I had to carry my heavy bags all the way from where Chris dropped them earlier today to the tent. He was laying all comfortable in his set up of blankets and the sight alone pissed me off.

"Thought you were sleeping outside tonight. Is it because you're scared of the animals, princess?" he sneers out the nickname like I'm more of an ogre than a princess. Why is he always so fucking annoying.

"Leave me alone, and I leave you alone. I'm going to bed. I'm tired and I'm not here for the bullshit." I say as I reach into my bag for my sleeping bag. My sleeping bag. Holy shit.

"Shit, shit, shit" you dump out your bag and see no sleeping bag in sight. Its cold out and the thought of sleeping without any covering made a shiver crawl down your spine.

"What is it now??" Chris sits up and turns the flashlight on in an exasperated manner. You sigh deeply. "It's nothing, go to bed Chris." He shrugs and lies down again, turning his back to me. I didn't need to give him another reason to tease me tonight. I flop on the ground on the opposite side of the tent from him and curl up into a ball. I can feel myself shivering but I try to ignore it.

Thinking back on when I first met the triplets in 3rd grade, I remember how cute I thought Chris was. I met Nick and Matt on the bus ride home from school one day when Chris was sick. The next day, me, Matt, and Nick were playing tag at recess when Chris walked out with a doctors note in hand. He walked over to his brothers and my heart skipped a beat. Immediately, Nick and Matt went to introduce me. "Chris! This is-" before Nick could even finish his sentence, Chris was already talking. "Well, isn't she a looker" he chuckles sarcastically while looking down at me, clearly judging me. I also looked down at my two loose braids and hand me down clothes and sigh. "Am I really that ugly" I thought to myself. I knew I probably shouldn't have let a boy that I hardly knew opinion get to me, but the tears came nonetheless." I wanted him to like me" you thought to yourself, wallowing in self pity. I was cut out of my trance when Chris started to laugh sporadically. "What? What is it?" I mutter looking at Chris and then too Matt and Nick who look embarrassed by their brothers rude antics. "Nothing, nothing. Its just... You're even uglier when you cry!" he starts laughing even harder. I felt myself start to shake from embarrassment and anger. Who did he think he was. "Your mean!" I stomped my foot which only made him laugh harder. I couldn't take anymore harassment in one day, and turned on my heel and ran away with Nick and Matt right on my heels.

After all these years he still hasn't changed. "Y/N, HELLO!!" Chris yells bringing me back to the present. "What?".

"Where the fuck is your sleeping bag?" he asks. I sit up from where I was laying to face him. He was now laying down with his body faced in my direction.

"Oh my God, clearly not here or I'd be using it, dumbass." I roll my eyes and go to lay back down.

"Lose the attitude and come stay in the bed with me" he mutters before I can return to my balled up position. My mouth flys open. Since when did he care if I was cold or not. "Wait, what?" I say in shock.

"Get the fuck up and come here. Nick and Matt will punch me in the throat if you catch a cold." he says nonchalantly as if it's normal for people that hate each other to share a bed. I roll my eyes again. I'm not sharing a bed with an asshole, even if it causes me to freeze to death. "No thanks" I scoff, preparing to lay back down again.

He sighs exasperated and moves from his comfortable position in his blankets. He stands up and starts walking towards me. I feel my throat start to tense up. "What are you doing?" fear creeping into my tone. Once he reaches me, he grips underneath my thighs with one hand and tries to support my back with the other. Desperately, I try to wiggle out of his grasp but too no avail. I am in his arms in no time. It takes everything in me to not sink into his warm chest. I didn't realize how cold I was until this exact moment. Suddenly I start to panic again when he starts to walk because I have no idea where he's taking me. Then I think of the worst. "Are you seriously gonna throw me out the tent. Come on Chris, do you really hate me that much??"

He stops moving entirely and he looks down at me. God the way he looks looking down at me is enough to be in any girls dream. Too bad he's just a big dickhead. "You weren't listening to me. So now I'm forcing you to stay with me on the air mattress." he pauses before continuing, almost like he doesn't want to say what he's going to say next. He sighs and continues on, "You were shivering really bad while you were in La La land. I didn't want you too freeze anymore." He had a glimmer of concern in eyes when he said it and that's all it takes for me to believe him. I hate the way my cheeks warm up from the honest confession. It meant he cared, and it shouldn't matter to me but it does.

He starts to walk again, seeing I had no response and plops me down on the mattress. He flops down right beside me, and even though it's warmer with the blankets, it's not enough. Another shiver racks through me. "Y/n??" Chris doesn't even try to hide the concern in his voice. "Do you need me closer? Will that help?" he looks at me waiting for my call. The thought of Chris getting close to me is enough to make my head spin. And as much as I wish being in Chris' arms would repeal me, it doesn't. Instead I feel my heart skip a beat like they did all those years ago. Get it together Y/n.

"Yes" I whisper. Chris doesn't need to be told twice and he pulls me impossibly close to his body. He grabs my thigh and puts it around his waist and then pulls my head into his chest. All I can sense is him. Instead of it annoying me, I lean into his scent and his warmth. In my heart I know that even if it was the hottest night of all time, I'd still enjoy being wrapped in him like this. And I hated myself for it. I melt into his arms and feel myself getting lulled to sleep. Just as I'm about to fall asleep I feel his lips graze my hair. " I could never hate you, angel, not in a million years. I'm sorry". And with those words, I fall asleep in his arms.

Send in request, I could always use some more inspo

Love, Mya

[tabbedtabby]

good luck, babe! | chapter 2

regina george x reader

summary: After the Queen Bee of North Shore makes up rumors about you taking pictures of girls in the changing room, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You didn’t think that would mean coming to a reluctant agreement with Regina George.

a/n: i wasn’t gonna add cady but now i am because it’s convenient for me so just pretend she’s in the last chapter lol. also they get high way faster than what’s accurate but i wrote this in like 4 sittings it felt longer to me pls spare me. if the picture collage thing is ugly i’m sorry i’m not a tumblr native 😭 but anyways big thanks to everyone who interacted with the first chapter mwah!!!!! (photo creds from left to right: @/mediorcesav on insta, @/marvelsgirl616, casual mv by chappell roan)

——————————————————————

When the bell rings after 7th period, you’re already halfway out the door.

You’re already sober enough from earlier so you’re desperate to get outside, even if Regina will be there. You bite the inside of your mouth in annoyance. You like your after school alone time; you didn’t want the person who literally ruined your social life to be there. At least maybe she’ll leave right after you smoke. You realize she most likely won’t after you remember she drives. How could you forget that bedazzled orange Jeep?

You feel the dappled sunlight sink heat into your skin once you enter the woods behind the baseball field. It really was a nice day. You make your way to your usual spot and lift up the pile of sticks and leaves that hide your forest stash. The guy who sells to you charges a ridiculous amount for carts compared to just the plant so you try to use them sparingly. Even if this shit stinks up the whole forest.

You’re not sure if Regina will care or not if you start without her, so you pull out your phone to pass the time. Besides, you want to be sober anyway when she finally shows.

After about 20 minutes of standing there, you start to get impatient. You almost pull the bag out to start without her before you finally see a flash of blonde hair from behind the trees.

“Took you long enough.” you mutter, already opening the bag without paying Regina much attention. Your patience was windeled, and you don’t especially want to talk to her anyway.

“Sorry I have a social life. I guess you wouldn’t know,” she snaps back, her voice strained.

You feel the annoyance crawl down your back like a centipede, and you have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from saying something back to her. She holds basically your life in her hands since you’d be both fucked and poor if she decided to snitch on you. Probably not a good idea to start a fight on the first day of your little deal, but she made it difficult.

You grab one of the cans from under the pile of leaves as you see Regina cross her arms a couple feet away from you. Her eyes watching your every move makes you a bit wary on instinct. You feel like a mouse being stalked by a snake. You grab a decently sized piece out of the bag and put it on the crushed can. You couldn’t be bothered to roll your own blunts, so this was the next best thing.

“How much have you smoked before?” you ask, just wanting a general idea on how much she should have so that you wouldn’t have to drag her to the parking lot. Apparently, she takes great offense.

“What are you, my mom? Just hurry up so I can get out of here,” she says begrudgingly, like being out here was the biggest possible drag on her life. She was really grating on your last nerve right now.

“Trying my best.” you respond dryly, giving her a snide smile as you fiddle with the lighter.

“Well, obviously it’s not good enough. What are you even doing, anyway? This is the shadiest shit I’ve ever seen—”

You blow the first hit out of your mouth harshly. “Can you please just shut the fuck up? I don’t want to be out here with you either!”

“That’s shocking. I’m surprised this isn’t your ultimate wet dream, being alone in the forest with me,” Regina sneers, nothing but disgust on her face. Like you were some kind of animal instead of human.

“What’s that going off of? The photo collection that you made up?” you snap, putting the can down for a minute. “Believe me, I want nothing to do with you either. But since we’re gonna be out here every day, you could at least make it a little easier.”

You can tell she wants to rip your throat out just by the way she looks at you. Pursed lips, downturned eyebrows, piercing blue eyes surrounded by eyeliner almost as sharp as the look she’s giving you right now. She’s way too tense for someone about to get high.

“Whatever.” she finally says, although the edge to her voice makes you want to scoff. Better not to sour her mood more than necessary, though.

Pleased with the newfound silence, you light the piece on top of the can once more and take another hit. It’s strong enough to make you cough, and you sit down against the foot of a tree. Regina raises an eyebrow at you.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of professional,” she says, but her voice isn’t quite as taunting as before. It almost sounded like a joke. Maybe she was considering not making this hell for you after all.

“It’s not good if it doesn’t make you cough.” you respond with a shrug. She looks at you expectantly, but you pretend you don’t see. You don’t want to have to stand back up just to pass her the can.

Eventually, she sits next to you (albeit, begrudgingly) and you pass the can to her, lighting it again when she puts her lips up to it. She explodes into a coughing fit the minute the smoke hits her lungs.

You can’t help but snicker at the sight of Regina George coughing her lungs out with just one hit from the can. It was almost strange to see her not perfectly arranged the way she was at school. You were up close enough to see the strings that sew her together.

She glares at you from the corner of her eye, but it only makes you laugh harder. You’re acting stupid right now and you’re aware of it, but you can’t stop. It’s a nice sort of high. Not like when you smoke too much and everything starts to blur together, which happens more than you’d like to admit. But this is nice. You lean back until your back touches the grass.

Regina has a couple more hits until she’s smoked about everything that’ll come out of it, and you both just lay there on the forest floor. You’re surprised she isn’t whining about dirt getting on her outfit. Maybe she’s too stoned to care. She never did answer your question about her tolerance.

Your thoughts go elsewhere as you stare up at the sky. The tops of the trees cover most of it. The sun from behind the leaves make them look almost as if they are glowing. It’s so beautiful. You wish you could reach up and feel it between your own fingertips, the fabric of the sky.

“You don’t care about what I think about you.” You hear Regina say, her voice only a couple of feet away from you. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You don’t why it’s funny to you, but it is. You feel the laugh escape your lips before you can stop it.

“I guess not.” you respond, even though you’re not certain if she wanted a response. It sounded like she was just thinking out loud. You feel that.

“Everyone else does. They grovel to me like lap dogs.” she says amusingly, although her voice drags and you can tell she’s starting to get tired.

“You don’t like it?” you ask with surprise.

“It’s the way it should be,” she declares, as if you’re stupid for even asking. “But everyone else is a less hot version of me. It gets annoying talking to the same clones that hang onto my every word. Like, just be normal for once in your life,” Regina complains, an annoyed edge in her tone near the end. Somehow you could tell she was talking about Gretchen. That poor girl really did hang onto every little thing Regina said or did. It was almost worshipful. But in an unfortunate, sad kind of way.

Her problems didn’t seem all that hard compared to others, but you don’t say anything. It’s intesting to you to hear her talk about this stuff, to see what goes on in her head. You’d never really considered what her life was like. You wonder if there’s a reason she’s the way that she is. There must be. Everyone’s a product of their environment in some shape or form. Of course, it doesn’t excuse everything she’s done, but that thought makes you want to get inside her head somehow.

You shake your head at the silly train of thought. Regina George was just plain mean. Nothing more to it. You turn your head to look at her as you realize you never responded.

Her eyes are closed, hair splayed out on the forest ground. She looks stoned as fuck, her chest rising and falling dangerously slow. You snort and roll your eyes. How low was her tolerance? You already felt mostly normal again.

Somehow she still manages to look perfect, even if you could mistake her as a corpse. You lay your head back down. Your parents wouldn’t mind if you were home a little late, right?

