#I will be back on my incoherent bullshit in no time just let me have a cry before I do

[star--anon]

it is a little strange sometimes to get notes on my posts from the same people that I read the fanfics of

that's like if you joined a writing competition thinking it'd be for newbies, and Neil Gaiman sat down next to you, and before you can get up from your seat and walk out because clearly you are in something above your head, he starts complimenting your headcanons

[evie-sturns]

make up - Chris Sturniolo

summary: you and your boyfriend chris have a massive argument, and even after he apologises you still dont forgive him. he makes it up to you a totally different way.

contains: smut, makeup sex, angst, arguing, yelling, fluff, swearing.

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9:38pm

chris walks into the warm kitchen, i lean against the counter with a small smile.

"hi chris!" i speak softly, i walk up to him and wrap my arms around him.

he pats me once on the back before shrugging me off with a small incoherent mumble. "chris-? whats wrong with you?" i ask calmly, cocking my head to the side.

he scoffs, "nothings 'wrong with me', just not in the mood for it.", his voice is hoarse and he sounds pissed.

"not in the mood for what-?" i ask, staring up at him as he continues to look down at his phone, the light of the screen illuminating his features.

"not in the mood for you," he snaps back almost instantly before turning around and walking into the dining room.

my eyebrows knit together as i try to stay calm.

"what do you mean? what did i even do?" i ask, following him into the dining room.

he sits down at one of the chairs with a huff, his eyes closed as if hes trying to block me out.

"chris-" i start but he instantly cuts me off,

"every single minute you wanna be grabbing on me and shit, every. single. minute." he replies quickly,

"i dont understand why youre so obsessed with me or something? like god can i get any time alone?" he spits,

i let out an audible gasp,

"what- why is your ego so big that you automatically assume i'm 'obsessed' with you?" i laugh,

"you're my boyfriend of course i want to touch you?" i follow up, a frown clear on my face.

"you know you can be so damn clingy, pisses me off." chris raises his voice as he stares up at me from the dining chair.

i stare down at him, my eyebrows knit together as i try to figure out how to calm this situation down.

but i can’t, he’s pissed me off now and i’m known for talking back quite often…

“not my fault your a moody grown ass man, but you never fail to act like a child.” i told my arms,

“god, listen to yourself, just a whole load of yap yap yap.” chris mumbles as he makes a mouth with his hands.

he rolls his eyes,

“why are you acting like this?” i raise my voice, folding my arms over my chest with a hurt expression.

“i’m not acting like anything! you genuinely annoy me so much and i’m not sure how much longer i can keep putting up with your bullshit.” he scoots his chair back, it makes a loud screech on the wooden floor as he stands up to meet my gaze.

“well what then- you’re gonna break up with me cause you’re in a sensitive fuckin mood?” i yell back,

“you’re making it hard not to.” he laughs bitterly,

“chris- you get like this too often! i mean all you do is complain and bitch-?”

he cuts me off, “all i do is complain? you can’t go a full hour without whining to me, i hate that about you, seriously hate it.”

i throw my hands in the air, he takes a firm grip of my wrist and clutches it tight.

“let me go you asshole!” i yell, tugging my arm.

he grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

i stare up into his piercing blue eyes as he speaks.

“you are such a bitch, such a fucking bitch.” he speaks codly, a hint of honesty behind his words.

i finally get my wrist free with a loud huff,

“where are you off to now? ‘gonna go have another cry in the bedroom? seems like the only thing you do.” chris grumbles,

“fuck- i hate you!” i scream, storming off down the hallway into my room.

“i bet you do” he scoffs,

i slam the door of my room, i walk over to the bed and flop down on it.

-

i promised myself i wouldn’t cry, i don’t want chris thinking i’m a crybaby.

but now i’ve been alone for 20 minutes, the emotions are finally building up as i replay the argument over and over in my head.

i burst into a sob, instantly trying to wipe the tears away, but it’s no use, they spill down my cheeks quicker than i can control.

i bury my face in my hands as i let out wracked sobs,

i grab chris and i’s shared stuffed animal, which we collectively got for our 6 month anniversary.

i let out shaky breathes as i try to calm myself down

my thoughts get interrupted by two knocks at the bedroom door,

it follows by chris walking in with a small smile, all of his anger from earlier gone.

“hey..” he whispers, a nervous expression on his face

i ignore him, keeping my eyes fixed on my lap.

“can we have a little chat- please?” chris asks softly,

i shake my head, maybe i’m being somewhat immature, but i don’t care.

“i just wanna say i’m sorry, i love you a lot and i wasn’t thinking straight- at all.” he whispers, staring at me.

he sits on the bed infront of me,

“i don’t like fighting with you, and i’m sorry that i managed to start an argument it wasn’t your fault.” he speaks, his hand resting on my knee,

“i’m sorry baby.” he sighs,

i give him total radio silence, my mouth presses in a thin line.

“can i have an answer please?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over my knee softly.

i shake my head with a small pout,

“oh- please don’t give me that pout, i hate seeing you so upset.” he sighs,

“i don’t forgive you.” i mumble, i fidget with my nails as i stare down at my hands.

“okay, do you want more time alone?” he asks,

i shake my head with a small “no.”

“would you like me to stay here with you?” he follows up,

i shrug,

“what can i do to prove i’m sorry?” chris asks, scooting up next to me on the bed and resting his back against the headboard.

i shrug again,

chris reaches out and glides his fingers over the waistband of my sweatpants, keeping his eyes locked on my face.

he slowly dips his hand under my waistband, i feel his cool fingertips grace over the lace of the panties.

i nod slightly, a signal for him to keep going.

“can i make you feel really good please?” chris asks, his voice is slightly more hoarse now.

i nod, “fine..”

i try to sound as uninterested as possible, just as a little reminder i’m still mad at him.

chris grabs me under my arms and lifts me onto his lap,

i straddle him, my legs on either side of his thighs.

he reaches for the hem of my shirt, i nod.

“and.. up!” he gently lifts my shirt off over my head,

he reaches round and unclasps my bra, letting it fall onto his chest

“so so beautiful ‘f me.” he sighs, his hands roam over the curve of my waist.

i stay seated happily on chris’s lap, looking into his eyes as he sits up against the headboard.

he reaches round for my sweatpants, gently tugging them down my legs and off my ankles, leaving me in just my baby pink pair of panties. a little bow decorating the top.

my clothed cunt presses against his sweatpants,

his eyes rake over my body with a small groan,

i whine, reaching for the hem of my panties.

“i’m sorry doll, i don’t mean to tease ‘ya.” he whispers, quickly discarding my panties and shoving them in his pocket

i sit completely bare ontop of him, he’s fully clothed still just admiring me.

he gently rolls me off of him onto my back, i lay spread out across the mattress.

he stands up off the bed and gently tugs me to the edge of the bed, my legs dangling off the end of the bed.

he reaches for his belt buckle, which makes a loud clinking noise as he lets it drop to the floor.

chris tugs off his shirt, which is slightly cropped at the bottom.

finally he reaches for the button of his jeans, letting it drop to the floor and pool around his ankles.

he stands in his boxers, his happy trail peeks out the top of his waistband.

chris pulls me even closer to the edge of the bed,

he kneels down on the floor infront of me, his head inches away from where i need him most.

my breathing picks up as i feel his hair graze the inside of my thighs, my clit practically throbbing now with how bad i need him.

“i- chris- please you- you said you wouldn’t tease me-“ i whimper, shifting my hips to bring them closer to chris.

he chuckles softly, his hands wrap around my thighs and position them over his shoulders.

he tugs me close to him, his nose brushing against my clit.

i feel him finally place his tongue onto my entrance, tingles shoot straight through my body.

he licks a stripe from my hole up to my clit, savouring the flavour as he slowly presses his lips to my clit.

he hums against my clit as he sucks on it lightly, jolts of pleasure rushing through me.

chris has never been known for being gentle or slow, he usually goes so rough to the point of me screaming out his name, so this is definitely a change.

he speeds up, i clench around nothing as i get closer and closer.

my hands tangle into his hair, tugging softly at the silky strands.

“oh- oh chris-!” i moan out, he gently thrusts his fingers in and out of me, my walls stretching around his longer fingers.

that’s enough to tip me over the edge, i clench around his fingers.

i let out a breathless moan as i release, chris gently unlatches his mouth off of me with a grin, my juices covering his chin.

he wipes his chin on the back of his hands,

“feeling a bit better sweetie?” he asks, his lips glossy.

i nod, laying my arm messily across my face.

“tell me what you want now.” he whispers, his hands travel up the sides of my torso as he gently removes my arm from my face.

“you a bit sensitive? do you wanna wait a minute?” he asks softly,

i shake my head, “just want-.. you.”

“okay baby.” he whispers, standing between my legs.

“hold my hand if you need to.” chris says, his blue eyes fixed on mine.

i nod, reaching up and gripping his hand.

“okay- ‘s gonna hurt a little bit but you’ll get used to it like always.”

he gently pushes inside of me, his tip stretching me out already.

i squeeze his hand tight before letting out a pathetic moan.

he pushes deeper inside of me, i let out small whimpers.

“i know, i know.” he whispers, his free hand coming up and resting on the side of my face.

he grabs a pillow and positions it under my back,

“feel a little better?” chris asks as his cock sits fully inside of me.

i nod, finally cracking a small smile.

chris leans down, his arms caging around me as his face hovers inches from mine.

he slowly starts to thrust, keeping his eyes locked on mine as his chain dangles in my face.

“oh- fuck- you’re so tight.” he mutters, positioning himself so he repeatedly hits my g-spot.

“chris-“ i moan, gripping his bicep.

chris quickens his pace just so slightly, his tip repeatedly brushed against that sweet spot.

“i’m so sorry baby- fuck..” he groans,

“didn-didn’t mean to upset you- earlier-“ he moans out as his thrusts keep their steady rythm.

“you- you cum whenever you want to baby, don’t gotta ask me for permission.” he whispers,

i nod frantically,

“fuck- oh my gosh!” i arch my back off the bed,

“feels so full chris-“ i whimper, he reaches a hand down and presses on my lower stomach,

“you feel me right there?” he asks, gently massaging my stomach.

i nod, a choked moan escaping my lips.

“such a pretty girl,” he groans,

i whine, opening my mouth wide.

“yeah?- ‘ya want my fingers?” he asks,

i nod frantically, needing something to muffle my noises.

he gently presses two fingers in my mouth, letting them rest on my tongue.

“goood girl, good girl.” he rambles, keeping his fingers resting on my tongue.

“oh- ‘m so- ‘m so close-“ i say through a muffled moan,

my gummy walls clench around him, feeling the knot in my stomach get closer to snapping.

and finally,

it does.

i let out a loud whine against his fingers as i finish, clenching around him so tight.

chris instantly lets go, burying his release deep inside of me.

he pulls his dick out of me with a loud pop, followed by his fingers.

he stands hunched over between my legs as he catches his breath. “god- god y/n.” he whispers,

his cum slowly drips out of me onto the bedsheets, which chris seems to pick up on,

he gets the two fingers which were just in my mouth and gently pushes his release back inside of me, “there we go, gonna take it all ‘f me.”

he finally collapses beside me, pulling me onto his chest.

i bury my head in his collarbone, wrapping my arms around him.

“do- do you finally forgive me?” chris asks with a small chuckle, still completely out of breath.

“i guess so.” i grin cheekily,

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

@sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-love r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall john @raysmayhem-72

[bettysupremacy]

Thank you for letting me know:) Could you (if you get the chance) please write Grumpy Rafe x a like really sweet, shy, adorable like innocent reader? But like he finds her really cute? Could be anything else you want! I just like grumpy x sunshine :)

hey babe! Sorry this took me so long to get to, I hope u like! This is my fav rafe trope

“This is such bullshit.” Rafe grumbles.

Of course his plans had been derailed. Big empty house, summertime, pretty girl to himself, of course his friends dragged him away.

