#Not to mention No One has the grey controllers anymore

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[scribe-of-hael]

The complicated life of Starscream

Tw: mentioned of Abuse/abusive Realtionships

I think whats interesting is the dynamic that Starscream has with Megatron in some ways. Because seems like no matter WHAT Starscream does. Being helpful ,loyal, or being backstabbing and sneaky.

Megatron finds a way to abuse him. That comes back around to the idea of , "No matter what you do, your abuser will never be happy and find new ways to be upset at you."

This is shown pretty well in TFP. Where Starscream trys to break free, be on his own. He struggles, even looses his Tcog in the process but he is a problem to everyone. The switch between his loyalty form s2 to s3 is a bit drastic. He is, very clearly, trying to do what Megatron asks of him and never once trys to go behind his back again.

Yet, even for a simple mistake, he is beaten. Megatron is completely incapable of trusting Starscream fully (reasonable) but Starscream is never going to be able to please Megatron fully either. Megatron doesn't know how eles to communicate with Starscream that isn't violent because that's how he responses, to violence and fear.

Starscream isn't perfect in TFP, he's killed Bots (as he told us repeatedly about Cliff jumper) , but everyone was someone before the war. I always wondered what he was like?

That and the fact Starscream mimics Megatron's abusive behavior in order to try and get respect. He HITS people , somtimes with little reason. He shoves and even belittled those who have actively tried to help him and show him concern (Knockout). Somtimes it works, most times it doesn't. He knows fear and violence works on him, why wouldn't it work in others ?

It's kinda a real thing, a friend who has these problems , basically puffing out their chest and bullying people close to them in order to get a sense of power and control that they normally don't have.

It comes down to Control and Safety.

Alot of times, in IDW Starscream does become a leader of Cybertron but almost always finds a way to sabotage himself. Why? He's traumatized. Conditioned to think he can not be anymore than what he was, what Megatron thought he was and what ppl think he is.

Bumblebee even calls this out, and in a fit of emotion, Starscream says its because he is Alone. No one is there to protect or vouche for him. (Which isn't fully true but that's his reality, how he sees it)

In order to keep himself safe, Starscream has defense mechanisms and coping strategies that are built to protect himself. He lies, he backstabs, he starts shit, he is combative even verbally when he doesn't even need to be. These strategies that were once used to help him, now make life difficult when ppl are trying to be there for him. Pushing people away, trying to give the illusion of control and dominance.

Rounding back to TFP, there was a theory i saw, (I think so, but in pretty sure I'm not the only one who thought of this anyway) that in RID, Starscream puts back in his old armor or parts of his frame from before.

My theory was that Starscream in TFP looks alot like Megatron in terms of color. Why go from a blue, white and red color to grey ? And was the armor even off him in the first place ?

My theory is Megatron purposely stripped him of parts of his own body, to make him both smaller and physically more vulnerable. Being a good representation of an Abuser stripping away who a person is, will all is left is the then vulnerable and under their control.

To add intop of it, in s3, its clear Starscream is loyal. The bot trys to go get Megatron or attack the autobots for killing him. Shockwave has to DRAG him away. In the movie, he STILL flinches at Megatron's movement towards him depsite him saying he "now knows what oppression is". FLYS AWAY & LEAVES HIM BEHIND.

This Starscream still has Decpeticon values, has only ever served Megatron for Millions of years, is still clearly afraid of his abuser and atm purpose to keep going. And he just LEAVES. Leaving Starscream to pick himself of being confused, scared and no idea what to do i'm sure.

Not to mention Megatron never once got anything done to him for all the pain and suffering he ever cause ld. He basically got off scotch free. Which to me, reflects the injustice some ppl feel and get when an abuser just leaves you in the mess THEY made and you get NOTHING from it. No justice, no recompense, no apology. You have to figure out how to BE without them.

Point is that Starscream is a complicated character in media. Different versions to show case this behavior. What i hope to see in the future, what I pray for, is seeing Starscream not only be able to break free of this cycle. But become more than what he thinks he is, what anyone thinks he is.

[immortalmrwavell]

Mr Wavell Is Back!!

Getting Terminated, My Brand New Account and How Things Will Be Moving Forwards. If you were a fan of my content please stick around and read what I’ve got to say ❤️

So as some of you may have already noticed, my original account MrWavellSwaps was terminated. This was very recent so a lot of you who followed me on there may not have even noticed yet but you can go see for yourselves. Obviously this was not my choice and was completely out of my control and when I found out I was frustrated to say the least. This account that I’d worked on for over 3 years had just been snatched away from me in a way that I personally feel was unfair. Initially I had been censored back in July this year for posting content that Tumblr believed to be against their guidelines. Or at least their automated bots thought so as what I posted that got me the censor was in a grey area at most. But despite that I tried to do right by correcting and even deleting any and all posts Tumblr had flagged even if I didn’t believe they were against guidelines just to play nice. Following which I appealed my account’s censorship only to be met with silence for months on end. That is until September 3rd where I chased up the appeal for the third time after receiving no response or updates. I was hoping to receive a turnover on the censorship but was expecting them to just say no and keep it censored. But they did the one thing I didn’t except

The email I got the next morning could be summed up like this. “You want a response? Okay. You’re terminated. Goodbye.” And I was. I tried going on Tumblr and my account was gone. Great.

I’ll be honest in the past I would’ve said that if something like this ever happened that I’d just give up with writing these stories and move on. But I don’t feel that way anymore. I think I’ve just grown so fond of this community and writing as a whole that I just don’t really want to leave yet. I’ve met so many friends through being a writer on here and even more than that I met my Boyfriend! I never could’ve expected that writing these silly gay TF stories would change my life in the ways that it has. And that said I think I’d be doing a disservice to just give up and throw it all away.

So here I am. Back again with a fresh new account.

Where am I gonna go from here you may ask. Well of course I have a large catalogue of stories already from the past couple of years and the majority of those stories are actually still floating around Tumblr thanks to all the reblogs. So it’s not like they’re gone forever which I’m glad about. However with my old account gone it feels like they’re all scattered apart. No longer together in one place. And most importantly they no longer feel like mine. Of course I still wrote them all but with this new account I no longer have any control or ownership over those posts and honestly that annoys me. Not to mention with them all coming from my terminated account, there will always be the chance that they’ll just end up getting completely wiped from the platform eventually, reblogs included.

With that said, I’ve made the decision to re-upload each and every single one of my stories to this brand new account. This way I’ll have complete ownership of these new posts. I’ll be able to edit and change them as wish and overall I believe it would just look a whole lot cleaner than if I were to just hunt down reblogs of my old stories to reblog again over here. However I genuinely see that as a positive as not only will it be better for me that way but it can also give all of you a chance to rediscover some of my older works that were perhaps buried under so many other before. And to spice things up I might even update a few of my old stories to add extra scenes and new images to go with them!

On that note I’m gonna be trying to adhere to Tumblr’s guidelines as best I can so I don’t give them any reason to pounce on me again. This means no risqué imagery from now on even if I personally believe it’s within guidelines. My writing style will remain the same however if a story is particularly steamy I may add a community label just to be safe. If you wanna learn more about community labels and how to make sure you’re still able to view labelled posts check out this post. All that said I do have a plan in mind to bring you all versions of my stories that have more explicit imagery but more on that in a moment.

For the next couple of weeks at least I plan on gradually re-uploading all of my content to this blog like I said. I may do one story a day or more than that depending on how I decide to do it. I’ll continue doing this until everything is back up under this new blog. Once all that is done I’m going to try and create a new master list where you can find links to all my posts just like before. And once that’s done I might give myself a breather for a few days and then I’ll see about posting some brand new content. Content of which I’ll be writing up while doing the re-uploads so that it’ll be ready to go once everything is caught back up. After that everything should hopefully be back to normal with my usual schedule of posting new stories and reblogging stories I enjoy!

Now. On top of this I also have plans to create a new blog or website completely outside of Tumblr. One that I can be allowed to do anything that please with and not have to tiptoe around any guidelines. This is where I’ll be uploading alternative versions of all my stories. Some of them may be exactly the same as they were on Tumblr while others may have secret images and gifs that otherwise wouldn’t have been allowed on Tumblr. I haven’t decided on all the specifics yet but once I figure it out I’ll let you all know.

And one last thing before I sign off. Recently I’ve been considering the possibility of turning this hobby of mine into a job. Now don’t worry I’d have absolutely no plans to paywall any of my content. I want everything to remain accessible for free. However I was considering opening up a place for people to leave donations and maybe even kick my Patreon off again. But most importantly I’d be considering opening up commissions. If I were to go down this route I’d likely be able to post much more consistent content for you all and make this my full time focus. It’s just an idea for now and I probably won’t set it into motion until early 2025 if I decide to go through with it but I wanted to at least share it with you all. I was actually just about to post about it on my original account until… you know hahahah.

Well I think I’ve said everything I wanted to say. Please can I ask that if you liked my stories that you please share this and my upcoming re-uploads around and let everyone know that this is my new blog. It would help a ton in getting me back on my feet on I’d really really appreciate it.

Can’t wait to get back on track and continue delivering stories to all you wonderful people out there. I love all of you and I’m so grateful to you all for following my journey so far and I hope you’ll all find me again so we can continue this together! ❤️

- Mr Wavell

[cyberesc]

BEST ENEMY. (1/3)

ft. Prohero!Midoriya x Villain(?)Reader

synopsis: He's the Number One Hero, you're his greatest enemy, and yet no matter how much blood stains your hands, Izuku can't bring himself to stop loving you.

˖⁺‧₊˚ tags & warnings: heavy angst, mentions of blood/violence, mentions of alcoholism, morally grey themes, self-loathing, "if things were different" vibes, unresolved tension

note: I was in the mood for some angst, i wrote this drabble listening to //Ma Meilleure Ennemie// and was inspired by Ekko and Jinxs' relationship

part 2 | part 3

A melody plays in the background as Izuku polishes the armor of his suit, careful with each groove and scratch. His hands are methodical, just like they were the night before when they had closed around your throat.

He’s spent years mastering his self-control, but every time he fights you, it unravels. You make him reckless. Sloppy.

The melody plays on repeat in the dim silence of his apartment, a relic of simpler times. Homecoming. Your hand in his, guiding him through a dance neither of you were particularly good at, but it didn’t matter. You laughed at his awkward footwork, and he swore he’d never felt so warm.

He should stop listening to the song, stop scrubbing away phantom blood that will never truly wash off, stop thinking about the way you smiled at him as he nearly killed you.

You always did have a way of twisting a knife in his heart and making it feel like a lover’s embrace.

Izuku has been in love with you for as long as he’s known what love is.

It was an innocent thing, once. Snot-nosed kids whispering dreams in the dark, two outcasts clinging to each other like lifelines. He wanted to be a hero. You never did.

But you humored him.

You encouraged his dreams, smiled and cheered for him when no one else would, cleaned his wounds when Bakugo shoved him into the dirt. He thought, maybe, if he became strong enough, if he became the kind of hero you could believe in, you wouldn’t have to pretend anymore.

He was wrong.

He knows the way your mind works, the cynicism carved into your bones long before you had the words to explain it. Even as a child, you saw the cracks in the system, the hypocrisy in the heroes you were supposed to admire. He wonders if you ever truly believed in him, or if you just didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

He should hate you.

He wants to hate you.

But when you’re standing across from him, bloodied and grinning, taunting him, all he sees is the person who held him together when he was falling apart.

And that’s why it has to be him.

You both know it.

If you ever go down, it’ll be by his hands.

And if anyone is going to break him beyond repair, it’ll be by yours.

You tilt your head, watching him. He feels stripped bare under your gaze, as if you can see the cracks forming in his resolve.

“You tried to kill me.” Your grin widens, something cruel curling at the edges. “How does it feel?”

His stomach churns. You talk about your near death as if it was a good thing, like his fingers hadn’t trembled around your throat, like you hadn’t looked up at him with relief as he nearly ended you.