-

After that, you and Regina would meet to smoke behind the school almost every day, except when Regina had plans with her friends and you would just go alone. You still wish she wasn’t there, but sometimes she’s okay to talk to when she isn’t being a priss. She complains about her friends and boys and how sometimes in the morning her eyelash curler refuses to work. It’s entertaining to hear about how shallow her problems are. You still want to punch her most of the time, though.

This time around, however, she’s complaining about math. Something about her teacher failing her on purpose or something to make her have sex with him to get her grade up. You seriously doubt that’s true, but you listen anyway.

“Like, he’s totally obsessed with me. I know how to do the work, but he always marks it as wrong anyway. That Cady girl helps me with it, and she’s some kind of math freak.” Regina exclaims, taking a huge hit from the smoking can. She immediately sputters and you take the can back from her with a slight roll of your eyes. That’s probably enough for her.

“Is she, though?” you ask, taking a hit from the can yourself. “She’s in my Calc class and lately she’s been doing really shitty. I guess you guys are rubbing off on her,” you say with amusement.

Regina takes a deep breath, an agitated sigh coming out of her. “What’s the point of her tutoring me, then? They’re gonna take me off the soccer team if I don’t start passing like all of my classes. It’s like she wants me to fail.” she seethes, and she sounds genuinely upset. She could afford to pay attention in class instead of doing her makeup if better grades is what she wants, but alas.

You kind of want to offer to help her, but it’s her own fault so you bite your tongue. You put the can down with a sharp sigh. You’d rather not smoke too much around her in fear that you’ll start acting stupid and she’ll post it all over the internet. Just the slightly more giggly high is fine for now.

Regina stares bullets through you as your stash back under the pile of leaves. You pick up your backpack and get ready to leave. You feel fine enough to walk home.

“You’re not gonna offer to help me?” she asks indignantly, as if you owed it to her. You have to bite your lip to keep from groaning in annoyance. Could she be any more of a spoiled brat?

“Why would I do that?” you respond, feeling that your distaste seeps through your voice as well as your expression. You’re tired, both from school and from hanging out with Regina for too long. You just want to go home.

“Because I’m keeping your secret?” she says with that tone that reminds you of a viper. The one she uses to get whatever she wants from people by threatening to ruin them. Your chest bubbles with that same anger as that day in the cafeteria.

“Dude, I’m literally your plug. I’ve done enough for you to keep your mouth shut.” you snap, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. She was really starting to piss you off. That’s how it was with Regina; just when you think she’s all right, she starts doing this bullshit again.

“So what? I don’t need weed. I can break our deal whenever I want. Besides, you’ll only tutor me until the end of the month. It’s not that deep.” It’s only the beginning of October, so you’d be wasting more of your time with her for the next month, but of course she doesn’t include that. God, you’re so pissed off, but what can you do? Not be able to smoke anymore? Get suspended again? You hate that she can just hang this over your head until you comply. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as you stare at her, one of her hands on her hip and her eyebrows raised as if you’re a dog she just told to heel that won’t listen. Your hands bunch into tight fists until your knuckles turn white. You really wish you had seen her with that bruise right about now.

“Fine.” you spit, pushing your way out of the clearing and back towards the school. Great. Now it would take even longer to shake Regina off. You shoulder branches of leaves out of your way, your feet kicking at the dirt. You wished she could just be fucking normal and that she never started any of this in the first place.

“I better see you tomorrow, loser!” You hear Regina scream from somewhere behind you. God, you were gonna kill her. Or yourself. Whichever came first.

[oscar-wilde-thing]

Four years ago I sat in a psychiatrist's office. I was explaining why a certain Cognitive Behavioral Therapy technique felt impossible.

"If I don't think I know how a social interaction is going to work out, if I don't know the pattern, I can't do it."

The Dr nodded, and we moved on.

A few sessions later, she said she didn't think she could work with me anymore.

Great, I thought to myself. I'm being dumped by my therapist.

"I don't think I can work with you, because I think you're autistic."

I literally felt my world shift underneath me.

She explained more, about social interactions, about hyper sensitivity, about pattern recognition and anxiety and early-life academic achievement. I did end up stopping treatment with her, I don't really remember why. But I held that suggestion in my head.

The end of 2019 was rocky- working retail around the holidays is its own special hell, and my grandmother died in December of that year.

Then 2020 happened. COVID and isolation and protests and my workplace unionizing. Through all of that I was reading, and watching videos, and researching. About how autism and neurodivergency presents differently in girls and AFAB people. How the research is incredibly outdated and mostly focused on white, middle class boys. How getting a diagnosis as an adult, let alone an AFAB adult, is a fight.

I kept trucking along, learning new ways to cope. Figuring out that sometimes what I had thought were anxiety attacks was actually sensory overload. That my penchant for spreadsheets and what I called my "encyclopedic nerd brain" were probably hyper fixations.

It took 4 years.

4 years, 8 more mental health professionals, a mental breakdown, a month in residential mental health care, and 5 more months in acute daily mental health care, but today, at 12:55PM, I was officially diagnosed with Autism.

I'm sitting here at my desk weeping because I'm both so happy and so angry. Happy that there's a reason I feel the way I feel, that there's a reason why the world seems so harsh, that there's a reason why I sometimes physically can't talk and a reason why certain foods and sounds and textures make me want to crawl out of my skin. But I'm also so angry that it took 26 years for anyone to see. That it took another 4 years for me to get any answers. That there are countless other little girls and adult AFABS like me out there who feel like they're doing everything they're supposed to but not getting what the world tells them they should be getting.

My life has changed. Or maybe it hasn't changed. Maybe a door has opened that had never been seen before.

I'm not sure how to wrap this up.

I just know that learning more about myself is rarely a bad thing. And now that I know this big piece of who I am, I'll be able to go forward and learn more ways to exist in this world as an autistic person.

[nerdy-talks]

Obey Me! Nightbringer Lesson 35

It might be a very unpopular opinion, perhaps I will be entirely alone on this, but...

Is anyone else not into this?

I consider Lucifer extremely old fashioned, which certainly isn't a bad thing. So I feel like this gesture came from a very thoughtful, sweet, even innocent place.

But I'm the type of person who likes to wear what I wanna wear. I definitely wouldn't want someone else choosing my outfit for me.

Despite that... I chose the blue outfit xD

You're damn right there is.

Choosing my outfit and my meal?

Lucifer, my dear... you're crossing into unfriendly territory ( • ＿・)

Mainly because I'm a picky eater, but I also like to make my own decisions lol

Not gonna lie though, the power struggle is a turn on~

I wasn't sure which choice I wanted to go with, so I tried them all.

The first choice resulted in Lucifer basically dismissing us/brushing off our comment.

The second choice earned a pretty snarky/lowkey hostile comment from Lucifer.

In the end, I chose the third option.

That's a very bold claim you're making there, Lucifer. Try not to be too overconfident~

Ugh, there it is... "In fact, I know you far better than you know yourself."

Realistically speaking, if anyone ever said that to me, I would instinctively respond with an annoyed "fuck you."

But that's not an option here. And I can agree that staying in the Devildom would be the best choice, since I would be happiest in the Devildom.

Only problem is that we have to return to the "present", a detail that Lucifer is still unaware of.

Still.... Claiming to know us better than we know ourselves... for some reason, that statement makes my skin crawl.

It feels soooooooo manipulative to me. And declaring it as "fact" makes it even worse.

And yet... there's something about manipulative Lucifer that I really like~ (≖⌣≖)

I know, I'm fucked up and have equally fucked up kinks lol

Then we reach this part :

You supposedly know me better than anyone else, myself included, yet you laugh when I say that I feel depressed?!

He really is a sadist... (˶ •̀⤙•́ ˶ )

As someone who actually does have depression, this would have likely pissed me off while also making me feel super sad/gloomy lol

Though I know Lucifer probably didn't mean it in a bad or negative way. I think he's just enjoying the challenge that comes with our stubbornness. It may seem like I'm making excuses for him, which I absolutely am. And that's because I love this sadistic old man, so it's all good xD

[piratesfromspace]

After the rain (141xReader)

Pairing: Reader x Soap (& implied Reader x 141)

Rated: Mature

Word count: 900

Summary: After being kidnapped and rescued, Rain needs to make sure Soap is still alive

Note: In the same universe as my "Rain or Shine" fic, it is the epilogue of the part 4. Some people requested this chapter, and I was happy to write a little something to offer some comfort to our poor Soap. Reader callsign is "Rain", she's bi and autistic (I am autistic myself).

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, aftermath of torture, medical setting, happy ending (kinda)

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

Rain has a hard time opening her eyes. She’s not quite sure where she is, she’s slow to wake up, her brain still foggy from the sleeping pills. But then she moves in the bed, and everything starts hurting. Her muscles are so sore, bruises are painfully blooming under her scratched skin. Her head is heavy, throbbing. She feels like she’s been run over by a humvee. With the pain, everything comes back to her in a second. She rises with a gasp, a shot of adrenaline wringing her guts to the point she thinks she’s gonna puke. 

The light of day is peaking through the half-opened curtains of her room. She’s back on base, and everything is so vividly painful she’s sure it can’t be a dream. The memory of the past few days invades her - their capture, Johnny’s sacrifice to protect her, her crawling on the floor to rest her cheek against his bloody leg when their captor finally stopped. The sudden thought that Soap might not have survived the torture is suffocating her, she can’t breathe, it’s breaking her mind and her heart. Last she saw him he was laying on the heli floor surrounded by medics. 

A flash of white in the corner of her eyes attracts her attention when she finally gathers enough strength to get out of her bed. There is a crisp white strip of paper on her night-stand. It only says “he’s OK” in black ink, and she instantly recognizes Simon’s angular writing. Soap has made it. Tears wet her cheeks without her realizing she’s crying. 

—-

She tucks her fists inside the pocket of her hoodie. A black one that belongs to one of the boys, she can’t really tell which one. She keeps her head down, doesn’t want to cross the panicked gaze of colleagues at her face. She’s sporting various scratches, a mean bruise on the side of her jaw, her skin has a sickly yellow-ish undertone - she looks like shit and she knows it. 

She crosses the base in a hurried bee-line for the medical bay. She probably should call up her captain for further instruction, report to debrief or go see a doctor. But the only thing on her mind is finding Soap. She had always liked him - it was hard not to, he was funny, kind, quite handsome, always laughing. But she knew that he was growing obsessed with her, and it had frightened her at first. Situations like those could easily delve into unpleasant territories for everyone involved. Except it was Soap, smart-ass Soap, kind-hearted Soap, and he made it work even when it was obvious he was sad Rain had chosen Simon instead of him. After Siberia, things didn't really change, they rather shifted. The group was tighter, Rain was not shy with her attraction to the other guys, with her attraction to him. She let Johnny more into her bubble, into her heart. 

And here she is, the wet tracks of tears drying on her cheeks as she leaps through long corridors in search of Soap, when she should get checked for her own injuries, when she should maybe not stay alone like this. Her brain is still drowning in diluted stress hormones and the end trail of painkillers, the mix giving her a distant headache that will probably force her down in a couple hours. For now, she persists. 

When she finally finds him, she’s simultaneously disappointed and relieved to find him alone. Ghost, Gaz and Price must be somewhere else, maybe they just went out for a quick break. She doesn’t know how much time she has on her own with Soap, before someone, a nurse, or one of the boys, comes back. He looks like he’s sleeping. Bandages are wrapped around all his visible limbs, snaking around fingers, his wrists, part of his right arm. Around his head also, his already short hair clearly shaved for access to wounds. One of his eyes is hidden by a plastic shell. His lips are swollen, split in a few places. Skilled hands have been at work here, in dressing his wounds, wiping out dried blood, setting up electrodes and drips. It’s easy to forget how simple it is to destroy, and how labor-intensive it is to heal. The regular bip of the heart monitor is the thing that prevents her from spiraling further down. Alive. Her sergeant is alive. No need to explore the devastating thought of him being gone. 

She climbs on the bed, finds a place against him. His warmth makes her want to cry again. Her own scratched fingers hover over his cheekbones - the skin there is purple - then over his neck, she needs to feel his pulse under her scorched skin. Alive. She tucks her face next to his shoulder, tries to find the familiar smell under the antiseptic. Rain holds him the best she can without risking hurting him more, and decides that’s all she wants to do for the time being. 

That’s how the boys find them when they arrive some time after that. They had been looking for her after Simon had discovered her empty bed. They weren’t really scared. They knew she would be here. Where else? They swore to take care of each other - and that’s what they will keep doing, no matter what.

MASTERLIST

[sweethartlullaby]

i thought i was yours

word count: 872 genre: angst, cheating boyfriend as always, imagine who you would like... find part ii here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

“I can explain!” The sounds of his shouts won’t stop anytime soon but you can’t bring yourself to open your door for him. Not yet.

“Please just hear me out!” 