Your head peeks from the bathroom wall. “Hm?” It struggles out, your lips coated in toothpaste, your mouth occupied with a dangling toothbrush. You look so cute in your little outfit, he feels guilty for wanting you to get back into your pajamas. To forget your friends ever texted you at 9:30pm on a Saturday with Drinks? ;)

His hand waves in the air dismissively. “Nothing.”

You nod, slipping back into the bathroom to finish your tasks.

He rifles through his drawers messily, unsure of what he’s actually looking for. “Goddamn Kelce.” He mutters, quieter than last time. “Goddamn Topper.”

He can’t believe his perfect plans have been ruined, can’t believe he’ll have to share you. His head shakes in disbelief as he quits with the drawer, moving to wait for you by his bed. He cannot go out tonight.

You pop out of the bathroom, toothpaste replaced by a softer, pinker, shine to your lips. Rafe represses the urge to thumb at it as you walk over to wrap your arms around him tightly. Ear pressed to the warmth of his shirt covered chest, you can hear the aggravated thump to his heart.

“M’sorry.” You mumble.

He pulls back until your face is in view. His fingers work to smooth a piece of your hair. “For what?”

You lean into the touch. “I know you didn’t want to go out tonight.”

Oh. He can’t hide the distain crumpling his features. “No,” he grumbles. “I don’t.”

You smile weakly. “But we‘ll have fun.”

“You will.”

“Not if you’re miserable.”

He sighs, greatly heavy, shaking his head. “I won’t be miserable.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” His eyes roll. “as long as you sit on my lap.”

He nearly preens at the sound of your laugh. “I don’t think the bar stools are big enough for lap siting, baby.”

He deflates dramatically, his head falling to your shoulder. “Than what is the point.”

You smile, though he doesn’t see, his eyes hidden in the softness of your dresses sleeve. “Getting some drinks with friends who wanna catch up.” Your hand comes up to scratch his scalp the way he likes. He does preen this time.

He’s silent, breathing in the scent of the moisturizer he’d bought you last week. He grumbles incoherently.

“Me too.” You nod. You feel him grin against your shoulder.

Lifting his head, he ducks down, eye level with you. “Let’s just stay home, baby.” He whispers, nosing at yours.

Your eyes flutter, the hopes of a kiss working it’s way in. “You know we can’t do that.”

He sighs softly into you. “Why not?”

“Because,” You start with a pout, your hands sliding from where they rest on his waist, up onto his warm grumpy cheeks. “You haven’t seen Top in a month,” his nose twitches. “and he misses you.”

“Please don’t bring up Topper when I want to kiss you.”

You laugh, warm and syrupy, flushing at the insinuation of kissing. “I get a kiss?”

“You always get a kiss.” He breezes, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

It’s soft and sticky, a string of your pinky lipgloss connecting you two obscenely when you’re the one to pull back.

“R’you wearing the sticky stuff?” He murmurs.

“Yes,” you nod quietly. “It lasts longer.”

“So I’m gonna have pink shit all over my lips for the next thirty minutes?”

“No,” You giggle quietly. “a wet cloth will do the trick.”

“In that case.” He shrugs, leaning down to reward your lips with three rapid kisses before a fourth, longer, softer kiss.

You stifle a smile when he pulls back. “What?” He grins.

“Your lips are all sticky.” Your thumb wipes some shine from the corner of mouth. He puckers his lips.

“Maybe it’ll make me as pretty as you.”

Your nose wrinkles at his corniness.

“Or maybe I need more.” He leans in.

You push his face away from yours. “I can’t kiss you when you’re like this.”

“Lovely?” He murmurs. “The nicest boyfriend ever?”

“Corny.” You laugh at his offended expression, shrieking when he tackles you to the bed. “You maniac!”

He pulls your hair from your eyes, the gesture softer than your loud shriek moments before. It’s quiet as you breathe in tandem. His eyes rake over you appreciatively, and something in your belly twists for another kiss.

“I think” he starts,dropping his face down to nose at your collarbone. “I wanna kiss you again.”

Your eyes droop, the warmth of his body and love seeping into you. “I think” you start like him, murmuring into his ear. His ear tickles from the warm air. “I wanna stay home.”

“I did it!” He pops up, his arms caging you in.

Your chest rises in rapid giggles. “Shut up!”

[witchesverse]

someone loved me, someone fucking loved me.

pairing: rio vidal x reader

summary: you have lost the two most important people in your life: your wife and son. so, when death visits, you need to hurt her.

content: mentions of death, crying, magic fighting, punching in the face, angst without a happy ending, bleeding, heartbreak, mention of agatha harkness x reader.

You felt when she died. It was an uncomfortable, eerily feeling; you felt alone for the first time in centuries.

You ignored the feeling. You didn't want to believe she was dead. You couldn't believe she was dead. Agatha Harkness doesn't just die.

You felt her presence before you saw her. It was a gloomy, depressing feeling; you felt desperate for the first time in centuries.

"You can't ignore me, you know," She spoke softly.

You shuddered at the sound of her voice. You hadn't heard it since he died and never wanted to hear it again. Alas, you knew you would. That stupid promise Agatha made Rio promise meant you would.

"Go away, Rio."

Her hand brushed against your arm and you flinched, pulling away from her.

"How?"

The world seemed to pause at your question. The chirping from the birds and the rustling of the trees seemingly vanished.

Rio stuttered an incoherent sentence before taking in a deep breath. "It had to be one of them, okay?"

"What?"

"The kiss of death."

A blast of magic slammed into Rio's chest and sent her flying into the wall. Tears were glistering in your eyes as you stalked towards her, magic surrounding your fingers.

You couldn't kill Death, but you sure as hell could hurt her.

"I fucking hate you." Your voice broke with emotion as you screamed at her.

Another blast of magic hit Rio when she tried to stand, forcing her back to the ground.

"You are an evil, horrible monster and I wish I never met you." You snarled. "You have caused only pain and chaos for my family. You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me."

Rio didn't reply and that only angered you.

You lifted her body and threw her out a window. The glass smashed, piercing her skin. Her body landed in the field of flowers surrounding your house.

Rio was on her feet once you got to her. She was bleeding in multiple places and her own magic surrounded her fingers.

"You don't want to do this," Rio said. "You know who will win."

"I don't need to win." You summoned another ball of magic and aimed it at her, which she dodged.

Your magic wasn't enough to hurt her. You needed to feel her blood on your skin.

You tackled her to the ground and straddled her stomach. You landed a few punches to her face before she managed to grab your wrists and stop you.

"I didn't want it to be her."

You fought in her hold. "Bullshit."

"And I didn't want it to be Nicky, either."

"Don't." You felt your heart breaking into a million pieces at the sound of his name.

The day Death took Nicholas was one of the worst. You cried and begged for her to bring him back—for your boy to come back. Agatha didn't beg, but she cried. You remember holding her in your arms, promising that it would be okay whilst Death stood over you, watching the heartbreak that she caused to happen.

"I never wanted to hurt you." She whispered. "None of you. I wanted you both to be happy."

"I hate you."

Uncontrollable tears fell down your cheeks and you gasped for air in between sobs. Rio brushed away a few tears with her thumb, smiling sadly.

That action broke you.

You wrapped your arms around Rio's neck and buried your face in the crook. She slipped her hands under your shirt and rubbed comforting circles.

"I hate you so much."

Rio hummed. She knew you did.

"She promised me that she would come home. She said that nothing bad would happen to her, but you k-killed her."

Your voice broke again. You couldn't believe those words were leaving your mouth.

"I know, baby."

You cried until you couldn't cry any longer and she held you in her arms the entire time. She kissed your face every time you expressed your hatred for her and she let you make her body bleed with your fingernails and teeth.

She wasn't going to leave. Not this time. She promised that once Agatha died, she would stay with you until your end. Even if you fought her, screamed, and hurt her. She would never leave.

And no matter how big your hatred for her was, her love for you was always 10x bigger.

[ynbabe]

bffs with the rookies- incorrect quotes 1!

Just a lil sum sum to show more abt the relationships in the AU

Y/N: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough. Oscar: Yeah, you just catch it. Logan: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit. Arthur: Then I just use a spear instead. Y/N: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Oscar: It’s Christmas! Are you all in a Christmas mood?! Logan: Merry crisis. Arthur: Jingle bells, jingle bells, single all the way. Y/N: Hoe hoe hoe. Oscar: Guys, please.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Oscar: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Logan? Logan: Arthur, easily. Arthur, laughing: What the fuck, man. Logan: Well, Y/N would be too easy. She’d probably be into it. Y/N, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

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Logan: How do I ask someone out? Y/N: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two. Logan: No! Arthur: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car. Logan: Stop! Oscar: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream. Logan: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.

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Y/N: Fight me! Arthur: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle? *Later* Logan: Why is Arthur crying? Oscar: Y/N kicked him really hard on the ankle.

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Y/N, to Oscar: When was the last time you let someone hug you? Oscar: *thinking* Oscar: 2012. Arthur: 2012…? Oscar: Yeah. I almost died and it really freaked Logan out so I let him hug me.

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Lando: You know what? Lando: When I joined this friend group I thought you guys would be dealing with my bullshit. *Y/N, Arthur and Oscar continue screaming about mold water* Lando:Not the other way around. Logan: I dunno, sounds like you need to drink the mold water.

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Lando: Mice are having sex in my walls. Arthur: Tattletale! Logan: You're just being ungrateful. Y/N: It's their home too, you know. Oscar: So what? Don't slutshame them. Lando: The mice are fucking AND now I'm getting heckled.

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Oscar: Team A will consist of myself, Arthur, Lando, and Logan. Oscar: Team B will consist of Y/N, cause she scares me.

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How Lando and Y/n became friends:

Logan: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like- Logan, to Arthur: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Y/N, to Lando: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. Oscar: There are two types of people.

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Charles: I’m not mad, I just need to know why you two had a fake ID. Arthur: *Incoherent mumbling* Charles: Huh? Y/n: …You need to be 18 to hold the puppies at PetCo.

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Charles (brainstorming ideas for pranking Max): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost? Y/n: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Charles: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? Y/n: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Charles.

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Y/n: I'm gonna eat the chicken breasts! Arthur, snickering: Yeah, eat what you lack. Y/n, deadpanning at Arthur Then maybe I should order brains on delivery for you.

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Arthur, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs? Charles: It means like in hand-to-hand combat. Arthur: Ohhhh- Y/n: Both of you get out of this kitchen.

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Logan: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart? Y/n For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am! Logan: Mean.

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Y/n: Dumbest scar stories, go! Oscar: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Charles: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Logan: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Arthur: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Max: Max: I have emotional scars.

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When Max and Charles got spam called by Y/n and the group after their party:

Max: I CAN'T DO IT! Charles, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Max: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Lando: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Max: Max: I appreciate it, Max: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Charles: Max- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Lando: Max we gotta- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Max: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Max, motioning to Y/n, Oscar, Arthur and Logan: NOT FUCKING THIS

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Just Friends, Chapter One:

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, mutual pining, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 34), angst??, masturbation (m))

wc: 2k

joel masterlist | series masterlist

Joel feels weak when he sees you.

That’s the best word for it. Weak. A complete lack of control—of power. Logic and reason are nothing but incoherent mumbles in the background every time you’re in the same room as him, even worse when you look into his eyes and speak his name.

He hadn’t felt this sort of tug towards someone in years, and the unfamiliar sensation of needing to simply see you at least once a day in order to function properly was beginning to consume him. He didn’t know what to do to rid himself of this infatuation, avoiding you was impossible and so was getting closer thanks to that 30-something year old patrol ranger you called your boyfriend.

He watched the two of you together as though it was his job. He watched the way you seemed to keep him at an arm’s length when the two of you were out together, always sandwiching yourself between your friends rather than beside the man you were supposed to love.

He couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you were like in private.

It couldn’t be a very passionate affair, that much he knew. Real passion wasn’t so easily concealed. It was consuming, drawing you like a magnet to your partner, burrowing beneath your skin, creating an itch to be near them—to be touching them. It couldn’t be an affair of passion.