He turns on his heel.

“Running away so soon?” you call after him, voice laced with disappointment.

Izuku doesn’t answer. If he stays, he’ll do something reckless again. And he’s already drowning in enough guilt to kill him.

He drowns it the only way he knows how.

The burn of alcohol is nothing compared to the memory of you.

Izuku doesn’t drink often, not really. He knows it’s a bad habit, knows he’s letting you win every time he lets himself spiral. But after that night, after nearly killing you...

He needed something to shut you out.

His fingers tighten around his glass, knuckles white. He wonders, bitterly, if you’d laugh at him for this. If you’d be proud of yourself for breaking the Number One Hero down to this.

Somewhere between his third and fourth drink, he stops wondering.

The next morning, he wakes up with a stranger in his bed, someone whose eyes are the wrong color and hair the wrong shade. He feels bad waking them up but not bad enough to let them stay.

You meet again in the ruins of a battlefield, smoke curling in the air, blood staining the ground.

Izuku is breathing hard, hands shaking from exhaustion. You’re grinning like you haven’t just barely escaped death.

He should say something. Should demand answers, should beg you to stop this.

“I hate you,” he breathes instead.

You laugh, head tilting as if he just said something endearing. “I know."

His jaw clenches. “I wish I never met you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, cleaning your knifes on the ledge of the building.

Izuku stares at you with a raw ache in his chest. He should finish this. Right here, right now.

He stares at you for a few moments, watching your fingers clean the metal of your blade. A chill runs down his spine at the familiar routine.

He shouldn’t be happy that you’d kept an eye on him, that you couldn’t stay away even if you tried.

After a long pause of silence, you look up at him with furrowed brows at his inaction, mouth in a firm line. You were giving him a chance. He missed it, again.

You look down at the road below you, not bothering to spare him a glance as you jumped from the ledge.

“See you soon, hero.”

And then you’re gone, disappearing into the foggy night.

Izuku is left standing there, the weight of his own heart suffocating him.

He wants to hate you.

But he never will.

© property of cyberesc 2025. please refrain from plagiarizing any of my works and do not repost/copy onto any other sites.

[thatonedogart]

Did someone say Mouthwashing AU??? NO??? WELL THATS TOO BAD!! [open full screen for high res]

Welcome to my version of Mouthwashing, where we find out what happens if curly didn’t burn to near completion and instead suffered from a minor (major) breakage of his mental well being while still being par cooked like a fillet

ITS CABIN FEVER BABY!

Watch out Jimmy, those responsibility are gonna start piling up.

Now please enjoy some in AU cannon writing Drabble from the wonderful nurse Anya

Curly

“I can’t feel it anymore, I can only feel you, rotting in the back of my mind.”

Captain Curly, one seriously stubborn patient. Between ripping off his bandages and being insistent on disobeying bed rest orders he makes for an exhausting handful. That’s not even mentioning the side effects from the oxycodone.

-took away his boots, not only were they burned but he’d most likely break an ankle

-not that he’s said much but the current change in appearance is upsetting him

-don’t mention the small bald spot and grey hairs growing in from the explosion

-he barely makes sense, waking in stints of 2-3 hour intervals

Jimmy

“He’s clearly lost his mind. Don’t listen to him.”

Current head captain of the ship, Jimmy, doesn’t allow anyone to check him over since the crash. With curly waking up he’s only become more irritated, keeps suggesting curly needs more medication. Maybe it’s stressing him out to see his ex captain and friend in such a state of harm?

-still wears clothes from day of the crash despite barely washing the blood out

-stated multiple times curly had lost his mind and tried to attack him

-frankly I don’t want him in this office, even if he was hurt

-curly doesn’t tolerate his presence anymore

[no longer allowed to give the patient his meds or provide assistance]

Daisuke

“Everything’s fine. Right? Right. Everything is fine.”

Jittery anxious intern, very welcoming to any and all needed checkups. It’s clear he’s suffering from some developed anxiety disorder, the stress of the situation is becoming to dire. Aside from spraining an ankle on the day of the crash he’s been in perfect physical health.

-rarely seen above deck since Curly started waking up

-now hoarding most of the small adhesive bandages as he’s been biting his nails

-still up for small chat but something is definitely keeping him wired

-“the hello kitty ones are the best” said the bandage thief

Swansea

“I’ve seen too much bad shit happen in long hauls before, leave me out of this.”

Our master mechanic Swansea, has had zero things to report to medical. Always clear and straight to the point he wants to be left out of the fuss. Especially with the current conflict between our captains.

I wonder what his family thinks of him.

-conversations are rare

-most of his time is preoccupied with the master controls in the cockpit and Daisuke

-had a momentary relapse with alcohol before curly started waking up

-our weakest moments are not our proudest but it doesn’t change who we are

Anya

“When you wake up from a bad dream, the dream is supposed to end.”

Nurse Anya, nothing to report. Taking care of curly has been my top priority, fatigued and strained I may be but I swore I would help people.

-nauseous, no medication on board to help

-exhausted, curly keeps me up even if I manage to fall asleep

-could really use a hot shower

-it feels ridiculous making notes on my own self.

[kanmom51]

Jikook in Japan November 2023

What we have so far.

First thing first, I want to thank all of you for your good wishes in the comments to my last post. I did miss you guys, and I'm hopefully on the mend, if not fully there yet.

So, JM and JK in Japan. Do we all see just how big that is? We know just how important their trip was in 2018, they told us all about it ever since. And now we have them travelling to Japan again, one last trip before enlistment. Together. They spend time in Tokyo (we know cause they flew into Tokyo - great detective work going on here - and the pics that JM posted on his IG - and I'll get to that soon too). But they are also travelled to Sapporo, where they are right now. Sapporo, where this happened back in 2016, just to remind you all.

Anyways, let's go back a sec to their departure. Cause why not, really?

As they walked into the terminal JM signalling JK to come in closer to him.

And after going through the departure doors while waiting for their security check.

Same same...

JM came to us last night posting on IG with two "my boyfriend too my photo" pics.

Are they doing a walk down memory lane? Is JM sending us down memory lane? I mean, let's get real here. They know. They see it all. They knew about the threats and hate preceding their trip, they know about Jikookers talking up this trip, Jikookers love of GCFT. And in saying that, was his choice of pics posted just random or purposeful? My bet is on the latter. Everything JM does is thought out. That is, until he has JK standing right in front of him. That's when he loses control, lol. And that, my friends, is why JM is unwilling (and probably rightfully so, as hard as this is for me to admit) to go live with JK. I kind of think that JK realised the same of late, after that live tiddy grab, lol.

JM posted at 11:44 pm or 23:44 pm. And here are the numbers.

I'm done with "it's a coincidence", cause it is not. It wasn't when JK started lives at 11:08. It wasn't when JK posted his letter to Army at 6:13. And it's not now either. At this point that's what I believe. Take it or leave it.

And just incase those that saw them leaving for Japan and are still struggling to come to terms that perhaps the two are literally travelling together, we had someone that saw them together in said restaurant eating together, sitting at a table for 2 (and not for the lack of bigger tables available at the restaurant).

We also saw the two leaving for Sapporo. Of course, again, said very 'nice' - NOT - people having a field day with them not caught in one frame on their way out of Tokyo.

And I guess just for these 'nice' people's benefit (not really, but am I a bad petty person for being glad they got this right in their faces??) we had the two arriving in Sapporo TOGETHER.

Also looks familiar.

And did I mention the matchy matchy grey coloured sweatshirts?

At this point nothing surprises me anymore.

So Sapporo. A winter paradise. A city known for it's beer and breweries. The city that recognized same sex marriages. A known couples destination.

There have been sightings. And they are mostly keeping the information to themselves at the moment, seeing that the two are still in Japan. But, point being the two aren't hiding it. They are out in the open, together, enjoying themselves.

I know that they are having the time of their lives.

I know they are creating cherished memories for years to come.

I know that they are and will be happy!!!

I know that.

[starlightshadowsworld]

I love how the government are like we need to hunt down the Agency and anyone connected to them.

And yet Katai is only put on house arrest.

I get why, he’s not a member. But he was and he also continues to work with them.

Not to mention he has a close friendship with Kunikida. The dude they all recently accused of child murder. And than later almost got murdered, did they really think his best friend wouldn’t retaliate?

Katai’s no slouch either. Kunikida himself said he’s equipped to take on military cyber warefare. And well, the ones hunting down the Agency are the militaries most elite squad.

I know they’re successful at keeping him separated and powerless (until they aren’t.) But it probably would’ve been a better idea to arrest him.

It’s not like they wouldn’t have grounds to do so, Katai by profession is an information broker. Everything he does is in a legal grey area and we’ve seen him hack into places before.

Man forget Dazai, what’s Katai’s criminal record look like? Katai also is still doing this so it’s not even old news like the others.

Depending on how much they know about his ability, they may also know he needs to feel comfortable and at home.

So why not him away from his home. Keeping him in solitary confinement without access to even a phone seems. I guess they were just that confident that Katai wouldn’t be able to do anything.

But my boy is also one of the few people to outsmart Fyodor so put some respect on his name.

As much as I love Ranpo breaking him out like the others, imagine a Katai prison break scene. He’s so full of worry but his need to protect his friends wins out.

Katai tricks someone into bringing a phone into the area and without even needing to touch it, activates his ability. He’s in the system. He’s in control.

Katai steps over a fallen guard and into the control room. If he was going to help, he needed to figure out what was going on. Why his friends were being targeted, and why now?

He smiles, somewhat sadly. He’s not a detective, not anymore but he’ll do what he can. After all, he learned from the best.

[msilwrites]

The Catfish

Catfish! Reader, Depressed! Reader, Dead Inside! Reader, Maladaptive Day Dreamer! Reader, Sad! Reader, Unemployed! Reader, Shy! Reader, Morally Grey! Reader, Yandere! Price, Yandere! John Price, Obsessive, Price, Obsessive! John Price,

A/N: I’ve seen a lot of morally grey Y/N OCs out there, and I thought, why not take it further? Let’s push the limits. Let’s get into the darker side, where the lines blur and nothing’s ever as simple as it seems.

----------

Your life feels like it’s at a standstill—unemployed, or simply watching opportunities slip through your fingers, to depress, too weak, to down to go for it. Every day blurs into the next, doom-scrolling through social media, drowning in the curated lives of others, trying to ignore the quiet ache of dissatisfaction.

Books are your escape. A mix of romance and dark, Machiavellian stories fills your time, each one offering a temporary reprieve from the monotony and gloom. Instagram reels and TikToks flood your feed, booktok recommendations mixing with relationship advice, until one thought lingers—why not try a dating app? Not for love. Not even for a real date. Just for something. Attention, validation—some small proof that you still exist.

Dating isn’t new to you, nor are dating apps. But right now, you don’t have the energy to take a new picture, to present yourself in the best possible way. Instead, you pick an older photo—one with just the right lighting, the right angle, something that has an air of mystery. With a few subtle edits—smoother skin, slightly sharpened features—it becomes something almost... unreal. Perfect in a way you aren’t. Unrecognisable enough to be safe.

You swipe. Browse. And then—you see him.

John Price.

Something about him makes you pause. Maybe it’s the rough-edged charm, the mix of gruff and steady. On impulse, you swipe right. When it’s a match, you hesitate before messaging first—but when you do, the conversation flows effortlessly. You pretend to be someone else, someone confident, intriguing. And for the first time in a long time, you feel that way too.

Days turn into weeks. Weeks into months. You talk every night, each message pulling you deeper into something you can’t control. You never planned for it to last this long. Never expected to enjoy it. And then he asks—Let’s take this off the app. Let’s talk properly.

Panic coils in your chest. Giving him your number is out of the question—it would expose too much, make you traceable. Instead, you suggest a messaging app that keeps your identity hidden. He agrees. The illusion remains intact.

