#we can all fuck Jesus!!!!! WE CAN ALL FUCK JESUS!!!!!!!!!!!

[creatingblackcharacters]

"Let's Have a Talk, First"- Stereotypes, pt 1

Come sit down. You and I, before we get into any of the things I'm sure you're impatient to know: we need to have a come to Jesus talk, first.

There are some things that I've been asked and seen that strengthens my belief that we need to have a reframing of the conversation on stereotypes in media away from something as simple as "how do I find the checklist of stereotypes to avoid". Because race- and therefore racial stereotypes- is a complex construct! Stands to reason then, that seeing, understanding, and avoiding it won't be that simple! I'm going to give you a couple pointers to (hopefully) help you rethink your approach to this topic, and therefore how to apply it when you're writing Black characters- and even when thinking about Black people!

Point #1: DEVELOP THE CHARACTER!! WRITE!!

Excuse my crude language, but let me be blunt: Black people- and therefore Black characters- will get angry at things, and occasionally make bad choices in the heat of the moment. Some of us like to fuck real nasty, some might be dominant in the bedroom, they may even be incredibly experienced! Others of us succumb to circumstance and make poor decisions that lead to crime.

None of those things inherently makes any of us angry Black women and threatening Black men, Jezebels and BBC Mandingos, and gangsters and thugs!

Black people are PEOPLE! Write us as such!

If all Black characters ever did was go outside, say "hi neighbor!" and walk back in the house, we'd be as boring as racist fans often accuse.

I say this because I feel I've seen advice that I feel makes people think writing a Black character that… Emotes negatively, or gets hurt by life and circumstance, or really enjoys hard sex, or really any scenario where they might "look bad" is the issue. I can tell many people think "well if I write that, then it's a stereotype" and to avoid the difficulty, they'll probably end up writing a flat Black character or not writing them at all. Or- and I've seen this too- they'll overcompensate in the other direction, which reveals that they 'wrote a different sort of Black person!' and it comes off just as awkwardly because it means you think that the Black people that do these things are 'bad'. And I hate that, because we're capable of depth, nuance, good, evil, adventure, world domination, all of it!

My point is, if you write your character like the human being they are, while taking care to recognize that you as the writer are not buying into stereotypes with your OWN messaging, you're fine. We have emotions, we have motivations and goals, we make decisions, and we make mistakes, just like anybody else. Write that! Develop your character!

POINT #2: YOU CAN'T CONTROL THE READERS!!

Okay. You can write the GREATEST Black character ever, full of depth, love, nuance, emotional range, all those things…. And people are still going to be racist about them. Sorry. There is absolutely nothing you can do to control a reader coming from that place of bias you sought to avoid. If it's not there, TRUST AND BELIEVE, it'll be projected onto them.

That passionate young Black woman who told the MC to get her head out of her ass? Yeah she's an angry Black bitch now, and bully to the sweet white MC. Maybe a lesbian mommy figure if they like her enough to "redeem" her. That Black gay male lead that treats his partner like he worships the ground he walks on? Yeah he's an abusive thug that needs to die now because he disagreed One Time with his white partner. That Black trans woman who happened to be competing against the white MC, in a story where the white MC makes comparable choices? Ohhhh they're gonna be VILE about that poor woman.

It really hurts- most especially as a Black fan and writer- knowing that you have something amazing to offer (as a person and creative) and people are gonna spit on that and call it "preference". That they can project themselves onto white characters no matter what, but if you project your experiences onto black characters, it's "pandering", "self insert", "woke", "annoying", "boring", and other foul things we've all gotten comments of.

But expect that it's gonna happen when you write a Black character, again, especially if you're a Black writer. If you're not Black, it won't hurt as personally, but it will probably come as a shock when you put so much effort in to create a lovely character and people are just ass about them. Unfortunately, that is the climate of fandom we currently exist in.

My favorite example is of Louis De Pointe Du Lac from AMC's Interview With The Vampire. Louis is actually one of the best depictions of the existential horror that is being Black in a racist White world I have ever seen written by mostly nonblack people. It was timeless; I related to every single source of racist pain he experienced.

People were HORRIFIC about Louis.

It didn't matter that he was well written and what he symbolized; many white viewers did NOT LIKE this man. There's a level of empathy and understanding that Black characters in particular don't receive in comparison to white counterparts, and that's due to many of those stereotypes and systemic biases I'm going to talk about.

My point is, recognize that while yes, you as the author have a duty to write a character thoughtfully as you can, it's not going to stop the response of the ignorant. Writing seeking to get everyone to understand what you were trying to do… Sisyphean effort. It's better to focus on knowing that YOU wrote something good, that YOU did not write the stereotype that those people are determined to see.

POINT #3: WHY is something a stereotype?

While there are lists of stereotypes against Black people in media and life that can be found, I would appreciate if people stopped approaching it as just a list of things you can check off to avoid. You can know what the stereotypes are, sure, but if you don't understand WHY they're a problem and how they play into perception of us, you'll either end up writing a flat character trying to avoid that list, or you're going to write other things related to that stereotype because "oh its not item #1"... and it'll still be racist.

For example: if you wrote a "sassy Black woman" that does a z formation neck rotation just because a store manager asked her something… that's probably stereotype. If you thought of a character that needed to be "loudmouthed", "sassy", and "strong" and a dark-skinned black woman was automatically what fit the profile in your mind, ding ding ding! THAT'S where you need to catch your racist biases.

But a dark-skinned Black woman character cursing out a store manager because she's had a really bad, stressful day and their attitude towards her pushed her over the edge may be in the wrong, but she's not an "angry Black woman". She's a Black woman that's angry! And if you wrote the day she had to be as bad as would drive anyone to overstimulation and anxiety, the blow up will make sense! The development and writing behind her led to this logical point (which connects to point #1!)

I'm not going to provide a truly exhaustive list of Black stereotypes in media because that would ACTUALLY be worth a college credited class and I do this for free lmao. But I am going to provide some classic examples that can get y'all started on your own research.

POINT #4: WATCH BLACK NARRATIVES!

As always, I'm gonna push supporting Black creators, because that's the best way to see the range of what you'd like. You want to see Black villains? We got those! Black heroes? Black antiheroes? Assholes, lovers, comedians, depressed, criminals, kings, and more? They exist! You can get inspired by watching those movies and reading those books, see how WE depict us!

I've seen mixed reviews on it, BUT- I personally really enjoyed Swarm, because it was one of the first times I'd ever seen that "unhinged obsessed murderous Black fan girl" concept. Tumblr usually loves that shit lmao. Even the "bites you bites you bites you [thing I love]" thing was there. And she liked girls, too. Just saying. I thought it was a fun idea that I'd love to see more of. Y'all gotta give us a chance to be in these roles, to tell these tales. We can do it too, and you'd enjoy it if you tried to understand it!

POINT#5: You are NOT Black!

This is obvious lmao, but if you're not Black, there's no need to pretend. There's no need to think "oh well I have to get a 100% perfect depiction of the Black person's mind". That's… That's gonna look cringe, at its best. You don't have to do that in order to avoid stereotypes. You're not going to be able to catch every nuance because it's not your lived experience, nor is it the societally enforced culture. Just… Do what you can, and if you feel like it's coming off hokey… Maybe consider if you want to continue this way lol. If you know of any Black beta readers or sensitivity reviewers, that'd be a good time to check in!

For example, if your Black character is talking about "what's good my homie" and there's absolutely no reason for him to be speaking that way other than to indicate that he's Black… 😬 I can't stop you but… Are you sure?

An egregious example of a TERRIBLE way to write a Black character is the "What If: Miles Morales/Thor" comic. I want to emphasize the lack of good Black character design involved in some of these PROFESSIONAL art spaces, because that MARVEL comic PASSED QA!! That comic went past NUMEROUS sets of eyes and was APPROVED!! IT GOT RELEASED!! NO ONE STOPPED IT!!

I'm sorry, it was just so racist-ly bad that it was hilarious. Like you couldn't make that shit up.

Anyway, unfortunately that's how some of y'all sound trying to write AAVE. I promise that we speak the Queen's English too lmao. If you're worried you won't get it right, just use the standard form of English. It's fine! Personally, I'd much rather you do that than try to 'decode AAVE' if you don't know how to use it.

My point is, if you're actively "forcing" yourself to "think Black"… maybe you need to stand down and reconsider your approach lmao. This is why understanding the stereotypes and social environment behind them will help you write better, because you can incorporate that Blackness- without having to verbally "emphasize how Black this is"- into their character, motivations, and actions.

Conclusion

We need to reconsider how we approach the concepts of stereotypes when writing our Black characters. The goal is not to cross off a checklist of things to avoid per se, but to understand WHY we have to develop our Black characters well enough to avoid incorporating them into our writing. Give your Black characters substance- we're human beings! We have motivations and fears and desires! We're not perfect, but we're not inherently flawed because of our race. That's what makes the difference!

And as always, and really in particular for this topic, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[moonstruckme]

hi!! ngl i’ve never actually requested anything so im kinda nervous to do so but if it’s possible, do you think you could write something along the lines of eddie munson with like an anxious reader? maybe she has a panic attack and he’s there to help in the aftermath or just an overall anxious person. i know you’ve written something similar with the marauders so i hope that this is okay for me to request. i love love love ur writing!

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: aftermath of panic attack

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

Eddie’s rambling hasn’t stopped since you sat down, but it’s become background noise for you, like ocean sounds or the music they play in grocery stores. You know well enough how to get yourself through this. His hand on your back is a steady, if somewhat frantic, reassurance. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks, his rhythm slowing as you blow out a lungful of air, bending your head towards your knees. You hold up a weak thumbs-up, and it picks up again. “Shit, yeah, you’re okay, baby. You’ve got it.” 

You feel bad that this is Eddie’s first time dealing with you like this, though it’s nice to be in his trailer and not at the mall or in a restaurant or something. His couch is familiarly uncomfortable, lumpy in places and nearly flat in others, and the air smells like weed and grease, the electric fan Wayne brings out for the summer months whirring diligently in the corner. You’re glad Wayne’s not home now, though someone should probably be around to comfort Eddie after he’s done comforting you. 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks again. “You want some water or something?” 

This time, you nod. Your boyfriend all but springs up from the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hustling it back to you like he’s training to be one of the NASCAR pit stop people. You take it from him, rubbing the condensation from the bottle on the back of your neck before taking a sip. The chill is grounding. You rest your head back on your knees.

“You feeling better, sweetheart?” Eddie grabs another water bottle from the fridge once he sees what you did with the first, holding it to your neck. “You seem better. Sounding less like Darth Vader.” 

You laugh a little, and he laughs back nervously. 

“Yeah,” you say, “it’s mostly better now.” 

He blows out a breath. “Phew, okay. Jesus. You’re a fucking champ, you know that?” 

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Sorry I put you through that.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who went through something just now, so consider your apology heard and nullified.” Eddie’s lips come down on the back of your head. “I’d tell you where to shove it, but I’m feeling kind of bad for you right now. Count your blessings.” 