Just now, he’s sat in his usual seat in the corner of the bar, his back pressing to the padded walls of the booth, his hand holding a crystal glass filled with whiskey, his brows drawn together, his eyes locked on the back of your head as you ordered a drink, your friend next to you. Joel wants to stand up, walk over, and offer to buy your drink right in front of him just to see the look on your face.

Would you tell him to fuck off? Or would you say yes?

The laugh you let out in response to something your boyfriend whispers into your ear stops Joel from finding out.

“God, I need a drink,” Ellie sighs as she emerges from nowhere, her backpack being shrugged onto the floor as she sits down across from Joel.

“Tough day learnin’ your ABC’s?” he quips, his tone still flat from the war jealousy was waging inside of his head.

“Ha-ha,” she replies, just as dry. She knocks her knuckles on the wooden table as she watches his eyes drift back to you, now seated at a table just five or so feet away from him—too close for his comfort. Downing his drink, he shifts his eyes back to Ellie in time to catch her chuckling at him.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head at her as though he were begging her not to read him as easily as she does.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head and laughs again before reaching over the table to swig the finger of whiskey left inside Joel’s glass.

“Hey,” he calls as he catches her mid sip, stealing the glass back. “They got rules about kids drinkin’, you know that. You itchin’ for another lecture from Maria about followin’ the rules?”

“No,” she replies. “It’s a bullshit rule anyway.”

“No, it ain’t,” he sighs as your laughter fills the room again, his chest panging causing him to physically wince. “I’m ready to go home. You comin’ or you stayin’?”

“Staying,” she says, grabbing her backpack and setting it on the table. “Have homework to finish and your sad country music being blared through the house isn’t going to help keep me focused.”

“Don’t disrespect my sad country music,” he warned playfully as he stood up with a grunt, finishing the little whiskey left in his glass in one gulp. “I’ll see ya back at home by curfew.”

“About that…” Ellie looked up at Joel with a hopeful smile. “Dina invited me over to spend the night—“

“Dina can spend the night at ours,” he argued, that protective streak of his making it’s usual appearance.

“Dina and I don’t wanna watch you drink and sing along to George Jones, dude,” she replied, frowning up at him until he broke.

“Fine. But you’re back in time for breakfast tomorrow.” Ellie grinned as she nodded at him, his eyes rolling and a chuckle escaping his chest. “Spoiled.”

As Joel starts to make his exit, he stops at the bar to deliver his empty glass and pay off his bill. That’s where you find him.

“Hey,” you start, hoping to conceal your deeply hidden crush on the older man with friendliness. Joel’s head turns to you so quickly you swear you hear his neck crack, his unreadable eyes locking on yours as though you were some sort of apparition he was almost certain wasn’t actually there. “I just wanted to come over. Say hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, choked and unprepared. Clearing his throat, he tips his head towards your table. “I saw you were with your friends, otherwise I would’a came over and said somethin’.”

“You can always come over and say something,” you assure, fighting the urge to bat your eyes at him as you give him a smile. The man whose coat you’re wearing lingers in the back of your mind as you stare at the man you’ve wanted since he arrived.

“How’s the new fence treatin’ ya?” he asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he leans a shoulder onto the bar and faces you. You think back to the weekend he spent building your white picket fence last month, free of charge. The way his arms looked in a t-shirt as he sawed away at the wood still makes you dizzy.

“Well, it’s still upright so…you must’ve done a good enough job on it,” you offer with a smirk, earning the slightest of chuckles. You always wondered why everyone seemed to think he didn’t have a sense of humor, he seemed to find you funny enough. “I, uh, also came over to invite you over to my place tomorrow evening.”

You watch as Joel’s brow lifts with interest.

“Oh yeah? You throwin’ a party or somethin’?” he asks.

“My birthday,” you shrug. “Figured I’ve gone twenty years without celebrating it, might as well.”

“That’s what this place is supposed to be about,” he says. “Doin’ normal things again.”

“Exactly,” you smile, ignoring the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he mimicks it. “So, can I count you in?”

“Long as you got somethin’ to drink.” You laugh and nod in reassurance. “Well, I’m in, then.”

“Alright, I’ll let you escape before someone else comes up and tries to talk to you,” you offer, reaching your hand over to touch his arm. Joel looks down at the contact before meeting your eyes again, something unreadable lingering in his dark irises that makes you flustered enough to pull your hand away. “I’ll see you.”

“See ya,” he replies, quiet as he taps the counter with his knuckles before turning and walking off. Your eyes couldn’t help but lower to his fist as it hung by his side, clenching and unclenching. With a subtle but deep breath, you turn around and walk back to your table—back to your boyfriend and all of his perfection that bores you beyond belief.

“Why did you go up to him?” Josie, a friend of yours, asks as you return to your spot at the table and reach for your beer to wash down the lingering desire.

“I invited him to my party,” you replied, shrugging as you gave her a confused look. “What?”

“Babe,” your boyfriend, Will, chuckles. “He’s…old.”

“And an ass,” Josie adds. You roll your eyes at them, knowing that neither of them ever had a real conversation with Joel, making their opinion of him mute. “Did he say yes?”

“Yes,” you chuckle, amused by the shock on their faces. “We’re friends!”

“Since when?” Josie asks with a hearty laugh.

“Since always,” you reply with a shrug before continuing, “I helped show him around when he got here since I’m right across the street.” Josie looks to Will and then Will looks to you, a look of amused confusion on his handsome face. “He’s a nice guy when you get to know him.”

“Maybe, but he’s also old enough to be our father,” Will argues. You roll your eyes at the reality of the age gap between you and your secret crush, twenty-two years to be exact.

“There are only so many people our age in Jackson, honey,” you say, irritation thick in your tone. “And besides, just because he’s older means I shouldn’t be friendly to him? We’re just gonna start shunning every person in Jackson above what, fifty?”

“You know what,” Will starts, reaching his hand over to rub your back, his warm touch only making you feel colder. “You’re right. We’ll be friendly to him too. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, lifting your beer up to your lips, wishing more than anything that the man touching you was someone else.

Joel’s in bed, his drunk thoughts centering around you. Around the way you smiled up at him as though you had no clue that his heart was beating out of his chest. Maybe you didn’t, but how could you not notice his sweaty palms, the nervous twitch of his lips when you forced a smile onto his face?

He was sure he was going to lose it completely when your hand came to rest on his arm. He wanted to run and at the same time wanted to get closer, to feel you too. But, the falter in your smile once his eyes met yours and your hand leaving his arm so abruptly it hurt grounded him back to reality. The one in which you were a taken woman and he was a man twenty years older.

It makes him feel sick when he tries not to think about you, so he doesn’t bother as he reaches his hand over his briefs and grips his swelling girth in an attempt to soothe the throbbing ache there. He grunts as he strokes himself through the fabric, just enough to build himself up slowly.

He thinks of you. He thinks of that weekend he built your fence. He thinks about the way you looked in the sun, the green grass beneath you as you sat out on the lawn and kept him company. He thinks about your legs, bare in the summer heat, your denim shorts cut short enough to make him turn red when you rolled over to lay on your stomach.

As he rubbed his thumb over the now weeping head of his cock, he imagined what it would be like to take those shorts off of you. To lay claim to what lies underneath. He moans as he imagines the sounds he’d pull from you.

Pulling his briefs down enough that his cock was springing free, he licks his hand and grips himself at the base, another choked moan slipping free as his fist glides up and then down again, over and over.

He wonders what you’re like in bed, how you like it, if you’d let him take control or demand it for yourself. It didn’t really matter, he remembers, not when he’d never have the chance of finding out.

When he cums, he groans, his fist stroking up and down, gathering his spend to help ease the glide of his hand until he’s finally had his fill. With a sigh, he lets his head fall back against his pillow, his eyes on the ceiling fan spinning above him.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he curses himself.

It doesn’t work.

•

•

•

•

•

[journal3sposts]

Daryl Dixon x Reader drabble

MDNI. 18+

author's note: No use of Y/N, the reader is very self indulgent, my apologies. It's not finished, and soppily written, based off a post i made a few months back. This is my first time posting any of my writing, pls be gentle with me. Thank you!

Daryl walked in his home in Alexandria, kicking off his boots and dropping his crossbow to the floor. As soon as you heard him, your face lit up, it had been days, and you always worried yourself when he was on runs. You quickly made your way over to him and let your arms snake around his neck, head rolling into his shoulder to leave kisses, “Mmm, God, baby. I missed you so much- I got dinner cooking if you wanna shower or rest for a bit-“

“Stop cookin’. Ain’t hungry.” He pushed your arms off his shoulders and went up the stairs with heavy steps echo through the whole house. You turned your oven lower and opened a book nearby, you’d wait on Daryl, he deserves someone to wait on him after all he’s been through. You were happy to give him the space he needed. You checked your roast, read your book, and cleaned up the living room, all before he came back down. His hair was wet, he had showered. You smiled, it took many years but you had gotten him in the habit, you wanted him to have a healthy life so bad, people who love him, a good routine. He made his way down the stairs, feet still heavy- as always. He was shirtless, a rare sight, one only meant for you. You thought he was beautiful. He made his way to the barstools at the counter, taking a seat shyly, like a kid who’d been scolded. You set down your wine glass, tone soft snd sweet.

“You wanna talk, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“Okay.” You picked your book back up, taking another sip of wine, allowing him to just exist with you, before he broke the silence

“I will, though.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, love.”

“Why are you like that?”

“Like what?”

“Yer all fuckin’ understanding, and spoutin’ off all this therapy bullshit all the time, and your voice never raises. Just little miss fuckin’ perfect over there.” He spat with with some inward resentment. He was raising his voice and waving his hands, and there you sat, waiting on him

“I’m not perfect, Daryl.”

“Oh don’t do-“

“No, wait. Hear me, sweetheart. I already did this. I already got to heal, i’m healthy and i’m happy, and i want that for you. Now let me help.” You spoke a bit firmer than you normally do with your husband, putting a hand on his stubbled cheek to make him look you in the eye.

“ ‘m sorry.” Without much warning his large hands were on your waist and pull you close. “Goddamnit, ‘m so fuckin’ sorry. J-Just t-the whole run w-as f- fucki-“

“Baby, you don’t have to tell me if you aren’t ready.”

“ ‘m so sorry, so sorry-“ His head was buried in neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. His grip was so tight you swear you’d find little purple marks in their places the next morning, but Daryl needed you right now. He needed this, so you didn’t care how many bruises you find. You combed your fingers through his long damp hair, trying to soothe him. “You don’t need to apologize, just gotta let me know what you need, okay?”

He didn’t say anything for a while, just sat like that. But it wasn’t much longer until he was standing up, pushing you onto the counter as he slotted himself between your thighs, nipping at your neck. You were surprised, and a bit concerned, you began pushing his head back, delicate fingers on his jaw to make him look you in the eye “Are you sure? I don’t think-“

“ ‘m so sorry- let m-me fix it, l-let me fix i-it. S-sorry, so sorry-“ His eyes had tears prickling, threatening to fall over as he desperately undid your pants and pulled them down, mumbling his incoherent mess of ‘sorry’s’ into your cleavage. Your fingers ran through his hair, scratching his scalp, soothingly. He needed this. Who were you to deny such a pretty boy?