The neighbors have stopped yelling at him by now, but he hasn’t lowered his voice at all. It’s slightly embarrassing but you are hoping he had gone by now. 

“Baby please, just let me…” 

“Leave or I’m calling the cops!” Someone yells out. You look out your window to see him facing towards the building next to him, arguing with the man on his balcony. This goes on for another five minutes, and you see more windows light up, indicating the many people having their sleep interrupted by this boy of yours. 

With a shake of your head, you grab your jacket and head down the stairs. 

“Go on! Press the button! Yeah, I see you!” He’s still yelling when you approach him. He only stops when the man goes back inside his room, leaving the fool alone. 

“I knew it.” He says and he turns, presumably to start yelling for you again. But then he sees you in your robe, arms crossed and clearly tired. 

“Baby,” He breathes and even though the word sends chills down your spine, you don’t falter. You just turn back to your building and start heading back up to your room. It takes him a second before he follows, like the puppy he is.

He takes his shoes off before he goes into your apartment and it makes you think that even though he was such an asshole, he had his manners. You lock the door behind yourself and tell him to take a seat.

“Thanks for letting me in.” He says quietly. He looks nervous, just like the day he asked you out officially. Elbows on his put-together knees, the uncertain look on his face. This was the man you fell for. 

“Are you cold?” You ask. Everything is so silent now and you feel yourself holding your breath. 

“N-No.” He looks up at you and you have to tear your eyes away from him. It makes you want to forgive him for all the heartbreak he has caused you. It makes you want to crash into him again, despite all the cuts that it will give you. 

“Have you eaten anything lately?” He looks around your apartment and only then you realize the large pile of fast food bags in the corner. You grimace to yourself, a small reminder to clean this place up later. 

“You can’t have McDonald's every day you know.” He says softly, looking back at you.

“Yeah, you know how I am when my boyfriend decides to cheat.” You say, a small, nervous smile on your face. Even saying the word makes you want to vomit and makes your skin crawl.

“Baby,”

“Don’t call me that.” You feel your face heat up and your fists are starting to clench.

“Makes me sick knowing you probably called her that too.” You laugh a little before you bring your knees up to your chest. He was the one who told you to do this. When he was away for long weeks and you missed him, he told you to hug yourself like this so you feel warm. How can the same person that you felt loved by be the one to erase your sense of being at the same time?

“That’s not-”

“Oh? Did you call her something else?”

“Baby-”

“You’re not here because I want reconciliation.” You say, voice fueled by anger and sadness. His face drops and it hits you that he too is realizing this is truly over.

“Wait no please,” He falls to his knees in front of you, fingers away from your body. “I promise, it was one time.” He pleads, but you stand and walk away from him even though he chases you. You can’t share the same air with him, it breaks you to even have him here.

“How am I supposed to trust you again?” Your voice is breathless as you ask the question, not the rhetoric. You desperately want the answer. You love him. You want him to stay. You’re silently begging him to give you a solution, to convince you that it might work.

But he stays silent, just as speechless as you are. 

This is it. There’s no answer. There are no makeup kisses, nothing that can get you to truly forgive him. You will always have doubts. You will always be on the edge. You will never be able to let go with him. 

It’s late, and he doesn’t have a car. The buses will come later and he can’t be walking around at night like this. You hate that you still worry for him. 

“Just leave in the morning, you can take your stuff with you.” You say and you stand aside to show him the box that you compiled over the past week. All his clothes, his gifts, all the letters he sent that you thought meant something. Then, you head back to your room without looking at him. As you close your door, you take a deep breath and you finally feel the tears on your face.

a/n: hello hello! i was thinking of a more "breakup and makeup" scenario but this was just what came out at the end. let me know if you still want to read that! i might make a second part to this but we will see! thank you so much for reading!

[tojigasm]

House

Authors note: Here is the long-awaited Sam fic!! Funny thing, actually. I finished this last night only to open my computer and realize it hadn't even been saved, so I've spent this morning or so rewriting all of it, lolz. Anyways, I hope you lovelies enjoy!!

Warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, fem!reader, stepcest, sam is your stepdad, daddy kink, creampie, doggystle, kissing, anxiety

Synopsis:

Home is not the same afterward.

She doesn't notice Sam's more frequent absence as he spends more time in your room. And when you don't have college work to get done, the two of you are talking, making out, or fucking.

Your mother doesn't notice. Because if she did, what would you do.

The stone is hot beneath you – settling a baking ache into your skin that seeps up from your beach towel beneath you.

And the sounds of the rushing waves are heavy and soaked with foam that crawls up the sand as though it's coming to grab at you and pull you into the sea along with it.

You pop a bubble of gum from your glossed lips, swinging your feet behind you. You've finished the page of your book.

"Y/n," Sam's voice calls to you against the windy beach. "Look here."

He's set up a few feet away, and a digital camera stares back at you in his hands. The red recording light pulses above the lense.

You wave bashfully, fingers dancing as you wink to the camera from under your sunnies. "Hi, Sam's camera," you roll your eyes, turning back to your book.

Sam tugs at the string of your pink bikini top, "What's a pretty thing like you doin' out on the beach all alone?" His voice draws in a southern heat to it. He looks from side to side before settling down next to you, "hundereds of boys out here probably waitin' fr'their chance to steal y'away, huh?" He tips your chin, still recording you as you meet his baby blues.

A smirk pulls over your lips and you smile, teasing at the end of the string of your bathing suit top, "oh, nothin' just enjoyin' the view," you stifle a giggle through your southern accent.

Sam nods from behind the camera with a smile before stroking his hand over your jaw to behind your ear, thumb circling the soft of your cheek.

His thumb slips past your sticky lips, he lets you wrap the plush of them around his digit, and he sighs softly.

"You're a naughty girl," the light of the camera catches your eye, and you stare down the barrel of the lense before looking up at him, smirking. "What would your mother think?" The southern accent weans.

You pull away from his thumb with a 'pop', "What would your wife think?" You pull your sunnies up to rest on your head.

Sam gages you under a watchful eye of baby blue. Tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, he lifts the camera up again to look at you through the grainy lense.

Your lips perk under the scene, glossed and plush when you run your tongue along the soft of them again.

"Keep doing that, and you're gonna be in trouble, missy." Sam teases, his voice deep with warn.

You nod, "Oh, of course, daddy." There's a draw to your voice that Sam catches almost instantly. A draw of dangerous wean that suggests something that challenges him.

"Am I a bad girl, daddy?" You peer over your shoulder, "a bad, bad girl?"

Sam doesn't say anything. Rather, he watches you, smirk pulled in loftiness and eyes narrow for a moment before he stands and makes his way near the water.

—

The ride home is gentle and soft as music plays throughout the car.

Your legs are propped out the side window, and the sun blazes over your skin a glittery shine.

Sam keeps a hand on the wheel and the other past the button of your jean shorts, circling the pads of his fingers over your clit.

—

Sat in his lap, thin fabric of your bathing suit pressed into his hot bulge. Sam's hands slide up and down the soft of your back to squeeze at the plush of your ass.

You gasp playfully, arching your back some to press your hands up into your breasts with a soft moan.

Sam groans from beneath you, relaxing deeper into the leather of the couch and spreading his thick thighs.

"You're so pretty." Sam speaks earnestly, resting his head against the arch of the couch.

You bite at your bottom lip, scuffing your hands into his thick tufts of roan. "What would my mom think?" The question is far softer.

Sam chuckles, and you can feel his leg bounce up and down beneath you. His head rolls to the side lightly, "Let daddy take care of you, hmm?"

Rough hands scoop under the plush of your ass to lift you, gently moving you to rub against the hot bulge of his cock.

A sharp hiss passes through Sam's teeth, and he holds a hand at your waist as the other strokes up and down the length of him.

The fat swollen tip presses into your bathing suit, and you whine, followed by a teaching 'shh' from Sam.

"Christ, can already feel how wet you are."

"Please fuck me." Your brows drop into a pout "wanna feel good, daddy." and Sam nods, moving the thin material to the side with one hand before pushing his tip against your sopping folds.

"Deep breath fr'me, angel," Sam guides gently as you take the girth of him inch by inch. The ache pools in your thighs, stretch so delicious your knees ache.

Your head falls forward to his chest, and he takes on a protective role when you've taken the bulk of him. Completely filled with him, balls pressed up against your velvet folds.

Sam presses a kiss to your temple, "feel okay?" He asks, testing a soft thrust that makes you keen in want.

"Please," you sob, tucking your face into his shoulder.

The two of you go on like that for a while; taking from one another and all at the same time fliiing each other up in a suffocating hold that contracts and pulses.

Windows of the living room fog and both you and Sam's skin runs slick with heat.

"M'legs hurt." You mumble, and Sam nods.

"Okay, hon," he helps you off of him before standing and maneuvering you to sit on the slick seat of the couch.

You wiggle in an anticipation and Sam chuckles quietly, running his hand over the globes of your ass.

"Arch yr'back, sweetie," he stands behind you, pushing at the dip of your spine to which you follow, dropping your head to cushioned pillows and letting your knees support your cunt In the air. "There y'go."

His cock fills you so deliciously that you sob.

And it's all so overwhelming; your slick that trickles down the insides of your thighs, the 'pap, pap, pap' that echoes throughout the living room, the weight of him and the stretch of his girth against your gummy walls, and the vulgarity of it all.

"Fuckin' swear you were made fr'me," Sam groans and you cry.

Your cheek presses into the hot leather of the couch, and your nails dig into the rough seat.

Sam's hand trails down your arm to hold your own, grounding you as he gently circles his thumb over your hot skin.

"So deep," you mumble, "feels so good."

His hand slips to hold at your chin, pulling you up to rest your back against his chest.

The angle makes your breath hitch and your eyes screw shut as his cock stretches you open.

"Please," you cry.

And when you cum, your lashes fall to your cheeks and your walls squeeze around his girth.

"M'cumming, daddy, fuck" you sob and Sam soothes you, letting you fall back to the couch, laying himself atop you.

"You're okay," Sam whispers against your cheek, still pumping into you.

The overstimulation sends shivers through your thighs and toes, making you squeal under him.

Sam drops his chin to your shoulder, kissing up the soft of your neck and your chin. The bristles of his beard tickles against your soft cheeks.

"Oh fuck," Sam warns, swollen balls tapping your soaked folds. "Shit, daddy's gonna cum," he bites at the skin of your shoulder when he fills you.

The heat of him spills into you and trickles down the insides of your thighs and Sam gently places you to the couch before scooping his cum back into your swollen cunt.

Large hands run up and down the soft of your legs.

"You okay?" He asks after a moment.

You nod. Lashes closed to your cheeks.

He stands and sits beside you on the couch, pulling you into his lap, holding you to his chest as he rocks the two of you back and forth gently.

—

Home is not the same afterward.

Your mother doesn't return from her trip for a few days, and though she's none the wiser, you know eventually one of the two of you would slip.

She doesn't notice the Sam sitting on your side of the table, his hand soft on your thigh or your foot on his shoe.

She doesn't notice the small splintered pieces of leather from her favorite couch that are missing.

And she doesn't notice how excited you are when she tells you she's planning another girl's trip at the end of the upcoming month.

She doesn't notice Sam's more frequent absence as he spends more time in your room. And when you don't have college work to get done, the two of you are talking, making out, or fucking.

You tell yourself your mother doesn't notice as Sam pulls you into his lap against your headboard, kissing over your cheeks and nose and chin. The bristles of his beard tickles you again, and you giggle.

Your mother doesn't notice. Because if she did, what would you do.

[namazunomegami]

Atonement

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: How can you cleanse yourself from the sin that has been tainting you since your attempt to escape? The answer is easy: walk on barefoot for him, suffer some misery, risk your health for him, open yourself up for him and you can earn his forgiveness.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, toxic and complicated dynamics, religious symbolism, porn with feelings, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising, gaslighting, m!receiving oral, fingering, non-consensual edging, good old unprotected sex + creampie

WC: 5.3k

Credits: my lovely @notveryrussian who worked so hard to get this fic proofreaded. Ngl they deserve all the praise and respect because we lost literal pages from the already edited draft because windows is crap and they had to start over again. Take one big break darl, you deserve it 💕

Song rec: mythical creature by pregnant whale pain was my main inspiration during writing but i think tumblr dot com is not ready yet to listen to an unknown hungarian avantgarde metal band while reading porn lmao. Maybe i'll drop the acoustic version later.

A/N: Here is part 1 in case if you missed it. I think you need to know what happened to completely understand the buildup and have a general idea about their relationship. This fic is probably my fave I’ve written so far, a special lil brainchild of mine. These two are living in my mind rent free with all their lore and they'll never let me go.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated 💕

Minors don't interact unless you want me to stand outside your house at 3 am with a pitchfork

It was very hard to explain to your family what happened to you. The worry which they approached you with, especially Mimiko and Nanako just stirred a weird sense of guilt in your chest. The twins even offered to help you out with chores, eagerly telling you to rest, let your body heal. Your heart shattered to pieces in that moment, weeping endlessly with fat, salty tears. Your precious darling girls, so considerate of you, so caring, their hearts filled with everlasting gratitude. And you wanted to leave them. You felt like a piece of shit of a parental figure, obviously.

