#Took over and stole my keyboard

[random-non-shower-thoughts]

I'm sick of writers constantly complaining about how hard writing is and how they have to suffer for the craft and how you need to struggle to make it good. I find it so annoying

You are not being quirky or funny to beginning authors and writers, all you are doing is telling them that if they didn't bleed their soul on to the page it's shit and they should feel like shit. I fucking listened to this kind of mindset for years and spewed it to those around me. I was pretentious and told others this mindset was the only one and did nothing because I knew my writing was obviously a joke and not worth reading. Because that's what everyone else said. I didn't bleed, I was having fun. You had to crawl through hell and burn the first draft to spit on the ashes. I wasn't ready to publish because I was enjoying walking my little book babies across the page and doing what they wanted. The little characters knew what they wanted, so I had to rewrite and wrangle them in later. The couldn't just run around like the little ones they were.

And I was right, I wasn't ready. Not because of them, but because I kept swallowing the same slop about how writing is hard and that a first draft had to be shit. I rewrote my first baby and it suffered. I tried to fix it like all the others said, and killed that entire series. Four books, hundreds of thousands of words. DEAD. I will likely never touch them despite all I did to tell a compelling story with characters that were fun, interesting, and well-researched to represent multiple groups. I cannot get that spark back because I was convinced it was wrong. I never tasted enough bile by the nice first draft that was good enough for myself. RIGHT NOW. IT WAS ONLY WHAT I COULD DO NOW.

I legit gave up on ever publishing anything and convinced myself to just make it shit so maybe I could crawl out of the mud and build from scratch. It's what my professor did, and she was years into a book she still wasn't happy with. She insisted she knew the way to publish and we should do the same. How she struggles with typing and making notes for the next draft, how the next one would be better after a rewrite. I had to do the same. It was the only way...

I am so thankful that I did some research after that and found myself falling down a rabbit hole. I wasn't really ready to fully accept the mantra from my professor. Her words never sat right with me, and those who listened without question were quite frankly, too snobbish about white men making badly written black women and all showing zero energy around first drafts--good or bad. I had to get a new perspective. The itch to see more called me to find answers. I was off put by the way they worked like it was an obligation, not art.

And I found it with a group of authors far older and more experienced than myself in a writing blog. Not just the creator held a set of different beliefs and the entire community was excited to share entire books worth of advice for free online, including the author posting (physical copies cost money, but despite running a business, the information was so freely given). And I think the three most important pieces of advice I ever got from them and changed my life were:

Quality will always equal quality. There's is almost no other art form that I have seen talk less about this mindset. Compared to say, drawing, where they go in opposite direction and it's one of the most encouraged aspects of it. I do not see this as much in writing, unless you are boasting bad/shit drafts. This is not what this advice is talking about. This was explained to mean everything from first draft to publishing, the entire process. To go all the way with works put out there that might not be what you first imagined but can say was done. Get that stroy done and put out there so you can move on and learn from previous mistakes and lessons.

You can write a clean first draft. I mean this, throw away the idea what you have done in a moment of happiness or in a frenzy is inherently bad or flawed or needs to be scrapped for the second draft because you obviously need to fix it. It was pointed out that this was a new idea and absolutely a bad thing when you had limited resources and time (pulp fiction, times when you had to make your own supplies, you were not allowed access to better technology). Now that we have electronic word processers, it is now a thing to shit on a first draft because you technically can. But why? Why should you have to throw out your level of quality and care because you are putting your first words to the page. It will never be as good as what you write tomorrow, but that's because you have learned and practiced today. And if you start with shit, your entire foundation is. Show you care about what you write, and much like a house, if what you use for the base is good, the entire thing will have a better leg to stand on. Bricks can be replaced, the swamp you placed them on is going to be much harder.

Do not listen to the inner critic until the editing phase. You know that voice telling you something is off when you are using an editor? The one that sounds like a serious adult and points out all that needs fixing? It has its place, but never on the first draft. Embrace the three year old that is playing with the blocks and says why to everything, that embraces the absolute batshit ideas that whisper to you like a infatuated lover. This is all you should listen too (outlines can be a great guide, but who says you have to follow everything?) Treat the true muse, this fun writing voice, no different than a caregiver would with a child/pet playing at the park, and let it run wild. You can patch up bruises and cuts. You cannot take back telling them NO in a fit of anger. The muse is no different.