“It’s okay, baby. Take what you need, it’s okay.” As soon as the words left your mouth his lips met yours, in sweet, raw, depraved mess. He was so desperate, one arm wrapped around you pulling as close as possible with his other hand sneaking under the waistband of your panties. As soon as his rough, calloused fingers met your clit, making small uncontrolled circles, you’re grabbing at his hair, bucking your hips to get more. Daryl was happy to give you whatever wanted, he needed forgiveness, he needed you, engulfing him, he needed to breathe you, to consume you. He wasted no time sliding two thick fingers in your needy hole. “Daryl- Dar, I- Fuck, honey, slow down-“ But he didn’t. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t fathom stopping. His mouth was leaving sloppy wet kisses up and down the column of your neck, fingers moving faster to curl up inside you, searching for that little spot that made you shake, mumbling “ ‘m sorry, sweetheart. So s-sorry, i-i’ll fix it, i’ll- i’ll make you feel g-good-“

You we’re moaning out and clenching at how how he moved, twisting and sucking on your sweet spot. His fingertips brushed against your g-spot, your legs closed around him, forcing him impossibly closer as his free hand worked on pulling off your top, with your assistance. You were writhing against him, clinging to him as the knot in your core tightened “Dar, I-I’m c-close…” He had been damn near humping the cabinet at this point, keeping his same movement as his thumb found your clit. The knot finally snapped, leaving you screaming into his mouth and bucking into his hand as your tits slapped against his chest at your movements. It wasn’t long before he had pulled his heavy cock out snd lined it up, bottoming out as you squeal from the overstimulation “Baby- Dar, wait, you gotta-“ The tears had made their way past his eyelashes, falling over his cheeks as he sniffed and pounded into you. You were screaming, clenching around him, dripping down his thighs and heavy balls. No part of you wasn’t left utterly defiled. And you loved it. He didn’t seem mentally present, he was reeling, still pleading for forgiveness, no matter how much you tried to reassure him through your moans, and it didn’t help when his fingers met that little bud, again, much more rough and messier this time. You clenched around him more as his own noises grew, you loved his little sounds. “Dar, ‘m close- fuck, i’m…” You were bucking your hips, trying to meet him, to reach your end, craving that sweet release again, as his incoherent rant continues. “So sorry, Y/n, s-so sorry- make it better g-gonna fix-ahh..” He was close. You could hear it in his voice.

@darylscigarettesmoke @lumimon47

[maxdibert]

In my opinion, Albus Dumbledore is one of the most hypocritical and despicable characters in Harry Potter—if not the most. I find it outrageous that this old man dares to say he’s disgusted by Severus when he’s not all that different. My soul cringes at all the "greatness" surrounding him, and his whole "for the greater good" rhetoric feels like a cold shower, as if people have a moral obligation to die to save the world.

Severus, a mere pawn in the grand scheme of things, is disgusting because he joined the wrong side, but the great and kind Albus is a symbol of the resistance against evil—even though he was practically Grindelwald's right-hand man. This attitude of placing himself above someone like Severus is so infuriating.

Not to mention all the mental gymnastics he does, belittling and minimizing Severus’s trauma, making him seem crazy when he snapped in POA. Apparently, the past is only condemnable when it’s convenient.

My problem with Dumbledore goes way back, long before the whole thing with Severus even came into play. I already thought he was quite a self-righteous prick for claiming to care so much about people and then leaving Sirius Black to fend for himself. I mean, the whole situation with Sirius, Peter, and the Potters never sat right with me. Seriously, with all of them supposedly under his command—because he was the ultimate leader of the four—when Sirius is allegedly the culprit, Dumbledore just lets him go to Azkaban without even probing his mind to see what happened?

Having a supposed Voldemort ally, a double-agent serial killer, and you seriously don’t want to extract every piece of information from him? You’re not interested in investigating what really went down there? Or maybe he probably knew Sirius wasn’t a threat but didn’t care because he’d already achieved what he wanted: Voldemort out of the picture for a while and the kid being watched over at his aunt and uncle’s house. That initial question then evolved into: The kid at his aunt’s house protected by his dead mother’s spell while a double agent infiltrates the enemy ranks, willing to do anything for Dumbledore’s validation? (Once it became known about Lily’s spell and that Severus had been working for Dumbledore).

Even before I had the full picture, Dumbledore’s attitude toward Sirius smelled fishy. It seemed really off and totally incoherent for someone who supposedly cared about the people under his command. This feeling intensified for me in the fourth book and then really hit home in the fifth. Sirius is essentially the only emotional support Harry truly finds in an adult. Sure, Sirius is dysfunctional in himself, but Harry sees him as the father figure he never had, or at least that connection to his parents he so desperately needs. It’s canon that he needs to talk to him, even if it’s just to vent.

Doesn’t the kid matter to you enough to use your super-powerful, highly respected wizard influence to clear Sirius’s name so the kid can at least spend weekends with him in Hogsmeade? I mean, come on. I’ve seen many people try to justify this by saying, “If Sirius were available, Harry would have wanted to go live with him and leave the Dursleys, and Lily’s spell wouldn’t work,” but that’s pure bullshit. Just tell Sirius that what keeps Harry alive is being at his aunt’s house. Sirius is rich enough to buy a house in Privet Drive and be close to the kid so he wouldn’t have to leave. It’s not that complicated.

But this is something I thought of later with the last book. What really bothered me in the fourth was: why wasn’t Dumbledore doing anything? Why, in the fifth book, does he have a guy who’s clearly a walking time bomb locked up in his childhood home? Just waiting for him to finally explode? Honestly, when I read the fifth book, I thought maybe Dumbledore put Sirius there and set all those restrictions because he knew him well enough to know he’d eventually snap and do something reckless, and Dumbledore could just wash his hands of it. Even before all the truth came out, before the seventh book, Dumbledore already disgusted me. With everything in hindsight, not only does my nearly two-decade-old theory still make sense, but I firmly believe it’s true. I think Sirius Black annoyed Dumbledore, not only because of how he could influence Harry but because he was a disruptive element. He was a soldier who didn’t blindly follow orders, someone explosive, with an uncontrollable temperament, whose leitmotif had always been opposing authority. I think Dumbledore knew that Sirius probably only stayed somewhat stable in the Order because of James, and once James was out of the picture, there was no one to handle him. So, indeed, he became a nuisance. He could do without him. Sirius wasn’t useful because he was too temperamental and impulsive for espionage or information gathering. He wasn’t helpful offensively because he systematically questioned authority and wouldn’t follow Dumbledore’s orders unless he had a good reason. So, Dumbledore let him remain a fugitive and then locked him up in his childhood home, which was essentially his greatest trauma, and left him there to drink himself into misery until he couldn’t take it anymore, snapped, did something stupid, and ended up dead.

But not only that, Dumbledore’s attitude toward his students always annoyed me. I’ve always hated favoritism because I was raised that way. My mother was a teacher at the school I attended until I was about 12, and I never got any special treatment. She was literally tougher on me than on anyone else. As a kid, I could never understand why Dumbledore showed so much favoritism toward Gryffindors. I could kind of get that Slytherins were the “bad guys” and blah blah blah, but there were two other houses he completely ignored. Over time, and with maturity, this feeling only grew stronger.

When I read the sixth book, I was genuinely outraged because the guy condemned Tom Riddle when he was just a kid. Like, ??? How is it possible to make those judgments when they’re just children? I also thought it was absurd that he told Draco not to do it. I mean, after six years of totally ignoring him because to you, he’s just a Slytherin son of purists doomed to darkness, you tell him not to follow the orders of the maniac threatening his family?? Don’t you think if you’d done your job as a teacher and stepped in earlier to make the kid question what his parents were telling him, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in this situation? Don’t you realize you abandoned and ostracized an ENTIRE HOUSE FULL OF KIDS highly susceptible to supremacist ideas, didn’t give a damn, and now you’re surprised when decades of negligence result in those kids choosing the wrong path? Don’t you understand that the alternative to following Voldemort is following you, and the only thing they know about you is that you either ignore them or constantly favor their rivals? Like, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU EXPECT?

And then there’s the Severus issue. Some people say Dumbledore was the only one who understood Severus. Yeah, sure, he understood him all right. He understood him well enough to use all his traumas against him, manipulate him, and turn him into a weapon. Some people also say Dumbledore was like a father figure to him. I don’t doubt that Severus might have seen him that way, as a positive paternal figure (finally, after his father and Voldemort) whom he wanted to please because he felt that if Dumbledore validated him, it meant he was becoming a better person and redeeming himself—maybe in a way similar to how he saw Lily as someone through whom to measure the right direction. But this wasn’t reciprocal. Dumbledore didn’t give a damn. Dumbledore saw Severus the same way he saw Harry: as a weapon. He realized Severus was an unstable, scared boy with a massive load of guilt, and being fully aware of the power of guilt from his own experience, he decided to exploit it. He knew Severus was talented, knew he could become even more so, so he locked him in a gilded cage: left him at Hogwarts, which had never been a home to him but a torment, kept him closely monitored, and used his skills whenever he wanted.

Dumbledore is the perfect kind of person to be a general in a war. Honestly, he’s amazing at it. He understands that soldiers are weapons and must be prepared to die for the greater cause. He understands that wars have casualties and that’s okay as long as those casualties help move closer to victory. He understands that sacrifices must be made and that if those sacrifices bring us closer to the goal, that’s fine. He gets that disruptive or dissonant elements that could jeopardize his plans need to be eliminated. He perfectly combines Machiavelli’s style with Sun Tzu’s: make your soldiers see you not as a superior but as a father.

He earns absolute devotion by embodying this fatherly figure that inspires trust, but deep down, his mind is a tangle of plans. His goal is to defeat Voldemort (who, by the way, is also a product of his own negligence, because if he hadn’t been such a crappy teacher, maybe he would’ve noticed the red flags and stopped Riddle earlier, but okay). If defeating Voldemort means a bunch of teenagers have to die, another kid ends up in prison, a child has to sacrifice his life, or the people around him are manipulated, so be it.

I understand this philosophy—it’s very military—but I don’t agree with it because I hate that kind of mentality. I could respect it if it weren’t for the fact that Dumbledore, on top of it all, is so moralistic. The guy who should be the last to pass judgment on others’ decisions, who should keep his damn mouth shut, is constantly moralizing, being condescending, and posing as the champion of morality and the compass of good and evil. Honestly, I would have slapped him in the face, I swear. What a jerk. So many messed-up people, all because he was a narcissistic prick. Screw him.

[k-n0-x]

༺ ♱✮♱ ¨:·Something Stupid- Chapter 1·:¨ ♱✮♱ ༻

A/N- Hey everyone! I hope you guys are doing well. This story is a longer series of Lucifer Morningstar x reader where you’re Adam’s third wife. This story will have roughly 10 official chapters, but there will be shorter fillers which will be labelled as [previous chapter number].5. 

I also made a playlist in honour of this fanfiction :D

Navigation

Enjoy! <3

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🦢♕✶💫☾🥀꧂ 

As you use your wings to sweep down to the sultry streets of Hell, you frantically look around for any stray troops, for them to tell you everything. Anything. 

“Where is this gods be darned hotel,” You think to yourself, along with other incoherent and unfinished thoughts.

But it all connects back to one hanging thought in the back of your mind.

Heaven is a Lie.

What happened to all that “Killing is bad” and “Murder is sin” bullshit that they preached?

This is a genocide. 

All of these demons, from young to old, didn’t do anything wrong, (well atleast, not in this moment)

Is it that hard for Adam to see? 

He’s been feeding you these utter lies this entire time? This news was a bombshell on you at the meeting when that lovely young girl, Charlie was pitching her idea.

Speaking of bombs, a piercing and explosive sound emits from the other side of the city.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

As you traverse the debris of the crumbling city, you spot two familiar faces amongst the face of fire.

One of which that you despised ever since that meeting.

Lute.

The other had her back faced towards the lieutenant. Her horns protruded from her scalp and her long blonde hair billowing in the breeze, unaware that Lute was about to strike. 

“LUTE, NO!” You put yourself in the face of the Angelic weapon, your wings disarming the troop general to avoid her striking down Charlie.

“Y/N? What in the actual living fuck are you doing here?” 

“I should be the one asking the questions here,” You point an accusing finger into the general’s chest. 

“Where’s Adam? I need to have a serious discussion with him. If you see any other troops, tell them to stand down,” 

“You’re not my bos-”

“I said. Stand. The. Fuck. Down. NOW!” You stare Lute down, and she glares at you back. 

She doesn’t say anything, but you could see her biting her tongue.

You turn to Charlie.

“Charlie, come on, we gotta go!”

“But, I- I don’t understand, why are you he-”

“Just trust me on this one okay? Go and make sure no one is in imminent danger. I will handle my husband myself,”

The Princess looks up at you, eyes flooded with admiration, trust, and hope as you soar back into action.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

You swoop in and out of  shattered buildings in fruitless attempts to find Adam amidst the screams and battle cries of both Angels and Demons.