“Oh, I’m counting them.” You smile down into the semi-dark valley between your legs and chest, taking one more deep breath in and out before lifting your head. “Okay, I’m good.” 

“Yeah?” As he pulls back to see you, your boyfriend doesn’t look so sure. His eyebrows are pulled up in the middle, freakishly huge eyes full of freakishly sweet worry. “Good enough for a hug?” 

You hum your assent, and in the next second you’re in his lap. Eddie goes all the way, curving his body over yours as his arms wrap protectively around your back and his cheek squishes into yours. 

“It scares me when you’re scared,” he admits. 

“Sorry.”

“No—goddamnit, what did we say about that? You’re lucky you’re cute, I swear—don’t be sorry. Obviously it’s not your fault, I’m just sorry that happened to you. It seemed really fucking shitty.” 

“It felt really fucking shitty,” you agree. “I’m wiped.” 

“Honestly? Me too.” Eddie chuckles. “Nap?” 

“Yes, please,” you say, but wriggle closer to him, preventing him from getting up. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He starts rubbing your back again, contemplative. 

“You wanna sleep here, or on the bed?” 

“Bed,” you answer immediately. 

“...right. But are you gonna get up and go to the bed?” 

You make a thoughtful humming sound, grasping him tighter. “Probably not. Maybe you could carry me?” 

A sigh, long and dramatic. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Eddie’s hands move to grip you more securely, and he grunts as he stands. “You’re seriously lucky you’re cute, trouble.” 

[tastesousweet]

Can we get a toxic!babydaddy Matt fic like I’m craving something about my man like it’s been days and I haven’t eaten

⭒ blurb : toxic!bd matt who . . .

toxic!babydaddy matt x poc!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, dad!matt (i understand if u don’t fw it), idk what else :P

mickey speaks: this is kinda different for me so ty for the req!! ik this is just a little headcannon set but i hope you luv this anon 💐

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . brings some girl he’s been “hanging out with” to your daughter’s third birthday party just to piss you off

he’d then get mad when you ignore him and his “friend” the entire party…

he’d come up to you as you watch your daughter play on the decorated playground from afar, “the fuck you bein’ petty for, y/n? i thought we were cool with seeing other people?”

“well i just think it’s rude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone else. i don’t care who she is or what you two do it’s annoying from a planning perspective.”

“that’s my bad… you look good though,” he’d glance around for a second before coming behind you and hooking his arm on your neck.

he’d whisper in your ear while you both stare out at your lively daughter, “can’t believe she’s so big now… lookin’ just like her pretty mama.”

you’d roll your eyes and shoulder matt off of you, “matt, go fuck on the bitch you brought here. and stop saying shit like that to me.”

“jesus- watch your language there’s kids everywhere, y/n.”

you blankly stare at him and his cocky smirk that just aggravates you to pieces, “go awayyy, matt.” you whine out and pinch your eyes with a sigh.

and he laughs because everything’s a fucking joke to him.

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . your friends hate but you will always have a soft spot for, he is your daughter’s father after all

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . sends hundreds of roses to your doorstep for mother’s day

when you text him a picture of the ridiculous bouquets with a “????” he immediately facetimes you, “for the best mama in the whole world. you like ‘em?”

you shake your head and hide a smirk beneath your hand to scold him, “you do too much, matt.”

“uh huh i knew you’d say that…” he’d then ask to see his favorite girl, “now where’s my baby at?”

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can’t mind his business to save his life. he’s always asking you questions about your personal life; and you always shut him down

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can sometimes be a little too desirable when he drops your daughter off at your place (dressed nicely, smelling good, eyes bright yet droopingly eye-fucking you, etc), leading you to invite him in for a glass of wine or two

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . you sometimes find in your bed again when you feel particularly lonely and nostalgic

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . loves the few times he gets to to wake up to his daughter pulling on his hand and you by his side, fast asleep

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . tends to start arguments from the smallest things to get you to talk to him longer than you need to

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . will always put effort into being a great father (which you respect) despite never putting that same effort into your relationship

TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . makes sure you’ll never forget he loved you first and is connected to you far deeper than any other man ever could be

[froginabogg]

yeah yeah we have working boys but can we talk about how miss holloway gave up her real name, all her possible futures, all of who she could have been, to help and save people, scammed into a deal she never wanted, but then had to backtrack on her deal as she realised she never could live amongst the people she grew to love ever again, and also the thing she has turned into can never be unmade no matter if she backtracks or not??? and she will always be haunted by the guilt of her actions, magic or not???, jesus FUCKING christ

[princessbrunette]

popes new gig as a driving instructor was meant to be easy money. he was a good, safe driver — and you were his first ever client. but from the smile you’d given him, all glittery and pink as you bounce over to his car and lean over to his driver seat window to greet him, giving him a direct look down your cleavage — he knew you’d do more than learn driving from him.

you preened under his praise everytime. it was distracting. he was trying to teach you how to safely drive, but everytime he’d let “you’re doing really good, keep going.” or a simple “good job.” leave his mouth you’d nearly swerve off the road. his subtle tips and adjustments would be met with flirtation, and giggly “yes sir”s to the point where he’d forget the rules of the road in an instant.

this went on for weeks, and due to his best friend jj’s constant lecturing regarding; ‘dude, you’ve got a hot ass girl in your car, practically begging for the D — you’re telling me you haven’t swooped on that yet? do better, man.’ pope decided enough was enough. this was either going to fix his problem, or make things really awkward— but it was a risk he was willing to take.

“pull up right here, in this parking lot.” he’d been extra tense that day, rather quiet the entire lesson with a stiff jaw and eyes hung low. you figured he’d been in a bad mood, and even went easy on your usual routine of finding reasons to touch his bicep at each stop light and flirting with him. you did as he said, pulling into the empty lot and finding a space somewhere in some dark corner where it would be easy for you to park.

without the humming of the engine filling the silence now, you turn and look at him in the dim lighting. pope often had two ways of going about things with women — either ultra nervous, or ultra to the point. with you, he’d started off a nervous wreck — practically jizzing in his pants every time you’d graze your manicure against his arm for the first few lessons, but due to the constant teasing he’d been driven to being directly upfront with you.

“look, i can’t take all this teasing anymore.” he stresses, brows creased. your giggly smile drops a little bit, seemingly switching on the innocent act. “every week, you hint and hint that you’re tryna get into something with me— and then at the end of the lesson, you just get out and walk away like it never happened.” he sighs hard, and you have to admit it’s rather cute.

“i’m sorry…” your brows knit together, guilt evident in your expression.

“and that’s fine — i would never pressure you to do anything like that, and believe me — i know this is completely unprofessional to be proposing on the job, and yeah — this could get me fired,” he rambles, working himself up. “but look, i’m a man okay? i am biologically programmed to have a bodily reaction to girls like you who can’t stop touching on me and being all adorable and sexy. that being said — if you wanna fuck, let’s just get it out the way, right here right now— and if not, we can drive you home, and never talk of this again. but you gotta stop acting like that, ‘cause i’m in pain.” he finishes up with his rant, sucking in a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding the entire time. you stare at pope. pope stares back.

“oh fuck, oh pope!” you mewl into his neck as the car jostles violently from the backseat beneath the dim lighting on the parking lot. you’re naked from the waist down, and his shorts sit pooled around his ankles as you bounce on his cock, dick impaled through you. “s—so big, just like i imagined!”

“you imagined?” he pants, two hands planted on your waist as he helps you fuck down on his lap, staring up at you hopefully as he lifts his hips to meet your movements.

“every night! pictured you punishing me for bein’ such a tease!” you cry out in admission, halting the bouncing technique to roll your hips instead, the two of you groaning at the sensation.

“jesus, okay… well, i can definitely make that happen. you for sure deserve to be punished.” he babbles, pulling you closer — his eyes fluttering shut as you grind on him.

“are you g’nna punish me pope? for teasin’ you in our lessons?” your voice cracks desperately as you feel him repeatedly jutting against your g-spot, making your legs shake around him.

“yes. totally. i’ll punish you real good.” he spits out. it had been a while since he’d got his dick wet, especially from such a perfect princess — so all his concentration was going into making sure he didn’t bust right there and then. he simply agreed without thinking, he probably would have agreed to anything in that moment.

[bigfatbimbo]

How about Velvette with a journalist reader who's there to interview her and struggles to stay professional in the face of her relentless flirting over the course of the interview. Reader may or may not leave with an "autograph" 😉

a/n — oh my god guys, I’M A JOURNALIST!!! Wow, what are the odds! Anyways, marry me?

warnings — Velvette being very pushy, very suggestive, reader is so done, lowkey borderline harassment but… sorry guys she would, NOT PROOFREAD!!!

summary — Journalist reader tries to interview the youngest and newest member of the Vees, however she seems to be interested in something else.

The goal was to get people talking. Questions should have the ability to cover a wide variety of subjects, snowballing into the next topic with ease, you knew that. 

However, the questions cartwheeled rather than snowballed. “Being a new comer in hell, making an alliance with two of hells most powerful overlords must have been difficult. How’d you do it?” 

“I’m a big girl, babes, I can do a lot of things.”

Okay, so the way she licked her lips when she said that was a little provocative, but you decided to include the statement alone rather than the details. After all, the ‘sass’ that could be interpreted could keep things entertaining. 

And she was, to be fair. She gave off enough personality with each quote that she would practically pop right off the page. Her mannerisms showed when she spoke, you could use that. 

After all, god knows this was going to be better than that Zestial interview. That guy was as cryptic as he was unenthusiastic to those who pry. Jesus, Velvette gave you much more to work with.

However, what started off as a good interview was getting harder and harder to make do with. You figured you could use one of her flirtatious comments, break the fourth wall a bit, but dear god, would she ever answer the question?

“—Of course, I’m not assuming anything. You just look like you know your way around a pussy.”

“Miss Velvette—“

“But shit, aren’t I flattering you? Maybe you can prove it too me but until then—“

“Miss Velvette,” You hiss, brows furrowing together in pure irritation, “The question was about your history in fashion.”

“I’d love to know your history in dating,” She smiled back. 

She was pretty, that was undeniable. And honestly infuriatingly cute, but your job was important. 

“Tell you what, maybe if you answer all my questions accordingly, i’ll give you my number,” you offer, “How’s that sound?”

And she did. You were back where you started, interesting replies and explanations, lots of good material for an article. 

So at the end, you pause your recording, pack up your laptop, and do as you promised. 

Putting your contact in her phone, you shake her hand, “It was a pleasure, miss Velvette. I hope we work together soon.”

“Oh, I know we will,” Her smile was smile and knowing, “One more thing.”

With that, she leans up planting a kiss on, not your cheek like you expected, but the upper part of your neck, making you suck in a breath.

“You know, I never fucking liked journalists,” She spoke as her lips left your skin, and began to walk away, “Thought you all were a bunch of noisy assholes.”

You didn’t say anything, your hand just slowly came up to your neck where her lipstick was presumable staining. A smile drew at your lips.

“Except, I do like you darling,” She stopped in the doorway, “Kisses!”