And honestly, after reading this, my life changed so much. It made me realize that while I am not where I want to be, I loved what I created in the meantime. I wanted to hold the hands of ideas pulling my sleeve. I wanted to go on an adventure and say, "Yeah, let's go! What should we see today? What monster is waiting for us to discover?"

I literally felt a joy and wrote again. Not right away (depression is a loving embrace and the softest of kissers) but I had not felt such love for myself since before I gave up. I found a character I had not let get tainted my poisoned mind and I treated them like they deserved (and realized some things about myself exploring their minds). Such a love was waiting to be found when I learned they wanted something bigger and pulled me into a new bigger world. I didn't need a novel writing month event to create more than 50k. I didn't care, I wanted them to find their loves and pain, victory and lessons learned. They helped me explore viewpoints outside myself (and throw away some hateful things I harbored about trans women and prostitution from my upbringing).

I bled for sure, but only because I needed to develop the callouses on my fingertips and to lick the blood from my lips as I embraced my muse like a irresistible lover. I found myself in the character I birthed from stardust and an elder god's love of the universe. I learned that if I did this again it would be different, but that's okay. I can go back and read my old works with pride and kind words. I loved what helped me reach this far with a smile and something fun I wanted to read.

I found that if I took a month or a day to pound out a chapter, I was okay. I could sit back and know dealing a closet death and pain was fine, I had something to look forward to when the waters calmed and I was going to be okay again. My muse didn't need me to poke and prod, I could let them slumber with me while my flesh was aching and tears stained my face. I could smoke and drink with my characters and they would be happy to laugh at all the stupid and silly things we can think of. I don't need to suffer when the world is so cold and harsh. It is okay to embrace the warmth of a fire I created in myself.

[gilbertscurls]

Into it ➵ Matt Sturniolo

warnings: dry humping, soft!dom!reader, pet names (sweetheart, honey, my sweet boy)

synopsis: Matt is struggling with a persistent headache from hours of staring at his computer screen. Meanwhile, you find yourself unexpectedly captivated by how different—and attractive—Matt looks with his glasses on.

there's 400 of you already!! love you guys <3

Matt rubbed his temples as the dull ache behind his eyes intensified, the glow of the computer screen doing nothing to help. He’d been staring at it for hours, the spreadsheet blurring before him. Finally, with a sigh, he reached into his backpack and pulled out his blue light glasses.

“Man, I hate these things,” he muttered under his breath, sliding them on.

The glasses framed his face differently, the sleek black design making him look more focused, sharper. He blinked a few times, his headache already starting to ease, and went back to his work, not noticing the way you had suddenly gone very quiet.

You sat across from him, tapping at your laptop with a rhythm that had slowly died the moment Matt had put those glasses on. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard now, completely still, as you stole another glance his way.

He looked… Good. Really good.

You’d never paid much attention to Matt's glasses before, but for some reason, today was different. Maybe it was the way the lenses caught the light, making his blue eyes stand out, or how they seemed to give him this air of intelligence and quiet confidence. Whatever it was, you couldn’t stop staring.

“Baby?” Matt's voice cut through your thoughts, and you blinked, realizing you’d been caught.

“Huh?” you replied, your voice just a bit too high.

“I asked if you could double-check these numbers. You okay?” His brow furrowed in concern, but his gaze was calm behind those lenses.

“Oh! Yeah, totally.” You cleared your throat, tearing your eyes away from him and focusing on the screen. Your cheeks warmed, and you prayed he couldn’t see the blush creeping up your neck.

But as you tried to concentrate, you kept stealing glances, biting your lip as the thought kept circling in your head—How is it possible for someone to look so good in glasses?

“I, um… I think everything checks out,” you said, looking up at him with a small smile.

Matt reached out and took your hand, gently pulling you into his lap. He wanted to feel you close to him, to wrap his arms around you and hold you tight.