Days passed as if nothing had ever happened. Even in your private moments with Geto, the issue was never brought up. He took care of your wounds, of course, but your escape attempt wasn’t a topic of conversation at all. You swept it under the rug.

Which means it was only a question of time until he was going to wield it against you.

“Leave the scabs alone.” he reprimands you softly, dragging your wrist away from them. The hot water softened your scars, making them itchy, easy to pick away at them. But Geto is so thoughtful for looking after you like some kind of crazy mother hen, right? Even sitting in the tub behind you.

He takes hold of the edge, stepping out of the tub swiftly. The water suddenly drops around you, goosebumps dot your skin from the sudden touch of the moistened air as he hides that broad, sun-kissed form of his beneath a bathrobe. You ache for a bit of peace, a bit of me-time, but since the so-called “accident”, he just couldn’t stop himself from keeping an eye on you constantly.

Your hand dances along the surface of the water, bunching the bubbles together into various shapes, like they’re islands. Like you’re a young god, decorating the plane you’ve created. But his outstretched palm appearing in your vision disturbs your creative process.

“Come, I’ll take the stitches out.”

Compared to when your wound was sutured, cutting out the thread is a relatively quick process. Especially with his competency. The tweezer lifts and holds the knot, as he severs the thread with a pair of scissors and pulls it from your flesh before he moving on to the next. It’s uncomfortable, not in a way that it hurts, but it makes your skin crawl and your bones bend. An overall disgusting feeling. But when it’s over, it does feel better. And knowing him, you wonder if it’s purposeful or not.

“Must you make it painful?” you complain, thumb pressing down on the closed, marred skin. For the wrong reasons though, but you can freely complain.

“I didn’t intend to hurt you.” his voice is soft like silk, but not without a sharp edge in it, slowly unfurling, like the jaws of a venus flytrap. “I just wanted to teach you a lesson.”

You glare at him, your eyes piercing him like a dagger.

“Me? I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

This… was a bit too far, you must admit.

You storm out of the bathroom, like you could get away from the conversation.

“Go on, speak.” his words echo through the walls of the bedroom, making your movements halt immediately. You glance up at the window, faced with his reflection as he leans against the doorframe. “What should I learn from you? That you’re not afraid to run? To put your life in unnecessary danger?”

A long sigh leaves through your nostrils.

“If it comforts you, then yes, I realized that I had made a dumb decision.”

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s standing right behind you. Looming over you, shrouding you like an evil trickster spirit.

“I must admit I enjoyed your little attempt…” his palms are heavy on your shoulders, just like his words echoing close to shell of your ear. “Catching you, watching your resolves crumble, the raw terror plastered on your face…” the way his voice caresses you is just like the way he would hold a blade right against your throat, pressing down on the pulsing veins that could be cut open so easily. Like needles slowly being inserted into your ear canals. Eventually it softens, getting more serious and chiding. “But you did scare me. Have you ever thought about what would’ve happened if I didn’t go after you?”

You’d die, you would definitely die. Bleeding out amidst the leaves and grass, letting the frosty night bite you tense and weak. All alone in the dark.

Hold on…

You wouldn’t be injured if he hadn’t frightened you in the first place.

Did he just… no, it can’t be.

He slowly walks away from you, and you hear the bed creak under his weight. The choking feeling finally lifts from your throat. You turn towards one of the incense burners, already filled, it merely needs to be lit. But you do it slowly, just for the sake of appearing busy, to not feel obligated to carry on with the conversation.

But you should make peace with him before he does. He’ll make you face all of your mistakes and their consequences, if not outright making you suffer because of them. Rub all of them into your face until you have no choice but to plead for forgiveness.

It’s not easy, but you open your mouth. The scent of sandalwood lowers your guards, helping you be honest and brings forth the thoughts you’ve been trying to hide for a long time.

“Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing the right thing. And I wonder even more about that if we’ll fail before reaching our goal. Fail spectacularly. Because we want to do the impossible.”

“What is exactly the right thing? Being selfless? Forgetting all about our grudges and letting the world trample all over us? Or being selfish and crushing anyone under our feet to keep each other safe?”

Like an elastic band being strained for far too long, you snap. Luckily, the bronze lid of the incense burner holds out under your grasp.

“It’s too fucking late for moral arguments! Can’t you speak to me more directly for once? Instead of hiding behind your… carefully crafted scenarios that only prove your point.”

You should have avoided looking at him. At your serpent, who made you sin, who was cursed alongside you, your serpent who devoured your beloved Adam. You yearned for the remains, sitting in the bottomless pit of his stomach.

But you swore those remains spoke to you, through layers of flesh, scales, and deception. Soft and calm like a light summer breeze.

“Do you have doubts about me, darling? Are you giving up on me?”

The question breaks you, evaporating all of your anger and resentment in a flash. Devoid of any playful tone or hidden meanings, so raw that it takes hold of your heart and squeezes it so tight that it couldn’t possibly beat anymore.

You know how he twists the truth, striking right into the softest parts of you. He feeds you poison – yet you swallow it right down every single time.

“Faith has no zenith, my dear.” you answer, low and sweet, like you wanted to comfort him. The lid on the incense burner closes, giving you enough time to build up the courage to approach him. You weave your words carefully, in such fashion that it can be interpreted in multiple ways. If he switched just one little word, he’d immediately gain more insight into what’s really been weighing on your heart. “There’s no such peak we can reach on which we can stagnate forever. Faith sometimes wavers, sometimes we question our beliefs. Sometimes we’re unsure if our prayers are heard.” you get down on your knees before him, taking his hand into yours, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “But I do want to have faith in you.”

His features visibly soften. Heavy lids close in relief, and you feel his thumb brushing along your knuckles.

This is your chance! Go on, there’s no time more perfect than this to try to convince him.

“We should really get away from the temple.” you start with an almost resigned sigh, but your excitement soon starts to show. “Just for a few days. Manami will handle the followers while we leave for the countryside, or an island. We can bring the girls even.”

A faint glimmer in his eyes tells you his answer is going to disappoint you.

“They don’t know about the girls, but they certainly know about you.” he reminds you sternly. “The higher ups want us dead and the last time I offered to protect someone, they ended up getting killed.”

His voice is faint, almost shaky. He rarely talks about the death of Riko. And if he ever brings her up in a conversation, you know he means it.

The heavy lid above his eyes drops, violet irises hiding behind his lashes, averted from you. The words coming out of him are barely above a whisper, like his lips are made from lead, like forming the words is a tiring task because they’re so heavy, and filled with something violently torturing him.

“This is a risk I’m not willing to take again. Not even for you. Especially for you.”

You feel something pooling on your waterline. Translucent pearls of tears appear so involuntarily when you see him like this. Sometimes you do want to hurt him, but when you see him in pain, it torments you even worse.

“I’m not asking you to take risks for me. I never did. But you should take some for you. You could use some respite.” you lace your fingers with his. It brings you a strange kind of comfort how your hand just loses itself in his, but it’s yours that looks more lively and powerful. Like it’s you what keeps him together. As if without you he would shatter into pieces. “You take on an awful lot of responsibilities, I think sometimes more than you’re capable of handling.”

Affection sweeps through his features as he caresses your head, from the roots of your strands to the thick bone of your jaw. A lonely thumb brushing along from your cheekbone to the lobe of your ear. And there’s nothing you can do, only stare at him, wide-eyed with reverence, like he’s an ethereal being.

“This is not your cross to bear.”

He wanted to ease your concerns, but you’re much more stubborn than that. You won’t stand there, at a safe distance, watching him drag himself to his Calvary, whipped and crowned with thorns. You’ll push through the crowd, smash them to bits just to reach him and offer your veil to wipe his face. A thousand times, as many times as he needs.

“Of course it is, what do you expect from me? Unlike…” No, don’t say names, do not compare yourself to certain figures in your past and the way they treated him. “I’m worried about you, for no other reason than I genuinely care about you. That’s why I want you to put our plans to aside - let’s unwind a little, recharge. Before all of this drives us insane.”

He deliberately avoids answering, your concern grows and grows like vicious vine. Is this too much to ask for? A small moment of normalcy can’t be granted to you? What are the two of you really? Idols of worship, if not gods at this point because your sheep do regard you as such. But can’t gods long for a visit amongst mortals? Can’t they shed their divine status? You could, but maybe, before he’d let you leave, he’ll feed you pomegranate seeds.

Would you eat them again? Of course you would. Even if you fight and snarl a little beforehand. Because love is the death of duty, and of a peaceful mind, of comprehensive decisions. Love is so mystified, shrouded in the illusion of an immortalized existence, just like death. Love is, indeed, death.

Your palms cup his face, his skin radiates warmth through you. The warmth of the evening sun that makes the sky bleed with the prettiest colors you can imagine. Your touch slowly encourages him to look into your eyes, finding a strange kind of determination and care mixed with your obvious worry. A Magdalene dwells within your gaze, who already washed her prophet’s feet with tears and dried them with her hair before he starts his last journey to Golgotha.

“I told you a million times, if you fall too deep into your misery, when you feel like you can’t come back to the surface on your own, let me know, so I can pull you out. Or let me know so I can go after you. And we’ll drown together.”

All those little pacts and vows you made during the years echo through you. Even the first one, the most ancient of them all, when it was still easy to hide your concerns behind your techniques.

I’ll keep an eye on you.

It’ll keep an eye on you.

You lean closer, foreheads and the tips of your noses touching. Eyes closing in almost perfect synchronicity.

“Promise me, Suguru. Promise me again.”

You wait and wait, until his warm breath brushes your skin like fine silk, like a feather.

“I promise.”

You sigh in relief. It hurts, it hurts so much. There’s so much place in your heart for him to dwell in. He owns it and he won’t give it back. Ever.

You only wanted a chaste kiss, but a special type of hunger wakes deep below your navel. You taste his words, you swallow them down, nipping them from his lips. You look for the rest of them, his thoughts that hadn’t been formed into words yet, the rest of the sentence, you search for it with your tongue inside his mouth.

You grab onto the sheets, trying to push yourself up. Like you could overpower him, like you could battle against him. To have him laid out on the mattress, defeated. But he stops your advances with a palm resting on your shoulder, gently pushing you away.

“You’re not healed yet.” he whispers, truly concerned.

“Then I’ll be on top, I don’t care.” you oppose breathily, your fingers trying to pry his robe open.

“The cut on your hand could re-open if we’re not careful.”

Oh, how you adore him when he’s so tender with you, but now, this is the last thing you want. You want to bare your teeth and go right for the throat.

“Then you’ll stitch me up again.” There’s a playful edge in your voice, and you kiss him again with the same curve of a smile while he lets you crawl on top of him.

And he smiles against you too, delighted by your eagerness. You, trying to eat him up, digest him - he’s just enjoying you and the feast you’re having. Taking everything from you. He only wants to capture you, to cage you in his hold. He’s kneading your flesh leisurely and humming into your mouth contently, almost lazily.

In the crooks of his body, you find your religion.

The sharp line of his jaw, the tendons of his neck, the hollow caverns around his collarbone. But your mouth carefully avoids the scars slashing through his chest, after all those years, it still pains him when the lightly coloured, textured skin gets touched. As if these lips of yours and your aimlessly trailing fingers were the same blades, penetrating the flesh again and again.

There’s not a morsel of him that you weren’t intimately familiar with. In a way that rivals how much you know about yourself. And what you know even better is that how can you venerate them, dote on them, adore, and idolize with such devotion you could anger all deities created by man and make them scream blasphemy on you.

You take his cock in your hand, teasingly working your palms around him. Pumping it, stroking your thumb along the underside to make his breath hitch. His dick grows beneath your hands, getting harder and heavier. The first beads of precum get smeared along the length by your skillful fingers.

“You know you don’t have to- “but you cut him off while settling between his legs.

“Just relax and let me do all the work.” your response comes out a bit more deadpan than planned. “You deserve it once in a while.”

And with that, you wrap your lips around him, enveloping him in warmth and wetness, your tongue slowly swirling around the head. His thighs twitch, more precum oozes into your waiting mouth as the muscle between your teeth works eagerly. You give him a few, gentle sucks, slurping up the mixture of your own saliva and his arousal. Between ragged breaths, he reminds you to breathe through your nose as you take more and more of his length. You relax your jaw, your fingers tense around the base of his cock and you’re trying as hard as you can to defeat the urge to gag. When you fit all of him inside your mouth, you empty your lungs and give him a harder suck, hard enough to make you cheeks hollow and his chest heave. As your free hand is occupied with kneading his balls between your fingers and knuckles, a moan bursts out of him.