And still, it grows. You’re not just talking anymore. You’re something. His words make your heart race. His voice, the rare times he sends recordings, leaves you breathless. It’s intoxicating. Dangerous. Because eventually, he asks the one thing you can’t give.

Let’s meet.

Excuses become your shield. You’re busy. Traveling. Something came up. You deflect, redirect, anything to avoid the inevitable. But you can’t do this forever. And deep down, you know it.

So you end it.

A long, heartfelt message—apologies wrapped in regret, a quiet confession that you just can’t. That it was never meant to go this far. That he deserves better. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you block him. On the dating app. On the messenger. Everywhere.

Your heart aches. Not just because you liked him, but because you’ll never know what could have been. Because you destroyed something that wasn’t even real in the first place.

But what you don’t know—what you can’t know—is that John Price isn’t the kind of man who lets things go.

----------

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t have known—was that John Price wasn’t just some “government employee.”

He didn’t put specifics on his profile. No mention of his career. You assumed, based on his dry responses and the absence of bragging, that he was just another pencil-pusher, a bureaucrat with a good-looking face, one who maybe dealt with spreadsheets and red tape. Easy to dismiss. He didn’t seem like someone who could leave an impact.

But you were wrong.

John Price is SAS. Trained to track. To hunt. His mind, to never let go.

The moment you broke things off, he didn’t disappear. He didn’t move on. He didn’t even give you the satisfaction of feeling like you were in control of the situation.

John’s mind doesn’t work like yours. He doesn’t take “no” for an answer.

You thought he’d accept the closure. That you’d get away clean, hidden behind the veil of your catfishing persona. But for him, that’s just the beginning.

In your mind, you justified it all. Surely, you weren’t the only one in line. After all, he’s good-looking, charming, and probably has a queue of women eager to talk to him. He’s the type of man who can have his pick—you’re just a small fry in the grand scheme of things. You told yourself he’d forget about you, move on to someone more real, someone better. This was just a pseudo-relationship, something that never had the chance to be anything more. So why wouldn’t you end it before it got any deeper? Before you could get attached, before he could hurt you with his inevitable disinterest?

It was easier this way, right? He’d find someone else, someone who wasn’t hiding behind a heavily modified picture—unrecognizable, almost perfect—and a name no one would ever associate with the real you. You, the woman who couldn’t even look herself in the mirror anymore without feeling shame. And you—you would never have to face the sting of rejection, the disgust in his eyes, the cold way he would scold you for deceiving him.

You convinced yourself it was the safest route, the only way to keep your heart intact.

But in the back of your mind, there was always the nagging thought: What if he doesn’t forget about you?

You laugh at the thought, shaking your head as if it’s some absurd notion. As if? You mutter to yourself before closing the app, tossing your phone onto the bed. It bounces once, twice, before settling. You let out a long sigh, then close your eyes, willing yourself to relax. A nap sounds nice, maybe just for a few hours—long enough to shake off the weight of the situation.

----------

When he doesn’t hear back from you, when he notices the blocks on the dating app and the messaging app, something in him shifts. He becomes methodical, patient—like a predator picking up a fresh trail.

And he knows how to find you.

He starts with the smallest things. The little details in your conversations—the places you mentioned, the books you read, the music you listened to. He’s tracking. Not just your words, but your habits. Your likes. Your interests. Each clue that could lead him to you, like a breadcrumb trail you unknowingly left behind.

He’s not in a rush. This isn’t a chase; it’s a hunt.

The longer he watches, the clearer it becomes: You’re not just a fleeting encounter. You’re the one. The puzzle he must solve. He knows he has to get close, to get past the walls you’ve built.

And he’s willing to do whatever it takes.

----------

John began his hunt, a quiet, patient pursuit that would leave no stone unturned.

The nickname you had chosen for the dating app—so unique, so personal—was the first clue. It wasn’t just something random, he realized. It was a key to something deeper, something hidden just beneath the surface.

He traced it. The path it led him on was winding, but it was clear and deliberate. Your image, that photo you’d used, caught his eye next. He zoomed in, examining every detail. The way the light hit your face, the angle, the soft texture of the background. It wasn’t just a casual snapshot. It was deliberate, curated. There was something about it that felt... polished.

Then, his eyes locked onto it.

The Royal College of Music. The concert hall.

It was a place he recognised immediately, and for a split second, he allowed himself a small, knowing smirk. You had been there, seated in that hall. The way you looked, so poised, so perfect, in the middle of that sea of sound, it was no accident. Your friend must’ve taken the picture. But even in that moment, you seemed so out of reach, so untouchable.

But that wouldn’t stop him.

He pushed forward, searching for more. Minutes later, his screen lit up with a new discovery—a Spotify playlist. The name was the same as your nickname, and when he clicked on it, the songs flooded in. The same songs you’d mentioned in passing. Those little details you’d carelessly slipped into conversation, thinking they were nothing.

It wasn’t coincidence.

John leaned back, his pulse steady, as he took it all in. It was a breadcrumb trail, and you had unwittingly left the map for him to follow.

And then, something clicked.

The playlist. The songs. The name.

He typed it into his search bar, just to see. Just to see what else would come up.

Your LinkedIn.

His heart skipped a beat. This was it. The final piece.

John leaned forward, fingers moving rapidly as he clicked through. There you were, full name now revealed, a neat professional profile staring back at him. Every detail lined up—your job, your education, even your location.

You were closer than he thought.

He smiled to himself, leaning back in his chair, the thrill of the chase finally rushing through him.

You were no longer hiding. No longer just a name behind a pretty picture. You were real.

And now, he knew exactly who you were.

This wasn't over. Far from it.

It was just the beginning.

----------

You almost didn’t go out tonight.

It had been so easy to just sink into routine—doom-scrolling through your phone, putting off responsibilities, ignoring the world beyond your bedroom. But your friends had insisted. An orchestra performance. You always loved instrumental music. It was one of the few things that could lift your mood, transport you somewhere else.

So, you dragged yourself up and went through the long, tedious process of making yourself presentable—no, more than presentable. Polished. Together. A mask, really, but one you were good at wearing.

The skincare routine, the precise trim of your brows, the careful shaving. Contouring, blending, soft touches of highlight and color to shape the face you wanted the world to see. It was muscle memory now, an exhausting ritual that took time, patience, and just the right amount of self-delusion.

When you finally looked in the mirror, the transformation was complete.

You almost looked like her—the woman in the picture you had used on the app. The confident, successful version of yourself. Not the girl stuck in limbo, unemployed, wasting time. No one would know the difference.

And for tonight, you could pretend, too.

----------

The pub near the concert hall was quiet, barely a handful of patrons scattered across the space. You were early, too early, and your friends hadn’t arrived yet. No sense in standing outside in the cold, so you slipped inside, ordered a pint, and made your way to one of the empty booths near the back.

The first sip was soothing, grounding. You exhaled, letting yourself settle into the moment, allowing the warm buzz of the pub to wrap around you.

And then—

A shadow passed over your table.

Someone slid into the seat across from you, smooth, unhurried. Not a stranger looking for an empty spot. No, this was deliberate.

You barely had time to react before a deep, familiar voice cut through the space between you.

"Hello, Birdie."

Your blood ran cold.

John Price.

He was sitting right there, across from you, arms resting casually on the table, watching you like he had all the time in the world.

Your stomach flipped, your throat tightening. A slow, creeping dread spread through your limbs, pinning you to your seat. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t know who you are.

But he did.

And from the way his lips curled into something almost—pleased—as if he had been waiting for this moment.

For you.

A/N: Wooo!! Maybe I’ll write the next part when the inspiration hits? I’d love to hear what you guys think though! If you have any suggestions, feel free to share—I’m open to ideas! 😊

[huffelpuff210]

Soft dark mob Steve Rogers x innocent reader part 3

Warning: mentions of abuse and beating dark behavior,

The sound of beeping in the background was heard, Steve the big bad mob boss brought to his knees by one woman, Steve watched as your chest rose and fell at a steady pace,

Steve and Bucky both knew they couldn’t risk taking you to a hospital Brock probably sent word out about you,

They had the mafia doctor look at you, you had multiple injuries, six cracked ribs, a collapsed lung, you had a fractured jaw, multiple fractures in your cheeks, concussion, dislocated shoulder,

Steve was beyond pissed taking out his anger on Brock who is in a warehouse hanging from a meat hook bound as he gets the shit beat out of him, Steve had never been so angry, Bucky either after your brother threw you under the bus both Steve and Bucky decided to send him to Tony for some tough training, Tony has a way of breaking idiots from their habits and selfishness,

Your heavy eyelids slowly flutter open, you stare at an unfamiliar ceiling, the sound of a heart monitor could be heard, you slowly turn your head seeing that it was just starting to get dark..

What time was it? How long? Were you asleep? And where were you? You look around but the room was empty, you groaned at the pain but suck it up, pulling the blanket off of you. You see you were in a oversized grey tee shirt, it hung just above your knees.

You pull your IV out of your arm the heart monitor off your finger.

You get out of bed only to stumble, but you regain your footing, as you walked past the mirror you see your face was beyond bruised,

Gauze was wrapped around your jaw and head.

You just shake it off opening the door looking around it all looked familiar,

You walked down the hallway your arms crossed, but as soon as you pass a familiar picture you knew exactly where you were, Steve’s place,

You walk down a few hallways that was until running coming from behind you, and flashes from being captured rush back, you froze,

Suddenly Sam comes into view along with Natasha

“Oh thank god, Y/N what the hell?” Sam says as Natasha was talking through her ear piece

Not long Steve and Bucky strode towards you,

“Jesus doll you had us scared.” Bucky says with a worried look Steve looks relieved yet concerned,

“Let’s get you back to bed.” Steve says

Steve guides you back to the room,

Steve nods at everyone and they leave,

Steve would be lying if he said seeing you in his shirt didn’t turn him on, or the way you were looking at him, but he had to remind himself to control himself, you were injured and needed rest,

He helped you into bed, he got Bruce to put your IV back in,

He sat in the chair next to your bed,

You knew there was a lot on his mind so you decided to speak,

“I’m sorry,” your voice came out raspy

He looked at you confused,

“Kitten you shouldn’t be apologizing I should,” he said with a sigh

You shake your head

“I brought into a mess you shouldn’t have had to clean up.” You say

He chuckled

“Kitten I would fight the devil himself if I had to in order to save you.” He says

“Besides it was your dimwit brother who is the real artist for this situation.” He says with a growl

“I tried so hard to keep you away from this life..” he says with a sigh

“But he brought it to your doorstep so I’m no longer going to restrain myself when it come to you. Not anymore.” He says

You were completely oblivious to what he was talking about, he stood up towering over you, and still this man doesn’t scare you, never has, his blue eyes shine as he smiles,

He gently cups your face with his large hands, he kisses you, you were in shock,

You’ve never kissed A man before or felt the touch of a man, Bucky always scared them off before they would even think of it,

But here was Steve the king of New York, your friend, Bucky’s boss,

He was kissing you!

You were stiff at first but eventually melted into the kiss,

After he parted he smiled down at you,

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He says

You smile back at him, because deep down you wanted to as well…

[nishnormp]

cheavy ramblings

Been thinking about the stinky BLU classic heavy from the comics lately. He's basically the villain of the final issues, and was practically built to be unlikeable from the start so his defeat could be more satisfying; buut since its been years since an update came out and I am slowly going insane, I think it would be funky to explore him more (bonus cmedic feature)

Few disclaimers: I'm not excusing his actions (I myself think hes a bitch) and I do NOT ship him with tf2 medic (also I dont think tf2 medic is unmasked cmedic bc 1)why would he sabotage himself in the issues by acting like That 2)uhh reasons later 3)this panel) also some of my takes aren't original, but I've expanded on em a bit

P1: Medic hater activities

As we all know, cheavy's greatest sin was dunking on + killing tf2 medic

Somehow he and tfc demo got sidetracked by medic's question, but the most hostile he gets towards tf2 medic here is jeering at the fact that they're going to hunt down his old team; which tf2 medic doesn't seem bothered by.