He leaned in and nuzzled his face into your neck, inhaling your scent and placing a soft kiss on your skin. His hands continued to rove over your legs and sides, moving in slow, soothing motions. His lips continued to move against your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your skin as he inhaled your scent. The feeling of you in his lap, your weight on him, was so comforting and satisfying. You felt so light and delicate, and he was overcome with a protective feeling towards you.

Matt could feel you relaxing more and more into him, your body melting into his like you were made to fit together. He moved his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. He could feel your soft curves pressing against him, and he couldn't help but feel a stirring of desire in his core.

He continued to nuzzle his face against your neck, his lips leaving feather-light kisses along your skin. His hands moved up your sides, gently tracing your shape and memorizing every contour of your body.

“How's your head, my sweet boy?” you asked softly.

He smiled at your endearment, feeling warmth spread through his chest. He loved when you called him your sweet boy, it always made him feel cared for and loved.

“My head is doing alright, honey,” he said, his voice soft. “I feel better with you in my arms.”

You giggled. “Glad to hear it.”

He chuckled at your giggle, feeling his heart skip a beat at the sound of your laughter. He pulled back so he could look you in the eyes, his hands still gently holding your sides.

“I don't think any medication could have worked as well as you,” he said, his tone teasing. “I should probably just make you my personal headache cure from now on.”

You looked at him with amusement before reaching up. He smiled as you fixed his glasses, your touch gentle and caring. He loved it when you did little things like that, it made him feel loved and cared for in such a simple way.

“You know, I wasn't sure about wearing these,” he said, gesturing to his glasses. “But seeing how much you seem to like them, I might have to wear them more often.”

“They make me feel… Some type of way,” you admitted sheepishly.

His smile widened as you admitted that his glasses made you feel a certain way. He was intrigued by the idea that something as simple as glasses could have an effect on you.

“Oh, really?” he teased. “And what kind of way do they make you feel, honey? Don't be shy now.”

“The 'I wanna jump you' kind of way.”

He let out a low, surprised moan when you said that, his body reacting in an instant. The thought of you being so turned on by something as simple as his glasses stirred something deep inside him.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice a bit rougher than before. “And here I was thinking that these glasses made me look stupid.”

You laughed at his statement before shaking your head. “On the contrary,” you said, your eyes raking over him. “You look incredibly smart, and incredibly sexy in those glasses.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you continued in a low, sultry voice. “You look like a goddamn sex God sitting there with your legs spread, wearing your glasses and all. It's doing things to me, you have no idea.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as your lips brushed against his ear and you whispered your words in that sultry tone. He felt a rush of desire and arousal at your words, and he felt himself harden even more in his pants.

“God, honey,” he groaned. “You can't say things like that to me when I'm already this worked up.”

You giggled playfully at his response, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him. Your tongue poked out to wet your lips as you looked down at his lap, noticing the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Oh, I can tell,” you teased, your tone sultry. “I can see you're already hard. Does it turn you on that I think your glasses are sexy?”

He swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry. He was painfully hard in his pants, and your words were making him even more turned on. The combination of your sultry tone and the way you were looking at him was driving him wild.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “Yes, it does. The thought of you wanting me like this, just because of a pair of glasses, is making me insane.”

You smirked, clearly pleased with his response. You leaned in closer, your lips right next to his ear.

“You have no idea, my sweet boy,” you murmured. “You have no idea how badly I want you right now, how much your glasses turn me on. I'm practically dripping at the thought of having you, all worked up and wearing your glasses.”

His body trembled at your words, his breath catching in his chest. Your words were like gasoline on an already raging fire, stoking the flames of his desire. The thought of you being so turned on by him, just because of his glasses, was driving him wild.

“Oh God,” he groaned, his voice strained. “Please...don't tease me like that, honey. I can't take much more of this.”

He felt you straddle him, your legs on each side of his hips. He instinctively reached to hold your hips, feeling the heat radiating off of you and the way your body pressed against his. You were sitting on his lap, and the feeling was driving him crazy.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice tight. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Maybe I am,” you teased, your voice sultry. “Maybe I'm just trying to drive you insane.”