The sound boosts your confidence, filling you with a wicked kind of playfulness. The kind of wicked that makes you pull back your tongue a little, as to not keep your teeth hidden. You drag them along his sensitive, pulsing underside, balancing the pressure between pleasure and pain. Like you could prove to him that you’re ready to bite back, that this is the only moment when he can’t control you, that he shouldn’t underestimate you.

And just as if he could read your thoughts, his hand goes for your head, fingers getting lost between your strands. But he’s not as cruel as to push you down on him, instead he guides you, increases the rhythm that you’re working with. Steady and firm, but not too fast. You earn yourself his praises, soft curses pitched higher than his normal voice.

This is what real worship looks like.

When you feel the muscles in his thighs and stomach tensing up, you stop. You emerge from the space between his legs, wiping your lips clean and admiring your work. All that flushed skin blooming in pink on his chest and face. You move, trying to get into a new position, settling your calves right next to hips. You start aligning yourself with his cock to finally start grinding on him.

He sits up and traps you with an arm coiling around your waist.

“Since when were you so reckless?”

His hand creeps around the apex of your thighs. A finger barely brushes along your slit. By adding another digit, he spreads your folds, finding hot, smooth, slippery flesh.

“I would’ve prepped myself.” that’s all you can say in your defense.

Fingertips circle your hole, applying a bit of pressure, checking how much you’ve loosened up. He invades you slowly as your lungs empty, the hardened skin on his fingers stroking and massaging your sweet spots before he starts working you open.

You wrap your arms around him, slowly undoing his bun to have something to grab onto as you jolt, as your bones melt, as your brows furrow in bliss. The moans coming from you are breathy and tender, and you hide them in his strands. He twists his fingers inside you, stretching your warm muscles further, making your back arch and you press your hardened nipples to his chest. Your essence engulfs his knuckles, clear and sticky like honey.

The heel of his palm settles right against your clit and you shamelessly grind on it. Your mewls pass over his ears as he’s nuzzling into the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin of a faint scar. But you resist giving in, you stop him, telling him that’s enough, but in reality you just want your control back. Take back the lead and revel in it.

And somehow he obeys, laying back into the sheets.

You slip out of your robe, showing yourself fully. The bruises on your skin can finally bathe in the dim lamplight, painting the complexion of your sides, shoulders, and upper arm in different shades of blue and purple, like paint on bare canvas. Like the night sky carrying storm clouds, like you’re rotting, decomposing. You find a twisted, perverted joy in the fact that he must be seeing them for the whole time.

“Slowly, slowly.” he murmurs softly as you’re pushing the head of his cock inside you. “There’s no need to rush.” Trimmed nails trail up and down from the flesh of your thighs to your bruised sides. Tender and slow like a ghost, goosebumps pepper your skin from the tickling feeling. “I’m already yours.” He purrs and your heart flutters.

And there’s so, so much pride in you that only you can render him to this state. Too powerful for the world to bear him, capable to burn this plane to ruins, defying the barriers between a mortal and a god - or something way worse than that. Maybe you should receive twice the respect from your herd, for being the only person who can enslave him in this way, that only you can have this sort of power over him. Only you can overthrow him. Because you’re just too dear to him, too close to his burning heart.

Maybe it’s your time to warn him. Tame him like the monster he is.

You move with your own rhythm. His hand caged between your fingers and pressed down against the sheets. You give him no other choice but to venerate you back and he does, with pleased, low rumbles coming from his throat. Only a singular hand is allowed to roam your form freely. On your back tracing the shallow line where your spine lies beneath skin and flesh, wandering towards the inner part of your thighs, then to your stomach and chest. And you reward him with a prayer of your own, encapsulated in deep, long sighs.

But you’re too trusting of him. You let your guard down too easily.

You’re holding onto his kneecaps, leaning towards them a little, allowing every inch of you to be seen. You want to give him a show, but your knees are too worn and tired.

He takes hold of your hips, helping you guide yourself along his length. His pelvis moves along with you in synced rhythm. Your teeth are pressing down on the soft skin of your lips, but you can’t keep your whimpers in. You’re getting close, your muscles and nerves are st tight and pulsing, your walls are pressing down on his length. His name mindlessly slips out of your mouth.

Maybe you can say you love him before you shatter.

But his fingers clench around you, strong and firm, stopping your movements. Lifting your hips up so high that his cock is barely inside, robbing you from your incoming orgasm.

You’re shocked, eyes staring into the nothingness, open wide. Your stomach drops, stirring up all kinds of feelings dwelling in you. A chill races down your vertebrae as you glance down at him.

“Suguru..?” Your voice is weak, shaky.

Fear courses through your being, primordial and all-consuming.

And when he speaks to you it’s all dark, shrouded in malevolence.

“You forgot one thing, darling. After I brought you back from the forest.”

No, no, no, he can’t do this to you! He can’t hold your orgasm hostage for the sake of toying with you! You should puncture his flesh your nails, scratch him, tear him up, but you can only grit your teeth. Your features twist from bliss to rage.

“You…” boiling anger swims through your voice. It’s like it’s not even your voice - more like a hiss, a growl.

There’s an undecipherable mixture of pity and amusement in his eyes. He twitches inside you but you’re too upset to notice.

“Apologize.” he sneers - almost commands.

His words cause anger to bubble up in you.

“Oh, you piece of shit…!” you seethe, but sob and moan when he slams you back on his cock, stretching you around his length again. Wanting to quench your rage with the sensation you crave the most right now.

“I hope, for your sake, I don’t have to repeat myself.”

It doesn’t matter how much you try to squirm, fuss and wriggle, he forces you still. His behaviour frustrates you to no end when you’re so desperate for a bit of friction, the horribly hollow and burning feeling of your lost peak torturing you seemingly endlessly. To the point where you’re too tired to put up a fight, when you’re teetering on the edge of breaking. You know you must swallow your pride, you have let him have it his way.

“I… I’m sorry.” you apologize meekly, teary-eyed, your voice a pathetic mewl. He finally starts lifting you up and easing you down, building you up slowly. But it’s not enough. You need more but he won’t give it to you just yet.

“You do?” he asks you in a way that it cuts deep into your marrow. It’s not even close to a loving tease – no, he’s outright mocking you.

Vicious bastard. You should grab his throat and squeeze the air out of him.

“Yes, I do!” you cry out without thinking. “I’m sorry for running away from you.” you push the words out through your whimpers. He increases the pace, making you yelp and shake, you end up closing your eyes reflexively. He robbed you from the sensation for so long that you became sensitive, it’s easier to make a mess out of you. Your face is red with shame, so much so you can’t look him in the eyes. The humiliation is like an invisible rope tightening around your neck.

“Promise you’ll never do that to me again.”

He pushes your hips further along his length this time, shifting you a bit towards his thighs. Creating a perfect angle, he uncovers a sweet spot inside you that makes you almost incapable of forming coherent words. And he eats the sight right up.

“…I promise… I promise...” you manage to get your answer out in the form of a choked hiccup. Your vision blurs. Everything is too intense for you to handle. You swear that the very shape of you could dissolve at any given moment.

Faith is desperate. Gods are hungry for despair. So they deliberately make you suffer and only then reveal themselves to you.

His fingers dig into your waist so hard it burns. You feel the world shift with you and then you collide with the sheets. Your bruised back ripples with pain. You’re unsure if he did it out of spite or not. You don’t know if he’ll completely shatter your dignity, or if he’s fine with just enforcing the feeling that you can never be above him, that you can never defeat him.

His weight on top of you is overwhelming. The midnight dark locks of his hair spread around you like spilled ink. And through the thick fog of your mind, too far gone in twisted, masochistic pleasure, you lock your legs around his waist. You don’t want him to go away. You might as well cease to exist if he does.

“And what do we say when we apologize?”

The soft plea coming from you is more instinctual rather than deliberate.

“Forgive me.”

You ache for him to move, you’re starved for the incoming high. Like a ravenous beast, all devouring. When he finally gives it to you, his thrusts make you feel possessed, make your back arch, your head falls back into the pillow as if you were offering your neck to him (maybe one day he won’t be able to resist the urge and will bite down on the jugular, through your trachea, putting you out of your misery) - you don’t dare to beg for anything else.

Maybe just for a little blood. A mark he can wear, just like you wear your bruises. Your nails somehow acquire a will of their own, your scratches have him excited and pleased.

His fingers meander around your jaw, gently coaxing you into letting him guide your gazes to meet again.

He’s imitating you, admiring his work like you did with him. And what he sees is a being stripped from any likeness of a dignified human being. With eyes so blown he can see the bottommost pits of Hell in them.

And he’s satisfied, rewarding you with a soft kiss on your temple.

“I forgive you.”

Your release crashes over you like a tide, submerging you, burning you to cinders on the inside. Tearing you apart. And when he collapses on top you after filling you to the brim, you feel like a festering wound.

He’s a disease, miasma, a flesh-eating parasite crawling inside you.

“You’re…” you huff. “You’re awful.”

“I know. But you love me all the same.”

You wonder what you should have done to earn a different outcome, but you give up soon. Looks like he already had plans for your atonement in mind. After all, gods are impatient creatures. They’re dependent on your reverence and servitude. And you’ve waited for too long to make things right.

Why, why, why - it echoes inside your head.

But if you think about it… he’s your serpent. The vilest, most horrendous creature created by God. The one who charmed you, tempted you with sin and has now sunken his fangs into you. Of course he did, and instead of trying to heal from his venomous bite, you want to catch him - to find out his reasons, to prove to him that you didn’t deserve that.

And yet you could never, ever prove him wrong. Your serpent will always think it was right to bite. It’s in his nature afterall.

“Is your hand alright?”

He makes it up to you with spoiling you again. He cleans your wounds so sweetly, so thoughtfully, looks after you in a way that nobody could, which confuses you even further.

He cherishes you, destroys himself for the sake of keeping you safe - not like it’s a choice, but a must - just like a mother would. He scolds you, reminds you not to make the same mistake again, collars you, keeps you on a tight leash, only loosening it (just a little) when he succeeded at making you play by his rules, just like a father would.

And somehow, he excels at both. Way better than those two ever did when it came to you.

You wish your glare could pierce right through his skull when you hand the empty glass back to him. You don’t have it in you to play nice. You don’t even attempt hide that you’re sulking, he probably finds it funny - adorable even.

“Go to hell.” you spit and lay back into the sheets, your bruised back facing him.

“Oh, darling…” he coos, but the surface level sweetness of his tone hides a sharp edge of condescendence. He crawls into bed, right behind you, caging you in his embrace, forcing you to feel the warmth of his body. The warmth that you’re so used to, the one you can’t sleep without it. Nobody has ever made you feel this safe, and the fact makes your heart ache and your stomach twist.

“If there’s a Hell, I’ll see you there.”

[em1e]

⠀ ⠀ ༝ separate me from my own two hands, i’ve killed so many times but i can’t save the world from the creatures that don’t die

⠀ ⠀ 万次郎 // PROPS && MAYHEM ⠀ ༝ ༝ bonten!mikey ⠀ ༝ ༝ 621 words ⠀ ༝ ༝ i'm a ptv fan what can i say ⠀ ⠀ — you’re already being lulled to sleep by the beat of his heart and the warmth he provides. 

he doesn’t know when it became such a habit. when coming back to you became so normalized after a night of wreaking havoc in japan. sanzu knows better than to tease him for it, a knowing look in his eyes as he drops mikey off at the front of the apartment building, scars crinkling as he sends his friend a sharp-toothed smile.  

mikey does nothing to acknowledge him, door slamming without a second a glance before he’s climbing up the stairs and putting in the code to get into the apartment lobby. 

you’re asleep when he comes in, curled up on the couch with a book on the brink of falling out of your grasp. he should wash up before touching you- knows his hands are dirty, stained with blood and death and other grimy things he can’t bother to think about. 

the thought isn’t enough to prevent him from moving to brush some hair from your face, pausing only when the specks of red flaked on his hands come into view, now dark against his pale skin. he withdraws his hand, choosing to shower before waking you. 

when he comes out of the bathroom clad in only sweats, toweling dry his hair, you’re already awake. you rub your eyes, yawn slipping past your lips as you approach him. 

“when’d you come in?” you mumble, arms finding themselves wrapped around his bare torso as you approach him. you stand on your toes to give him a small peck on the lips, humming when he leans into your touch. 