[dariwrites03]

Fucked up Monday. 2/3

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/daribertduck/748615753776955392/fucked-up-monday

A/n: Before you guys kill me; I’m already writing part 3. don’t you worry it’s coming your way. Please comment & repost, it’s giving me much motivation!

Summary: After Ellie kissed you on Patrol, everything was turning weird, you’re full of guilt and other feelings... What happens when your life turns from agonizing to better to so much worse? And why exactly can a few letters change everything?

Warnings: none? I think?

Taglist: @bready101 @lia-winther @liciapeonia @darkerstarsstuff @patricks-fabulous-face ( I tagged some people from my comments, hope that’s alright)

-5700k words

„And I thought I was weird for feeling uncomfortable at that, you know? They broke up, it's not really his place to say anything like that especially after telling Dina he's over her anyways" You're best friend said, finishing up her explanation of yesterdays event with Dina and Jesse. He found the two of them smoking near a warehouse and from what you made out of Ellie's explanation, he wasn't too happy to see them sitting so close.

You and Ellie were having another movie night, those happen pretty often. ( Every Wednesday, to be exact.) sitting on the old sofa in your living room with you're legs resting on hers. „Well, it's still fresh. Don't think he's jealous of the two of you spending lots of time together but maybe it's just a weird feeling seeing her with someone else, though there's absolutely nothing between you and Dina" you replied, chuckling at the thought of Jesse being all jealous over nothing. You rested your head back against the many sofa pillows, enjoying the comfy half sitting half laying position you're in. „Yeah.. totally" Ellie mumbled, looking down at her hands resting on top of you ankles, shifting uncomfortably. Knowing Ellie probably better than anyone else, you knew right away that something seems off.

„Wait.." you said,  sensing the weird vibe from you're best friend. „There is nothing between you two, right?" you said, lifting you're upper body into a more sitting posture. „Ellie?" you said her name as you're so called friend didn't answer right away. You felt you're heart stink, not really being sure of what's going on exactly. „uhm.. I don't wanna talk about it?" she said, looking at you with an apologetic look, making it sound more like a question than an real steady answer. „Hell no, remember our ‚no lying rule'?" you said. „Cmon we made that rule as we were 15, that's childish." she said while caressing through her hair, suddenly looking all exhausted. „It wasn't childish when I had my first kiss and didn't want to talk about it" You mentioned. Remembering the night you ran about 2 miles to Ellie's house after spending the afternoon with some other kids in the pub, playing some stupid games. After you kissed Sophia as you're truth or dare quest you took of running, straight into the arms of the brown haired girl who couldn't participate that nights event due to a cold. Ellie knew something must've happened and as you really didn't want to talk about it, embarrassed by the fact that everyone could probably tell you never kissed anyone ever before, Ellie set up a rule. *„Let's promise to always be honest, life is too fucked up to screw it up with lies"* you knew she was right and since that night you tried to always be honest to each other.

„Cmon that's totally different!" Ellie defended herself, crossing her arms above her chest. „Jesus, Williams, answer the fucking question and stop being difficult" you said with a light voice, feeling like Ellie was some deer that takes of running as soon as you're tone was slightly off. „I mean, there is nothing between me and Dina.. so" she explained and you could tell that She was satisfied with her answer since her shoulders became less tense. „But you wish there was?" you asked, not able to look at Ellie you decided to give you're hands something to do, grabbing the soda can you had standing infront of you at the table. „I.. yeah, I guess? Okay. Who am I kidding" she said, her hands running over her face. She revealed a slight laugh. „Oh god" she groaned, now fully blushing like a 13 year old teenager. „Yeah, yeah I do like her. Fuck, this is the first time admitting it out loud" she said.

You took a sip from you're soda, the carbonic acid being long gone since you opened the can almost 2 hours ago, giving you a second or two to continue to stay silent. Having the opportunity to ignore the trouble of you're mind right now

The Jealousy building up inside of you made you think like you're going all crazy, fighting against the urge to scream inside a pillow you took that energy elsewhere. „okay, good for you" you said, taking another sip from the drink, hoping to put out the fire building up in you're chest. Ellie looked at you saying „it's not weird, right? Falling for her?" you looked at her again, considering of telling her what you really think. You consider of telling her that's it's not weird, but you don't like it either. No , you hate it. You hate it so much because you want Ellie to fall for you instead of her.

But you didn't say that. Instead you betrayed your 15 year old self by lying to Ellie and yourself. 

It's been three months, 4 days and 2,5 Hours without a word from her. 

 Ever since then , You are entangled in the delicate web of grief for what felt like for two people, where the threads of loss and longing weave intricate patterns within your heart. Two souls, distinct yet equally significant, find their place in the chambers of your being.

Dylan, now resting six feet under, has embarked on a journey beyond the veil. His earthly vessel lies cradled by the soil, while his essence pirouettes among the constellations. The wasteland of the unknown stretches before him—And then there's your best friend, a constellation of memories and shared secrets. But her presence has become elusive, slipping through your fingers like sand. She chooses silence—a withdrawal that echoes louder than any spoken words. And you tried. Oh, how you tried to get her to speak—the silent symphony of longing, the unspoken words that hung in the air like dew-kissed spider silk. Your gaze, a language of its own, whispered secrets that transcended mere sentences. But she? She met your offerings with silence—a void that echoed louder than any spoken syllable. She stopped coming over. The threshold of your space became a chasm, a bridge severed by unspoken truths. The door, once a portal to laughter and whispered confidences, now stood closed. The only ever time you got to see her, to give yourself the inner peace of her being okay, was on the weekly parol meetings. She attended, her presence a fragile thread connecting you both. But she mastered the art of departure—slipping away before your eyes could catch hers. The opposite direction became her refuge, a path untrodden by your footsteps.

Talking wasn't what Ellie needed. You sensed it, that unspoken ache in the air—the need for silence, for space. So you stepped back, honoring the boundaries she drew around her heart. But your longing couldnt be unoticed by you any longer so after three weeks, you started writing to her. Youre desperation spilled over, ink bleeding onto paper.  You became a clandestine messenger, slipping perfumed notes into the small slit of her mailbox. Each letter carried a piece of your soul—a plea, a confession, a desperate whisper.  It lingered on your fingertips, a bridge between worlds. And as you pressed those letters into the darkness, you imagined her fingers brushing against them. Would she feel the urgency? Would she hear your silent screams for her friendship?  Handwritten letters—those delicate vessels of ink and paper—weave memories that transcend mere words. Each stroke of the pen, each carefully crafted sentence, carries a piece of the you in them. The intimacy lies not only in the content but also in the act of creation itself. You decided to write her if shes unable to talk, you wanted to give her the space she needed, you tried to be as understanding as you could. But one unanswered letter turned into two, three, four. You stopped putting them into her mailbox after five. 

Now, you're trying to ignore the pain in your heart every time you wake up. Ellie's childish behavior hasn't stopped you from living your life. Instead, you channel your anger and sleepless nights into your work, making each patrol count. Working alongside Jesse has become a bright spot—a fun experience you eagerly anticipate. It's not the same as those moments outside the gates with Ellie, but it's different in a way that doesn't breed resentment.

You and Jesse share a closeness that predates his separation from Dina. The heartbreak they both faced has left its mark, and you find solace in each other's company. Jesse isn't thrilled about the situation either—the breakup and lingering jealousy still gnaw at him. On that second day of patrol together, he broaches the awkward topic between you and Ellie. "So, you gonna tell me what happened or not?" Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the abandoned checkpoint. He pulled a sandwich from his backpack, the crinkling of the wrapper echoing in the dim light. The two of you sat there, weary from the day's patrol, the weight of your assigned route still clinging to your bones. Nightfall had descended too swiftly, and the dangers of this post-apocalyptic world made it impossible to venture home safely after dark. You shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, the rough edges of the old checkpoint digging into your back. The makeshift campsite was a stark reminder of the life you now led—constantly on the move, always vigilant. Jesse's eyes bore into yours, waiting for an answer.

"Don't really know what's there to say, to be honest," you replied, your fingers tracing the edges of the food you'd prepared hours ago. The silence now haning between the two of you wasnt uncomftable,punctuated by the distant howl of a lone infected.  "Maybe explain why we're now patrol partners? I thought you and Ellie made such a good team. Not that I'm complaining, though—we're badass too. Just wondering why you suddenly decided that Ellie wasn't good enough anymore," Jesse's voice cut through the dimly lit space of the makeshift camp. He lay down on the sleeping bag, using his right arm as a makeshift pillow, his gaze fixed on you. The flicker of confusion danced through the forest of your mind as you replayed Jesse's last words.

"What? I didn't decide that," you replied, studying your friend's posture as he took a bite of his cheese sandwich. "I asked Dina what happened earlier today." Jesse mumbled, his mouth still half full. "Ellie told her it was you who decided to change partners. Don't get me wrong—I feel honored to be your new partner in crime. I was just curious about what happened." - ''the fuck?'' You said more to yourself than him. ''Thats so fucked up..'' -"Okay, c'mon, I need the drama. Please explain to me like everything. Consider me one of your gossip girls," Jesse quipped, his unseriousness bringing a smile to your face. You took another bite of your food, savoring the dry bread as you gathered your thoughts. Trusting Jesse, you decided it wasn't a bad idea to share what had transpired between you and Ellie. So, with a deep breath, you began recounting the events of your last patrol with her. Jesse leans in, eyes wide with curiosity. His sandwich forgotten, he hangs on every word as you recount the events of that fateful patrol with Ellie. The tension, the unspoken words, the ache in your chest—it all spills out, painting a vivid picture of the fractured bond between you and the girl who once felt like your world.

"Damn," Jesse mutters, running a hand through his hair. "That's heavy stuff." His gaze lingers on your face, searching for answers. "You think she'll come around?'' You shrug, the weight of uncertainty settling on your shoulders. ''Dont think so, I think she regrets even kissing me. She has dina now, dont think that she'll need me anymore.'' Your gaze drifts down to your wrist, where the matching bracelet still clings—a fragile thread connecting you to Ellie. You wonder if she wears hers. Jesse, now leading forward, nudges your shoulder playfully. "Well, partner," he says, "we'll keep kicking ass out here. Fuck them both".

After that night, you felt like Jesse and you were attached at the hip. Somehow, you both helped each other navigate the jagged terrain of heartbreak, spending time together and letting the hours slip away. Being friends with Jesse had its perks. He acted as a bridge to Ellie, still maintaining a sort of friendship with Dina, getting slim updates from her. Through Jesse, you received updates about Ellie—whether she was safe, whether she'd eaten enough.

But it wasn't the same. Those impersonal updates couldn't replace the warmth of setting eyes on Ellie, hearing her voice—the cadence of her laughter, the way she'd say your name. You missed the little things, the mundane details that had once woven your lives together. But over the time you started to accept the turn of events, knowing you cannot force Friendship on somebody.

You started to distract yourself outside of work, whether it was with Jesse or... Sophia. After that encounter where Maria broke the news to you about Ellie changing everything, you did the only thing you knew you were really good at: You ran off.