You began to roll your hips against his, grinding against him and feeling his hardness even through the layers of clothing. You smiled as you watched his face contort with pleasure at your movements.

“You feel so good,” you purred, your hands running up and down his chest. “And you look even better with those glasses on.”

He let out a low moan as you rolled your hips against him, the friction of your body rubbing against his sending waves of pleasure through his body. Feeling your wetness through your pants, grinding against him, was driving him crazy.

“God, honey,” he gasped, his voice strained. “You're going to kill me if you keep doing that.”

“And what a way to die,” you teased, your tongue poking out to wet your lips as you continued grinding against him. “You're hard and throbbing under me, and all because I like your glasses. How does it feel, my sweet boy?”

He felt his body responding to your movements, his hips instinctively bucking up to meet your grinding. He was so hard, it was almost painful, and the thought that you were enjoying this so much just because of his glasses was driving him wild.

“It feels amazing,” he groaned. “You have no idea how good you feel against me. I never knew my glasses could have this effect on you.”

“There's something about a smart, hot man wearing glasses that just does it for me,” you admitted, your voice dripping with desire. “You look so intelligent, so focused, and it's such a turn-on. And when you look at me over the rim of your glasses, it makes me want to devour you.”

He let out a guttural moan at your words, his grip on your hips tightening as he felt his desire for your grow even more. He loved seeing you so turned on and wanting him, and the thought that his glasses were part of the reason was incredible.

“You're killing me, honey,” he groaned. “You're so goddamn hot right now, and you know it. I don't know how much more I can take.”

You ground against him even harder, your movements becoming more insistent and desperate. You could feel how hard he was, how much he wanted you, and it only added to your own desire and need for him.

“Maybe I want to drive you over the edge,” you whispered, your voice sultry. “Maybe I want to see how much you can take before you break.”

“God, you're going to make me lose my mind,” he panted, his voice tight with desire. “If you keep talking and moving like that, I'm not going to be able to hold back much longer.”

You smiled, satisfied with his response. You could tell that he was close, that he was struggling to keep his control.

“Is that right?” you teased. “Are you going to give in to me, my sweet boy? Are you going to let go and let me take care of you?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. “God, yes, I want you so badly. I need you to take care of me, honey. Just please, for the love of God, don't torture me any longer.”

You giggled at his desperation, loving the power you held over him at this moment. You could tell that he was close to breaking point, and you loved the effect you had on him.

“I love when you're so desperate for me like this,” you whispered, your mouth right next to his ear. “It's so hot to know that I have this much control over you.”

He shivered at your words, his body responding to your voice and your closeness. He felt like he was on the edge, ready to fall over any second. He was completely at your mercy, and he loved it.

“Please, honey,” he panted, his voice strained. “Please, I need you. I need you so badly. Don't make me wait any longer.”

You grinned, relishing in his pleading and desperation. You loved having him like this, so desperate and needy for you.

“Okay, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry. “I'll give you what you want. Just let go, and let me take care of you.”

His breath caught in his chest as you rocked against him, his grip on your hips tightening even more. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, his body tensing up and his mind going blank from the pleasure.

“Oh God,” he gasped, his voice strained. “Oh God, honey, you're going to make me lose it. I'm so close, so close…”

You loved how desperate and on the edge he was, and you loved that you was the one doing this to him. You kept up your movements, riding him harder and faster, determined to push him over the edge. “Let go, my sweet boy,” you whispered, your mouth right next to his ear again. “Just let go, and give in to me. I want to see you lose control, just for me.”

Your words were the last straw, and he felt himself teetering on the edge.

“Oh God, honey, I'm- I'm-”

He couldn't finish his sentence, but you knew what was about to happen. His body tensed up even more, his breathing ragged and quick as he felt himself starting to let go, to give in to the pleasure that was overwhelming him.

You smiled as you felt his body tense up, knowing that he was about to lose control. You leaned in, your mouth right next to his ear, and whispered:

“That's it, my sweet boy. Let go for me. Let go and give in to me. I've got you, my good boy.”

He felt you press yourself even closer to him, your body moving frantically against his in a desperate search for your own release. He held onto you tighter, his hands gripping your hips as if his life depended on it.