“a bit ago,” he sighs out, glancing at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 3:27 am. much later than he thought. “was gonna bring you to bed after my shower.” 

you make a noise at the comment, nosing at his sternum and letting your eyes fall closed when he rests his chin on top of your head. you stay like that longer than necessary, content in each other's embrace until he’s tapping at the small of your back. you could fall asleep just like that, knowing he’d probably keep you steady without prompting, but you’re sure he’s tired- drained from doing who-knows-what at these odd hours of night. 

mikey lets you pull him towards the bed, towel long forgotten on your bedroom floor (something you’re sure you’ll be picking up in the morning), and lets you pull back the covers just far enough to give him space to crawl under them. you follow close behind, giving a small giggle when he pulls you closer to him. 

“how’d everything go?” you find yourself asking, nose pressed against his chest as your eyes flutter closed. 

mikey knows he can spare you the specifics, and he knows you’d be long asleep before he could finish explaining the gruesome details that come with being bonten’s number one. knows you’re already being lulled to sleep by the beat of his heart and the warmth he provides. 

“s’okay. rindou got shot at, but everything else was fine.” 

you hum, mind clouded with sleep, unable to come up with a proper reply. 

he’s left alone when your soft snores fill the air, staring at the ceiling of your apartment with the sounds of japan’s nightlife outside the window. he wonders just how easily you can fall asleep next to him, knowing he isn’t all-that innocent. well aware of the things he’s done, well aware of the things he’s doing. 

you shift so your legs tangle with his, and he wonders for a second if you can hear his every thought. you must know that he cares about you too much to let anything happen to you, and that thought is enough to leave him closing his eyes.

[the1975attheirverybest]

A Strange Encounter

A/N: requested Matty X writer OC is finally here. Sorry about the delay. Idk if this is a longer fic soft launch or not. Just a thing I wrote

Warnings: none

———-

Matty swore he could feel the sweat running down his back. He glanced around the room, his anxiety rising as he failed to spot any of the faces that he’d expected to see here tonight. He’d spent the better part of the year wearing ties onstage, but, for some reason, in this moment, his tie felt suffocating. He loosened it slightly but quickly fixed it back up, feeling like a fish out of water at this charity event.

Scanning the room for a quiet place to take refuge in, he spotted the open bar and rushed towards it.

“Thank fuck,” he mumbled to himself rushing in the direction of the free alcohol. As he approached the bar, he became aware of a solitary person, a woman, sitting atop one of the barstools, her back towards him, drinking alone. She turned around as she felt him get closer, giving him a polite nod.

He nodded in return, flashing her a quick smile.

“What can I get you, sir?” the bartender offered.

Matty almost ordered a glass of wine, but, on a whim, he turned towards the woman instead, “what’re you having?” he gestured towards her glass.

“A Cherry lime tequila.”

“is it any good?”

She nodded.

Matty turned back to the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having, please.” He sat at the other end of the bar, losing his battle against the tie.

Moments later, the bartender returned with Matty’s drink in hand. The woman watched, out of the corner of her eye, as Matty whispered a polite ‘thank you,’ and took a sip of his drink. She noticed his face scrunching as the drink pour down his throat.

“How is it?” She asked, pressing her lips together to hide her amused smile.

“G- uhh- good.” Matty lied. “I’m Matty, by the way.” He moved one bar stool closer.

“Claire.”

He smiled softly, thinking of the next thing to say.

“So…Claire, what’s your vibe?”

“My- vibe?”

Matty swore he could see her skin physically crawl. He giggled, embarrassed. “That- is the dumbest thing that I’ve ever said in my entire life.”

Something about the way that he could instantly poke fun at himself without looking self-conscious softened her towards him.

“Let me try this again. Like an adult: you hear for the writers’ charity thing?”

“I am.”

“Me too!” His tone was a bit more enthusiastic than he’d hoped. “I’m a songwriter.” He offered up, calmer now, adjusting his demeanor. “Never been to one of these things before. To be honest, I kind of hate them. Fuckin rich people trying to make themselves feel better about the dystopian world that they’re partly to blame for by hosting fuckin fundraisers and chairing charitable foundations.”

Claire took a sip of her half empty glass, nodding as Matty spoke.

“So, what about you. You a writer too?”

She smiled, “yeah, I am. Fiction, though.”

She could see a light flash across his face. He leaned in closer, “that’s fuckin cool. Anything I might have read?”

“No.”

Matty frowned at her immediate, emphatic answer. “Why- not? Are you not any good?”

“Oh, I am. I just…” she adjusted her feet underneath her, sitting up straight.

“Just what?”

“Just don’t think it’s the kind of fiction that you would read.”

Matty’s lips parted, ready for a retort, but none came. After a moment of silence, he finally thought of something. “You’ve only just met me. You don’t know what kind of fiction I read.” His tone has an edge to it, but he remained composed.

“Oh, but I do- guys like you- the hair gel, the

loose tie, the general aversion to formal settings…you probably read Jack Kerouac and Kurt Vonnegut, and, like, David Foster Wallace.”

“Ha! Jokes on you. I’ve never read Vonnegut.”

His response caught her off guard, making her laugh.

“But, yeah I’ve read On The Road….and yeah I like David Foster Wallace.”

She had a triumphant look on her face. “Pale

King?”

“No, Infinite Jest, actually.” Matty watched her expression shift again. His turn to feel triumphant.

“You’ve read all of Infinite Jest?” She whispered, as if the revelation were some kind of secret.

“Twice.”

She studied him closely, pleased with the unexpected turn of their conversation.

“And…” Matty took a sip of his drink. “For your information, I also like Joan Didion, and Virginia Woolf, and Flannery O’Connor.”

She giggled, taking Matty aback by the effect that the sound of her laughter had on him. He looked away from his drink instantly, eyes focused on her.

“So you’re saying you’re not a complete cliche?”

He nodded. “Well, what about you, then? What kind of fiction do you like?”

Her lips curved into a smile as she heard his question, she leaned in to meet him halfway, but before she could speak, a well-dressed member of the venue staff approached her and whispered into her ear, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

She nodded, turning back to Matty with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me, I- I’m afraid I have to go. It was a pleasure meeting you, Matty.”

For the second time tonight, Matty found himself speechless. He wanted to say something, anything at all, but when his lips parted, no sound came out. Instead, he watched her walk away, getting smaller and smaller the further she got away from him.

***

The rest of the night droned on as Matty attempted to make polite conversation with screenwriters, journalists, and authors of various kinds around his table. He couldn’t help pulling out his phone to check the time, every time there was a lull in conversation.

In front of him, the event organizer stepped onstage announcing that the last speaker of the night was up next. It would be the host of the fundraiser and chair of the organization, Claire Jones.

Matty’s head whipped around, looking up from his phone and watching as Claire took the stairs from the side of the stage, walking towards the lectern.

He recalled the snide comments that he’d made to her about his disdain for these kinds of events and the people who organize them. He felt embarrassed. She must think he’s a complete asshole. Unsure if he should be looking at her, or how to control his facial expressions appropriately, he decided he’d be better off staring at his shoes until her speech.

Matty thought that, realistically, her speech couldn’t have been more than a few minutes long, but it felt like ages. He struggled to even register her words as his own echoed in his head. He sat there, wondering if he should apologize, wondering if it mattered, if she cared one way or the other, and wondering why he cared so much.

The sound of applause filled the room, Claire Jones stepped off the stage, esteemed guests began to move around tables and mingle, shaking hands with each other, hugging, catching up, and exchanging numbers.

By the time that Matty had made his way to the other end of the room, Claire was nowhere to be found. He walked the perimeter of the room a couple of times, hoping to spot her, but when he failed to find her, he defeatedly meandered towards the exit, sticking his hand into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

The nighttime breeze was merciful on his face. He hadn’t realized that he’d felt suffocated until he’d made it outside. He stood on the sidewalk, leaning against the building, smoking his cigarette. He was surprised to find himself disappointed that he’d never see Claire again.

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

EXILE || Kylo Ren x Fem!reader

Exile by Taylor Swift but it's you and Kylo

Tw: Straight angst honestly

You and Kylo had a falling out. Not just a falling out. A full on terrible break up. Words were said, threats were made. You were tired of begging Kylo for the bare minimum. You had split a few months ago and had successfully avoided each other. But you knew you'd see him tonight at the First Order ball. You chose a black dress with deep red accents that hugged your body in all the right places, a thigh slit up the side and a deep neckline. One Kylo had picked out for you long ago. Did you wear it so he would look at you? Maybe, but you would never admit to it.

Your date was not someone you knew well, just someone who had worked in your division and had asked you to go. You wanted to apologize in advance for the backlash he would receive from Kylo but you didn't. You swayed together to the music that played as other couples danced around you. His arms were wrapped around you pulling you closer than you had really wanted to be to him as your eyes scanned over his shoulder for the darkness that had shadowed you for so long. Your date whispered something in your ear, something that was probably supposed to be funny but you weren't listening as your mind was occupied, you forced a laugh anyway. I can see you standing, honey With his arms around your body Laughing but the joke's not funny at all

Kylo stood in the hall outside the ballroom. The doors were slightly open, enough that he could see you without you seeing him. He felt his skin crawl as your date's hands caressed the skin that was uncovered by the openness of the back of your dress. The one he got you. His jaw clenched as you smiled and laughed at something your date whispered in your ear.

And it took you five whole minutes To pack us up and leave me with it Holding all this love out here in the hall

Kylo wanted to rip his arms off of you and drag you out of there. You had not even been apart that long. Months maybe, but that was nothing to Kylo. He would never think of another person again and here you were already in the arms of another. You were still his regardless of what you thought. He scoffed as you left the dance floor to sit at a table hand in hand. Kylo had thought you wanted space. That is why he left you alone these past couple months. You were the only place Kylo felt comfortable, he might say safe even. He felt like he was watching from behind glass, like he wasn't really here. Everything he did was for you, so why were you acting this way?

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seeing you out I think I've seen this film before

Kylo pulled the doors open wider and stormed into the room. People looked to him as he stalked to the side of the room farthest from you. You didn't even look past the man sat in front of you to look at him. It only angered him more. I can see you staring, honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

You forced yourself not to look as Kylo stalked into the room. He of course haunted the corner directly in your line of sight if you looked past your date. You could feel his eyes burning into you. Your date excused himself a moment as a group of men called him over.

You looked directly to Kylo. You could almost see the violent tendencies that were crawling under his skin at the sight of you with another man. Not that the man meant anything. Kylo would make him temporary even if he did mean something. You couldn't help but shake your head and look away.

Second, third and hundredth chances Balancing on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

You had given Kylo more than enough chances for years to give you more than the bare minimum. You had begged and cried and hoped he would act like you were more than something replaceable. He was cold and unforgiving. In all honesty, you never really knew how he felt about you because he would never tell you.

You looked up and made eye contact with him. The look on his face made you wince. At first glance he looked angry and you were sure he was but his eyes, his eyes looked almost teary. Hurt.

You looked for your date, who seemed to have found someone else to be more interested in. That was probably for the best.

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now? You were my crown Now I'm in exile seeing you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leaving out the side door

You stood abruptly and moved quickly to the smaller door behind you to leave. You couldn't stand to be here anymore. To see him stare at you like a neglected puppy when you were the one who had been neglected. You slipped through the door, walking quickly down the hall when the door opened behind you and heavy footsteps followed you.

So step right out There is no amount Of crying I can do for you

A gloved hand grabbed your arm and whipped you around as tears fell from your eyes. Kylo gripped your shoulders as he stared into your eyes, jaw clenched. All this time We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (You didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) "What do you want Kylo?" Your voice broke as it left your lips.

"Why were you with him? I gave you space like you wanted and this is what I get in return?" His voice was cold as always.

You scoff and shake your head pulling away from him. "Space? Really? When did I EVER ask for SPACE?"

He stares at you, unmoving as if his brain cannot process the words.

"All I have ever wanted is for you to act like you actually give a shit about me Kylo." You spun to look to him as he continued to stand there emotionless. You scoff and shake your head. "And for the record we have not been together this entire time, we are not together right now so it does not matter who I am with." You turn away from him but his voice stops you.

"When was it decided that we were not... I did not realize you did not want to be with me" You let you a chuckle, he couldn't even say you were together.

"Kylo, how many times did I beg you to stop treating me like I was temporary? Did you not hear me every time I told you I couldn't do this anymore?" The look on his face made you feel like maybe you really hadn't said it out loud but you know you did.

He shook his head. "I don't understand."

All this time I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) So many signs So many signs (You didn't even see the signs)

"You don't understand or you don't want to understand? What, did you think I was avoiding you for fun these past few months? That I removed all my belongings from your room just for something to do?" You threw your hands up in defeat. Again as usual, he still showed not a single emotion.

He opened his mouth to say something but shut it just as quickly.

"I'm done Kylo." You turned away and made haste in escaping him. He didn't follow this time. He hadn't seen the signs.

His hands bunched into fists at his side as the ring in his pocket burned a hole in him.