“Adam? ADAM?!” You screech into the crimson sultry sky. 

Another explosive pierces through the sky from not far where you were barely a minute ago.

“Ugh, Lute I swear,” You mutter under your breath and your attention is quickly turned to two shadows attacking each other. You look overhead and see two figures; one of them is adorned with a priest’s garments (obviously, Adam), and the other… well…

Does not have a definable shape whatsoever. 

One moment, it has taken the form of a bird, and the next it has the figure of a snake.

One thing never changed though, a sporting white top hat stayed gracefully on his head in each form.

This ever changing specimen seems to be teasing your partner. 

“Adam? Haven’t seen ya since Eden,” He maneuvered between all of Adam’s punches.

“Gotta say, it really seems like you’ve let yourself go,”

Adam scoffs. 

“You, Lucifer, judging me? You’re the most hated being in all of gods be damned creation!”

Ah, that makes much more sense now.

The shape-shifting demon, finally setting on a figure, with a smirk, almost nonchalant expression on his face.

Dodging the First Man’s bolts of angelic power, Lucifer still doesn’t relent with the tomfoolery.

“Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer,” He places his index and middle gloved digits between his lips and drags them downwards, his snake tongue between them.

Ooof, that’s gotta hurt.

Well it definitely did. On Lucifer’s end that is for sure. One of Adam’s blows finally managed to hit him, knocking him backwards, and inadvertently knocking you out of your trance.

Fuck, you were supposed to be stopping this.

“ADAM!” Your husband turns to face you, looking from the ground, dumbfounded.

“Y/n?! What the actual fuck are you doing down here?”

“Why is everyone asking me that?!” You draw in a breath, irritated.

Just get to the point.

“Tell your little army to stop. Playtime’s over,”

Adam descends down to you, with disagreement written all over his face.

“Nah,” He smirks.

“What the FUCK do you mean ‘Nah?’ What are you, 10?” 

“Yeah, 10 inches deep in you,” 

Your face distorts into a one of disdain. Marrying is probably one of the worst decisions you made.

“You don’t need to make this any harder than it needs to be,” Then it clicked. An utterly vile, but devious idea struck your mind.

“Dear Adam,” you hum, layering on the most seductive voice you can. Both Adam and Lucifer look at you, both confused at your quick change of tone.

Well this is going to be the most embarrassing 30 seconds of your life.

Alas, you carry yourself with a more fluid demeanor, as his eyes follow you. Though as stupid as he is, he isn’t going to fall for your tricks that easily.

You snuggle up to him, your hand gently caressing his upper thigh, reaching right where the source of all manhood was. Stroking not only his dick, but his ego as well, which you were really going for.

You whisper in his ear. 

“Come back home darling~ you need some time to rest, hm?” You let your fingers circle around his tip. “I’ve been waiting for you for a while now~”

He smirks. Bingo. 

“Fine, but I’ll be waiting for you at home, love,” He says with a wild grin.

“Lovely,” you say through smiling teeth.

Though behind that smile, there is absolutely nothing worthy of mentioning.

꧁ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ❂♕☻☹☻♕❂ꕥ꧂

“Well, I sincerely apologise for my husband’s behaviour. Honestly, I would have stopped him sooner if I found out,” You bow to the group of demons.

Utter despair is written on the entire group’s faces. 

“What’s the matter? I know your hotel has been blown to bits, but at least everyone here is safe,” your tone is uncertain.

“Right?”

Charlie is the first to pipe up to speak.

“Sir, Pentious- he-,” Her voice cracks.

“Oh honey,” you turn to try and comfort her with your wings, though abruptly interrupted by a threatening cough from Lucifer, who was behind you.

You want to comfort the Princess of Hell, but you decide against it and turn to face the group. 

“I just want to say, before leaving, that I am on your side. I know Heaven is the real enemy and I will try to aid in any possible way, though right now I have to be going,” You look at each demon in turn, Lucifer for last, as he gives you a once over, as though you’ve intrigued him in some way.

“Well, erh, farewell. For now?” You give Charlie a tentative squeeze on the arm, and give Vaggie an acknowledging nod, which was returned.

As you spread your wings and soar back to heaven, you come to the realisation of what you’re gonna have to do when you get home.

Or rather, who…

꧁🥀☽💫✶♛🐣♕✶💫☾🥀꧂

Word count- 1,229

[superm4ks]

I think this a good time as any to share what I think H0rners big brain been cooking for some time, especially after the Spa fiasco wid Danny ric and allegedly big sponsors having to step in to save Checos seat ((Im skeptical of those reports but they not really the point, Checo bringing Liberty, and rbr, a lot of money from very intense LATAM pockets never been a secret, and it does matter in the cost cap era, its just how things are. Plus replacing Checo not something that keeps Horner up at night believe it or not, and that's where my word vomit comes in)).

I been sitting wid this 1 for some time, but mind u its all speculation on my part and mostly incoherent because my brain is completely fried these days. But stay wid me 😭😭. Adrian Newey leaving-- not just because of how it was announced, the way it was dealt wid internally, the shit he's been saying to press now ((he's tired and needs a break but been shopping around for teams like he's bored on hinge)) -- was , imo, more of a statement of distrust. In the rbr project, but mainly in Horner. He no longer believes Horners ability to succeed, he prolly already knew the rb20 as an evolution of the rb19 had its set of obvious limitations when it came to suspension once the field closed up, he knew they were headed down a difficult type of season, he took a step back, he saw the cracks begin to delve deeper and deeper into nastiness between the Verstappen camp and Horner, he saw Horner refuse to take accountability while Max very pointedly and UNLIKE all the other red bull drivers refused to express his unconditional support for Horner. Quite the opposite, Verstappen began making threats. Centering the importance of the car ((!!!)) and a stable environment, not Horners innocence or lack thereof. He doesn't care about that, as long as hes got the people and the car to work wid. Keep that in mind.

But back to the Newey divorce . Adrians one of the most important figures in motorsport period, he knew he had better options, perhaps some financial motivations, why not, he said thank you, I don't trust you anymore, goodbye. So here falls a core, original pillar of Milton Keynes, arguably one of the most successful aerodynamicists of all time. 1 of Red Bulls bishop, gone. Still, they rallied behind Wache, they said Adrian hadn't been part of development for some time, their factory remains strong, they can fill in the gaps, rbr is STABLE, sure sure sure.

Imola, Canada, Spain. We all hold hands wid Max and play pretend for a lil bit. Verstappen factor and all that bullshit. But for some reason, Max delivers the same conclusion every post race presser. This car is falling behind. We are starting to struggle. The sim data and the on track data don't correlate. This car is not gonna win constructors. Idk how the fuck its even the WDC. CHECO of course appears to be driving for my cousin's bumper cars themed birthday party so we can all point and laugh and marvel at how a driver known for his experience and who's won races and gotten poles to suddenly drop to fucking p6 in the standings. Surely this is the worst driver of all time. Surely.

Austria. Rbr pit stops, already looking kinda iffy since the beginning of the season, hit a new low. Lando, wid a single good overtake, wins the race, effectively beating Max on track. Max didn't let him. And he came out of it with a points advantage too, because he made a choice regarding his driving and how he wud defend his position. In a better car, that's never a choice he has to make. But the car isn't on par wid Mclaren. Rbr factory development has, quite clearly, stalled. Upgrade packages go backwards.

Hungary. Yeah. Everything is stable and the car was good and Max was beyond delighted of course.

So, that's stable environment gone, competitive car gone, and now off goes Wheatley to fulfill his tp destiny. Somebody , who, once upon a time, was rightly identified as the guy who wud replace Christian Horner due to the severity of the allegations made against him. Yeah, remember when Horner shud have fucking been fired? But Horner stayed, Newey left, and Wheatley left. To disconnect these events is, imo, a lil bit insane. Wid Wheatley gone, that's red bulls bishop n2 fallen. I think its fairly reasonable to assume somebody wid 2 cats in Monaco is straight up not having a good time anymore.

So, where do Checo and Danny ric and that fucking seat come in. They're all part of this dance, but I think in a way that's been fairly misinterpreted. See for a long time now, prolly since he signed Danny ric to do tiktoks, even before Vcarb became a thing, Horner has not been looking for a replacement for Checo. He's been looking for a replacement for Max. Ik, again, this is me letting the voices take over. Lemme say some unhinged shit before u call the cops. Max is an impossible teammate. U cant match Max on pace over an entire season, u cant prioritize a driver over Max when it comes to development, u cant tailor a car to somebody like Checo ((which , because Im so fucking money on this, is what Horner has just claimed he's gonna start doing post Spa)) and not Max, because, simply put, the car will be slower. Max can drive faster cars, he can deliver the poles, he can give rbr a fighting chance, he's been doing that shit, wid more or less success, all season, most of his fucking career actually. Now, who do y'all know who also qualifies very well, likes a pointy car wid a shit ton of oversteer and recently been caught discussing rb20 failings wid Verstappen himself. Danny ric. And Danny ric, like Checo, is very much in the Horner camp side of things. Danny ric, rn, comes wid bonuses of loyalty and trust and maybe a lil chip on his shoulder that Verstappen quite simply does not have, or cares to have because that brother is trying to get his fourth championship, not survive f1. Danny ric comes as a success story for red Bull amidst very trying times for the brand, the silver son who bent the knee and came home to warm hugs and big smiles after nearly getting fucking taken out back in a farm by Zak brown. U put that brother next to Checo or Lawson or whoever u also have the bonus of not having one of the best drivers of all time absolutely refuse to finish behind them, which can be a lil bit annoying if the car is shit too.

Horner is a stingy, extremely egocentric asshole, who prolly shudve been fired a long time ago, and he's not the team principal I thought he was. Horner's strength as a tp came from standing on business for his WDC once the going gets hard. He's doing none of that this season, at least not for Max. He's just a man, and at the end of the day, he's got the pride and insecurity of one, too. If he thought Newey was expendable, well sure u already have a bald man in the team who gives a fuck ((????)), if he thinks Wheatley is expendable, that's pointing towards a more personal type of dutch centric trend, because if he thinks MAX is expendable ... if this 2023 Merc stinking ass fucking season is headed the way I think its headed baby. I wish him good luck .

[cherriiiepiee]

“Why won’t you choose me?”

john marston x f!reader

summary !!!! — you’re johns side chick but you’re getting pretty tired of it so you tell john u or abi.. unfortunately he won’t leave his wife for you.

warnings !: smut at the first part (not rlly smut srryyyy) mostly just angst, johns gets drunk for a lil lol and a stinky cheater lol……. I think thatst it !!! ^_^ enjoyyy 😴😴

i feel so bad for abi in this :c i love her smm ill make her smth soon !!

this is kinda short so i do apologize !! i don’t have time to make it longer :((

—

"Thank you, sweetheart. I needed this." John pressed his forehead against yours, the glimmer of sweat and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke filling your nostrils. Cupping your hips with his calloused hands, sliding his length out of your throbbing hole. You let out a whiny moan at the loss feeling of him inside of you.

"I know — I know, I’ll see you later?" John responded, you sighed softly. John was attempting to urge you to leave his tent quickly due to the rising tension within him. Johns heart was racing at the thought of his wife, Abigail, approaching his tent and finding you half naked in Johns tent as his cum rested on your chest. He personally never cared for aftercare, not with you. You were just something to get his stress out. John quickly grabbed a rag and began rubbing off the mess off of you, burying the rag deep in his pocket, making a mental note to throw it away later.

"John.. I, er — can we talk about this? I don’t —" Your sentence was cut short by John's abrupt intervention, as he hastily shoved you out of the tent. Without giving you a chance to speak, John rushed around, frantically tidying up the cot, completely ignoring your presence.

—

Another heated argument erupted between John and Abigail, yet this one was worse for the both of you. Abigail was growing more suspicious with each passing moment, she began questioning the mysterious marks resting on John's neck. The outlaw was at a loss for words, utterly incapable of formulating a believable lie.