“Oh God, honey,” he groaned. “You're so close, aren't you? You're so close, and it's because of me.”

You nodded, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes, it's you, my sweet boy,” you panted. “It's all because of you. You're driving me wild, you're making me so hot, and it's all because of you, my smart, sexy man.”

His breathing was ragged and shallow as he felt you press your forehead against his, the frames of his glasses digging into your skin. But he was too far gone in the moment to care.

“You're so beautiful,” he mumbled, his voice strained. “So beautiful, and so hot, and I'm so close to losing it. I'm so close… So close…”

“I know,” you panted. “I can tell, my sweet boy. You're so close, but you're holding back. You're trying to be such a good boy for me, aren't you?”

He let out a low, guttural moan, his body tensing up even more as he felt himself getting even closer to the edge.

“I'm trying,” he groaned, his voice tight. “Oh God, I'm trying so hard. I don't want to lose it yet, I want to make you feel good first.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him even in this heated moment. You loved how much he was trying to make sure you were feeling good, how much he wanted to be a good boy for you.

“You're doing so good, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your mouth right next to his ear again. “You're doing so good, holding back for me. But it's okay, you can let go, my good boy. I want you to lose control, just for me.”

His body was trembling with the effort of holding back, but your words were starting to break him down.

“Oh God, honey,” he panted. “I don't know how much longer I can hold on. I'm so close, so close… Oh God, you feel so good, you look so hot, and I want to come for you so bad.”

You could tell that he was getting close to breaking point, that he was struggling to hold on any longer. But you loved seeing him like this, so desperate and needy for you.

“Then let go, my sweet boy,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Just let go, and come for me. Let me see how good it feels to you, to lose control for me. You're my good boy, aren't you? My sweet, good boy?”

He let out a low, guttural moan as your words sent shivers down his spine. He was holding on by a thread, but your voice and your body against him were making it almost impossible to hang on any longer.

“Oh God, baby,” he panted, his voice strained. “I'm so close, I'm so close… Oh God, I can't hold on much longer. I want to come for you, I want to lose control for you, my sweet girl. I'm your good boy, I'm your good boy.”

He felt your breaths hitch as you teetered on the edge, and it only made him all the more desperate to make you feel good. He bucked up against you, trying to give you the friction he knew you needed.

“I want you to feel good, baby,” he panted, his voice strained. “I want you to come for me, my sweet girl. I want to see you lose control, just like I'm about to lose control for you. You're so beautiful, so hot, and you're all mine.”

You lost yourself in the sensations as he bucked up against you, and the combination of his body and his words was all you needed to push you over the edge.

“Oh God,” you gasped, your voice shaky. “Oh God, I'm cumming, I'm cumming… Oh God, my sweet boy, my good boy, my love, my everything… I'm coming…”

He felt you go over the edge, your words and your body sending him flying off the edge with you. His body contracted against yours, his grip on your hips tight as he rode out his release with you.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God… Oh God, you're so beautiful, you're so hot, you feel so good…”

You shivered through your release, your body trembling against his as you rode out your orgasm with him. When you finally came down, you collapsed against him, your forehead still pressed against his.

“That was…” you breathed, your voice rough and ragged. “Amazing.”

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close against him as he tried to catch his breath. His body was still shaking from the intensity of his release, and he was having a hard time finding the words to express how amazing it had been.

“Yeah,” he panted, his voice low. “Yeah, it was… It was unlike anything I've ever felt before.”

He felt you giggle softly, and he realized that he could feel the wetness seeping through his pajamas. He felt a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, and he couldn't help but laugh a little as well.

“Yeah, I guess we made a bit of a mess, didn't we?” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

You pulled back a little and looked down between them, seeing the wet spot on his pajamas. You couldn't help but giggle again, a mischievous expression on your face.

“Looks like we did,” you said, your voice teasing. “Sorry about that, my sweet boy.”

He grinned, feeling a mix of amusement and affection at your teasing tone.