(also send requests! i appreciate them they help smmmm with writers block <3)

[yanderemommabean]

I love the idea of a reader trying really hard not to flinch from their yandere but the fear is so heavy. And the yandere can see the reader is trying. Like CEO yandere? It would probably be endearing to them. For others - probably just frustration.

"I do wish you wouldn't flinch from my touch" a tired voice sighs, fingers coming up to toy with your hair as you try not to whimper. "When have I ever laid a hand upon you? It's so hurtful seeing you so scared of me".

They go quiet as they play with your hair, relaxing slightly. Well, at least they got to touch you, however forced. "I should show you just how gentle I truly am, but you shake so much, like a rabbit trapped with a wolf".

A voice in your ear makes your skin crawl with goosebumps, your throat tightening in fear. "Lucky for you, this wolf is willing to kneel before a rabbit such as you. At least, until my hunger becomes too much"

-Mommabean (Sorry this was all that came to mind and it wouldn't leave my brain alone )

[justdontaskme]

Actual Winners (Ona Batlle x Reader)

A/N: Little bit of writer's block and a rough few weeks but I got something done. I don't love it, but think this might be as good as I can get it. Follow up fic to I Got You. Hope you enjoy!

The nerves currently wracking your body made this day a living nightmare. It was like each move you made was being watched, and it made your skin crawl. You don't know why but you just felt off since the end of practice.

It continued throughout the entire day. While it was normal to be nervous the day before one of the biggest games of your life, it seemed like there was more to it. At dinner, your head was shifty as your leg furiously bounced up and down, gaining Leah's worried attention from her seat next to you. 

Everyone could tell that something was off about you, but none of them knew how to help. 

Just as dinner was about to end, Alessia had come over and shoved her phone into your face. Confused, you grabbed the device from your United teammate. 

The smiling face staring back at you immediately put you in a better mood. 

“Hola, cariño,” your girlfriend grinned when she saw the small upward tick of your lips. “Alessia told me you are sad. Are you okay?”

Hearing her voice literally went straight through your heart. You couldn’t identify why, but you suddenly felt the need to cry. Opening your mouth, you tried to speak but nothing came out. 

“Mi amor?” Ona tried again when you didn’t respond. 

Again, no words came out. You felt a nudge to your side, turning to your best friend who tilted her head towards the door, knowing that you probably needed this conversation with a bit more privacy. 

Nodding your head, you quietly excused yourself, promising Alessia you’d return her phone in a few minutes. Your journey was short, as you couldn’t even make it to your room. Instead, you camped out in the empty stairwell about one floor up from the dining room. 

“I miss you,” you whispered, pouting at the camera. 

Ona’s face softened, and at that moment you really wished you could reach through the camera to touch her soft skin. Seeing her briefly for the quarterfinal game wasn’t enough. You wanted more. 

After the quarterfinal game, Ona had told you she was going to take a short vacation with her brother but promised to be back for your game. Communication was limited during this time. Your schedule was busy with training and whatnot with the team while Ona was always in places with spotty service. 

When she unfortunately missed out on the semifinal against Sweden, you were a little disappointed. The post of her and Mapi holding up England's flag with a message of support was nice, but it wasn't the same as having her there.

“I miss you, too,” Ona replied. “I don’t like being away from you, but I love watching you be great.” 

“But I’m not.”

“Don’t be like that,” Ona pleaded, her head falling onto the pillow next to her. “You are so amazing, mi amor, and I wish you could see that.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re the only one that thinks that.”

“I am not. I promise. So many people look up to you for different reasons and I’m so proud to call you my girlfriend.”

At her words, you felt a sudden burst of emotion, tears falling down your face. You were overcome with love for this girl, your emotions getting the best of you. Ona had immediately started apologizing at the sight of your tears, afraid she had said something to upset you. 

Quickly, you reassured her it was the exact opposite. She always knew how to make you feel ten times lighter. You asked her to stay on the line and detail her trip just so you could hear her voice some more before the eventual goodbyes. 

****

As you stood at the front of the tunnel, the loud cheering literally vibrated throughout your body. The pounding in your ear, the beating of your heart, it made everything feel so real.

If anyone had asked you ten years ago if they thought you'd ever play for your country, let alone represent your home country in a Euro final, you would have called them crazy. Yet, here you were. You closed your eyes and let the sounds of the stadium fill you up. 

"You alright?" Leah asked, taking her last trip up and down the line and checking in with each player. 

The sound of her voice spooked you from your trance. Your best friend fixed you with worried eyes as she saw the trepidation in your eyes. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

"It’s okay,” you quickly reassured you. Your breathing returned to normal as you remembered where you were and what you were about to do. “Is this even real?"

Her eyes brightened as a large smile grew on her face.

"You better believe it, Y/N. We've made it," she clapped her hands against your shoulder, jostling you back and forth a bit to shake out your nerves. 

“Who would have thought that the two of us would be here now?”

"I did," Leah smiled cheekily. 

You shoved her lightly with a roll of your eyes, "Let's win this."

"Don't forget to look good in front of your girlfriend," Leah winked, your answering blush led to her burst of laughter. 

Ever since your phone call with Ona last night, the team had been relentlessly teasing you about your sudden change in mood. Some joked about the dopey smile on your face, others complained about how they hadn’t thought to call Ona earlier. You took all the teasing in stride, proud of having such a beautiful girl who made you feel all warm inside. Now, you just wanted to prove that you could be the girl that Ona saw in you. 

****

The German team was composed and pressing hard. After playing for more than a hundred minutes, your body was about to give up. You could feel the exhaustion creeping in as your legs started to cramp. Slowly, you found it harder and harder to catch your breath. But you had to keep pushing. 

The clock on the jumbotron just kept climbing, and you wished it would just freeze for a second so you could catch your breath. There was barely ten minutes left of the game. The creeping anxiety of having to go to penalties crept up your shoulder. You and your team were determined to keep that from happening. 

Desperately, you turned to where you knew Ona was sitting with your family. Your girlfriend made eye contact, signaling for you to take a deep breath in. Following her instructions, you stood up straight, filling your lungs with air before slowly letting it out. 

The breathing did its job in recentering you. You flashed Ona a smile in thanks and a quick thumbs up before turning your attention back to the game.  

With a corner kick in your team’s favor, you looked back at Leah, telling her you were about to join the fray while she agreed to stay behind. You weren’t necessarily a target in the box, but you were going to jump on any kind of rebound and be ready to send in a cross to one of your teammates. 

Lauren went to take the corner and you all lined up. There was a scuffle in the box as soon as the ball came in, and you waited outside the box anxiously. You watched as Chloe managed to get a foot on the ball, but a German player managed to stick their foot out and deflect it at the last minute.   

Unfortunately for them, the ball had bounced just out of the box in front of you. Feeling as if you had nothing to lose, you ran onto the ball, striking it as it came down on the second bounce. 

You held your breath as everyone watched it sail over every player's head, slipping right past the German keeper who could only get her fingers to brush the edges of the ball, but not enough to stop it. 

For a second, you were completely shocked. The ball hit the back of the net, sealing the win for your team in the first major competition of your life. 

When things started to click into place, you finally snapped out of it. Turning around in your spot, you found all of your teammates running towards you with huge grins on their faces. Seeing Alessia, you immediately started running, jumping into her awaiting arms as she spun the two of you around. 

You felt others jumping onto the two of you from all sides, almost like a standing dog pile. As the pile broke, you felt Leah grab your shoulders shouting how proud she was of you before pressing a kiss to the side of your head and telling you to get back into position. 

As you started to head back, you glanced over to the family section, quickly finding the eyes of the person you loved so much. Instinctively, you pressed a kiss to the tip of your first two fingers before pointing her out in the middle of the crowd. 

Even from your spot on the field, you could see the blush rising on her cheeks as your brother was jostling her shoulders in jest. She blew you a subtle kiss in return, which amped you up for the last few minutes of the game. 

When the final whistle blew, you made eye contact with Leah, crushing her in your arms when you two finally reached one another. Neither of you could really speak at the moment, disbelief and pride coursing through your veins. 

"We did it!" you shouted at each other, happy tears slipping down both of your faces.

Leah eventually passed you off to Lucy who you'd always felt was like an older sister to you. The other defender had rocked you back and forth before the two of you turned to the family section and waved to all your supporters. 

The stadium was buzzing, but all you could focus on was the Spanish defender staring back at you with your jersey from the quarterfinals on her back. 

After the ceremony and lots of celebrating with your teammates, all of you finally made it out to the hotel conference which was closed down specifically for friends and families of the players. 

Weaving in and out of the bodies, you were searching for your family, finally finding them with Leah's family near the back. Your parents engulfed you immediately, congratulating you for everything. Your younger siblings clung to your sides, asking if they could see your medal and the trophy before running off to find their friends. 

And finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you were able to greet your girlfriend, drawing the younger girl into your arms. 

Neither of you said anything, just soaking in the embrace. It had only been a little over a week since you had seen her, but that was long enough for you.

"Congratulations, cariño," Ona said into the side of your neck, pressing a soft kiss just under your ear.

But that didn't satisfy you. Instead, you pulled back enough to see her face before drawing her face to yours and kissing her like you wanted to since you first saw her in the stands with your England jersey on. 

"I love you,” you declared, holding her face in your hands as your eyes explored hers. “So much.”

“I love you, too.”

Carefully, you removed the medal from around your neck, gently placing it around your girlfriend’s neck. 

“No, no. This is yours,” the Spanish girl tried to return it to you, but you rested your hands on top of hers. 

“I want to share this with you,” you said, pulling her hands away from the gold piece, and lowering them to her sides. “I couldn’t have done this without you. And I wouldn’t have wanted to do this with anyone but you.” 

“Then this is ours,” she said, holding your hand with one of hers as the other travels back up her body until the gold medal was laying in the palm of her hand. 

Her words stirred something in you as it fully pieced everything together in your mind. The two of you were living this life together, and there were still many more memories to share with one another. 

[shiftyourfocuss]

Wet Dreams (18+) afab reader

part two of negative !! <3

author note :// sorry this took a while!! pls comment recommendations and other cod characters you’d like me to write about!! ALSO !! I AM CHANGING Y/N’S CODE NAME TO JINX, I CAME ACROSS ANOTHER GHOST X READER USING THE CODE NAME COBRA SO I DIDNT WANT TO CONFUSE ANYBODY!!

✧ Simon Riley (Ghost)

✧ handjob, kissing, dirty talk, etc

✧ minors dni

✧ word count - 3k words 

SMUT, ANGST, FLUFF

I stood in the shower, still as can be as the hot water ran down my scarred and dirty skin. My eyes were glued shut, enjoying the peaceful moment as much as I could. This is the most at peace i’ve been in ages. I sighed as I came to the realization that i’ve probably been in here way longer that I anticipated. I rinsed out the leftover conditioner in my hair before shutting the water off and stepping out of the tub.

My feet made contact with the cold floor as I quickly reached for my towel, wrapping my body in the black fabric before tucking it in on my side to keep it secure. Before my hand could reach out for my brush I was interrupted by knocking on the bathroom door. I stood still for a moment before walking over to it. I twisted the handle and peeked through the crack, only opening the door enough for my face and part of the towel that was wrapped around me to be seen.

“Was just making sure you were alive in there.” Ghost said lowly, not daring to lower his eyes from mine.

“Yeah, sorry.. just haven’t got to do this in a while.” I said slightly leaning my head against the door frame as I held onto the door handle keeping the door in the small position. He nodded before backing away from the door a bit.

“Once you’re dressed and everything I have the bed made up for you in the room, you need rest more than anything.”

“Ok, thank you.” I said giving him a small smile. He nodded before turning away and making his way back to his room. I shut the door to the bathroom before resuming to brushing my hair.

———

After putting on the large t-shirt and sweatpants ghost had left for me I looked at myself in the mirror, laughing at how large the clothes were on me. Ghost was a very large man and his clothes made me look so small and fragile.

I exited the bathroom, slowly walked to his room where he was sat on the edge of his bed, messing with his vest it looked like. He looked up at me once he felt my presence in the room and lowly chuckled at my appearance.

“how cute.” he said before standing up and tossing his vest into the corner of the room. I took in the view of him as he stood at a whopping 6’4, nice and muscular frame showing through the tight dark grey t shirt and black sweatpants he was wearing. He had his balaclava on just without the skull piece, and you could see the black makeup smeared on his eyes in the dimly light room. I walked over to the right side of the bed before crawling on top of it and sitting softly.

“You get some sleep, i’ll be downstairs if you need me.” He said before beginning to walk out.

“Wait!” I whined before quickly crawling to the end of the bed, grabbing his hand which halted his actions as he looked back at me confused.