( @number1yisuchongfan actually brought this up before me) This panel pretty much sums up why cheavy is pissed: medic was implied to have a record of being weird with parts (he lost his license bc he stole a man's skeleton), he blew ALL of his budget meant for healing on exotic parts (that he put in cheavy's teammates), AND he revived the enemy (said enemy slips away a few panels later just as cheavy gets informed that three of his mercs died).

(also, the weird p3do tfc scout and soldier arent included in the 'three good men', since they died much later) Speaking of the 'good men' comment-

P2: Good leader at some point?? Not anymore tho

Hes gruff and an ass, but cheavy has a soft spot for his team; the tf2 mercs call each other strictly by their classes, but the tfc ones know each other names (also see cheavy's way of describing his dead teammates and his immediate reaction to go over there rather than curse/assume their incompetence)

He gets curious about australium, and from here on out he gets fixated on it- enough to be more unreasonable than usual. Cheavy is pretty amicable with Bea, and the way he acts with her is probably more in-character for what he was like back in his prime rather than the hot-tempered man that the later panels show.

I mean . He and his team were highly recommended and even took out ALL of the admin's elite teams, leaving the tf2 team for last. He may be a drill sergeant, but I don't think he was a genuine tyrant for most of his career; they aren't purely business-basis with each other (some of them formed close bonds, like fred and virgil), plus- any elite team would be able to capitalize on an overly prideful and control freaky leader (+a constantly demoralized team) sooner.

With three of his mercs dead and his plans failing against a team that he saw as rejects, the mental strain is showing badly. Tfc mercs don't have much personality in their games (or their own comic about them during their prime) but one of the few dynamics mentioned is between the Heavy and the Engineer+Medic. Tfc engie is the one who stepped up to ask about cheavy's plans, and he also gets the brunt of his anger. Earlier, cheavy answered bea's question and encouraged her, but now he's yelling and mocking the capabilities of one of the men he coordinates with the most.

Tfc scout's line may just be him not understanding/underestimating australium (esp since apparently cheavy had to ask grey mann what it even did), but it also reads as him seeing cheavy having officially gone off his rocker; his shaky grasp over leadership might kill the team before being deprived of yellow rocks does. Both scout and engie are thrown off by his attitude, implying that cheavy isn't usually like this (I can't imagine them being coordinated if they all shrimp away like that).

His line of thinking for both of these situations are pretty questionable. For the first one, he knows that the bots extract australium from the body, but he also knows that the mercs likely have nothing in them anyways (note the emphasis on his dead mercs, this is him taking revenge but also he is NAWT going to get any australium for those extra immortality machines which is still a pressing issue for his engie). In the second one, he first tells medic that they'll try figuring out how to stitch the machine on him, which leads to medic stabbing him and cheavy retaliating. Cheavy then goes all the way with attempting to kill him, stating that he'll just gets his answers from the administrator. Its soon revealed that he wants to fight tf2 heavy, but even that is ??? Like cheavy knows that he and his team are old as hell, but he's going to try having a fair fight with a guy in his prime anyways? He didn't even know that he could just slap on the machine at the time, and the unnecessary risk for what seems to be a quest to satisfy his ego is antithetical to his supposed goal of getting the rocks and making his team immortal. At this point, his hatred of medic has completely overridden his rationality; there were many ways for him to have killed both of them, yet he didn't take em.

P3: Cmedic

I saw some posts abt how cheavy is likely coded as homophobic due to how he treats medic (a presumably gay-coded character) bc of the "stay in the kitchen"-esque dialogue, and the way cheavy undermines him in verbal + physical ways. I do not have a very solid defense for this . aside from everything I listed before.

Just to clarify, I think its cheavy's fault for alienating medic from the start: loss of medical license aside, medic's inventions DO work splendidly for healing. Would it have been more concerning since medic is . meant to heal? Maybe. But mercs are literal murderers for hire, personality quirks should be the last of their priorities. The guy is passionate about showing off his stuff, and he was even enthusiastic about getting on the battlefield and healing cheavy. I'm not saying medic was going to be 100% loyal, but he's willing to do his job for the classics as long as he wasn't disrespected so damn much.

The tfc mercs with personalities are ones that oppose their tf2 counterpart; tfc sniper is a sadist rather than a swift professional, tfc pyro is...also a sadist rather than having tf2 pyro's misguided bubbliness, and cheavy does not respect his team's (current) medic. This in conjunction with the complete and utter lack of not just presence but also mention of tfc medic leads to the popular belief that the guy just up and left because of the disrespect.

(Writing inconsistencies be damned I like to cope) so what if it wasn't the case?

These are one of the few lines in tfc that describe a cooperative nature between certain classes. Like I mentioned earlier, tfc has less media compared to tf2 so its easy to slot personalities onto them as villains (tfc sniper's gun blowing people into giblets kinda helps), but I don't think these can be ignored. Fred was the one who represented the rest of the team's opinions to cheavy, and the phrasing in the second pic is even stronger; the heavymedic duo was always a thing, even in tfc.

Sort of. Gameplay-wise, cmedic is more like a roided out scout armed with a medkit that can give enemies and disguised spies tuberculosis, grenades that can send him across the map, and a gun that can destroy sentries (situational). He doesn't need to cling to his more offensive teammates as much as tf2 medic, and while his kit can instantly heal a teammate to full no matter the percentage + give overheal- its strictly melee ranged and has no ubercharge. In a narrative sense, cmedic would most likely oppose tf2 medic as a more 'grounded' healer. He prevents damage to his team by erasing enemies himself, doesn't go too overboard with his biochemical arsenal (his brew is potent but hes stuck with the melee-ranged kit and no crazy mechanic like uber), and can typically run off by himself (provided he isn't jumped by two soldiers or smth). Its a matter of game design, but can translate to the comics in an interesting way.

Medic is the only one who speaks of cmedic, and while the mention itself has no violent reaction- no one else speaks of him. I can't imagine him being easily forgotten since the heavymedic duo is just too iconic, so what if smth exceptionally horrible just happened to him? If cmedic was close to cheavy than everyone else, his loss/disappearance could explain cheavy's immediate dislike for tf2 med; not only replacing his own med, but with the complete opposite in terms of personality as well.

(I could expand on cmedic more, but this post is already long enough as is so I'll probably just make a separate one gah)

[lexisecretaccx]

High School Sweethearts pt.12 - Chris Sturniolo

Other parts are on my Masterlist!

(Fem reader x Chris Sturniolo, suggestive, slight mentions of family death, can’t spoil anything..)

A/n: sigh…

As we leave school I turn to Chris and kiss him gently on the lips, he smiles before looking up at Oliver who was talking to Matt and Nick, causing his smile to faulter, “promise you will be ok?” Chris ducks his head into the crook of my neck and whispers against my skin before kissing gently.

“Yes Chris, I promise.” I pull him away and kiss his cheek before we part ways and I walk towards Oliver, Matt and Nick saying bye to me as they go to walk with Chris.

Oliver smiles at me and we start to walk, I look back to Chris and the others and see Matt looking back, he quickly turns his head nervously. “We still have the old house, my dad couldn’t bring himself to sell it, I think because he knew he was gonna.. you know.” Oliver swallows hardly, I pat his arm comfortingly. “Yeah.” I breathe out.

“So you still have your old room? With the car wallpaper?” I chuckle, he shook his head also laughing, “I tore that shit down, my walls are just white and grey now.” He looks down at me, “I think you should’ve kept it.” I smirk before looking down at my feet.

The only sound is our feet dragging against the concrete sidewalk, we turn down Oliver’s old street. “My mom is working until 5 and Lacey has dance practice until half 5 so they’ll be back after that. So it’s just us for now.” He spoke as we walk up the path to his house.

I nod softly as he opens the door, nostalgia hits me as I take in the living room, different furniture but same layout. My face lights up, “it’s just like I remember.” I say excitedly, Oliver laughs at my reactions, “yep.” He replies.

“Wanna come see the new improved, no longer car filled room?” He grins, I look to him, “yeah, it’s not gonna be as cool anymore though.” I laugh and we walk upstairs. He pushes his door open and I’m greeted by the plain white walls and one grey feature wall, his black and white furniture and LEDs across his ceiling.

“This is nice… would’ve been better with the cars on the wall though.” I shrug, causing him to smirk. He sits down on his bed and pats next to him for me to sit down. “Wanna play a game?” He says, causing me to tilt my head in confusion, “what-” he cuts me off, “on my PlayStation, of course.” He adds on motioning to his TV and PS5 sitting next to it.

“Oh yeah of course.” I nod. He hands me a controller and turns on the PS5, “what about this? A zombie fighting game.” He offers and looks to me, excitement in his eyes, just like when we were kids. “Yeah okay, I’m gonna shit myself.” I joke.

We start the game, he’s great at it, my eyes focus on his hands on the controller, pushing buttons, flicking triggers.. “you’re gonna die.” He spoke, causing me to look at the TV, “shit.” I fight back the zombies and Oliver adds on “what distracted you?” I hum in confusion, “when you almost died just then, you seemed distracted, why?” He asks.

I shrug, “I’m just a bit tired.” I lie, my eyes darting down to his hands once more before continuing to the game. “Apparently you beat up a boy..” he spoke, a smirk evident on his face. I scoff, “he deserved it.” Is all I reply with as he chuckles.

Some time passes and I die on the game, “fuck.” I complain as I set the controller down next to me and lie back in defeat. “You’re bad at this game huh?” He teases, I lightly hit his arm. “Fuck off, it didn’t help that you..” my phone buzzes, Chris❤️ flashes up on my screen. “Chris is calling me, let me answer him.” Oliver nodded and I stepped out into the hallway.

“You okay?” I say, “uh yeah.. what you up to?” He replies nervously. “Playing a zombie game on his PlayStation, thats all.” I chuckle, “wait aren’t you supposed to be eating dinner there?” Chris spoke in confusion, “oh yeah but his mom and sister aren’t here for another half hour.” I say. “So you’re alone in his house with him?” Chris said, jealousy evident in his voice, “yeah.. do you trust me?” I ask. “I trust you, just be safe.” He replies, “I will.” I smile to myself. And we end the call.

I walk back into his room, “Chris okay?” He asks me and I nod, he turns the game off and faces me as I sit next to him, “he’s just a little bit nervous that I’m here alone with you.” I let Oliver know, “Why? Does he think we’re gonna kiss or something?” Oliver laughs, “I don’t know, I think he’s scared because he’s been cheated on before but he knows I’d never do that.”

“You wouldn’t?” Oliver asks, tilting his head. “Of course not!” I say loudly, “that’s good, great even.” Oliver swallows awkwardly. His eyes dart to my lips and then back up at my eyes and he leans in slightly. I look over at the picture on his wall and stand up quickly, “uh.. what’s this? That’s cool.” I say nervously asI point at the picture.

“Oh that’s.. a photo I took of the beach, my friend edited it for me and uh.. now I got it on my wall.” He shrugs as he stutters awkwardly and stands up too. “Hey I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.. I wasn’t trying anything I’m sorry.. I’m an idiot.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It’s ok.. you’re confused I get it.” I reassure him, and we both sit back down. Some time passes before he spoke again, “do you remember when we got married in 1st grade?” He laughs, I remember and join in laughing, “I don’t even think we got divorced.” I chuckle, “You’re cheating on me with Chris? What about the kids.” He jokes as he fake cries.

“I’m filing for divorce.” I smile, “rude.” He replies before smiling back. His phone buzzes and his phone reads Mom. “Oh shit, my mom’s calling me.” He answers the phone infront of me, I can’t hear what’s on the other side of the phone. “You okay mom?” He asks, his face drops. “Is she okay?” He spoke nervously, “shit, should I meet you there?” He swallows, “it’s ok, she’ll understand. I’ll drop her home and head to you.” He looks at me and smiles. “Okay love you.” He hung up.