“Oh, don't apologize, honey,” he said, his voice playful. “I think I kinda like it, actually.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06

[seonghrtz]

𝑛ew 𝑠cenario. 𐙚 両面宿儺 ( streamer!au ) fluff 849 words + warnings. occ sukuna | sukuna helps you set up a new scenario for your streams.

As Sukuna opened the door to your apartment, he felt a wave of comfort sweep over his chest. He secretly (maybe not so secretly) loved it when you invited him over ⸻ not that he needed an invitation to visit you. Spending time with you, in the comfort of your apartment (which was more like an extension of yours), was all Sukuna needed to feel the tension in his muscles melt away and a good feeling rise in his chest.

Still at the entrance, he took off his sneakers, put on the Kuromi slippers you had bought especially for him, and left his backpack and coat on the rack.

But any peace he felt was gone when he heard a scream from the back of the apartment.

With hurried steps, Sukuna reached the bedroom and was surprised to see so many boxes scattered around the room and you sitting in the middle of the mess.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked, getting your attention.

"‘Kuna! You arrived at just the right moment." You got up from the floor and went to hug your boyfriend, who returned the hug without a second thought. "I was trying to tidy up the new room, but I slipped," you laughed, embarrassed at how clumsy you were, and the boy just stared at you, getting drunk on every feature of your face.

And then a light appeared in the back of Sukuna's mind. You had recently told Sukuna that you wanted to change the location of your streams. You wanted to move your computer out of your bedroom and use the empty room in your apartment.

"Why didn't you call me? I could have helped you move things around." He said, looking at the mess in the room.

"You were at work, 'Kuna." You replied, "But since you're here, you could help me, couldn't you?"

"Just tell me what you need." Sukuna held your face and kissed your lips.

You smiled excitedly and hugged Sukuna once more before starting to tell him what to do.

While Sukuna was busy putting a shelf on the wall (following the sketch you had made of how you wanted the room to look) and then a perforated panel, you were trying to understand the instructions on how to assemble the bookshelf you had bought to put your stuffed animals, DVDs, and books in to decorate the room.

"Sweetheart, why don't you finish arranging your stuffed animals and decorations and let me do the rest?" Sukuna walked up to you, grabbed you by the waist, and took the manual from your hand.

"It's not fair; you get to do all the hard work!"

"Let me do it for you, huh?" He reached for your lips and stole a kiss.

"All right..." You sighed in defeat, "Are you already done?" You asked in surprise as you looked at the shelf on the wall, the perforated panel hanging, and the table set up in the exact position you had placed it on the sketch.

Sukuna just smiled sideways and stole another kiss before starting to read the instructions on how to assemble the bookshelf.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to sweep the room and clean the newly installed desk and shelf. Carefully, you set up your ultrawide monitor, keyboard, and mouse, a DSLR camera on a tripod above the monitor, and your pink microphone on an articulated arm. On the small shelf above the desk, you placed a heart-shaped clock and a picture frame containing a photo of you and Sukuna, and placed a My Melody stuffed animal between the clock and the picture frame. On the perforated panel hanging on the wall next to it, you placed your headphones and hung some Polaroids for decoration.

When it got dark, Sukuna had already finished assembling the bookshelf, and you started decorating it, putting up some stuffed animals, CDs, DVDs, books, etc.

"Do you think I should buy a big puff to put here?" You asked as soon as you'd finished decorating.

"It's easier to buy a two-seater sofa."

"I think I'll make a list of things to buy to decorate the room; I think it's still a bit empty." You looked around. "I think a cabinet would be nice too, to store my Xbox and PS."

"We'll think about it later. I think I deserve a reward now, don't you?" He pulled you by your waist.

"Reward?" You tilted your head to the side in doubt.

"Uh huh," he murmured in affirmation as he moved his face closer to yours, brushing his lips gently against yours. "Maybe watch a movie," he suggested.

"I don't know; the last time you suggested it, we didn't finish the movie."

"As far as I remember, you didn't complain," Sukuna smiled mischievously.

"'KUNA!" You said it in a suppressed tone, making your boyfriend just laugh at your reaction.

"I promise we'll just watch the movie this time." He kissed you calmly.

"You don't seem to have any intention of keeping that promise…" You murmured against his lips, and Sukuna smiled, confirming your words.