“It’s nothin’ Abigail.. just — quit it,” John attempted to pacify Abigail with a gentle rub of her shoulders, his free hand attempting to conceal most of the marks on his neck from her view by making his jacket cover most. She was unwilling to listen to those lies, growing tired of his bullshit and storming off. Johns hands slapped on his face, sighing frustratedly.

John could feel your gaze drilling into his skull, even after he strolled away into his tent. His temper had reached its limit, the pressure of his situation piling up on him as he responded in his usual brash manner. "What? I ain’t in the mood to deal with you either," he scoffed, spinning on his heel and storming off. A shiny bottle was held tightly in his hand, the contents inside indicating his desire for a brief escape from reality.

You never understood Johns relationship with Abigail. Nobody did. Not even John himself.

—

"I'm getting real sick of that attitude," you huffed, hovering above John as he lay flat on his back on the ground. He laughed drunkenly, his words barely intelligible as the alcohol took over his mind. "Why does it matter to you?" John laughed out a response, his words slurred and his speech already incoherent.

"Abigail or me." You firmly demanded, clearly frustrated by John's attitude. The outlaw's drunken wheezing laughter suddenly came to a halt, his sudden shift in expression making it clear he was getting angry. He propped himself up, his voice still slurred. "Are you serious..?" he uttered, his voice growing increasingly furious as he stared you down, his gaze burning into you.

John responded immediately, the words falling from his tongue without a second thought. "I'm not leaving my wife." He spoke through clenched teeth, taking a swig out of his beer before tossing the remainder onto the ground. The bottle broke into numerous shards on the ground, the sharp noise reverberating all throughout the encampment. You listened to him with a sinking heart, but a deep part of you knew his words to be true. You had dared to dream, wanting to believe that he would choose you, oh, how wrong you were.

"You don't love me?" You asked, your voice full of a deep sense of heartbreak and longing. John kept silent, refusing to answer your question, which gave you a clear hint at how he felt. He eventually muttered out a half-hearted "Sorry." before stumbling away, turning his back to you as you remained speechless, your eyes already filled with tears.

—

Everything has become different, John's behavior in contrast to his previous behavior indicating that something had fundamentally shifted in his attitude. He refused to even glance at you, never acknowledging your existence as he put all of his attention towards his wife. The attention he gave her was all the affection and care you'd desired, the sweet love and affection you yearned for. You could no longer help but feel the sting of jealously in your heart, envious of Abigail's privileged position and wishing you could be in her shoes.

You went to sit beside him, offering a small smile in a futile attempt at garnering his attention. However, he simply stood up and walked away, heading towards his shared tent with Abigail and leaving you in the chilly air alone once again. His indifference towards you only served to deepen your sadness, the tears filling up once more as the painful realization set in.

Why would you even think he would choose you?

teehee🙈🙈

[heyybaejjk]

SAU, LA'U TAMA AULELEI ! - CHAPTER 7 18+

pairings; teen!miguel o'hara x fem samoan oc

summary; Slow steps, baby steps.

warnings/notes; this chapter contains a HEAVY topic of grooming :( I hope people actually read my warnings, especially this one. I advise you read something else if you're uncomfortable with this type of topic. Miguel needs to be slapped silly for his eyes to open up fr. Manaia's supportive friends trynna help 😞 SLOW FUCKING BURN MY GGGGGGGGGGGGGG

series masterlist | prev chap | next chap

Miguel had arrived home two hours later than usual. He saw no reason to rush anyway. His silent walk in the rain with a small umbrella in his hand made him reminisce about the time he had spent with Manaia earlier. Her sweet perfume lingered, intruding on Miguel's sense of smell. His much taller form had no personal armrest to joke around with or tease. Instead, he walked home with his hand in his pocket wrapped around his phone, waiting, itching for a call from her. Then he realized that throughout their friendship, he had never given her his phone number.

Entering his dark room, he threw his bag onto the floor and immediately plunged onto his bed, not bothering to close his door. His back muscles ached. His legs ached. His head ached. His everything was just in pure pain. But he made sure to endure the walk and take no form of transportation. He knew his aching body was nothing compared to how Manaia had felt. Miguel knew his words were a bullet to the heart, but he found himself pulling the trigger.

"Hun, are you okay?" His mother waited at the door after knocking softly on his bedroom door. He mumbled a soft yes while his face was planted against his pillow.

"I'm going to make dinner soon, want to help me?" She asked politely, now leaning against his doorframe with her arms crossed against her chest. Miguel let out another incoherent mumble to which she rolled her eyes. Miguel knew his mother, and his mother knew Miguel. She wasn't dumb. "My sweet child, what's wrong?"

Now sitting up with his back against his bed frame, he ran a hand through his hair. He knew there was no getting out of this, so he saw no point in lying either. "Nothing, mama. Just school biting me in the ass," he bullshits anyway.

"Right. My brainy son who does nothing but study every day is stressed over.. school?" She skeptically asked.

Miguel raises his eyebrows as confirmation while his lips form a straight, "Yeah, basically."

"Miguel, I birthed you. I'm sure I'd know when you're lying."

"Mama, I'm not lying."

His mother walks closer to him in a swift motion. He watches as his mother's knee reaches up, her hand taking off one of her sandals.

"Wait! Okay- okay, I'm sorry."

She gives him a stern look, "Then tell me what you're all sooky about."

Miguel sighs and contemplates, "It's just this girl I've been talking with."

"The girl you've been gushing over the past few years? You finally... you know?" She eggs him on.

His silence was made up for with a nod. "We've gone farther than what we should have, and I regret it."

A harsh slap on his thigh made him cry out, "You got her pregnant!?"

"What? Mama, no!" he grunts, holding his hand out, "We just became friends just like you advised me to!"

His mother moves back, her shoe on the floor as her hands grip her hips. Shaking her head as she sighs, "Okay good, at least you know what not to do."

"I'd never do that, mama. You've taught me better."

"Then what are you sulking about? Befriending that girl was something you wanted, right?"

Miguel nods.

"Then what is the problem? You invited her like I asked? She said no?"

"I mean I told her about coming over..." he trails off, another slap on his thigh, "Ow! Mama!"

"Oh, you are such a fool," She pinches the bridge of her nose, "Miguel, telling someone and inviting someone over are two different things! What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking," he lowers his head.

"Yeah, clearly," she sighs.

She shifts closer to her beloved son, cradling his head in her warm arms. "For a top student like yourself, you can be a big idiot," she jokes. "If you find yourself around her again, maybe try to invite her properly."

"Well, I think it would be awkward to, if I'm being honest with you, mama."

"Why is that?" Slightly wrinkly fingers cup his face.

He explains everything that had happened hours prior. From when they had walked together, to the bus ride, and to the very awkward interruption from her younger brother at the front of her house.

His mother tries to understand, truthfully she was but the attempt of wrapping her mind around what her son did and didn't do wasn't clicking. For all the years that had passed since he met the said girl, he wouldn't shut the fuck up. "So, you don't feel anything for her?"

Miguel shakes his head.

"At all? Feelings are completely platonic?"

He shakes his head again.

"You're too in denial," she gives up, slapping his head before walking out of his bedroom.

"What do you mean?" he calls out, rubbing his head and fixing the messed-up strands.

"Figure it out, now get up and help me make dinner!"

Miguel had finally found comfort in his pillows and thick blanket, scrolling on his phone until his friends texted him on their usual group chat. He continued to read their chat, guilt eating him alive from earlier. The thought of Manaia feeling upset had clouded his mind. What would they do if they found out? They weren't the type to be angry when Manaia was upset; they were more likely to comfort her than to react with rage. Miguel took his time to come clean to them.

mahi_sniffer: guys i cut my hair 😓 its looks so fucking bad

[ mahi_sniffer has sent a photo to pussy eatersssss ]

bololicker: tf cunt why is it so shit

bololicker: HAHAHA

aluaigioukae: WHAT IN THE TRASH

bololicker: good luck trying w the beckis now

aluaigioukae: you cut your hair cos of ur nits? 😹

mahi_sniffer: got sick of ur dad pulling on it when he hits it from the back

bololicker: oh hell nah

Everyone had stopped typing, probably gone off to do something else, unlike Miguel, who observed his still screen with a racing heart. "No one's here, I should say it now," Miguel thought. He typed swiftly, then hesitated to hit send. "Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it-"

M.Ohara_99: I fucked up

Long pressing on his message to unsend, he sees Kiuga typing. There was no pussying out now.

aluaigioukae: were you the one who cut siones hair? bcos you did more than fuck up

bololicker: HI MIGUELLL

[ M.Ohara_99: I fucked up ]

mahi_sniffer has replied to M.Ohara_99's message !

mahi_sniffer: wat happened daddy 😢 yo mama not single anymore?

M.Ohara_99: I think I upset Manaia today.

aluaigioukae: cmon now dawg 😞 whats the happs w you two now

mahi_sniffer: lich uh relly

bololicker: was this today??

M.Ohara_99: I mean to keep it short, she just asked if we'd be more that what we are.

mahi_sniffer: uh huhh and then you said yes and made out??

M.Ohara_99: I said we'd just always be friends

aluaigioukae: WHAT

bololicker: fucks sake bruh 😭

aluaigioukae: thats fking crazyyyyy

bololicker: always cockblocking urself smh

M.Ohara_99: I understand, I truly didn't mean it. I just thought we'd always be friends. I saw no reason to lie since I've wanted to become closer to her, just not as close as she was hinting at.

[ mahi_sniffer has sent a voice message to pussy eatersssss ! ]

He groans as he sees Sione sending a voice message. Sione only sends those when he is truly upset with what his friends have done. More disappointed than upset. Now, he truly knows how dumb he was with what he said to the poor girl. Tapping on the play button, he turns his volume down as Sione's voice echoes throughout his room.

"ARE YOU DUMB? Its like if you- like if you just went ahead and like- I CANT EVEN THINK OF AN EXAMPLE BECAUSE OF HOW DUMB THAT MOVE WAS-" the audio recorder cuts off. He sees Sione typing.

mahi_sniffer: now shes gonna call me sooking over it smh

aluaigioukae: i give it 10 minutes before she calls you

bololicker: i say 5

aluaigioukae: no one asked u

mahi_sniffer: yeah well both of you are wrong cos shes calling me now 🥲 i'll brb

aluaigioukae: tell her i say hi at least

bololicker: so you're fine with just being friends w naia??

M.Ohara_99: I guess yeah

aluaigioukae: soooo you dont have feelings for her

M.Ohara_99: I guess I sort of do have feelings for he

r

aluaigioukae: "ermm i think i do 🥺" BOI WHY R U SO IN DENIAL FOR GODDAMN

M.Ohara_99: When she asked if we were to be more than what we already were, I hesitated to be upfront

aluaigioukae: upfront about what exactly

M.Ohara_99: how i feel about her, i just didnt want my real answer to overwhelm

bololicker: U IDIOT IF SHE ASKED YOU THAT QUESTION, IM SURE SHE WOULD'VE BEEN FINE AND JUMPED ON UR ASS

aluaigioukae: OKAY SO, what im getting from this is that you dont have feelings for manaia, BUT you didnt want to be honest with her and told her you'd js be friends for like forever?? SO SAYING YOU DIDNT WANNA BE HONEST BASED ON WHAT YOUVE ALREADY SAID TO HER MEANS YOU HAVE FEELINGS FOR HER???

M.Ohara_99: no?

alugioukae: miguel 😿

alugioukae: if you saw manaia hanging around another guy the same way shes been hanging around you, how would you feel?

aluaigioukae: more importantly, if it was seth?

Miguel takes a pause to reread the small bubbled text. A new scenario is created in his mind. A larger hand intertwined with Manaia's, the girl and boy are seen walking down as they smile at each other adoringly. Another scenario erupts, a comforting hand is glued to her back as the pair walk together, her soft hand pulling him closer to her body. He shakes his head and scoffs.

M.Ohara_99: I would feel nothing

bololicker: im not even going to try ur too emotional constipated

bololicker: good fucking night 😭

M.Ohara_99: I apologise

aluaigioukae: apologise to ur missus man 😖

Content warning; please click away or scroll past the italics if uncomfortable.