Weirdly enough, two weeks after that pivotal moment and your  patrols with Jesse as your new partner, a knock on your door interrupted your vegetable-cutting session in the small kitchen. As you walked toward the door, a million possibilities raced through your mind. Was it Ellie, knocking on the wood on a late rainy afternoon? Or perhaps Jesse, wanting to talk? Dina? Or maybe Joel, coming all the way to the comfort of your four walls to deliver news about his beloved Ellie being hurt.

Secretly, you wished it was Ellie. So you ran a hand through your hair, glancing into the small mirror hanging near the door to check yourself out before opening the squeaky wood.  But on the other side stood Sophia, holding a plate covered in aluminum foil.  "Uhm... hey," she said, her cheeks flushed with red. "I've made some cake—way too much to eat all by myself. I wanted to share it. If, um, you want to, of course. It's chocolate cake." Her words tumbled out in a rush, and you sensed her nervousness. A Small smile spread across your face as you stepped aside, making space for her to enter the house. "That's too kind," you replied. "You've got impeccable timing. I just finished dinner—perfect time for dessert. Come inside." You didn't mention the comforting fact that her house was all the way across town, meaning she'd walked quite a distance just to bring you cake. Nor did you acknowledge that it was common knowledge that Sophia is allergic to Chocolate but it was your favorite.

One hour with Sophia turned into two, and before you knew it, the entire afternoon was filled with your laughter. She ended up staying over, making your house feel less empty. Since Dylan's passing, sleep had eluded you. Without Ellie by your side, it felt impossible to quiet your mind. Sophia changed that somewhat, but it didn't feel the same. Perhaps your own mind betrayed you, clouding your thoughts about her presence. You didn't want her to leave, yet you didn't necessarily want her to stay either. The universe seemed to decide for you, as the strawberry-blonde girl drifted off to sleep on your sofa after what felt like an eternity of talking.

You settled into your gray armchair, gently covering her thin body with your favorite blanket—the same one Ellie used to take whenever she stayed over. The entire night, you found yourself comparing Sophia to Ellie—the way she moved, the cadence of her voice, the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about her interests. It wasn't a good thing, you must admit. Sophia is a nice girl, but you never really considered her a potential friend, especially since you both shared your first kisses with each other. After that, things got weird, and you both grew up, walking different paths.

Yet now, here she was—baking you cakes, making you laugh, and filling the void left by Ellie. The universe had a funny way of intertwining lives, even when hearts were tangled in memories and unanswered letters. Having someone else in Ellie's place is like trying to fit a puzzle piece into a space that was uniquely shaped for her. It's both comforting and disorienting—a blend of familiarity and foreignness. Her presence brings warmth, but it's a different kind—the soft glow of candlelight instead of the blazing fire that Ellie ignited.Sophia's touch is gentle, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin. But it lacks the electric charge—the pulse of longing—that Ellie's touch carried. You wonder if Sophia noticed the way you hesitated, the way your heart stumbles when she leans in too close.

The day with Sophia didnt end there, it  stretched into a comfortable rhythm, covering the next two days of your life —a dance of shared meals, laughter, and quiet moments. Her presence filled the spaces that Ellie had once occupied, and you found yourself not minding it at all. The awkwardness of those initial conversations melted away as you both peeled back layers, revealing stories and dreams that wove your lives together.

But life has a way of interrupting even the most harmonious melodies. Jesse, with his uninvited pizza and the entire Twilight saga in tow, barged into your living room. You tried to politely decline the teen romance marathon—you'd seen it one too many times—but Jesse, being Jesse, brushed off your protests. His eyes widened when he saw Sophia sitting there, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. You knew he'd milk this moment, teasing you about having a cute girl over at your house.

After Jesse left, well, pratically run out, you settled back onto the sofa next to Sophia. "That was... Jesse, right?" she asked, her fingers playing with her curly hair. You leaned against the soft material of the sofa, nodding. "Uhm, yup." Sophia's gaze lingered on you, and you sensed her curiosity. "You two do spend a lot of time together—even after patrols," she observed."Oh? You noticed that? Stalking me, huh?" you teased, making Sophia blush. Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. "Well," she replied, her voice soft, "you just always catch my eye." And then, without warning, her body shifted closer. Her hands found their place on either side of your waist, and her lips met yours—a sweetness that tasted like possibility. You hated yourself for it, truly. Because here was a girl with good intentions, almost on top of you, and your mind couldn't help but wish it was Ellie.

Another two months slip through your fingers, ephemeral as morning mist. Life, once heavy with the ache of Ellie's absence, begins to lift itself up.  Sophia becomes a constant presence—a sunbeam that warms the corners of your heart as you allow yourself. Your growing relationship with Sophia blossoms, and you find comfort in her laughter, her touch, and the shared moments that weave your lives together. The unspoken question lingers: Are you allowed to call her your girlfriend? After all, you've shared more than just cake and conversations. Perhaps labels matter less than the way she looks at you, the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

And then there's Jesse—the steadfast friend who bridges the gap between patrols and pizza nights. His teasing about Sophia doesn't go unnoticed, but he's also the one who brings laughter into your home. Everything else remains unchanged—the memories, the unanswered letters, and the quiet longing. Life moves forward, and you find solace in the delicate balance of old and new. Patrol was as good as it could be, once you and Jesse found a way to connect your abilities, it didnt really feel like work anymore. 

"Yo, little one," Jesse's voice cut through the quiet of the stables, interrupting your grooming session with Lacy. You turned to meet his gaze, immediately noticing his patrol clothes—fitting perfectly against his frame. "What the hell are you doing? We have the day off, remember?" you asked, your fingers still caressing Lacy's mane.

"Not anymore," Jesse replied, already opening the door to his horse's stable. "Dina apparently has the flu, and they both forgot to sign in at the station outside. Maria asked me to take their route for today and look for anything weird." He led his dark brown horse out of the stable, determination etched on his face.

"Good luck with that," you said, turning back to continue your work. But Jesse wasn't done. "Nuh huh, lover girl. You're joining me," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Pardon?" You looked at him, confusion knitting your brows. "Don't hit me with Spanish,"- ''Its french'' Jesse chuckled. "well whatever it was,I don't speak it. Come on now, get ready. We don't have all day." He saddled his horse efficiently, his movements practiced. "Why should I? You said yes, not me," you replied stubbornly, even though you gathered all the essentials needed to prepare Lacy. "Well, because I'm your partner in crime? Your work husband? Love of your patrol life?" Jesse grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. "And because I'll get bored alone. You don't have anything better to do anyway." - ''Rude?! maybe i had things planned?!'' You said, jokingly offended as you grab your stuff  ''You can meet sophia  and have all of those important 'converstations'' he made weird kissing noises ''later.'' He finished his sentance, making you laugh ''Well first of all I-'' You got interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You looked into the direction of the noise and saw the last person you wanted to see today. ''Sup, Ellie.'' Jesse said, leaning against the stable door. ''what can I do for you?'' He asked, eyes stuck on ellie. But her gaze lied elsewhere; On you.

You shivered under her gaze, your heart racing. As you looked into Ellie's eyes—the first time in forever—you sensed something there, something you couldn't quite put into words. Her burning gaze finally shifted from you to Jesse, arms crossed at her chest.

"Earlier, when me and Dina were at the station, I lost my journal," Ellie said, her voice close, intimate. "Can you look for it? Kinda really need it back." Her words echoed through the stable, and suddenly, the air felt too thin. Your knees wobbled, memories of Ellie cascading down the memory bridge, crashing into your stomach. You felt like you might throw up. "Sure, we will look for it. Anything else?" Jesse asked, glancing between the two of you. Ellie's eyes traveled back to you, and silent hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe this was the moment—maybe Ellie would finally have the guts to talk to you directly, to say she's sorry. But as her gaze wavered, you felt the familiar pang of disappointment. Once again, Ellie remained silent.You felt a strong hand on your shoulder, silently offering support. Jesse's familiar scent enveloped you. "Thought so," he said, ending the conversation. Ellie nodded and turned away, leaving the two of you alone. The barn was filled with silence until you spoke with a shaky voice. "Okay, let's just go." And so you did—you and Jesse left for patrol. But with every passing second, the memory of that confrontation lingered, and you realized how much you still craved her.

"Jesus, I hate this path," Jesse grumbled, pushing open the old, creaky door to the station. His face turned red from the effort, and you couldn't help but giggle. "Stop crying like a baby. Let's sign in and leave," you said, walking toward the desk on the opposite side of the room. As you approached, you noticed that a pen was missing. Without it, you obviously couldn't sign in.

"Jesse, there's no pen," you called out, looking at your friend. "Really? Look under the table or something. We'll find one," he replied. You followed his suggestion, getting down on your knees. Spiderwebs greeted you, along with the encroaching dusk. You pulled out your flashlight, shining it underneath the table for a better look. And there it was—an old, leather-covered book. You'd recognize that book spine anywhere, even in the grandest libraries.

You picked it up, wiping away the dust that clung to its material. The thickness of the journal reminded you of what you were holding—a door to Ellie Williams' secrets and mindful thoughts. "Found one!" Jesse's voice snapped you out of your reverie. You turned around, hiding the journal behind your back. Jesse joined you, writing your names on the slim paper of the checklist. ‘Partner in crimes ( Jesse and y/n)’

"Did you find anything? The book, I mean. It's not somewhere I looked," Jesse asked. You shook your head, slipping the journal into your bag without it being noticed. "Nope, didn't find it either."

''Every poem I ever wrote was about her. That smile of hers, those golden eyes—whenever she's too close to the sun, it's impossible for me to stay away. The day I left, my heart shattered into a million pieces. In my head, inside my perfect self-made world, she never left me. All my thoughts revolve around her—the memories etched into my mind. Her touch, so soft—I never wanted to let go. The scent of her clothes, stealing my breath away. The nights we spent dreaming together, the minutes I never want to regret. I never dared to imagine a lifetime without her. Yet here I am, writing these words with a hole in my chest. I'm bleeding out, the wind kissing my mind, refreshing memories of letting go. The silence surrounds me, a reminder to hold on.

I search the past for redemption, but it eludes me. The only thing left of me are broken pieces of her.”

The words were carefully etched onto the paper, making it hard for you to breathe. You hadn't intended to overstep her privacy—why had you taken that journal in the first place? You dont know.  But here you were, sitting with the book in hand, the only light in the living room emanating from the countless candles you'd lit.

The journal looked thicker than usual, and that's what caught your attention first. You knew that book well, even though you'd never seen what she put inside—except for her drawings of animals, Joel, Dina, and you. She'd never shown anyone what she wrote between the pages.

The reason you'd decided to open the book, against all your inner morals, was the fact that as you carefully pulled it out of your bag—treating it like fragile glass—multiple letters fell out. You noticed them right away. They were yours—carefully written letters she'd never dared to answer. The envelopes ripped open showed you she defenetly read them all. You dont know how to feel about that yet. Relieved that she cared enough to read them? Happy becasue she carried your letters with her, doesnt matter where shed go? Or mad, because she never replied? You know nothing. The only thing you're able to do now is bury yourself in the book, reading what Ellie never dared to say out loud.