"Maybe…”

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[itsgreti]

BENEATH THE MASK

pairing. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

summary. (Y/N), Task Force 141's medic, saw Ghost's face for the first time while patching up his injuries.

warning. descriptions of gunfire, explosions, scenes depicting injuries, medical treatments, and blood (typical cod theme)

word count. 2.3k

a/n: english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me!

The desert wind howled across the rocky terrain as the Task Force 141 team moved swiftly through the night. (Y/N), their medic, felt the weight of her gear as she kept pace with Captain Price, Soap, Gaz, and the mysterious Ghost. She had been with the elite unit for a few months, but Ghost remained an enigma to her, a silent, masked figure whose presence was always felt but never fully seen.

Their mission that night was simple in concept: infiltrate a heavily guarded compound and extract crucial intel regarding a new shipment of chemical weapons. But as they approached the compound under darkness, their plan quickly unravelled. A patrol they hadn't anticipated stumbled upon them, leading to a chaotic firefight.

Bullets whizzed through the air, accompanied by the sharp cracks of rifles and the distant thunder of explosions. (Y/N) took cover behind a crumbling wall, her mind racing as she assessed the wounded. Soap and Gaz held their ground nearby, providing cover fire as Captain Price barked orders over the radio.

Suddenly, Ghost appeared beside her, his presence as silent as ever. He motioned towards Soap, whose shoulder was grazed by a bullet. Without a word, (Y/N) nodded and hurried to assist.

The firefight continued for what felt like an eternity, but the team managed to eliminate the immediate threat. With the area momentarily secure, they regrouped in a small, dimly lit room within the compound. Captain Price leaned over the map spread out on a makeshift table, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"We need that intel," Price said grimly, his voice low yet commanding. "Ghost, find it. (Y/N), patch up whoever needs it and be ready to move out."

(Y/N) nodded, her focus shifting to Soap and Gaz as she pulled out her medical kit. Soap winced as she began to clean and dress his wound, but Gaz remained alert, scanning their surroundings.

As (Y/N) worked, she stole glances at Ghost, who was hunched over a computer terminal in the corner of the room. His movements were precise and deliberate, his gloved hands flying over the keys as he accessed the encrypted files.

The tension in the room was palpable, broken only by the occasional click of Ghost's keystrokes and the muted sounds of the ongoing battle outside. (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the mask—his past, his motivations. But such thoughts had to wait. Right now, their survival depended on securing the intel and getting out safely.

Just as Ghost seemed to make progress, an explosion rocked the building, sending debris flying and knocking everyone off balance. (Y/N) stumbled, but Ghost was quick to steady her, his gloved hand gripping her arm firmly. For a brief moment, she felt the weight of his presence, his strength beneath the mask.

"Ghost!" Captain Price called out, his voice urgent. "We're running out of time. Can you get that intel or not?"

Ghost nodded, his masked face unreadable. With renewed determination, he returned to the terminal, his fingers moving faster now.

Outside, the gunfire intensified, drawing nearer by the second. Soap and Gaz exchanged worried glances, their weapons at the ready. They knew they couldn't hold out much longer.

"Almost there," Ghost muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Suddenly, the screen flickered and then displayed a map with a blinking marker. Ghost's gloved hand hovered over the keyboard as he extracted the data onto a portable drive.

"We've got it," Ghost announced, his voice calm yet triumphant.

Captain Price wasted no time. "Good. (Y/N), pack up. We're moving out–"

Before Price could finish his sentence, a barrage of gunfire erupted from outside the room. Bullets tore through the walls, sending chunks of debris flying. (Y/N) ducked instinctively, shielding her head with her arms.

In the chaos, Ghost acted decisively. He grabbed (Y/N)'s arm and pulled her towards him, shielding her with his own body as they sought cover behind a thick concrete pillar. His masked face was just inches from hers, his eyes intense behind the tinted lenses.

"Stay down," Ghost ordered, his voice low yet urgent.

(Y/N) nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, his presence a comforting shield amidst the chaos. For the first time, she found herself grateful for his silent strength.