“p-please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone.” I pleaded as I looked at him with big sad eyes, hoping he would atleast do me the favor of making me feel safe, especially after everything that’s happened.

“nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore-“ he faced me as he spoke, taking my small hand in both of his large ones. “you’re safe here.” he said keeping strong eye contact. The room was silent before I felt my eyes begin to slightly water.

“please.” I whispered one last time. He sighed before closing his eyes, pulling away from my grip. He walked over to the bedroom door and shut it softly before he made his way over to the bedroom lamp.

“you’re killing me kid.” he said before clicking off the lamp. I smiled to myself as I got under the covers, getting comfortable as I laid back, head sinking into the pillow. The bed dipped as he climbed in next to me, his large body taking up most of the room. The room fell silent as we both began to fall asleep.

———

Constant low grunts and shifting woke me as my squinting eyes looked around the dark room, the only light being the moon light shining in from the bedroom window. My back was facing Ghost and I softly turned around to face him. He was laying on his back, masked face turned to the side a bit as he let out big deep breaths.

I studied his body language as he would twitch and shift every so often. Curiosity flooded my mind as he let out a low moan, making me raise my eyebrows. Just to see if what I was thinking was true, I carefully raised the blanket that covered out bodies, seeing a large print pressed against his sweatpants.

My hand flew over my mouth as my eyes widened at the sight. I placed the blanket back down before laughing to myself quietly. Nothing but filthy thoughts filled my mind as I watched him, so vulnerable, so easy for me to satisfy him in every way he’d want.

I took my bottom lip between my teeth as I soft scooted my body closer to his, until I was pressed against the side of him. I reached under the cover and carefully took his large hand before bringing it up to my face. I peppered kisses all around his scarred hand, holding it with both of my hands. He shifted again just a little and I froze.

I turned his hand slowly before I pressed the tips on his middle and ring finger against my lips, I gave them a kiss before slowly wrapping my lips around them. A grunt rumbled through his chest as both fingers sat in my wet mouth, tongue running between and around them. I pulled them out before pushing them right back in, lips tight around them as I slowly moved my head back and forth. After all the subtle affection he still wouldn’t budge. I removed his fingers from my mouth before setting his hand down on my hip.

I slowly reached my hand up and swirled my fingers over his tightly clothed chest. You could see every crease of muscle through the shirt, almost as if he was purposely showing himself off. I trailed my hand lower and lower until my fingers landed at the hem of his sweatpants. I ran my finger back and forth, feeling the thick waistband of his boxers underneath.

“I suggest you get on with it before I do it myself.” I froze at his sudden statement before looking up and realizing he’s had his eyes on me for god knows how long. We remained eye contact as he squeezed the hand on my hip, waiting for me to resume.

I slid my hand into his pants, feeling his hard on pressed tightly against his boxers, begging to be touched. I felt him through his boxers, caressing him softly before finally reaching my hand into his boxers. A low grunt rumbled through his chest as my hand clutched around his thick cock. I leaned forward, giving his neck a few pecks as I swiped my thumb over his tip, feeling the precum smear around. He kept his dark eyes on me and I began working my hand up and down his large length, keeping a slow and steady pace.

“Can I kiss you?” I asked as I laid my head on his shoulder. He remained silent before he lifted his balaclava up just enough for his mouth and chin to be shown. I took in the view of his thick pretty lips and dark stubble that covered majority of his jaw. I leaned forward as I continued working my hand. He reached his hand to the back of my head and pulled me against him until my lips were smashed into his. He kissed me hard and keeping his hand secure on my head as he hummed into the kiss.

My tongue met his as the kiss became sloppier by the second. Our eyes glued shut and noses pressed against eachother as we took slight breathes in between kissing. I began moving my hand faster, feeling him throb in my grip. He grunted into my mouth and I grabbed his bottom lip with my teeth, pulling back before watching it snap back.

“Fuck..” He growled, resting his forehead against mine. “Gonna cum soon.” I nodded and I kept the same quick pace, raising my hand just a bit so I was slightly wrapped around his tip. He furrowed his eyebrows and he grabbed my face, pulling me back into another heated kiss. I moaned softly as his large hand on my hip squeezed again before sliding his hand up to my waist, holding firmly.

He let out deep and heavy breaths into my mouth as hot white ropes of cum coated my hand and his lower abdomen. I slowed my pace, still jerking softly as he rode out his orgasm. I removed my hand after a few moments, bringing my hand to my face as I licked the bit of cum off of my hand, keeping eye contact with him as I did so.

“fucking hell.” he mumbled before dropping his head back onto the pillow. I took his hand that was on my waist and brought it between my legs to which he quickly pulled his hand back and shook his head. I looked at his confused as he stood from the bed, wiping himself off with a towel before tossing the towel onto the floor.

“Why?” I asked as I watched him pull his mask back down over his mouth.

“It’s too soon.” He said before laying back down, facing me and he got under the covers.

“what do you mean?” I questioned

“I can’t. Atleast not yet. After everything you’ve gone through the last month I can’t do that to you.”

“That was different, I want you, I want this.” I said as I placed my hand on his broad chest. He shook his head, holding my hand that was pressed against him.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t yet. I don’t like the thought of man handling you so soon after the traumatic things you dealt with. Just doesn’t feel right.”

I get where he was coming from. He didn’t want to see me so vulnerable for him after the state he found me in not even 5 hours ago. I am hurt, I am traumatized from the things I endured in the last 5 weeks but I still craved affection. Affection that I WANTED, affection that made me feel special and loved. I wanted to be cared for. I miss the strong person I was before everything went down. I hope that person comes back to me in do time. I just need to heal.

“I understand.” I said with a lump in my throat. I turned from him, facing the wall as my eyes began to weld with tears. The room was silent for a bit before my body began to slightly tremble as I cried to myself silently.

“Jinx, sweetheart-“ He cut himself off as he scooted himself towards me, his large body molding against me and he wrapped his tattooed arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him. He rested his head on my shoulder before speaking up. “I’m sorry, but you have to understand i’m doing this for your own well being. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I remained silent as I kept my eyes shut, slowly but surely calming down as he held me tightly. This is the safest i’ve honestly felt in a long while. Why is he so sweet to me? Why didn’t he just leave me behind in that cage like anybody else would’ve? He may give off an intimidating appearance but definitely just a big teddy bear.

Tears stopped flowing as I melted into his tough, eventually intertwining my fingers with his that were pressed against my stomach. He gave my hand a soft squeeze before rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. We both remained still as we began to fall sleep in the small drafty room.

———

I woke up to the bright sun beaming through the blinds of the window. I squinted as I looked at my surroundings, rolling slightly to notice that I was alone in bed. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a drawer being closed, my vision was still blurring from being half asleep but I was able to make out the large bare back that was facing me. There’s were scars scattered around the bare skin, and just above was the dark messy hair that sat on his head. It was wet, slightly dripping down his back as he’s pulled a t-shirt over his head, dark grey cargo pants already on. He pulled on his balaclava and adjusted the skull piece over top before turning around to face me.

“how did you sleep?” he asked, adjusting his belt before applying the rest of his gear. I shrugged at his question before sitting up against the bed frame. “Better than being in a cage I presume.”

“I guess.” I mumbled as I looked down at my hands that rested in my lap. He sighed before deciding not to egg me on. I remained in my spot before a pile of clothes were dropped in front of me, along with gear and a holster that held a knife inside.

“we were able to find you some proper attire. Get dressed then meet me downstairs. It’s about time you meet the team.” He said fixing his last strap on his vest. I nodded before getting out of bed, stretching as I let out a quiet yawn. Before reaching down to grab the pile of clothes, he walked over towards me and rested a hand on my shoulder.

“you sure you ok with this? you know being back on the radar and all?” he said and he looked into my eyes. yeah don’t get me wrong, being thrown back into the army just being a hostage is kinda shitty but, this is what I was born to do. It’s the only thing that gives me purpose.

“definitely.” I said confidently. He nodded before removing his hand from my shoulder.

“good, I’m glad to hear that.” He said before walking over to the door, opening it as he exited, then shutting it behind him. I sighed before undressing myself, mentally preparing to meet a group of strangers.

———

I stepped out of the room in my new clothes, boots clicking against the floor as I made my way to the stairs. I slowly walked down as a group of men were scattered around the couches, having different discussions as Ghost remained silent in a chair just between the couches. Once I made it downstairs the room fell silent as I walked over. Eyes of 5 men landed on me as I took a seat besides of the guys who had warhawk and a soft smile.

“Everyone this is Jinx, she is a new addition to Task Force 141, treat her as you would any teammate, she’s one of us.” Ghost said shifting his gaze between the different men.

“Nice to meet you gorgeous, you can call me Soap.” The thick scottish accent flowed through my ears and he reached his hand over towards me. I shook it lightly as he gave me a warm smile.

“I’m Gaz” another man said as he peeked his head from behind Soap. I waved and moved my attention to the next couch.

“Price, Captain Price, Im the one who cleans up after the boys here.” He chuckled, Soap pretended to be offended as he slapped a hand on his chest.

“We spoke briefly but hello again cariño. Jinx is a badass name, I think it fits you well.” Alejandro said as he leaned back in his seat besides Price.

“Thank you, and it’s nice meeting you guys, it’s been awhile but I promise i’m a good shot, I was the best on my team. Those ass hats could barely work a pistol.” I said as laughs erupted around the room.

“Your team, where are they now?” Gaz asked before Ghost shot a deadly glare at him. Gaz mumbled a low “shit..” as he took note of the glare immediately, not even needing an explanation.

“It’s ok. You didn’t know.” I said reassuringly as I reached over and patted his knee. “They were great guys, they tried to hard to take the hits for me. They protected me with their lives and that’s the exact reason they’re not here right now. I miss them a lot, they deserved so much better..” I said looking down at my feet. Soap rested a hand on my back as he rubbed up and down, trying to comfort me in this vulnerable moment.

“I’m sorry Jinx, that’s terrible.” Price said with nothing but remorse.

“Well you have us now, and while we may also be ass hats, we can guarantee you won’t go through something like that ever again.” Soap said as he titled his head to look me in my face. I laughed at his use of the word asshats after me, making him smile at my amusement.

“Thanks guys.”

[veliseraptor]

i was forced to talk about dragon age today, now i am forwarding it on to you. tell me about "the best all lack conviction"

oh maaaaan this one is fenders which idk how you feel about, but basically it's the result of me going "90% of the fenders out there is not complicated enough for me, I need it to be messy and slow burn and not one-sided in terms of who is getting offered understanding for their perspective, guess I'd better write it myself!!!" and promptly have taken, what, five years? more? to do that

but I go back and work on it periodically, and I like a lot of what I have actually, though I'm still a long way from getting them anywhere resembling a reconciliation let alone a relationship. but the journey is the fun part anyway so

it's a classic "hostile road trip" setup in terms of plot, because I am the person I am and "hostile road trip" will always be one of my favorite ways of forcing characters to cooperate :D

the title is from "the second coming" by yeats, specifically the lines: "The best lack all conviction, while the worst  / Are full of passionate intensity."

a snippet:

“Mage,” he said harshly. “Are you awake?”  The lack of response suggested not. “Anders,” he tried more loudly, just in case, but that was equally pointless. He breathed out through his nose and rolled him to his back. His forehead was still clear, unbranded, though there was blood dried on his face, probably from a blow to the head.  Fenris looked up at the sky like some help might come from there, but the most noteworthy feature there was still the rift emitting its sickly greenish light.  Rummaging through the Templars’ things he managed to find two healing potions. He maneuvered Anders to a sitting position so he didn’t choke when Fenris poured one into his mouth, and let go quickly when he came awake coughing. “Ouch,” Anders said, when he stopped. “My head hurts.”  “I imagine it does,” Fenris said grimly. “Get up. There might be more of them nearby.” “More of,” Anders started to say, and then started up. “Wait, there were,” he said, and then finally seemed to absorb the carnage of his surroundings. “I missed something.”  “Yes,” Fenris said. “Did you hear me? Get up.” “Okay,” Anders said, and started to stand up only to almost fall over. Fenris had to catch him, but though he braced for the skin crawling, achy feeling being too close to Anders always gave him, it seemed muted, less intense. “I hate magebane,” Anders said. “Makes me feel like a drunk foal, all wobbly and…strange. You’re tingly.”  Fenris gave him a sidelong look, unnerved. “Tingly?” “Mm, yeah,” Anders said. “Sort of. Like…like mint. But on skin.”  Fenris shifted his shoulders and started dragging Anders away, though he didn’t really know where he was going. He couldn’t both keep hold of Anders and hold his sword, so he set Anders down momentarily to wipe his blade clean before sheathing it. Then he pulled Anders up again.  “You’re really strong,” Anders said. Fenris made a noise at the back of his throat. “Stop talking, mage,” he said. “And get moving.”