“What happened?” I ask anxiously, “uh.. change of plans, no dinner but a trip to the hospital!” He spoke with fake enthusiasm, my eyes widen in confusion, “Lacey missed something in dance and fell and broke her arm.” He sighs.

“Oh shit, you’re gonna drop me before going to the hospital right?” I ask, remember what he had said a minute ago. He nods, “my mom’s really sorry we couldn’t do dinner but I’ll drive you home.” He said as we walk down the stairs.

“Since when can you drive?” I smile, pushing his arm slightly, “since a year ago, my dad wanted me to pass my test before he.. died.. and I did.” He smiles softly as we walk outside and he unlocks his car.

We get in the car and start to drive. “Still in the same house?” He asks and I nod, “still in the tiny house yep.” I answer, he pats my knee. “It’s a nice house, is your room still pink as fuck?” He laughs. “Yeah.” I join in laughing.

“I guess I’ll see you next week.” He says as we pull up outside my house but on the opposite side, since there’s a car parked outside, other than my mom’s. I forgot it was Friday. “Oh yeah.. see you then.” I smile as I innocently plant a friendly kiss on his cheek, he smiles and I hop out the car. “Send Lacey my wishes.” I speak as I walk away.

I open the unlocked door, “mom?” I call into the house and she runs up to me, “you’re home early.” She said nervously. “Yep, Lacey broke her arm so he had to drop me home.” I reply trying to push past my mom but she’s blocking me. “So you with a different boy now? Oliver? From when you were a kid?” She asks, trying to change the subject from the fact she’s blocking me from entering my house fully, “still with Chris, just wanted to catch up with Oliver.” I reply.

“His mom was a bitch.” She rolled her eyes, I open my mouth in shock, “His father’s dead mom, her husband. Don’t be so inconsiderate.” I hiss. “Go upstairs.” She spoke, trying to redirect me to the stairs. “No get off.” I half yell.

I hear someone clear their throat from behind my mom, “you got your mom’s anger for sure..” the voice echoes through my head and I feel sick to my stomach.

“What the fuck.” I gulp.

A/n: uh ohhh! Hehehe. I won’t be able to update for the next like 2 days because tmr I’m sleeping at my friends house and the next day I’m going to a funfair. I’ll try to write stuff on Saturday!

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[detroitpedxing]

Meet Susie Wiles, the ‘ice maiden’ who propelled Trump to victory – and his new chief of staff

On one hand, Susie Wiles is the generous neighbour who brings you casseroles and sends you flowers when you’re in the hospital. On the other, she’s a ruthless political operator who was the mastermind behind getting Donald Trump back to the White House. Alex Hannaford talks to those who know her to find out how she became one of the few people who can handle her boss...

On her Twitter/X profile, she wears a blouse and cardigan, drop earrings, and a gold necklace, her grey hair perfectly set. But Susie Wiles’ “Golden Girl”, grandmotherly image belies the role that consumes her. Wiles is one of the most powerful players in Republican politics, who ran Donald Trump’s campaign for re-election and who has just become his next chief of staff.

In his statement on Thursday evening Trump said that Wiles “just helped me achieve one of the greatest political victories in American history” and “is tough, smart, innovative, and is universally admired and respected”.

“It is a well deserved honour to have Susie as the first-ever female chief of staff in United States history,” he continued. “I have no doubt that she will make our country proud.”

Wiles, 67, is the first woman to be appointed White House chief of staff and in his victory speech in Florida the President-elect Donald Trump mentioned her previously little-known name seven times.

“Let me also express my tremendous appreciation for Susie and Chris —the job you did. Come, Susie,” Trump said. “Susie likes to stay in the back, let me tell you. We call her the ice maiden”, he joked, adding. “She is not in the background (anymore).”

A ruthless political operator, for the past 12 months her focus has been on absolute victory. And on Thursday evening, Trump confirmed her as his White House new chief of staff.

The Hill political newspaper called her “the most powerful Republican you don’t know”; The New York Times described her as “perhaps the most significant voice inside Mr Trump’s third presidential campaign”.

But who is she, and what makes this cake-baking, bird-watching 66-year-old grandmother tick?

Wiles has worked in Republican politics since the late 1970s and went on to become a campaign scheduler on Ronald Reagan’s 1980 presidential bid, and later in his administration. In her late twenties, she moved from New Jersey, where she was born and raised, to Jacksonville, Florida, with her then-husband, Lanny, an “advance man” who handled publicity for candidates during political campaigns.

When the couple had their two daughters, Katie and Caroline, she took some time out to raise them but then went full-throttle back into the game – eventually running Trump’s Florida operations in his first bid to become president. Many attribute him winning the state by 1.2 percentage points over his rival Hillary Clinton to Wiles.

Choosing to stay in Florida instead of heading to the White House, Wiles focussed her efforts a couple of years later, on helping the Trump-anointed Ron DeSantis in his campaign to succeed Rick Scott as governor. Their relationship soured, with him blaming her for leaks and despite her denials, it is thought he was behind her ousting from the team. She officially left for health reasons in September 2019, but one friend of Wiles told me she was “really down at that point – at the very bottom”, and that leaving presented an existential crisis for her.

But then, in 2020, she got a call from Trump. He wanted her back on his team. And not only that, he wanted her to head it up.

Wiles’s father, Pat Summerall, was a professional football player and later a well-known sports broadcaster. Peter Schorsch, publisher of Florida Politics, who has known Wiles for a decade and considers her a friend, says Summerall would reach tens of millions of people each Sunday with his broadcasts and was such a voice of authority that he thinks some of that ability to take control; to command an audience, rubbed off on Wiles. Another former colleague and friend agreed that her gift as a “people person” was probably inherited from her dad but that her warm personality came from her mother, Katherine Jacobs, “who was a wonderful woman”.

However, it wasn’t all apple pie and roses. Summerall was an alcoholic and, after divorcing Katherine, was estranged from Wiles and her two siblings, Jay and Kyle, for some time. But, as an adult, Wiles left the door open for him to reconcile, and Summerall credited her with eventually helping get him into rehab for his addiction.

In 2017, Wiles and Lanny separated. Schorsch described it as a “quiet divorce between two prominent people” but he thinks it had the effect of freeing Wiles up to focus on her political career in her sixties, “to where she can be devoted to whoever her principal is at the time; undistracted when working on a candidate”.

Her soft edges however aren’t enough to hide a reputation for being a rottweiler, unafraid of baring her teeth. As a political operative, “Susie does not f*** around,” Schorsch says. “There is no other way to say it. It’s not that she’s hard, it’s not that she’s mean, but if you try to promote yourself or if you flimflam or you’re not honest about something, Susie will knife you herself.” It’s perhaps a trait her new boss is particularly fond of.

Schorsch recalls an instance when she oversaw the DeSantis campaign and a consultant who was brought in chose to speak to the media when they were told not to: “Susie immediately cut this person off and it took years for them to repair that relationship.”

But he says she also possesses this “southern grandmotherly kindness”. For example, he says, she knew the names of the volunteer working tirelessly for the campaign in a far-off county, and she takes care of the people working with her. “She’s very good at offering familial advice to a lot of her young staffers.” He recalls one such staffer had just had a baby and Wiles emphasised the importance of taking time off. “There’s an emphasis on making sure the people working for her are taking care of their home lives too.”

Schorsch says she’d very much fit into the kind of decorum and stagecraft that is a hallmark of British politics. Unlike her boss maybe “she just respects so much of the institutional stuff, the discipline of it all, while at the same time being a very savvy operator”.

It was a savvy “Team Trump” that recruited Wiles to the campaign. By taking all the “craziness” that surrounds Trump and adding what Schorsch calls a “disciplined ground game”, it seemed to be the sleight of hand helped Trump along to victory. Schorsch noted how Mar-a-Lago became “so much more disciplined since Susie became the chief gatekeeper.”

What’s more, he thinks that Wiles sees no need to rein in Trump’s worst excesses. “It’s a much more pragmatic ‘let Trump be Trump’ philosophy: he says certain things to the Maga crowd, but he also offers an incredible tax policy to the billionaire crowd, and they like that. I don’t want to say she’s made a deal with the devil, but she knows what Trump’s about.”

It’s this ability to think two things at once and instinct to know what people want that makes her such a smart operator. John Delaney hired Wiles when he ran a successful campaign to become mayor of Jacksonville back in 1995, after which she became his chief of staff.

“Four weeks into the campaign she kind of transformed the thinking and the messaging,” he says. And there are certain Trumpian elements to her too – in terms of her ability to connect with a crowd and give them exactly what they want. “She is an absolutely brilliant political savant with incredible instincts about what the public thinks; what can fly,” Delaney says.

Delaney says Wiles wants to help the people she works for reach the goals they are aiming for, even if she doesn’t always agree entirely with their politics. “She has no ego. She’s very much a behind-the-scenes person.” But despite friends and colleagues being willing to talk about her and her ability to do a difficult job, she remains an enigma and fiercely guards her personal life. Even members of the Trump campaign are reluctant to talk about her.

As for working for Trump, Wiles might not always agree with his delivery, his choice of words or even his political stance on an issue, but Delaney says politics is about what people can overlook in one candidate and what they can’t overlook in another. In that way, she’s very much like the voters who might have held their noses at the ballot box; “dyed in the wool” Republicans who may not have loved their candidate, but who got over the line.

Delaney doubts that Wiles’ politics always chime with Trump’s. “She would be what I’d call left on LGBT+ issues. And I can’t believe she would necessarily agree naturally with Donald Trump on immigration, but that’s more me speculating.”

Delaney agrees with Schorsch that, political career aside, Wiles is a sweet, good-natured person. “If she lived in your neighbourhood and you were sick, she’d bring over a casserole,” he says. “If you needed an electrician to be let into your house, she’d figure out how to do that. And if you were in the hospital, she’d visit and send you flowers. She’s just a really nice person.”

When Wiles is at home, he says she likes to tend her garden and she enjoys cooking. She’s known to be an avid birdwatcher, too, although as one person who knows her told me, “I doubt she’s doing much birdwatching at the moment.”

“And she’s crazy about her girls and her grandkids,” Delaney says. She’s not flashy, doesn’t splurge on five-star hotels, and he says as a practising Episcopalian she’s a “church-every-Sunday person and prays frequently”.

Nate Monroe, a columnist for the Florida Times-Union newspaper who has known Wiles in his capacity as a journalist for a decade, says her critics would say that sweet, personable demeanour “masks a very, very calculating, hard-charging operator. As much as she is very well thought of, she is equally feared. And she is a dangerous person to cross.”

In January, Monroe penned a devastating editorial, castigating DeSantis for his presidential campaign and pointing out personal traits which ensure he “always chooses cruelty over kindness, dog whistles over empathy, divisiveness over grace”. Just to ensure the knife was well and truly twisted, Monroe added: “Who was it that Trump called out during his victory speech [in Iowa], that diminutive figure standing at the periphery of his entourage on stage? Susie Wiles, the adviser DeSantis cast out, is one of Trump’s most trusted confidantes. Oops.”

Monroe says those familiar with Wiles knew that by cutting her out of his inner circle – and humiliating her in the process – DeSantis would eventually get his comeuppance. He also says Wiles is “almost allergic to drama” – which may sound illogical – comical, even – when you consider who her boss is. But Monroe has another take. Perhaps it’s a good fit. Perhaps, in Susie Wiles, Donald Trump has found a calm, steady hand.