''Ive been having a hard time adjusting, I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting. I didn't know if you'd care if I came back, I have a lot of regrets about that. Pulled the car off the road to the lookout, Could've followed my fears all the way down. And maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway. I just wanted you to know that this is me trying'' 

The words cut deeper than a knife,

before you knew it, your eyes traveled to the next phrases, crossed out, you could barely read them:

"It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you.

Seeing you with Sophie burns me from inside out.

Why are you with her?

I know I don't own you, perhaps I never will,

so the anger inside of me when I see you with her

is something I'm not allowed to feel.

What I feel, I shouldn't show you.

So when you're around, I don't.

I let you walk away with her.

I know I don't have the right to feel it,

but it doesn't mean I don't."

The rest of the book was empty, besides some skteches of eyes that look dangerously like yours. You swallowed hard, not really sure of what you should feel. You re-read the sentences out loud, letting the bittersweet aftertaste of them making you feel alive. Your heart has been Ellies since the first time you both laughed together; yet you were so sure of the fact that she would never feel the same. Considering the words in the journal, maybe it wasnt one sided after all. Youre confused, being with Sophia was easy, comftable. But with ellie, it was different. better. You miss the butterflies in your stomach, miss her touch and her closeness. The rollercoster was everything you ever had, after all.

Two days of full selfishness carried its weight, and you continued to keep the journal. The guilt crept in, stealthy as shadows, finding you at night, when the world slept and your thoughts roamed free. Those written pages from Ellie, inked with longing and crossed-out confessions, haunted your mind. You tried your best to hide the pain, a fragile masquerade. Distancing yourself from Sophia and Jesse, you walked the tightrope of deception. It wasn't deliberate; it was survival. The what-could've-been danced like a ghost, whispering secrets in your ear. You wondered if Ellie's heart echoed the same unspoken words.

Sophia, her presence a comforting harbor, yet her touch felt like borrowed warmth. And Jesse, his eyes— The guilt gnawed at you, a relentless hunger. You held Sophia too close, fearing Ellie's phantom gaze. You looked into Jesse's eyes, and the lie about keeping the Journal tasted bitter on your tongue.  Ellie, elusive as a wisp of smoke. The barn encounter—the air thick with unspoken truths—left you breathless. You havent seen her since. You called in sick for the patrol meeting, a desperate escape from the inevitable. The fear of facing her again, of unraveling the fragile equilibrium, gripped your heart.

In the quiet of your room, the journal lay open. The crossed-out phrases, the sketches of eyes—they were your silent companions.

——————————————————-

"Okay, Miss being all sad and distant, I'm not having this anymore. Tell me what's going on right now or I'm killing you," Jesse declared, pressing past you as you opened the door. His urgency hung in the air, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

"Jesus, very aggressive today, aren't we?" you quipped, trailing after your friend into the living room. The door closed behind you, sealing you both in a cocoon of tension. You sank into the couch, and Jesse settled next to you, his gaze drilling holes into your soul."Therapy session. Now. What's going on?" His hands clasped together, a makeshift gavel. The room felt smaller, suffocating. You glanced at the coffee table, considering the whiskey bottle, but thought better of it. "Nothing? Do you want to drink anything... or?" Your voice played innocent, a fragile mask. Jesse wasn't fooled. "The jury says stop trying to change the subject." His tone held a mix of exasperation and concern."The jury...?" You grinned, despite the weight in your chest. "Yeah, me." Jesse's eyes softened, and you chuckled. "It's nothing, really.“

"You're completely distant," he said, his voice calm. "Even Sophia asked me if I have any idea what's going on." The truth hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap.

"I don't know... it's, urgh, weird." You fidgeted with the edge of a cushion. Jesse leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Tell me!" His insistence bordered on desperation

"Okay, but promise me not to hate me?" You gave him a side-eye, afraid of meeting his gaze head-on. "Could never hate you," he replied, and the words carried weight. So you spilled it—the secret you'd harbored, the journal you'd found.

Ellie's words, inked and crossed out, danced in your memory. You didn't reveal the exact phrasing, but you shared the confusion—the way her emotions bled through the pages. Jesse listened, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he saw the echoes of your own heartache.

In that quiet room, the truth hung heavy. You'd kept Ellie's words hidden, but now they spilled forth. Jesse's hand found yours, and you clung to it, hoping for absolution. "It's Ellie," you whispered. "It's always been Ellie."  His silence spoke volumes, eyes carrying the weight of unspoken understanding. He'd always sensed your feelings for Ellie, perhaps even before you did. It wasn't a secret to anyone but her—the way your heart gravitated toward her, like a moth drawn to a flame. “You guys need to talk.” Jesse said.

"I can't," you whispered, the words fragile on your tongue. The weight of unspoken truths pressed against your chest, threatening to spill forth."And why the fuck not? What do you have to lose?" Jesse's voice held a mix of frustration and concern. He saw through your defenses, stripped away the layers you'd carefully woven. Ellie—the enigma, the ache—loomed between you like a shadow."Afraid of losing her? I think you already archived that." His bluntness cut through your heart. You knew it too well—the missed chances, the crossed-out phrases, the silence that echoed louder than words. Jesse could see the pain in you and the bluntless paired with that slight tinge of what appeared to be anger slowly disappeared into thin air, much like the smoke of a lit cigarette blown into the night sky.

"Look" he begins, sighing while he considers the phrasing of this. He means no harm, but being too gentle could erase the importance of the situation "I want to help you, but you cannot hide yourself away. If you truly want this girl, you need to be able to put in the effort. Dina and Ellie arent dating either, dina told me herself that the two of them thought there was something but ended up with nothing. Be honest with yourself, but also with everyone else" You exhale deeply, relief floods your system despite the heavy heart still pounding against your chest.

Jesse is the kind of friend you can never let go. He's just that important.

Between the soft tunes of comfortingly familiar songs and a few shed tears, the two of you scheme together... Creating a, hopefully, foolproof plan on how to finally approach the elephant in the room. Ellie and you; it wasn't over, was it?

[alicegokugirl]

Idiot (one shot drable)

pairing - pah-chin x AFAB!reader

warnings - nsfw // minors dni // fatphobic insults //squirting // mentions of milfs // mentions of stepcest in pornography

author's note - my beautiful, underrated pah-chin loves you so much he can't help talking about you all the time. ♡

Everyone knows that Pah doesn't shut the fuck up about his girlfriend.

No, because it should actually be scientifically studied the way he can turn every single topic of conversation into something about you.

"Man, these pancakes are the best!"

- "My baby's taste way better."

"Fuck, I just know today is going to rain."

- "Better not, girlfriend's got a hair appointment at 2."

"Your bike needs some work, dude."

- "Whatever man, just make the handle pink so it matches m'lady's nails."

The girls love it, thinking it's adorable the way Pah is head over heels with you and wishing their own boyfriends talked about them like that when they weren't around.

On the other hand, the boys had already started developing eye problems from how many times they rolled them.

It might seem contradictory, but no one, not even the dumb ones, ever entertained the thought of telling Pah to shut up for one second.

Because between the ridiculous amount of useless information shared by the loose-lipped blond about your food allergies, your haircare routine and your favourite brand of toothpaste there were some precious gems.

Pah is not dumb at all... but he's definitely stupid.

And it only took someone slightly smarter than him to get him spilling out all the dirty details about your sex life (usually Kazutora).

So when there's nothing else to steal, destroy or graffiti, when the boys are bored out of their minds, Mikey signals to Kazutora to bring out the porn mag they stole from Shinichiro sometime ago.

And with a loud, exaggerated sigh and a purposeful slam of the magazine against a nearby low table, story time begins and the all the young men gather around.

"Shit- This one is hot." Kazutora points at the wrinkled page that illustrated an older woman getting pounded from behind by a younger man.

"Stop with the fucking milfs nobody likes them except you." Smiley slapped Kazutora's hand away and turned the page. "Nah. This shit is way hotter."

"Hell no, man! Stepcest again? You're so fucking weird." Draken shoves the two men aside and opens the magazine on a random page.

"Fuuuuuuuck yeah..."

"Finally, some good fucking food."

"Shit! I'm getting horny."

Groans of approval were heard throughout the hideout as the boys contemplated the picture of a blond woman, laying down on a white bed with white, fluffy sheets, legs open and hand between them, shoving two fingers inside what had to be the wettest pussy they have ever seen.

"Bet it squirts." Mitsuya says looking above Draken's shoulder.

"Big brain Mitsuya." Baji commented.

"Bet it leaves the whole bed soaking after you feed her a bit of this!" Mikey gets up and grabs his crotch.

"Gross dude."

"Hahaha~"

"My babe does it better."

Bingo.

And just like that, the ruckus was happily quieted down by Pah-chin's comment.

"Really, Pah? We don't believe it..." Sanzu teases, a shit eating grin on his face.

"Yo- Pah might be a jackass but he ain't no liar." Peh-yan jumps to defend his friend.

"Damn right. If I tell ya'll my girl can squirt buckets, you better believe my dick gets fucking wet everytime we fuck." He says, punching the table hard.

"Jesus, calm down bro. We believe you." Mitsuya awnsers.

"Yeah, it's just hard to believe you can make your girl squirt." Kazutora intervenes, hoping to get Pah to share a bit more about his hot girlfriend.

"Well, yeah it's not hard when you have a canon like mine and a pretty pussy like hers."

"Really? Who would have thought?" Kazutora faked innocence.

"Yeah, you virgin fucks have no idea what's like having a pair of fat tits bouncing on your face while a girl like my babe is making a mess on your cock." Pah crosses his arms and leans back, a proud smile adorned his face.

"Fuck yeah, we don't. Tell us more." Mikey provokes.

"Imagine this, virgins. My good girl, her tight pussy, and the biggest fucking mess. Nah, cause when I tell ya'll there's not one time when I fuck her that she doesn't squirt you better believe me. Last time- and hear me out- I was tongue deep in her. The thickest fucking thighs almost suffocating me. Can you imagine? A hot girl like my darling riding your face?"

"Not really, something more detailed might help." Kisaki said, pushing his glasses up his nose in a way that hid the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Then listen to me, four-eyes. She is so fucking thick my hands could barely take hold of her ass. Not like I really could anyways. My baby is a freak and everytime she sits down she rides. And call me a fucking fatass but when I have a meal, I feast. Man, I had been eating her out for an hour when her legs just started shaking. She started telling me she had to pee or something but I had the best earmuffs and could hear jack shit. Next thing I know, I had my pretty pussy squirting all over my face."

"Damn..." Mikey whispers.

"Hell yeah. If my girl doesn't end up passing out on me after we fuck than I don't want it. Damn... just thinking about her cute clit swollen and lips all puffy is making me hungry again. Nothin' beats that view, virgins."

"Doubt. You could show us." Hanma says, optimistically.

"AND VIOLATE MY GIRL'S PRIVACY LIKE THAT? YOU DISRESPECTING MY GIRL? WANNA FIGHT?"

"Damn, fatty. Just askin'."