All you have to do is be quiet. You can do that, right?" A calloused hand ran through the soft curls of the girl who sat on his lap. "You're such a beautiful girl, you know that?" An arm wrapped around the small girl's stomach to keep her in place. "Pretty girls like you are good listeners. Are you a pretty girl?"

The girl whined, her tiny hands wanting to free herself. "I want to see my mum!" her small voice pleaded.

"Shh, shh, you'll see her soon," the dark voice croaked and cooed. The poor girl could only pout and let the tears that awaited in her eyes flow. "Go ahead and cry, little girl. You look even more breathtaking. Do you think you're a pretty girl?" the rough voice asked. The girl nodded her head obediently. His head leaned down to get a strong whiff of the girl's neck, the scent of strong liquor filling her young nose. He grinned after moving back and left a small kiss on her collarbone. She shivered uncomfortably in his lap.

"Manaia! Manaia! Liam, is Manaia with you!? I brought dinner!" another voice from outside the room called out.

The older man, known as Liam, grabbed the girl by her cheeks, squishing them tightly. "Remember, between us, beautiful girl?" Tears streaked down her face. Nonetheless, the poor girl nodded her head obediently.

Unbeknownst to the older male, the slight crack in the door was wide enough for someone to peek in.

"Manaia!"

"Manaia!"

"Manaia!

...

"Manaia!"

"Hm!" the said girl pops her head up from her table, eyes red and strained, sweat running down her forehead.

"Wake up, stupid. The bell just went."

"Oh," she continues to rubs her eyes, stretching as her bones crack satisfyingly, "M'up, m'up." Resting her head in her hands, she takes deep, slow breaths before looking up.

Manaia looks around her, she had slept in class for the thousandth time the past two weeks. The classroom was empty with the lights turned off, leaving only herself and Sione. He stood in front of her desk, her bag already on his back along with his, "C'mon, it's first break, you can find a table when we get to the library."

Judging by her silence and huffed breathing, Sione tilts his head knowingly, "Same shit dream?"

She looks away embarrassed. Sione gives a sympathetic hum, "I know how you feel, Nai. You know I'm always here for you. But we have to go before the next class starts, okay?"

An arm was draped around Manaia's shoulders for comfort, her head laid against his side. They walked mindlessly, unbothered by the loud shouts and arguments by the other students they walked by.

Sione extends his hand out to open the library door for the exhausted girl. Manaia is quick to get herself settled down to claim her place at a table. She shut her eyes promptly with the intent to drift back asleep. Along with her weekends, she was having restless weekdays. Adding more hours to her miserable job had made her physically and socially exhausted. But she didn't feel like she could express her complaints and disagreements with a mother like hers.

The lack of money in her family had become a problem as of recently, due to someone's alcoholic problem, and the only girl who would voluntarily listen to anybody was the answer. Her mother informed Manaia that as an exchange for more shifts at her job, she would be able to spend more time out with her friends. She had the time, but not enough energy to do so. Loud, fuming customers along with impatient coworkers had drained her. She'd head home to sleep everything all off before getting up and getting ready for a job that only allowed her to return home three hours before school began.

"You hungry?" Sione's voice breaks Manaia out of her thinking, "I'll run to the canteen 'n get you something before you fall asleep," Sione takes off his jacket and places it on her shoulders. The AC's in the library were a blessing when they were actually needed, but for a cold day like this, Manaia shivered helplessly.

"S'fine, I'm just tired.."

"I'll buy you something at second lunch, then," he tries to bargain. She couldn't bite back as her eyes failed her, slumber had won over once again. Sitting next to her sleeping form, he sighs. Pulling her hair back that flared everywhere, he brushed back the frizzy parts that would bother her sleep.

Reaching into her bag, pulling out the blank pages of paper that were supposed to be full of the work she was assigned days ago. He gives her sleeping form another sympathetic look. He takes out all of her books and begins filling out what she had missed. Writing tips on the margin side of her book, brushing a hand through his hair in eagerness.

"Is she okay?"

Sione looks up and sees Miguel standing there with a worried expression.

"Jus' tired. Want to sit?" He offers.

Without a word, Miguel sits across the both of them, looking down at the paper covered table. "This is what you've been missing out on?"

"It's Naia's shit. I don't understand half of what the fuck is going on in these workbooks, but I know she'll need them later."

"Can I take a look?" Miguel asks.

Sione pushes over the books and papers over to Miguel's side before sighing, "If I can't understand that bullshit, this dumbass here won't either."

"I can fill out some things.. If you'll let me, that is," Miguel hesitates to bring the idea up. But sure enough, Sione agrees quickly.

"Fuck yes, Miguel, please," He cheers happily, his voice so low to not awake his friend that was asleep beside. "Come sit where I am, I'm going to buy her something before she wakes up-"

Already out of his seat and out the door, Miguel could barely make a complaint. He looks over to Manaia who slept peacefully. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. He gets up and sits next to her, carefully not to wake her up. Grabbing all her textbooks, he pushed one to the side to work on later, hitting Manaia in the arm. She jolts awake and Miguel curses in his head. Manaia blinks slowly, the light above her irritate her tired eyes.

She looks over to the side and sees Miguel. She grows embarrassed once again.

They hadn't spoken in what felt like weeks. Realistically, it only had been a few days. The last time they "spoke" - aside from Miguel's aggravating revelation - was last week when they bumped into each other in the hall. They shared an awkward glance before leaving to do what they tended. Though, one of them had turned around to admire the other walking away.

"Hi," Miguel is the first one to speak.

Manaia ponders, "Hi, Miguel.." she speaks softly, giving him a short smile before looking away.

"How are you?" he attempts to make small talk.

"V'been okay, you?"

"Great, fine, fantastic."

"Nice, nice."

They sat in silence, both their hands on the table. So close, close enough to touch each other. Their hands flat out.

Miguel's pinky irks closer to Manaia's. She sees this, but doesn't find herself backing away. Instead, she places her palm over his, now looking at him with a beaming chuckle. One that he missed hearing.

"You're awake! I got you.." Sione returns with a bunch of snacks he managed to buy, "Oh, fuck, sorry guys," he apologises at the interruption of their subtextual rekindling.

Manaia pulls her hand away, and Miguel's heart breaks.

prev chap | next chap

[faceeeeee]

I wonder if you made backstories for the tadc employees or smh-

(I wanna know Gangle's :3)

I have some concepts and ideas in my mind but it's all very vague and I haven't written anything down so forgive me for any incoherent sentences or messy writting:

Pam:

Ever since she left for college she cut all contact with her family and "friends" (she calls them acquaintances/contacts) and put all of her attention in her studies. She graduated at the top of her class in computer sciences and got hired at C&A almost immediately. The moment she left college she noticed a sudden shift in her routine. She dedicated her entire life into her studies and grades and completely disregarded any social interactions, hobbies.... She excepted that when she got a job, all of her problems would've been solved but she found out that she was wrong. Her first few months at the company were okay to say the least but as time went by she felt more and more empty and depressed. Her lack of social skills and pride didn't help either and rejected all of her coworker's attempts to befriend her. So she spent her time either overworking herself, drinking or sleeping. She worked in that company for 5 whole years: Her sleep schedule was a mess, her salary wasn't exactly ideal and she started taking anti-depresants and a hunch of other stuff and Reggie's disappearance (or "temporary departure") took a toll on her. Not only because her boss decided to make her the head of her department but also because he was the only one who was still willing to talk to her. So now she was left with a bunch of deadlines and work and the only one who even looked at her and said hello every morning was now gone. Her life was shit, basically, so why not try again in a new life, a new world and with new memories?

Reggie:

Good ol' Reggie has been working in the company for 18 years now and he couldn't be happier. He had a decent childhood, a loving wife and a decent job that keeps the both of them stable! And a father-daughter relationship with Genevieve, so he couldn't be more happy with life! The only thing he wishes is that he could have more time to spend with his family and his hobbies (he keeps and collects cool bugs, obviously :) ) and that the company wasn't so strict with deadlines and such. He is the head of the programming department so he has a lot of work on his plate...but it's all for a good cause: the digital circus! In his eyes, it's a magical place that helps people to to distract themselves for a while and to have a little fun before they return to their normal lives! So you can imagine his excitement once his boss told him that they were going to let the staff be actual play testers! He was ECSTATIC! he spent YEARS fixing and refining the digital plains so of course he decided to be one of the first playtesters. Queenie was a little hesitant at first but he told her not to worry! He knew that the code was a little finicky at times but that's okay! He has Pam and the rest of the staff to take care of it if anything goes wrong, after all he wholeheartedly trusts them :) nothing could possibly go wrong right?

Jack:

Dear Jack....the C.E.O's son. He has been wandering around the company for a few years now, working in some low paying positions to earn a little pocket money from his parent. He's known as the office's little miscreant as he just goofs around all day and nobody can touch him or say anything cause if they do they're gonna get fired! Ain't that fun? But his luck runs out when even the C.E.O has had enough of his bullshit and offers him to take a little time off from his studies and work to go and be a beta testers for his folks vr experience. Ain't that idea fun? Just log in, fuck around and then come back for dinner, right?

Agatha:

Agatha, a hard working gal with lots of siblings to take care off. Her folks aren't around to help her so she takes care of em all throughout college until she gets the position in the robotics department! She goes up the ranks and even becomes the head of her department :). She mainly works with the headset design and with the new technology that the company has introduced. She has never seen anything like it: with it you can feel and hear your surroundings whilst hooked to the digital plains. So when she heard that they were offering people to beta test the digital world she couldn't help but to want to experience all of those things herself! She does wonder why they have to have her sign a contract but she trusts the company. She has been with them for some time now and the staff and boss have been nice to her so far, so why wouldn't she trust them?

Genevieve:

Dear Genevieve has had a sort of rocky life. Her mother has been very overprotective over her and that has left her with no real life experiences. She was homeschooled almost her entire life so when she entered college she had a hard time adjusting to her new routines. She's very explosive emotionally and very finicky over her personal space so she couldn't (or didn't want to) make acquaintances and so, she made it to the company with no connections apart from her obsessive mother, just like Pam. She worked a year and a half in the company, and that was enough time to meet and befriend Reggie. At first she was very wary of him and very hostile to him. But good ol' Reggie just keeps saying hi to her every morning, just like he does with every employee he sees. One day, when they were both on break, Reggie tried to break the ice and tried to start some small talk with her. She got scared and basically yelled all sorts of barbaric things to him and he just gave her a warm smile. Nothing can hurt this man, god. Genevieve was surprised that he hadn't yelled back at her or left and stared at him for a while. Then guilt overcame her and she started sobbing. Reggie comforted her as best as he could and since then they formed a bond. So when she learned that he had left to be a beta tester she was again left alone in the office. Desperate for his comfort and precense she decided to follow him to the digital circus...

Zephyr:

They had a relatively normal life (apart from an accident that left them without a bloody leg but it's alright), graduated from art school and started working at C&A. They overestimated the pressure and stress that came with working at the company to the point that they were exhausted. They would've left if it wasn't for the fact that getting a job with their degree was extremely difficult and the chances for getting hired were very slim. So they kept on working. They worked day and night. A million coffee cups had started to pile up on their desk and they had severe bags under their eyes. They were tired, so very fucking tired. Why wouldn't they try to escape reality for a bit? Goof around in the digital plains, maybe use it as some sort of rage room. Maybe they could do all of the things that they had thought of without any consequences. Yeah, just for a little bit....it couldn't hurt, right?

[0nemorestranger]

Despite the swagger during lunch periods and generally unapproachable persona, Eddie was an easy guy to get along with. At least when he was wasted.

Steve found him lying down under a tree in Tina’s yard at the Halloween party. It was just after Nancy finished her bullshit diatribe and he’d stormed out. Even now he couldn’t tell if he wanted to leave – drive until he couldn’t see straight, end up in a ditch. He’d had a drink when they first got there, but he was the DD after Nancy drank like a fish and unlike most of the company he’d just walked away from, he took that seriously. Especially after what happened last year. After he thought he liked his life, liked living it, and the idea of having it ripped from him by an interdimensional slime monster was less than ideal. Right now though, he wondered if he’d been too hasty. But it didn’t matter. People knew Steve Harrington. He could wrap himself around a telephone pole or get in a tiny fender-bender and people would cry DUI no matter what.