[yuujispinkhair]

Separation Anxiety (Chapter 10)

Put your lips on my scars and teach me to love

When a ritual separates Sukuna from Yuuji, Sukuna is delighted to find that besides having his own body, there is also another gift handed to him: The brat has lost all his memories and is now the perfect little plaything to take home and manipulate. At least, that's the plan. But the King of Curses isn't prepared for the feelings that come along with being human again. And another complication is how cute the brat is when he has no idea who Sukuna is and, instead of hating him, treats him with genuine love and affection. So, without realizing it, Sukuna suddenly finds himself on a journey of learning how to be loved and how to love.

++ Masterpost ++

Pairing: Sukuna x Yuuji Genre: Memory Loss AU, fluff, smut, light angst Word Count: 3k Playlist: Separation Anxiety Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, dub-con (Yuuji has lost his memories, and Sukuna lies to him about being boyfriends). All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Chapter 10

I don't understand how your love can do what no one else can. Your love's got me looking so crazy right now. (Crazy in Love by Eden Project)

The next few days make it painfully clear that somehow, during the last months, the boy managed to infiltrate a place inside Sukuna that he wasn't aware of until the brat managed to get himself injured and put a fear into Sukuna's heart, he had never known before.

It's quite unsettling. Inconvenient.

What did he do? He had wanted to get separated from the brat all the time while being trapped inside him. Sukuna had wanted his own body again, had wanted to break free from this perfect little cage that Kenjaku had created to imprison him. But the moment he had succeeded, he grabbed the boy and took him with him.

What did he do? Has he bound himself to Yuuji again?

Things are slipping out of his control increasingly, and it's concerning. This isn't what Sukuna planned. He had wanted to play his little twisted game where only he knew it was a game. He had wanted to lie and deceive his way into the brat's heart. He had wanted to bask in the cruel exhilaration of seeing the brat willingly on his knees for him. Had wanted to break him with this fake love. He had wanted the cruel pleasure of seeing the brat turn into his obedient little pet.

But somehow, he had imagined it differently. He didn't expect to feel so warm anytime Yuuji smiles at him with so much affection in those golden eyes. He didn't expect to feel protective when he saw the boy getting hurt. He didn't expect to feel lonely and cold when Yuuji is not around.

The doubts gnaw at him. Did he really turn Yuuji into his toy? Is that what he is? All those months, Sukuna was convinced this was the case. But do you hold a toy every night and cuddle it in the mornings? Do you try to read every wish from your toy's eyes just to make them smile and be happy?

Sukuna was so sure he was doing this out of sadistic pleasure. And it was that way in the beginning, at least. But somehow, things have mutated into something different.

Somehow, when Yuuji looks at him with a sweet smile on his face and nothing but love in his eyes while gently caressing the short hair at the nape of Sukuna's neck, Sukuna isn't sure anymore what this is.

Sometimes, it feels like Sukuna is drowning. Drowning in Yuuji's sweetness. In the sweet, syrupy feeling of his love. It feels like he is underwater, and he can't breathe. He knows he has to swim back to the surface again, but he can't move.

They are in the park again, taking an evening stroll, looking at the pumpkin figures lining the parkway. The air is thick this evening, loaded with almost tangible electricity. Sukuna can feel a tingle under his skin when he lifts his head to see the dark grey clouds gathering in the sky behind their apartment.

Thunder grumbles in the distance, and the first lightning flashes across the blackened sky when the first raindrops start falling.

It's an imposing scenery, carrying a fateful promise. Sukuna blinks, huffing at his thoughts. But he still reaches out to trail his fingers down Yuuji's back and let them come to rest on the small of the boy's back.

"Let's get back inside. All hell is going to break loose soon."

Yuuji chuckles softly as a big raindrop lands on Sukuna's nose. He grabs Sukuna's hand and starts running, pulling Sukuna with him as the rain gets heavier. Yuuji's laughter carries through the air, and his firm, warm hand never lets go of Sukuna until they have reached the entrance to their apartment building complex, both already drenched from the rain.

Yuuji laughs, which turns into a groan when Sukuna presses him against the elevator wall, claiming his lips in a hungry kiss. He doesn't know why he is so hungry for the boy right now, but something in him wants Yuuji so much that he doesn't see why he should rein his desires in.

When they enter the penthouse, the sky outside is completely black, dark clouds swallowing the rest of the daylight, bringing an early night that gets illuminated by flickering lightning streaking through the dark sky.

They leave the lights off, too busy kissing and tearing at each other's clothes as if they are filled with the same restless electricity as the thunderstorm raging outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse.

Yuuji's hands are on Sukuna's shirt, pulling it up, strong fingers brushing over Sukuna's abs. His lips are soft and warm against Sukuna's, tasting sweet like the chocolate pumpkin muffin Sukuna bought for him in the park.

They stumble to the bedroom, undressing each other hastily on the way while still stealing kisses, as if they are two magnets drawn together, needing to be close, needing to touch and kiss and feel the other pressed against them at all times.

Sukuna thinks it might have something to do with the thunderstorm and the strange crackling in the air. Maybe it speaks to their souls. Maybe it tugs on the red string connecting them, pulling them closer, demanding them to devour each other, wanting to fill that hole in their souls that was left when they got separated.

He cannot explain the urgency of their kisses and touches otherwise. But he knows he has a hunger for the boy that cannot be stilled if he doesn't claim him right now.

They reach their bedroom, dropping the last items of clothing on the floor, groaning into their urgent kiss as their naked bodies press against each other, skin on skin, firm muscles flexing against each other, hard cocks touching.

Sukuna laughs softly when Yuuji places two strong hands on Sukuna's chest and pushes him, making the King of Curses fall backward onto the bed, where he lands on his back, sprawled out in all his naked glory on the soft silk sheets, looking up at his lover with amusement and arousal in his light blue eyes.

He likes it when the brat gets so needy for him that he uses his strength on Sukuna. The display of power is arousing. Itadori Yuuji is a worthy lover, strong and powerful. Sukuna's lips lift in a smirk as he watches the boy crawl on top of him, desire glowing in his golden eyes, muscles flexed, pre-cum dripping down onto Sukuna's abs.

He is beautiful, so beautiful in the way he craves Sukuna. It makes something in Sukuna's chest throb. His fingers tangle in soft pink hair as he pulls Yuuji down into another deep kiss, licking hungrily into his mouth.

The thunderstorm rages outside the floor-length windows, with thunder crashing loudly and rain pouring heavily from the sky and hitting the windows opposite the large bed.

Yuuji positions himself on Sukuna's lap, and a bolt of bright yellow lightning flashes over the sky behind him as he sinks down on Sukuna's cock, making both of them gasp.

There's something in the atmosphere tonight. Something is different. Something changed, but Sukuna can't put his finger on it. It's like he can feel the electricity of the lightning bolts curse through his body, making him more aware and feeling more awake than ever before.

He's breathing heavily, his hands gripping Yuuji's hips tightly, looking up at his lover curiously. Yuuji is riding him with so much abandon. Despite his initial urgency to get into bed with Sukuna, he is taking his time now, bouncing slowly on Sukuna's cock, taking him so deep anytime he sits down fully on him as if he wants to savor every second of their union.

He moans Sukuna's name, loud and sweet. His strong hands are on Sukuna's chest, bracing himself on the firm muscles, his nails digging slightly into Sukuna's skin, his cock twitching anytime he sinks down on Sukuna's cock.

He is so utterly devoted to Sukuna. So utterly his.

Sukuna can't help it. A long, low moan finds its way out of his mouth, and his hips buck. He rolls them upwards slowly, fucking into Yuuji, his moans growing louder.

He doesn't find it in himself to hold back tonight. He can't remember why he should.

"Yuuji... Yuuji."

Sukuna has lived for over a thousand years, but this is the first time he finds himself moaning someone's name.

It falls from his lips like a prayer, like he is kneeling in his temple, asking the Gods for their favor. But he can't find anything wrong with this. It sounds so right to his ears. Isn't this how things were always meant to be between him and Yuuji? Isn't this what fate has written on the pages of both their life stories in blood-red ink? They were meant to find each other. They were meant to be bound together for all eternity.

Yuuji cries out softly, fingers digging into Sukuna's pecs, as he lifts himself up and down on Sukuna's hard length, so thorough, so sweet, so passionate.

The praise falls naturally from Sukuna's lips as he looks up at this lover.

"You're riding me so sweetly, baby. Such a sweet boy."

And Yuuji clenches around him, crying out softly,

"Ah! Ah! Kuna...I... I love you, baby! Oh god..."

It's so cute how he reacts to Sukuna's praise, dripping more pre-cum on his abs, tightening around him, mewling and sobbing Sukuna's name.

And Sukuna wonders why he didn't try to claim the boy sooner. Why did he never see the potential? Why did he never see how good they are together? All those wasted years. All that time tormenting the brat when he could have had him bouncing on his cock and moaning his name!

Sukuna's mind is hazy, clouded by pleasure, hypnotized by the loud thunder cracking outside the window and the rain drumming rhythmically against the floor-to-ceiling windows.

A strange warmth is making its home in his chest. His hands tighten on Yuuji's hips as he is suddenly overcome by the need to claim.

Sukuna flips them over quickly, eliciting a surprised gasp from Yuuji, but it turns into another loud, needy moan when Sukuna pushes his cock into him again. Yuuji welcomes him instantly, wrapping his legs around Sukuna's hips, tangling his fingers in his hair, and moaning loudly as he throws his head back on the silk pillow.

Sukuna rolls his hips slowly, fucking into his boy deep and through, making sure to take it slow and sweet, just like Yuuji did when worshipping his cock a moment ago.

Yuuji is writhing beneath him, head thrown back, tousled pink hair spread over the black silk pillow. His eyes are closed, mouth opening in soft moans of Sukuna's name.

His legs are wrapped around Sukuna's hips tightly, hands wandering aimlessly over Sukuna's back. It's cute how lost in pleasure he is. Finally, one hand finds its way into Sukuna's hair and twists it in his fist. The other is digging into Sukuna's back almost painfully. Clinging to him, so desperate for him, so needy. It makes Sukuna's head spin, and the warmth in his chest increases to an almost burning sensation.

But he forces himself to keep the slow pace. He wants it to be a slow fuck. Wants it to be intense. Special. He wants to see his power over the boy, needs to wrap himself in it.

"Yuuji. Look at me."

He realizes it's a mistake as soon as Yuuji opens his eyes. Love, desire, and adoration look back at him, so powerful that it makes Sukuna's eyes widen. It feels like he is getting consumed by the fire burning in his chest, right where their souls were connected before the separation.

Yuuji's strong legs tighten around Sukuna's hips, and his fingers dig into the muscles on Sukuna's back as a row of needy whines escapes the boy's lips.

"Feels so good, baby!! Ah, Sukuna! You're making such sweet love to me tonight!"

Sukuna's hips stutter, cock twitching deep inside the boy as realization washes over him. It's true. They aren't fucking. They're making love. That's what this is, right? Is it part of the act? Yuuji craves this, so Sukuna gives it to him to make it look like what they have is real? But somehow, the explanation sounds wrong.

"You're so beautiful, baby."

The words have left Sukuna's mouth without him planning them. They are both an act and the truth. If that's even possible. Sukuna's brain is foggy. The thunderstorm, this burning sensation in his chest, the enticing look in Yuuji's eyes...

Another loud moan escapes Sukuna's lips, and a raw emotion takes hold of him. This one is familiar, at least. Possessiveness. Red, hot, and velvety.

"Mine," he growls as he snaps his hips again, pushing deep into Yuuji.

A desperate-sounding sob escapes the boy's lips. His hands slide down Sukuna's back to land on his ass, nails digging into the taut flesh as if he's trying to get Sukuna even deeper into him.

"Yes, yes! I'm yours, Sukuna. Only yours."

Those words would be enough to satisfy the hunger raging in Sukuna's blood. But Yuuji continues. His voice is raspy, thick with emotion when he says the next words,

"I'll be yours forever. And you'll always be mine, too."