"Whatever, bean pole. I'm outta of here. Gonna let my Queen sit on her throne today." He says, getting up and walking out the hide out, closing the door with a loud bang.

Immediately everyone looked at Hanma.

"Stupid fuck."

"You had to ruin it, dumbass."

"Kill yourself, bro."

"You sleep outside today, idiot."

"Whatever. I'm one free popsicle coupon away from getting those videos and I'm not going to share."

i take requests from multiple fandoms. ♡

[artificialbreezy]

Honestly anything with Matt is fine with me now as I feel like a sucker for that man last days😂 maybe him coming home after the long summer tour and festivals which leads to some steamy sex (you know like riding his thigh, fingers or face or maybe everything lol)

okay but hear me out (i’m working on a fic about when he comes home i swear), maybe while he’s gone for the tours/festivals he starts sending you voice memos whenever he has enough alone time to jack off just because he wants you to know what he’s thinking about while he’s doing it (he’d much prefer facetime but he knows sometimes the timing just isn’t right). anyways here’s an example of what i think the voice memos would sound like.

hmm. hey, little one. just wanted you to hear what’s happening. honestly? i wish you were on your knees for me right now. what?! I’m just being a good boyfriend and telling you what i want, isn’t that what you always want?

mmm, yeah would you lemme fuck your face, be my good whore. youre so god damn pretty when you drool all over my cock. what do you think? that’s what you want huh? i think you were made for suckin my cock. shit…. wanna cum on your tongue - i bet you can still taste it while your listening to me fuck my fist huh? jesus, baby - im gonna keep you to myself, forever. you okay with that? i bet you’re gonna touch yourself to this when you get home, right? gonna get off the thought of being mine, huh? can’t wait - fuck - to hear how wet your pussy is. gonna have to call me, maybe we can get off together. fuck i miss you.

[killerpancakeburger]

Hi! I got your ask and I'll answer it soon <3 in the meantime, I was curious about

Ka-freaking-boom, baby | Pinning (against a wall) | Renegades

👀👀

The titles/descriptions are a net, and I am but a fish you caught with it

majinbangus 🥛🐟

Hiii! Tysm for the ask! 💕

For the WIP ask game.

Alright, here we gooo *rubbing hands with glee*

Ka-freaking-boom, baby

That line by Soap drove me insane, so I came up with a Reader feeling the same way lol. It's very short so I'll post it entirely here:

“Ka-freaking-boom, baby.”

The perfect mix of rasp and silk in his voice seemed to drain all the blood from your brain and send it rushing south. It was almost worse than having his fingers stroking every inch of your skin.

Before Soap had any chance to react, you dragged him away into the nearest dark alley and kissed him furiously.

A confused moan escaped him under your assault.

Once you’ve had your fill, you withdrew, glaring at him. He was panting, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, torn between bafflement and pleasure, and, a rare occurrence, at a loss for words.

“Fuck, what the fuck… was that!?” you yelled in a whisper. “Do I have to be a freaking bomb for you to talk to me like that!?”

His eyes widened even more before understanding spread across his face. A chuckle left his lips.

“Jealous o’ an explosive, hen? Yer too cute.”

Not in the mood to play around, you grabbed his flak jacket to pull him where you wanted and, lips pressed against his ear, you described all the unspeakable acts you would do to him if he used that voice back at the base.

He let out an agonized sound at that, as if you were torturing him.

“Steamin' Jesus…”

He covered the hand that was holding him in place and took a deep inhale, most likely to keep it together.

“Bonnie, love ye, but the mission…”

You aggressively shoved your index in his sternum, looking him in the eye.

“You're making it up to me later, you hear me?”

His head was swaying with the contrast between your filthy promises and your harsh gestures, but he straightened up, recognizing an order when he heard one.

“Yes Ma'am.”

Pining (against a wall)

I read a fic where in one chapter, Soap and Reader hide from enemies with Reader stuck between the wall and Soap, and our beloved sergeant gets...hum... affected by their proximity lol. So I wanted to do a version where Soap is the one pinned between Reader and the wall. It's also the same vibe as The powder and the fuse, aka Soap sees his gf in action being very badass and finds it hot. It's smut tbh, with their clothes on tho.

WIP:

"At the sight of your enemies getting closer to your location, your bodyguard training takes over. Before you can even think about it, you grab Soap by his flak jacket, drag him into a dark alley and end up half-pining, half-slamming him against the nearest wall without warning, shoving your hand over his mouth for good measure. It's a professional reflex you'll have to apologize for later.

That, and if there's one thing he's never been good at, it's keeping it shut.

Not that he ever gave you a reason to call his skills into question, always proving himself serious and reliable on the job, but missions with only the two of you together are few and far between, and he certainly never stops running his mouth over comms during them.

Wholly focused on your opponents’ behavior, head turned away from him, on the lookout, the hand on his mouth keeping him against the wall, the other by his head, caging him in, you don't pay attention to your newfound proximity. How your faces are barely a centimeter away from each other, how his warm breath strokes your skin with each respiration. You don't notice either how much you’re pressed against his body, how your chests are touching, the contact exacerbated by each inhale, or that one of your legs is nudged between his.

Or the way his cerulean eyes are devouring you, drinking in your every move."

Renegades

It's a retelling of MW2 with Shadow!Reader, from the mission Alone until Graves die. Lots of action.

Reader kills her own coworkers when they go after civilians and deserts the Shadow company. She comes to the rescue of an injured Soap in the hopes that she can ally with the TF to take down Graves.

It's called renegadeS because It's not only about Reader's treason, but also because the TF is considered treators thanks to Shepherd, and that Reader consider that Graves betrayed her for sending her after civilians when she stated from the start she wouldn’t go after unarmed ppl/civilians.

Something about having to betray either your community/organization/group, or your own moral code, but doomed to be a traitor all the same…

WIP:

"Joining the Shadow Company had never been your first choice. Military organizations tended to be bad news, and private ones were even worse. However fate forced your hand. Or, more exactly, capitalism did.

The pay offered by the Private Military Company exceeded your wildest dreams. You've made more in a week than in one year of your regular job as a bodyguard. And you were in desperate need of money; a lot, and fast; it was the only way to afford your sister's cancer treatment.

Things weren't so bad at the start. The commander was a bigmouth, but he was sensible, and he got the job done. At some point, the corporation allied with a special task force, an international group of elite combatants, some sort of legendary military unit. You hadn't paid them much attention, since they weren't the enemy.

Until they were.

Somehow the General that commanded both those guys and the Shadow Company decided to betray his own men, turning them into traitors. At the same time, your orders brutally changed. You were expected to turn the whole town upside down to pinpoint the ex-Special Forces, and if civilians happened to be in the way, well… there was no one to hold you responsible if you put a bullet in them.

You didn’t care about the Task Force. Sucked to be them, but surely they could handle themselves.

However, the moment your coworkers started to execute unarmed civilians right in front of you, you snapped.

The latters’ screams for mercy still resonate in your ears. The racket caused by the bullets you sent through your former companions in arms hadn't been enough to make you forget their bloodcurdling yells. 

You hadn't even had time to ponder your actions. Your body acted on its own. You slaughtered them without batting an eye. They probably didn’t even understand what happened to them, not expecting your betrayal. You didn’t regret it.

You hid the bodies to the best of your abilities, and slipped away.

Now here you are, lost in Las Almas, a small city in Mexico, operating in the blind. Between the dark of the night and the rain, your vision is execrable. You have little time before your ex-colleagues’ death and your disappearance get noticed. The clock is ticking, and you can see only two options presenting themselves to you: fight or flight.

You eventually stumble upon a squad of Shadows. You've been monitoring the comms, and your treason hasn’t been noticed yet. 

So, in a rush of insane hope, you do the unthinkable and reveal yourself to them.

Maybe, just maybe, not all Shadows are bloodthirsty mercenaries who shoot innocents at the first opportunity. Maybe they can be reasoned with. Maybe you don't need to fight alone. Maybe…

You salute them as you approach, acting with as much natural as you can muster.

One throws one look at you and turns away. The other two stare with curiosity.

“Whattya doing here? This isn’t your area.”

You play dumb. Easy to perform when your interlocutor is already looking down  on you. The only perk of being a woman in this field of work is idiots underestimating you.

“Lost my way. The others left me behind. Mind if I join?”

You make your tone as silly and harmless as possible, turning your voice higher pitched than normal. It works like a charm.

You put up with their mockeries that sound a lot like insults and other jeers, keeping a naive smile on your lips.

Following on their heels, it's easy to fall back into the routine that's been yours for the past few weeks, since you became a shadow. But that illusion of normality shatters the moment you come across inhabitants.

“They don't know shit,” grumbles one of the shadows, after barking orders at the civilians only leads to desperate pleas for mercy in spanish. “Might as well get rid of them.”

You stare at him with incredulity, your bewildered expression hidden by your balaclava. How could someone be so callous with human life was beyond you. Yes, you were killers for hire, but between fighting seasoned soldiers on a battlefield and slaughtering unarmed families in their own home, there was a world of difference.

“Sure,” shruggs another.

The third one doesn't even bother answering, already taking aim with his rifle.

You feel trapped in a horror movie, an alternative reality.

“That's not necessary,” you step in, loud enough to be clearly heard, but still attempting to not sound too authoritarian. “Killing them isn’t gonna give us any answer.”

“Who cares?” snarls the first one at you, irritated by your intervention. “We get a bonus for each target, it's all that matters.”

“But they're not targets,” you hiss, getting riled up despite yourself. “Is that what your morals are worth? A bunch of zeroes?”

“For the love of… knew admitting women was a bad idea. You’re too soft-hearted for this job. So either shut the fuck up, or-”

He never gets the chance to finish his sentence, as the bullet you fire lodges itself between his eyebrows.

As the other two squad members let out expletives in shock, you’re already shooting again. The one who was aiming his rifle at the denizens drops dead just as he gets you into his sights. The last one scrapes your side with his handgun before you make him join his teammates.

Panting, you lower your weapon and kick at one of the corpses in rage.

“Fuck! Why did you have to be such a rotten piece of shit!”

From the corner of your eye, you notice the group of civilians nearby shaking with fear, glancing at you with horror and uncomprehension. You sigh and tell them to leave, unable to look them in the eye, ashamed.

Once left to your own devices, you let your fury and your frustration explode.

“Shit, shit, shit! Never should have taken this fucking job!”

Overwhelmed, you crouch, covering your face with your hands, and swear some more.

“Why'd ye do that?”

The hoarse, foreign, barely audible voice coming out of nowhere makes you jump. You point your handgun in multiple directions, in vain.

“What the…?”

You cautiously inspect your surrondings, on your guard, ready to open fire at the first sight of an enemy. Eventually you find the owner of the voice, inside a nearby building, slumped against a crumbled brick wall, and immediately take aim at him. 

“Hey there.”

The salute may be casual, but his body language shows nothing but extreme vigilance and sharp suspicion, his own handgun pointed at you. The tone of his voice isn’t exactly warm either.

At the first provokation, he will swiftly end your life without any qualms.