“Hey there, gorgeous.”

He picked his head up from the passenger side window and looked in the direction of the voice. Eddie’s eyes were half-closed and there was a hazy smile on his face. Steve actually chuckled. “I think you got me confused with somebody else, man."

“I know who you are, Steve Harrington.” Eddie sat up like Michael Myers and Steve waited as he scrambled to his feet, shambled over to the Beamer. “I seem to’ve lost my inhibitions, and my so-called friends left me here to languish. Made a nifty little profit, though. Drunk kids’ll pay anything for anything. Could’ve sold ‘em a bag of oregano if I was daring enough, kept the supply for myself.”

“Got any more of that supply?” Steve asked as Eddie leaned against the car. “I’m not drunk, but right now…” He laughed again. “Shit, I’ll pay anything for anything.”

“Ooh…” he hummed. “Poor little baby. Look in the mirror and see a hair outta place?” He grinned when Steve told him to shove it. “Well, unfortunately for you they cleaned me out. Fortunately for you I’m feelin’ charitable: gimme a lift back to my place and I’ll give you some of the good stuff for free."

Now, passing a cigarette between him and Billy, Steve wondered if Eddie remembered that. He’d expected him to be sloppier, more incoherent – certainly not able to flirt – but he also never made anything obvious. When Steve passed him in the hallway and chanced a look, Eddie had never been glancing back at him. When Eddie got on one of his soap boxes, ranting about shit that didn’t matter, that was more likely to get him beaten up than anything, he’d never made any pointed remarks toward Steve. Glanced in his direction, sure, but only because he was sitting with the guys who actually gave him a hard time. No locked gazes, no knowing smiles, and despite his better judgement Steve never raised his voice against the aforementioned roughing up. Maybe Eddie had been more drunk than he let on. Maybe he was playing it safe.

Or maybe none of it meant anything.

little snippet of a harringroveson fic i've been working on! it takes place two days before thanksgiving (coincidentally when i started writing) but i haven't been motivated to finish it. i'm hoping posting this blurb will make me get my butt in gear and have it up before the end of the year at least

[leiawritesstories]

Happy follower celebration!! <3<3<3

May I request:

“I really want to see you first thing in the morning.”

Thank you so very much!!! 🥰💕 here you gooooo. enjoy!

Word count: 938

Warnings: none

500 followers celebration prompt fills

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey." Aelin tucked her phone next to her ear, holding it with her shoulder as she unlocked her car.

"Hey, Fireheart." Rowan's voice flowed through the speaker, just the sound she needed to hear after a hell of a long shift at the restaurant. "Just clock out?"

"Yeah." She pulled the clip from her hair with a relieved groan. "God, it was such a long day. So many people. So many kids. So much bullshit."

"Bet you didn't take any bullshit."

"I try." She switched her phone to speaker and set it in the cupholder before backing out of her parking spot and heading away from the restaurant where she worked. "Seems like all the ridiculous crap comes on the weekends, though."

"Want to come over?" He sounded so hopeful. "You can rant all you need, love."

She glanced at the clock. "I'm gonna swing by my place first to shower and get out of these disgusting clothes, ok?"

"Take your time." He paused. "Wait no, not too much time. I wanna see you."

She laughed. "Has anyone ever told you you're the clingy one, buzzard?"

"Don't see anything wring with it," he returned, chuckling. "I gotta go, but I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah." She blew him an invisible kiss. "Love you, buzzard."

"Love you too, Fireheart."

An hour later, showered and changed and carrying an overnight bag, Aelin walked up the front steps of Rowan's townhouse, knocked twice, and walked in. "Ro?"

"Hey." He jogged down the hall, met her in the entryway, and tipped his head down to kiss her soundly. "I made food."

She perked up, kicked off her shoes, and bolted for the kitchen. "You're the best, Ro!"

He followed, shaking his head fondly at the way she was so much more excited to see the food than him. "Maybe I should've thought twice before proposing, love. Seems you're more in love with food than your poor sad old fiancé."

"Stop that, drama queen," she laughed. "I'm just hungry, and your cooking is amazing." She gave him a broad, suggestive wink. "I'll get a whole free chef when we get married."

"Trust me, love, I can handle myself in the kitchen." He wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"You like it better when I handle you, though," she hummed, casually serving herself a big bowl of the soup he'd made.

Rowan spluttered, his face flaring bright read. "Aelin!"

She burst into bright laughter. "I'll never get tired of seeing you all riled up, love."

He mumbled something incoherent about just how much she loved doing that to him and wisely changed the subject. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"When have I ever said no to that?" she grinned. "Let me guzzle this soup like a starving madwoman first and then yes, absolutely I do."

"Take your time, love," he laughed. "I need dinner too, y'know."

"Oh, so you didn't make this whole pot of soup just for me?"

"Nope." He grabbed his own bowl ad filled it up. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Guess I have to knock a star off your Yelp review," she teased.

He laughed softly and nudged her towards the kitchen table. "For someone who's supposedly so hungry, you sure aren't doing a lot of eating, Ae."

Once she had a full, satisfied stomach, Aelin helped Rowan clear away the dishes, waving off his protest that he could do it all by himself, and went to the hall closet to get a big armful of fluffy blankets. Rowan's mom kept buying him throw blankets every fall and winter, insisting that he needed "splashes of color to liven up his boring gray house." Rowan pretended to be annoyed, but Aelin knew he secretly loved his collection of seasonal blankets. She loved the blankets, at least.

"How many of those does one person even need?" he teased as he came into the living room to find her snuggled into a blanket cocoon on the L-shaped couch.

"Not all of us are human furnaces, buzzard," she returned. "What are we watching?"

"Hmm...well, I'm in a classic cinema mood tonight."

"Oh gods," Aelin mock-groaned. "Why aren't you ever in a rom-com mood, you know, like a normal person?"

"Since when have I ever been a rom-com person?" Rowan asked dryly. "Besides, I know you want to watch The Godfather."

"You're too good at the bribery thing." She moved the blankets aside enough for him to sit down. "C'mere, buzzard."

Rowan obediently settled down beside her, stretching out his long legs so she could cuddle herself snugly against the toned planes of his body. He turned on the movie, turned off the lights, and tucked Aelin's blankets comfortably around her. Knowing full well she probably wouldn't stay awake for the whole movie, he idly combed his fingers through her hair.

Aelin lasted an hour before she was asleep on his chest, her breath brushing his collarbones in even pulses. A tender smile curled his lips as he watched her peaceful face. He watched the rest of the movie, turned the TV off, and rested there on the couch, his fiancée asleep in his arms.

She blinked awake a few minutes later. "Movie done?" she mumbled.

"Mhmm." He kissed her forehead. "You made it a whole hour; I think that's a new record."

"You're mean." She poked his chest, not causing any actual harm thanks the the layers of blankets. "Le's'go upstairs. Sleep. Bed."

He chuckled. "Are you propositioning me, love?"

"Nope." She shook her head. "I just really want to see you first thing in the morning."

Gods, the way Rowan's heart fluttered at that simple statement.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

[inurecity]

Exhausted

Hey!! This is my first ever fanfic I’ve written,, I’m extremely sorry about any mistakes I made </3

I struggled to capture Soap’s accent in this; I hope you all won’t mind!! He’s an American for the time being 🥲

Minor Warning: Shitty spelling/grammar mistakes, most of it is fluff though 💕

This is also pretty short!! If this writing seems to be well received, I may add on to it or make more chapters :)

Please let me know if you have any suggestions for future fanfics, I love to write and I love my 141 and KorTak babies even more <3

The mission went swimmingly. No casualties (on their side, anyways), little to none injuries. A miracle, honestly—the task forces assigned were biting off way more than they could chew. As Simon Riley, or “Ghost”, heaved his weight onto the back of the truck, the yells of what he assumed to be of Price’s echoed around the area. Close behind followed John “Soap” Mactavish, who plopped himself right next to where Ghost had chosen to sit.

With a cocky smirk spread across his face, Soap leaned his body weight against Ghost. “Heard you roughed ‘em up pretty good, LT.” He slid his hand along Ghost’s shoulder, hugging him closer.

Ghost let out a grumble, shoving him off of his body. “Heard you got fucked yourself. How’s the arm?” He returned the smirk (which Soap could just barely make out with the balaclava Ghost was wearing covering it), poking Soap’s arm.

As Soap flinched away—and Ghost swears he heard a hiss as he did so—Price eyed them both from the opposite side of the truck. When had he gotten there? Ghost hadn’t realized. Weird.

“It’s just fine.” As Soap massaged where Ghost had touched him, Ghost took the chance to scoot farther away from him.

As the truck began its rocky pace back to HQ, Ghost (whom had previously snapped at Soap for falling asleep on him on the way back from a mission) couldn’t help but occasionally rest his eyes before he fully began to drift off onto the unsuspecting shoulder of Mactavish himself. He was spent, Price had put more weight than usual on him: assigning two god damn squads filled to the brim with militia. It was an easy win, obviously. That didn’t stop him from being exhausted by the end of it.

Soap, who had now began to realize Ghost’s proximity to him, cracked a smile, careful not to disturb the moment. He nudged his free arm in the direction of Gaz, who was sitting next to him, and the two shared a moment of pure excitement. It was shocking in itself that Ghost let his guard down enough to actually manage to drift off, but on someone else? Completely unheard of. Ghost, full of surprises to say the least, nuzzled his head into the crook in Soap’s neck, mumbling incoherent bullshit. Gaz (whom has been waiting to witness a moment like this) smiled innocently at Soap, batting his eyelashes. “Looks like you two finally got together, eh?”

This caught the attention of Price, who had been trying to ignore his.. well, children at this point, and he pulled his head up slightly to get a better view.

Soon after Ghost was fully asleep, Soap carefully placed his hand on top of his, eyes distant and longing. As much as he was enjoying this, he didn’t want their first time properly holding hands to be when Ghost was asleep. So, he retracted his own, the corners of his mouth twitching downwards.

Seeing what Soap had did, Gaz leaned in closer and hissed in his ear. “It’s not every day you get to hold his hand, ya? Go for it.” He smiled at Soap, holding eye contact for a second with an encouraging look in his eyes before shifting his attention back to the chaos going on in the other side of the truck.

With a flinch of awkwardness, Soap reached out again and laced his fingers with Ghost’s own. He knew Ghost’s hand would be limp, and that it wouldn’t be like the real thing, but he still felt beyond euphoric to do something so intimate with Ghost.

“I swear to god, if either of you tell him this happened, it’ll be the last thing you do.” He spread his pointed glare to Gaz and Price, whom agreed via a nod of the head and a knowing smile.

Throughout the ride, Soap had forgotten he was holding Ghost’s hand; he had been holding it for too long to not see it as natural.

But Ghost? He had woken up halfway through the ride, not moving a muscle. He kept his place on Soap’s neck, hearing the hum of his vocal cords as he talked with Gaz. He would never admit it, but the sound relaxed him; his hand laced with Soap’s even more so. Slowly but surely, he inched his fingers to close over Soap’s with a soft smile under his balaclava.

As the truck lurched to a stop, Soap looked down to both his and Ghost’s hands. He smiled to himself before loosening his fingers. Ghost, who realized what Soap was doing, huffed into the warm skin on Mactavish’s neck and squeezed his hand.

With a wide-eyed Soap staring at him, Ghost took the chance to stroke his thumb across his palm. “Ya gonna just sit there lookin’ pretty, or ya gonna hold my hand again, sergeant?” His voice was gruff from not talking for hours, the hum pressing into Soap’s neck.

With an excited side glance to Gaz, he tightened his grip on Ghost’s hand. “Jus’ keepin it warm for ya, LT.”

“Likewise.”

Thank you so much for reading!!

Typed this all out on my phone lol, sorry if it sounds lazy 💕