Another lightning bolt lights up the sky behind them, its light flickering over Yuuji's pretty face. His eyes glow golden like two full moons as he looks deeply into Sukuna's eyes, eyelashes fluttering as he cries out, and his body tenses up under Sukuna. His hot cum hits Sukuna's abs and chest, painting his skin with Yuuji's claim on him.

Thunder rumbles loudly, and Sukuna feels himself falling. Falling into Yuuji, falling into his warmth and love that is so all-consuming and powerful, he feels himself getting dragged under. A broken moan escapes his lips as his hips press tightly against the boy, body shuddering in pleasure, his face buried in Yuuji's neck, teeth grazing his skin when he mutters,

"Yes, I'm yours, Yuuji. Oh fuck, baby!"

His orgasm floods all his senses, making him moan uncontrollably as his cock pulses inside Yuuji, giving the boy every single drop of his seed, fucking it deep into him.

It is only when his cock stops twitching, and his breathing calms that Sukuna feels a sudden worry tug at his mind. As if he is finally able to hear an alarm bell ringing over the loud crashes of thunder. An increasing dread slowly taking hold of him.

Something went horribly wrong.

The whole weight of his words crashes down on Sukuna.

I'm yours, Yuuji.

What did he do?

This isn't how this was planned! Of course, Yuuji is his. Of course, the boy belongs to Sukuna! That is as clear as day! But now Sukuna is Yuuji's too? This isn't how things are supposed to go!

Did he make a vow with the boy?

To his horror, Sukuna knows the answer to that. Yes, he did. He bound himself to Yuuji. But what's even more terrifying is that little voice in the back of his mind that whispers to him that this shouldn't come as such a surprise to him.

And Sukuna realizes with a terrible sinking feeling that it is true. He is Yuuji's. He probably has been Yuuji's for a while.

Somehow, at some point in the last few months, their dynamic must have shifted. It must have happened gradually, so Sukuna didn't realize it while it was happening. As if the tables were turned, and he was the prey that was unknowingly getting stalked by a predator who followed him around patiently until he finally could dig his claws into him.

It must have been the movie nights, the dinners, the meals and sweet treats Yuuji cooked and baked for him, the loud laughs, the golden eyes full of genuine affection and love, the morning runs, the visits to the shrine, the nights in each other's arms. All those small things must have added up until they became so powerful they managed to tear Sukuna's walls down.

Yuuji is Sukuna's. But Sukuna is Yuuji's too.

And just like that, Sukuna's world shatters.

His plan seemed so flawless. It was all just a little fun, a cruel entertainment for the King. But without realizing it, at some point, he apparently began to play himself.

Thunder crashes so loudly behind him that Sukuna thinks he can feel the whole room vibrate.

Sukuna lifts his head off Yuuij's shoulder to stare at him with wide blue eyes that must show the terror he feels. But Yuuji is oblivious to it. He is beaming up at Sukuna, golden eyes full of love, his smile as dazzling and warm as the sun.

He puts a hand on Sukuna's cheek, cupping his face tenderly and caressing it with so much care and love.

"That was amazing, baby. I love you… Can we please stay like that? I want to feel you inside me a bit longer."

All Sukuna can do is nod slightly as he still stares into those terrifyingly warm golden eyes while in his head, he is screaming at the brat,

What did you do to me?? What did you do??

Oh, the sweet moment when our King realizes he is fucked ;)

Thank you so much for reading!! I am sorry that it took me so long to post this chapter. I was working on my Halloween stories, so I had to put Separation Anxiety on a short break, but now I can focus on it again.

The cover version of "Crazy in Love" by Eden Project had a huge effect on me the first time I discovered it. I immediately saw this sex scene between Yuuji and Sukuna playing in my mind. So, this scene was one of the first ones I wrote for this AU. It was so important to me that I saved it in a separate file. So yeah, it is a big thing for me that I could finally publish this scene!! I hope you liked it and could see the scene in your head too.

Thank you so much for your patience. It means so much to me that people read this story and enjoy it!!

Please let me know what you think about this chapter. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[toweroftickles]

The Boy and the Heron - Tickle Headcanons

I have been so excited for this movie for so long! Obviously, more “Ghibli Giggles” drabble collections are going to spring out of this, but in the meantime, here are my immediate out-of-the-theater thoughts.

Mahito Maki

Ticklishness Rating: 7.5/10

Most Ticklish Spots: Armpits, Feet

He does not like being tickled at. All. 😆 He’ll get all pouty and mad if someone tries it.

The only person he ever allowed to tickle him without elbowing them in the face was his mom, but even that made him sulk.

His preferred form of retaliation is to push, shove, and (if necessary) punch.

One of those boys who doesn’t “laugh” as much as “yell and scramble in the opposite direction.” (You know the trademark “Ghibli run” that every single character does at least once? Where they sprint and hold their arms out like geese? That.)

Sort of lonely growing up. Schoolmates and friends don’t usually tickle him; it’s pretty uncommon and comes as an unpleasant, embarrassing shock.

Will hold his breath, squeeze his eyelids tight, and suck his lips in between his teeth to keep from laughing. His record is about 15 seconds.

⬆️ This frog incident (not to mention that time the pelicans swarmed him) really tickled, but he was too nervous to laugh. XP

Himi

Ticklishness Rating: 9/10

Most Ticklish Spots: Feet, Tummy

Always covers her face and shrieks whenever someone pokes her. Maybe a tiny bit embarrassed by how ticklish she is. ^^

Definitely a screamer. And a kicker. Her laugh is bubbly and cheerful and she seems to have fun with tickling, but she can’t hold still to save her life.

Be careful - she’s usually got a firm control of her pyrokinesis, but too much tickling can cause her to expel fire blasts all over the place!

The only people she ever tickles are her little sister and Kiriko. (She tried it on a parakeet guard once…ineffective.)

She’s a sneaky one, fond of surprise attacks. Has spidery fingers that love to poke.

A daydreamer. Sometimes when she’s cleaning up her little house, she pretends that her feather duster is tickling the furniture. That makes her giggle.

The world created by The Granduncle is stuffed to the brim with sentient bird species, and one of Himi's hobbies is collecting their discarded feathers. (Not directly related, but she does know which ones tickle the most!)

Kiriko (Young)

Ticklishness Rating: 8/10

Most Ticklish Spots: Balls of the Feet, Ribs, Armpits

Unusual Ticklish Spots: Upper Back

Loves being tickled on her ribs and her tummy until she can’t breathe…that’s a super-fun endorphin rush for her…but can’t handle it on her feet. Armpits are 50/50; that depends on how much she likes you.

She struggles - needs to be restrained or held down. Her toes get very wiggly when she’s tickled near there; it’s pretty adorable.

Big sister energy. A fan of rowdy horseplay, of all kinds - wrestling, noogies, tickle fights, the works. (She’s also a dirty cheater.)

Her first-choice method of cheering up a grumpy Lady Himi is to mercilessly tickle her until she's too happy to frown anymore.

Uses aggressive attacks; really digs her fingers hard into her victim’s vulnerable spots and scratches wildly. Can be very mean if she wants to.

You can hear her amazing laugh for miles. She always throws her head back and lets loose a hysterical smoker's cackle that makes everyone around want to laugh along with her. It's fun and contagious and full of life.

Both she and Himi always get a case of the giggles when swarmed by friendly Warawara.

The Grey Heron

Ew. And furthermore, ew.

Not ticklish at all. (Again: ew.) BUT…

The Grey Heron's feathers possess many magical properties. There's a supernatural energy rippling through their fibers thanks to their constant transformation (see, in the film, how they can provide homing magic to arrows and have a biochemical bond with the Heron’s body)...a goofy side-effect of which is that they're much more tickly than normal feathers.

Suffice it to say, this creature should be captured and studied immediately. For science.

[lavalais76]

I was reading terrible things about Sansa Stark and now my blood is boiling. How could people HATE an 11 yr old child who has absolutely no control over her own life. They went as far as to saying the mountain-clan will kidnap her and she will marry Timit!!!!😳

They also say Sansa will remain in the Vale until the end of the last book, but have no objections to Arya and Dany on a revenge killing spree. And for God's sake don't mention Sansa with Jon. They absolutely go INSANE, saying Dany and Jon will save humanity. Dany can't save anyone if she is killing millions of people and burning others alive.

Sansa will kill LF with the help of Timit is what they say and OHHH, Jon will marry Val. How TF can Val be QINT when she is a wilding and no real princess. She looks the part as Jon says, but we ALL know what kind of woman Jon REALLY CRAVE. A high born willowy creature who brushes her hair waiting for some knight to save her.

Jon craves Sansa Stark aNd I personally believe he always HAVE. My response to "these idiots was this: (and I could be wrong) but who knows.

Alyas Karstark was a red herring. Sansa is definitely the girl in grey. Miranda also has a grey cloak that went missing and WHY would Miranda mention Jon being LC to Sansa? There is a reason for all of that. Just like Arya and Jon were to fall in love in original version, it's going to be Sansa and Jon.

Jon even says he has no sister (,5Never considered Sansa a sister) he then says “my half sister truly” (that's what he and Sansa referred to each other as) He mistakes Melsandra for Ygritte, and says all robes are GREY in the dark, yet suddenly hers were RED. Martin is a hell of a writer, and I was in denial about Sansa being the grey girl as well. Not anymore.

Sansa is getting the hell out of the Vale. There will be no kidnapping from mointain-clans or falling in love with a secondary character such as Timit. What sense would that even make? Some people act as if Sansa doesn't matter, or she is some side character when she has one of the most tragic SAD stories in the whole series. She is scared and do whatever she has to do to survive, even if it means allowing LF to kiss her and molest her in which she has NO CONTROL over. It also blows my mind how people were “shipping” (and I hate that word) Sansa Stark and the HOUND of all monsters. Sansa has had 4 FALE BEASTS in her life. Joffery, Tyrion, The Hound, and LF. These men are evil and takes advantage of a young lonely 11 yr old girl who has been captured like a butterfly in a Jar. They are evil, YES; BUT they are NOT the real BEAST.

The real BEAST is Jon Snow. As we know, Jon was already a bit ruthless before the stabbings. (I do not think Jon died that night) For ONE: We need to think about the SNOW and hypothermia which can save the lives of people who are bleeding by knife wound or gunshot would. It's simple Science. Will Jon be on the brink of death and have a Near death experience? YES. There will be a lot of chaos at Castle Black and the wildings are very loyal to Jon. Eventually they will be ruling the wall while Jon recovers along with a few other loyal CROWS that love and respect Jon.

Master Ameon had a dragon dream when him, Gilly and Sam sailed off. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to tell Jon Snow that “ the cold preserves.” A fan asked GRRM about Jon's resurrection, and Martin said, “You think Jon is dead do you?” Maybe he was toying around, but everyone automatically assumed he DIED when there is absolutely NO EVIDENCE.

“He never felt the 4 knife only the cold” How do we even know there was a 4th knife or any other knives afterwards? Why was Jon’s hand clumsy when he tried to pull his sword out? Did they drug him? Why was Ghost acting hostile before the stabbings? Of course Ghost knew what was up. There is no telling who is involved in the attempt on Jon's life. Melsandra told him to watch the ones who smile in his face while they sharpen their daggers. I don't even rule Satin out, as Ive said many, many times.

On the show, Ollie was Satin in my opinion. They did not want to give it away. Back to Jon and Sansa and a few other things. First I want to say, Melsandra will definitely burn Shrinee thinking Stannis is actually dead. She will play absolutely NO PART in bringing Jon back from his “coma”. It's going to be Jon's wolf who saves him and release his soul back into his body, and Ghost will die, also sliding his shadow into Jon because Jon IS GHOST.