Your eyes roam over him and, as you take in his bare face, the soaking wet blue t-shirt adhering to his skin, and jeans, you realize you're not dealing with one of Graves’ guys. The british flag displayed on his bulletproof vest silently answers your interrogations.

“You're one of those brits,” you sigh in relief.

Well, half-relief. You may not consider them your enemies anymore, but unfortunately, that doesn't mean the opposite is true.

He scoffs at your remark, apparently mildly offended.

“Scottish.”

[lauronk]

random recs on a friday

here i am with yet another futile attempt at catching up on the gazillion amazing fics in this fandom. taking a writing break for a couple days to reset my brain, so this is a long one. recs under the cut 💗

(this isn't even everything i still have so much reading to do this is a herculean task and you can expect more recs in a couple days probably)

move so quickly (it can't catch me) by @howtotrainyourdoofus - BALLET ELLIE ugh so phenomenal

next of kin by @probssomethingorother - oh my GOD? joel & sarah & sarah's mom prequel that had me IN TEARS

gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit by @flowerpetvls - i am just setting out to hurt myself with these apparently?! oh my god?!

just babes being dudes by @ciaconnaa - ellie & jesse bromance, i die for you

magnetic susceptibility by @penandinkprincess - bye i loved this whole thing so much we all know how i feel about outsider POVs of joel & ellie

he shall provide by @bumblepony - joel taking care of ellie after silver lake, my one true love

midnight in texas by @boopernatural - astronaut ellie and i don't think i'll ever recover jesus FUCK

[space-matt]

Jokes in life - death

chris.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: One joke too many could cost the life of someone…maybe.

request: yes -> anon

cw: use of y/n, fake chocking, fake death, swear

author's note: after a long time I'm back with a small part that I managed to write between commitments. I hope you can enjoy it all the same. Tell me your opinions! ♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

''Oh for your information it's not true,'' you say, pointing your finger at Chris's chest as you walk the streets of your neighborhood with your favorite ice cream.

Almost every night you ended up heading to your hiding place, the roof of a building abounding along the end of two streets further on. But this one, in particular, you just wanted to walk and look around.

''So it's not true that you went out with Mike the other day?'' Chris asks stopping in place to see how your expression changed from calm to surprise ''Yeah we went out but only because we're lab partners, that's all Chris'' you reply continuing to eat the ice cream from the cone that was melting in the meantime.

''The fact is it's not that I don't trust you but-'' in the middle of the sentence you start coughing but Chris continues to blink not caring about the noise coming from his beside.

‘'C-Chris'' you pronounce with difficulty and only at that moment the boy realize that you are choking ''OH JESUS'' he exclaims starting to pat you on the back but it seems to have no effect 

< Stay calm Chris > you hear pronounced from his panicked mouth, and only then do you decide to end your charade.

'' Gotchaaaa'' you exclaim laughing as you see his bewildered face '' Are you fucking kidding me y/n?! It's not fucking funny, at all'' he says waving his arms and shaking his head.

From this episode, you have inaugurated the session of jokes for years, from the obvious to the serious ones.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chris had been meticulously planning the ultimate prank for weeks, determined to pull off the prank of the year.

He wanted to recreate a home invasion robbery, a prank that was both extreme and daring but would undoubtedly earn him the top spot on the leaderboard. 

As it stood, he was currently in first place, followed by Matt, Chris, and finally Nick.

Chris spent hours preparing for the prank, carefully plotting every detail to ensure its success. He knocked over chairs and moved furniture, creating a mess that would make it look like a real break-in had occurred. 

With everything in place, all he had to do was pretend to be hurt to make the prank look authentic. 

As he made his way upstairs to Nick's room, he remembered the fake blood that Nick had used for his Halloween costume and decided to use it to add to the realism of the prank.

You, on the other hand, were at the supermarket with Matt and Nick, picking up the necessary items for their next video titled < Let's Try the Odd Pairings > As you walked through the aisles, you noticed a Reese's bunny on the shelf and thought it would be a nice treat for Chris. 

You picked it up and added it to the cart, continuing to gather the other ingredients needed for the video.

As you pulled your car into the driveway, you noticed something strange. The front door of your house was slightly ajar.

You quickly parked the car and grabbed your grocery bags, approaching the door with a sense of unease. As you got closer, you could see that the door was open just enough to let someone slip inside.

With confusion etched on your face, you cautiously pushed the door open and stepped inside. That's when you saw it - the house was in a state of utter chaos. Furniture was overturned, drawers were pulled out, and things were scattered everywhere.

Your mind immediately went to Chris. You called out his name ‘’Chriss..?’’ your voice trembling with fear. As you searched each room, your panic grew.

There was no sign of Chris anywhere. Your heart racing, you finally entered his bedroom, where you found him lying on the floor, his eyes closed and a red spot on his chest.

‘’CHRIS’’ You rushed to his side, shaking him and calling out his name, but he didn't respond. You started to panic ‘’GUYSS CALL AN AMBULANCE NOW!!!' you shouted to get the attention of the other two, who were rightly part of the prank and knew full well what was going on. 

Chris was doing nothing but holding back his laughter, and being as calm as possible to get completely into the part

''Oh my god what have they done to you? Oh god I can't lose you, what am I going to do without you? I didn't even have the guts to tell you how much I've liked you since we were kids, how safe you make me feel and how much I love your dimple when you smile'' you say all in desperation as salty tears roll down your face 

''WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS? WE NEED HELP!'' You scream starting a real hysterical cry, only at that moment do Nick and Matt enter, who seeing you in this state decide to put an end to the joke, realizing that this has gone a bit too far

''C'mon Chris get up'' exclaims Matt coming towards you and placing a hand on your shoulder noticing your trembling.

You find yourself in a state of confusion as your vision remains hazy, and it takes a moment for you to realize that Chris has opened his eyes and is staring at you. You rub your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt and whisper, ''...what?''

Chris, sensing your disorientation, informs you that it was all a prank. He pulls you in for a hug, but you push him away, still reeling from the shock of the experience ’’It's a fucking joke, what's wrong with you idiot’’ you express your anger and frustration 'I thought something bad happened to you and the stain-'' you say feeling more tears streaming down your face pointing on his chest ''-you went too far’’ You explain that his prank had triggered your anxiety.

As you sit on the edge of your bed, you feel a wave of emotions wash over you. You feel overwhelmed and suffocated, and the only thing you can think of doing is hiding in the bathroom.

You slowly make your way to the bathroom and shut the door behind you, hoping to find some solace within its walls.

Once inside, you lean against the sink and let out a deep sigh. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you know you won't be able to hold them back for long.

You rest your hands on the sink and let the tears flow freely, trying to release all the pent-up emotions that have been building inside you.

As you cry, memories of the past come flooding back to you, making you feel even more vulnerable and exposed. You can't help but think about the people you have lost in your life, and the thought of losing someone else fills you with dread.

You find yourself caught in a vicious cycle of bad thoughts, unable to break free.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door, ''Y/n can I come in?'' Chris asks from behind the door. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to let anyone in, but the sound of his voice is enough to break through your walls. ''I don't want to see you'' you say try to compose yourself, wiping away the tears from your face.

''Please'' Chris pleads, his voice full of sadness and regret. You know he's crossed a line, but you also know that he cares about you deeply. With a heavy heart, you snap the lock so he can enter, preparing yourself for whatever comes next.

As he wraps his arms around you, you can feel his warm embrace, but you remain stiff at first. However, when his hands start caressing your back, you can't help but give in to the moment and relax. You let out a deep sigh as you feel his fingers trace gentle circles on your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into your hair, his voice filled with remorse. "I shouldn't have pushed myself any further"

He pulls back slightly, looking deep into your eyes. You can see the concern etched on his face as he takes in your tear-stained cheeks.

After a few moments of silence, you finally speak up. "Don't ever do that again, please...I seriously thought the worst" Your voice is soft and shaky as you try to hold back more tears.

He takes a deep breath and continues "I swear, in fact, let's get rid of the prank contest...we're old enough for these things now. Are you in?" He takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm in" you reply with a little smile. "They're not for me anymore" he can't help but smile back, and you’re feeling grateful for his understanding and support.

After feeling overwhelmed and needing to calm down, you took some time to freshen up in the bathroom. Once you were ready to rejoin the group, you found Chris waiting for you outside the bathroom, ready to change his soiled T-shirt.

You both made your way up the stairs and into the living room where you were pleasantly surprised to find that Matt and Nick had taken it upon themselves to clean up the mess that had been created earlier.

As you settled into the comfortable surroundings of the living room, Chris reached out and took your hand, leading you out to the balcony where the sun was setting. You both sat down on the footstools and with your legs resting on the coffee table, you looked out at the beautiful view.

After a few moments of silence, Chris spoke up, saying, "What a day" you couldn't help but chuckle at his remark and responded with "For me we can also eliminate"

Chris then turned to you and asked "So... what you told me before is true?" you played coy and asked "Which of the many things?" knowing exactly what he was referring to, he replied with a pointed, "You know what”.

It seems that Chris is highly perceptive when it comes to your body language, even when you try to hide things.

You may have believed that he never pays attention to you, but the reality is quite different. The two of you have had feelings for each other since you were young, yet you both seem to be oblivious to this fact.

Despite your attempts to conceal your emotions, it appears that Chris can sense what you’re feeling, and perhaps he feels the same way.

As you bask in the warmth of the sun, lost in your thoughts, you hear a familiar voice calling out to you. You turn to see him standing there, his hand waving in front of your face. "Y/n, are you there?" he asks, his eyes meeting yours. 

You feel a jolt of surprise at the sudden interruption, but quickly compose yourself and respond with a smile. "Yeah, sorry about that" you say, taking in his appearance, which seems even more striking than usual.

‘’It's true... but you don't have to feel sorry for me, even if you don't have the same feelings as me there's no problem at all, on the contrary, there are better girls than me and-‘’ as you begin to speak, he cuts you off with a gentle kiss on the lips. 

At first, his lips feel firm against yours, but then they soften, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. In that moment, all your doubts and fears melt away, and you find yourself lost in the pleasure of the kiss.

You feel a warm sense of contentment and happiness wash over you as the kiss comes to an end. Your heart races as you hear him whisper on your lips

"I've always liked you Y/n and couldn't wait to kiss you" your mind is filled with a flurry of emotions as he kisses you again, and you can't help but feel grateful for this moment with him. 

The softness of his lips against yours, the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek, and the warmth of his embrace all make you feel alive and loved.

You cherish this moment and hope that it's just the beginning of another journey together.

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

Taglist:  @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @inlovewithmattstur @sturniolobendystrawsposts @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @blackhorses-posts

[newtonsheffield]

No but I need to see Anthony getting his brothers to help him carry the sofa into their house and them eventually finding out what they helped carry

Oh my god. Imagine, Anthony was too embarrassed to have it delivered so he hired a van and let the workers load it in for him. He kept it wrapped in the cardboard and plastic and asked Ben to carry it upstairs with him.

“Aha.” Benedict laughed when Anthony asked him, “I am not the manual labor brother. You would be better off asking… Kate honestly, than me.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “This is a surprise for Kate. It was her idea, and I laughed it off so I could surprise her with one.”

Ben raised his eyebrows, “One what?”

Anthony flushed, “It’s just… an armchair for the bedroom. She ah… likes to read in the sun.”

“You… laughed at your girlfriend wanting an armchair to read in the bedroom?”

“I’m not explaining my relationship to you.” Anthony said quickly, “I’ll buy you dinner, Benny. As many spring rolls and dumplings as you can eat.”

Ben narrowed his eyes, “It better not be heavy.”

Ben grunted under the weight of the chair, fumbling on the steps, “Jesus Anthony! What the fuck is this made of?!”

“It needs to be heavy so it doesn’t move around I assume.”

“Is Kate a particularly vigorous reader?!” Ben snapped as he set it down, “Christ I’ve got sweat in my eyes!”

Anthony rolled his eyes, slapping his brother on the shoulder. “Right, thanks mate. Let’s get dinner and we’ll drop off the van.”

Ben frowned, “Aren’t you going to unwrap it? We can get rid of all the rubbish so you don’t have to put it in the bins.”

Anthony froze, “Ah, no. I’ll do it later. You’ve sweated enough. Can’t ruin that handsome face, right?!”

Ben thought it was odd but he let it go, until months later when Edwina nudged him at the pub. Kate and Anthony sat across from them whispering in each other’s ears.

“Guess what I found out this week.”

“Edwina.” Kate warned, shaking her head as she took a drink, “Don’t be a twat.”

“If I have to know this so does Ben.” She jerked her thumb at Kate and Anthony, “These two have a sex sofa.”

Ben’s mouth dropped open as the pieces fell in to place. “Anthony! I carried your sex sofa?!”

“In my defense,” Anthony said a little unembarrassed, “It was unused then. And they’re very easy to clean.”

“I am-! I want another free dinner!”

“A small price to pay actually.”

[aphidclan-clangen]

you don't have to post this, but I thought it would be funny!!!

Nimblekit: I just scream a lot... I just, scream... a lot

-

Goldshine: With all due respect, which is none,

-

Sparkspeckle: You know how someone can say “I respectfully disagree”? What about “I disrespectfully agree” for when you hate someone but they are unfortunately correct.

-

Shadebreak: I am always up for potential rule breaking.

-

Goldshine: Don’t be afraid to make a fool of yourself, I do it regularly.

-

Nimblekit: 80% of people are actually ugly because of their face, you know.

-

Pearlstar: Trans people? In my clan? It’s more likely than you think.

-

Blisswhistle: For the last time, you can’t die of adhd.

-

Sparkspeckle: You can do whatever you want forever :D

Stormwhisper: I love you, but that is not helpful.

-

Stormwhisper, too nervous to ask for emotional support: Man, it smells like wrongdog in here.

-

Gravel: Aren’t you like 5’2?

Firebeetle: I self identify as tall.

-

Pearlstar: Every day my joints are shocked and disgusted that I would use them for their intended purpose.

-

Sparkspeckle: You can never lose an argument if you say “shut up nerd” at the end.

Icesheep: Yes you can.

Sparkspeckle: Shut up nerd.

-

Goldshine: In my defense, your honor, I simply do not care enough.

-

Nimblekit: Your honor, in my defense, who cares like omfgggggggg who cares????????? Like come onnn.

-

Skykit: Are you a girl or a boy?

Shadebreak: Uhh, well some people aren’t girls or boys!

Skykit: Wow, just like snails...

Shadebreak: ???

-

Straight Man: Hey

Titania: That’s enough.

-

Lilacpaw: I respect perfume commercials being like, we can’t show you a smell, mind if we just go insane for 30 seconds?

-

Shadekit: Hey we are all really small, do you wanna sleep in a pile.

Icekit, Stormkit and Sparkkit: Yes.

-

Blisswhistle: “Fuck it, we ball” (Malnourished, heavy eye bags, dehydrated, on the verge of insanity.)

-

Goldshine: Evil infodumping where you just tell lies.

Sparkspeckle: Tiktok

Icesheep: 5-minute crafts

Shadebreak: Resume

Stormwhisper: Men

-

Nimblekit: I fucking hate the hand that feeds me, I think i’ll do something fucked up to it.

-

Nimblekit: Sick injury bro, would be a shame if i added insult to it.

-

Pearlstar: I laugh at my own jokes because I am my target audience. Y’all just happen to be there fr.

-

Gravel: I wish they sold offbrand cars, get me a damn honder.

Firebeetle: Pulling up in the revolver.

-

Shadebreak: When two buses pass each other and the bus drivers don’t wave at each other, like omg... did you guys break up...

-

Blisswhistle: I can still crack a joke mid-breakdown, that’s why everyone is lucky to have me in their lives.

-

Gravel: They don’t kill the presidents like they used to.

-

Berrykit: The LMAO+ community.

Nimblekit: It’s LMFAO+ this is party rock erasure.

-

Sparkspeckle: It’s harder than you think to communicate with someone who isn’t familiar with the world of spongebob.

-

Goldshine: Pipe down your honor, you weren’t even there.

-

Goldshine: JFK?? Like from umbrella academy?? Haha... you know he’s not... real, right?

Stormwhisper: Wait, I though JFK was from clone high??

Sparkspeckle: JFK, as in Jesus Fucking Khrist, from the bible?

Icesheep: Isn’t JFK that fried chicken fast food chain.

Shadebreak: Guys cmon, it’s Jennedy Fennedy Kennedy, you gotta know this.

-

Goldshine: Mfs be named “James” and it only be one dude.

-

Nimblekit: Does violence have to be the last resort, can’t it be like third.

-

Lilacpaw: Free my man, he did all of it but I don’t care.

-

Pearlstar: Let me get this straight. Grabs the nearest heterosexual. Now, where were we. (He is holding nobody)

-

Blisswhistle: I’m so done with self care, it’s time for others harm.

-

Shadebreak: Fun fact. Shut the fuck-

-

Sparkspeckle: Nuh uh

Icesheep: FYM “NUH UH”???

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

-⚡ anon

Genuinely made me laugh, I love these

[rattkachuk]

Confessions during an argument - mattdrai?

“Fuck. I’m so tired of this,” Matthew buries his face in his hands, the anger burning in his chest starting to lose its fire. It’s an ever dying flame within him, and he doesn’t have the energy to keep fuelling it. Not anymore, not when he looks at the man in front of him and only sees everything he’s ever wanted, and all he can see is hurt.

“Makes two of us,” Leon mutters, “You know, maybe you should just go.”

Matthew breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, counting slow to five for each breath like his mom taught him as a kid. The smart retort dies there on his tongue, and he watches Leon leaning in the doorway, scrolling through his phone and pointedly not looking at Matthew.

“I don’t want to leave, I want to have a conversation with you.”

“Jesus, Matthew, why? We’ve always known what we are, and this is it. What is there to talk about?”

“I love you,” Matthew blurts out before he can overthink it again. There’s something sharp pricking at his eyes as he looks at the sickeningly white ceiling of Leon’s Florida hotel room.

“Don’t,” Leon’s voice is a breath, a crack betraying everything layered beneath.

Matthew finally schools his face enough to look at Leon with a weak smile and a shrug on his shoulders. Takes a step towards Leon and sees his shoulders droop, phone shoved back in his pocket.

Leon’s shaking his head so softly Matthew might miss it if he wasn’t so close. He could go on forever like he was now, never admitting anything deeper than the shared couple nights a season, never giving in to the raw and very real feelings that clawed inside of him. Or he could buckled down and be fucking honest for once. With Leon, and with himself.

Matthew cups a hand on the back of the other man's neck and repeats firmly, “I love you, and I want to see what this could become if we don’t lock it up and tell ourselves this is all we'll ever be.”

“Dammnit,” Leon sucks a sharp breath of air through his teeth, and there’s no hint of venom left when he says, “You fucker.”

Matthew matches his small smile, and things settle within him like the hiss of cold water on hot coals.

posted to this ao3 drabble collection <3

[t0ast-ghost]

S3 episode 4 (And The Children Shall Lead) I'll explain what happened to episode 3 under the cut of this post.

Start here:

- The three of them beaming down together is a good start

- Guys they're not dead!… they’re just sleepy

- Kirk is not amused

- As much as I want to believe Kirk would be good with children, it’s proven (canonically) he is not

- “I am getting a feeling of anxiety in this place.” This reminds me of a good omens line. If ya know, ya know.

- I love nurse chapel. The medical department being good with kids is heartwarming

- Is this a Peter Pan situation? (edit: nope)

- So why are the kids chanting and summoning an entity? Let's not have to call the exorcist.

- “Have Dr. McCoy report to my quarters.” Yeah…?

- We get to watch Sulu press buttons and turn dials :)

- Uhura’s double take

- “You’re losing control of yourself, sir.” “Not yet.” Scotty then proceeds to fight two guys and get knocked out

- “The enemy from within!” Previous episode mention

- That’s horrific. The children controlling their parents caused them to die on Triacus. Star Trek can write some pretty fucked up shit actually. But it doesn't deal with the consequences.

- McCoy’s opinion is outnumbered two to one again so he just storms out

- They just beamed those two redshirts out into space…

- “Friendly angel come to me.”

- Kirk and Spock share a look like, ‘what the fuck is going on’

- Spell that makes you see knives in space

- Poor Uhura. No one wants to see their own death, but amazing acting

- “Captain, why are we bothering starfleet?” Spock too? Kirk you gotta go find McCoy, maybe he’ll be talking some sense

- So why haven’t I seen anyone talk about this?

- “My Vulcan friend.” Yep Kirk. Reassert your friendship.

- Spock grabs Kirk’s arm to reassure him

- WOAH! He jumped to killing kids way too fast (worst case scenario stun or hypo them! Jesus)

- Kirk has had to remind himself that it’s not okay to punch a child a few too many times in this episode (I can see it in his eyes)

- He’s playing the video of all the kids playing with their parents on Triacus and they’re smiling but I’m expecting Kirk to just say ‘and now.. your parents are dead.’ - omg they really did just switch suddenly to their DEAD PARENTS. No remorse.

- This episode is fucking devastating

- Bones is going to come back from wherever the fuck he is and just, 'Jim, I specifically told you not to traumatize these kids.'

- The ‘angel’ dying is fucking horrifying

Now everything’s fine and dandy. Not like the entire bridge just went through major mind fuck of an ordeal or anything

Masterpost

Episode written by Edward J. Lakso

So I didn't actually watch episode 3, I watched around 15 minutes and then said, 'I really just don’t want to watch this episode. So I won’t.'

Only thoughts from this episode that I'm gonna mention are:

- The reason that they didn't let Spock point out the pine trees is because he would have said their scientific name

- “Typical human reaction to an idyllic natural setting.” McCoy says this with so little bite towards Spock, like he’s actually having a conversation with him and explaining what it is. AHH

- They could have easily left McCoy on the planet to search for Jim while Spock goes to divert the asteroid. If being alone was the issue they could've beamed down a security officer/team

Other than that... there's nothing. Sorry Margaret Armen.