He will definitely be a beast and he will not be the same Jon as we know him. This is where Sansa Stark ( girl in grey) will come along and temper Jon just like she did the hound. They will eventually work together and fall in love and struggle with these feelings because keep in mind, Jon and Sansa does not know each other AT ALL. Yes, he will welcome her in open arms and be extremely protective of her, and yes they will fight while trying to get their home back or when they have to rebuild Winterfell together. (The blood of Winterfell)

Sansa Stark is destined to go North because she is the only one out of all the Stark children who has her wolf buried at Winterfell, and as Melsandra like to say: “the bones remember"

[thoughtsandbones]

It's been a long time

FIRST TIME WRITING A FANFIC - Since i was on LiveJournal (years ago)

Simon 'Ghost' RIley x F!MedicDoc

WARNINGS: Mention of death, blood, fluff and angst?

Song inspo: Think - Kaleida (Love John Wick <3 and Atomic Blonde <3)

I grew up with the OG MW2 game, so there are some references to the old one, so kind of a mix of both the OG and the new timeline...

All rights reserved to the rightful owners of Call of Duty Modern Warfare.

(FYI: bold sentences... are like this... are supposed to describe redacted data/info to the plot... ;] .. )

MASTERLIST

Part 1

Back again here. That's what you thought when you actually landed at the base. You're trying to calculate how long it has actually been. The years. The months. The days. The hours. The minutes.

Why? Because time is represented by numbers. And a weird number observer you were. Numbers are always assigned to occasions, incidents, blood pressure, mL of drugs, minutes to save a life, seconds wasted.

You furrow your eyebrows. You don't care about the wrinkles forming. Not anymore. You part your lips, and suck in some air.

The tightness of the black boots yet to be broken in like you were once.. were just painful and added pain of sore feet and legs from getting back into training was just a cherry on the icing.

The pain is just temporary... You think to yourself whilst you close your eyes and inhale for 4 through the nose, hold, and slowly breathe out for four, controlled, of course... and gradually open your eyes.

You should be grateful for this chance.

You take in scene before you. Base. Outside Berkshire... mid August...

The sky above is pale shade of blue with hints of orange as the sun sets in the west. It is surprisingly warm and nice today. Minimal clouds. As you look down you see the trucks on the grey charcoal tarmac, smooth and a few cracks here and there.. Buildings behind, patches of green..? Wow.

You couldn't also ignore the soon to be glaring floods lights surrounding the perimeter of the base. Without these, the views of sky where even more phenomenal. The stars. The realisation that there is a sort of weird chaos also going on out there too. The storm of Jupiter must be a sight to see you wonder..

"Corporal Kaur!" You hear a man shout from the left of you.

You break your gaze and see and old man from where that shout came from. Face still stern. Eyebrows still furrowed.

Captain Price.

You recognise that moustache and boonie hat from a mile away.Next to him where to other men, one bulky and tall, donning a half a skull over his face and wearing all black and the other shorter, still tall. but what was most noticeable was the hawk. Both of them staring at you.

You briefly stare back. Your new COs you assume.

You start to walk over to them, carrying your pack, and duffle over your right shoulder.

Back again. Back here facing death again. That's what you think. Over and over as you stride until you reach your old Captain.

You place your pack and duffle on the ground.

"Captain Price" you say, giving in a salute, heels slamming together. Your back straightening automatically when your right arm swung to the tip of your beret. Palms facing out. Always.

Muscle memory is a wonderful thing.

"At ease Corporal" Price says, giving a slight chuckle. His body turns to the two men beside him.

"This is Lieutenant Ghost" Price said as he gestures towards the masked man.

You put out your right hand for a hand shake. The lieutenant just stares at you, eyes cold and calculating watching you.

You raise your head curtly and trying to suppress the smirk from appearing. I'm watching you too you think to yourself.

"I'm your Sergeant; Soap MacTavish" the hawked man said, in a strong Scottish accent. He brings up his hand for a handshake, grinning hard.

You shake his hand. Soap grinned a bit harder.

"Soap and Ghost." You say turning your head to Price after shaking Soap's hand, you see him in the corner of your eye elbow Ghost and gesture towards you with his hand, you couldn't catch what he was saying as Price started giving you directions and something else he

"The team know you're here as their new medic. The infirmary, somewhat set, thought it was best left to the expert to order whatever you need. You remember where it is?" Price said. "I have to go to the hanger, catch up later" He saids, patting you on the shoulder.

"Thank you sir" You reply.

Yes. The team's medic. Not actually part of the team. Not anymore...

Not able to linger on the past for a second longer, you see Soap move towards your pack and duffle.

You grab your pack just before he does.

"I've got it, don't worry" You say, and this time you remember to smile, with teeth, a soft smile that a younger you adorned each day.

Soap laughs gently, and looks at your face, that smile broke your stern face from before, a kindness washed over your face Soap thought.

After picking up your pack and duffle, swinging them both over and onto your back. You stare back at the two men, and smile again.

"Well, I am going.. to get settled" You say to them "Nice meeting both of you" you said as you turn.

"We'll walk ya to the infirmary" The lieutenant said gruffly. You detect an accent, maybe northern?

"Yeah, that way we can get to know you on the way" Soap chimes in, grinning again

Fuck sake, not this already you think to yourself.

You turn to them, and force a smile, this time no teeth, nostrils flare, you hope they don't notice the force of it. Ghost does. Ghost raises his head, eyes widening slightly.

You did not like that Ghost thinks to himself. He crosses his arms across his chest, slightly puffing it out.

He looks at you whilst you relax your face as you looked at him do his little chest puff, your eyes widen, slight glare to the ground and then back to the familiar stern look, he lets out a light huff. Amused at the expressions coming and going on your face. He could've sworn there was hint of pink spreading across that brown skin.

"Price said you've worked here before" Soap continues, trying to ease the tension that was stirring between the three of you as the three of you walk across the tarmac, amidst the other soldiers and trucks driving past.

You stare again at Soap, trying to ease the furrowed brows, but they seem glued to their position. The back of your mind still processing your surroundings.

"Years ago. In my early twenties" You reply to Soap

"Wait, so how old are you now?" Soap asks

You look at him and smile slightly. People get so bewildered when they find out that you're a lot older than you look. Given that your face has hardly a wrinkle, no grey hairs, smooth and "fair" skin (for an Indian) that your mother loves to praise you about after years of her nagging of using SPF 50 daily, especially during winter.

"32" You reply

"Steamin' Jesus" Soap exclaims "You don't look a day over 25" he added

"Yeah, it's annoying getting ID'd when getting a drink though" You say back. You realise the two men are beside you, Soap on your left, and Ghost on your right. Glaring at you still, watching your movements. You're stuck in the middle. A rock and a hard place.

You feel the tension creep to your shoulders. You roll your right shoulder to ease the tension. It doesn't help. Not with the added weight your pack and duffle. You then take duffle off your back, and see Soap on your left raise him arm, again gesturing for him to help carry your stuff.

You raise your left hand and tell him again its okay. You've carried heavier. You've carried limp bodies for longer. You hold the duffle on your right hand, Ghost moves slightly further to make room. You take note and swing duffle, smooth and controlled.

The three of you head straight to building 2. You notice the building as been redone slightly since you were here last, a fresh slick of paint and new doors.

Soap runs up to the doors, and opens them for you, and gestures you through with his right hand. You nod and give a weak thanks.

"We have to keep you sweet" he says "Right L.t?" Soap says, nudging Ghost.

Ghost grunts disapprovingly.

"Why?" You turn to him, letting out a deep sigh. Laying the duffle and pack down on the ground. Suddenly the jet lag, the sore feet and legs hit you harder and you feel like you could just melt into the floor. But you couldn't do that.

"Well, you are our new medic, and you'll be patching us up after missions, so need to keep you sweet" Soap says in a chirpy manner.

"That's her job Johnny" Ghost said, voice rough

You smirk, reaching in your pack for a folder containing your documents and forms.

"Actually..." You start but then remember that even Price said your job role to your face. Medic.

"Actually?" Soap questions

"Nothing" You said, opening the plastic folder and retrieving your forms, you look up and see Soap with a puzzling look on his face and Ghost just coldly still staring.

The anxiety is kicking in. You feel it creep across your chest and swarming it's way to your arms and legs.

You pull out the forms needed and held them in your hand, in between Soap and Ghost, unsure who would take them

"Filled these out as requested by Captain Price" You say

Ghost reaches and grabs the papers, eyes weaving left to right from top to bottom across the forms. You see Soap try and peak and he notices a lot of thick blacked out information. His brows furrow and a curious sheen glosses over his eyes as he looks back at you.

"Most of this is redacted" Ghost says those cold eyes still on the paper. "Like your file" His eyes flicker to yours, hoping to catch you out.

But you stare back. Redacted like your face you think to yourself.

"Captain Price surely would've let you know why" You say curtly

The two men looked at each other. Ghost turned his head towards you, Soap still eyeing Ghost, and then peaking at the paper a bit closer.

No forename, no information of her previous time here... Was Ghost right? Soap thought

"Was hopin' to get somethin' outa' you" Ghost said brightly

He folded the forms into four and put them in his back pocket. He then bent down slightly and picked up your pack and duffle before you could. His eyes wondered up and down your body and your stare turned into a glare when you realised what he was doing.

You felt like he could see through the clothes that covered you. You tug the sleeve of your jacket, rolling your shoulders forward, trying to become smaller. And this man made you smaller. Not by his sheer size, but the way he just looked at you up and down.

"Need a hand Lt? Soap says, breaking the silence again. Hoping to at least try and carry the new medic's stuff.

"Nah, I got this Johnny" Ghost sighs, readjusting the grip on your pack and duffle and swinging them over his shoulder. "Let's show her the infirmary" He said walking off, leaving behind a bewildered Soap and yourself.

You follow the two men, wanting this to be over so you can lie down and sleep. And take the damn boots off. Your feet becoming numb with every step as you follow your commanding officers..

As the three of you reach the door of the infirmary, Ghost drops your pack and duffle from his shoulder to his side, still not letting go and places his left hand in his pocket and takes out a key and unlocks the door.

He looks down at you and you look up at him, you smile weakly, furrowed brows still and try and peak into the infirmary.

Ghost doesn't break his gaze from you, he moves from the doorway and gestures you to go in.

You go in first, the room a warm golden yellow, the light is turned off. The big windows let the last of the sun's rays into the room.

Golden hour.

It's so beautiful you think to yourself and as you move through the room to the window staring at the sunset.

"Best view on this side o' the buildin'" Ghost says, approaching you as you watch the sunset, he gently places your pack and duffle next you.

"It really is something" You say, smiling brightly at the sunset

Ghost sees the shift in your expression in the window, and looks down beside you, your eyes, they appear softer and warm. Not like the ones he experienced earlier.

"Johnny and I will get your room key" Ghost says turning to Soap who was about to take a photo of the sunset with his phone. "C'mon sergeant" as he walks past him and leans against the doorway.

You turn to look at them, Soap desperately trying to take a photo despite the sighing coming from Ghost as he watches him take endless photos of the "sunset". He saw Soap sneak a picture of you.

"Thank you Lieutenant Ghost and Sergeant Soap" You say, struggling to comprehend these codenames. Ghost you kind of get, given the mask. But Soap? There has to be some kind of gay connotation you think as you remind yourself of the saying 'Don't drop the soap'

The two of them turn to you, Soap smiles and Ghost just staring.

Soap eventually makes his way out past Ghost, and walks out.

"Meet you at the Hole Lt, need to take a piss" Soap whispers as he passes him.

You and Ghost lock eyes as he holds the doorknob and begins to just it close, you make your way over, ensuring that he will actually leave and not linger (like a ghost).

"Thanks again for carrying my stuff" You say, trying the fill the silence and encourage this man to leave.

Ghost's grip tightens on the doorknob, and brings the door closer.

"You are most welcome" He says

You smile again as you edge closer to the door. Leave dammnit

"Ruhari"

The smile on your face disappears, the mouth drops open slightly in an O. Eyes widen in shock.

You see Ghost's eyes wrinkle, a sign he's possibly smiling under that skull mask.

Got ya He thought as the took in the shocked face and closed the door leaving you bewildered on the other side.