Captain Price and the others returned fire, their shots echoing through the room. The enemy was relentless, their numbers seemingly endless. But Task Force 141 was relentless too, fighting tooth and nail to hold their ground.

As the firefight raged on, (Y/N) couldn't help but steal glances at Ghost. His mask remained firmly in place, betraying nothing of the man beneath. But now, with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn't before.

"We need to move," Captain Price shouted over the din of gunfire. "Ghost, (Y/N), cover us. Soap, Gaz, with me!"

Without hesitation, Ghost and (Y/N) provided covering fire as Price and the others dashed towards the exit. Bullets whizzed past them, impacting the walls with deadly precision.

"Go!" Ghost called out, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of battle.

(Y/N) nodded and followed Ghost as they made their way towards the exit, their backs pressed against the cold stone walls. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder, their lungs burning with each breath.

Just as they reached the exit, a stray grenade sailed through the air and landed at their feet. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in horror as she realized they were trapped. Without thinking, Ghost pushed her behind him and shielded her with his body once more.

The grenade exploded with a deafening roar, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. (Y/N) felt the force of the blast against her back, but Ghost absorbed the brunt of it, his body tensing with the impact. She could hear him grunt in pain, but he didn't falter.

"Ghost!" (Y/N) screamed.

"(Y/N)..." Ghost's voice was strained. He was conscious but clearly in pain.

"Ghost is down!" she shouted into her comms, her voice filled with urgency.

There was a brief crackle of static before Price's voice came through, sharp and focused. "Gaz, Soap, fall back to Ghost's position! (Y/N), get to him now!"

As the smoke cleared, (Y/N) peered around Ghost to assess the damage. His mask was scorched and cracked, revealing a glimpse of his face beneath. Blood trickled down his neck from a gash caused by a piece of shrapnel.

"We need to get him out!" she called out, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A few moments later the team managed to get to the position of (Y/N) and Ghost. Soap and Gaz provided cover as Price helped lift Ghost. They moved quickly, bullets whizzing past them, the sounds of battle all around. Outside, the night air was cool against (Y/N)'s skin as they regrouped with the extraction team and jumped into the helicopter that was waiting for them. As everyone was situated, (Y/N) immediately went to work, her focus solely on saving Ghost.

Captain Price and the others scanned the area around the helicopter, holding off the enemy as they flew off. (Y/N) didn't hesitate, knelt beside him. Ignoring his initial resistance, she gently pushed aside his damaged skull mask, and her hands went to his fabric mask that was under the other one.

"I need to see the wound," she said, her voice steady despite the panic rising within her.

Ghost caught her wrist instinctively, his gaze locking with hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"It's alright, I need to patch you up," (Y/N) said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Ghost hesitated, his grip on her wrist loosening ever so slightly. He gave a barely noticeable nod, allowing her to proceed. (Y/N) peeled back the mask, revealing his face for the first time. His face was a canvas of battle-hardened features, each scar telling a story of survival and sacrifice. A deep, fresh gash ran from his cheek down to his neck, the wound raw and bleeding, but the older scars drew her gaze – the jagged line across his left eyebrow, the faded burn mark along his jawline, and the small, puckered scar near his temple. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, contrasting sharply with the dark stubble that shadowed his jaw. But it was his eyes that caught her attention – dark brown, filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability.

Carefully, (Y/N) cleaned the wound on his neck and applied pressure to staunch the bleeding. Ghost felt a strange mix of emotions. He was not used to being exposed, his face a closely guarded secret. The sensation of her hands, gentle yet firm, was foreign but strangely comforting. Despite the pain, there was a sense of relief, a small crack in the armour he had built around himself.

Even though the severity of the situation, she remained calm, her training guiding her every move. Ghost winced, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he watched her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"There," (Y/N) said gently, securing a bandage around his neck. "That should hold for now."

Ghost's eyes met hers, a mixture of pain and gratitude in their depths. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice strained.

"I've got you," she replied firmly. "Just hang on."

As (Y/N) finished, Captain Price stepped over the duo, his expression a mix of concern and relief. "How is he?" he asked, his eyes on Ghost.

(Y/N) looked up, exhaustion evident in her features. "He'll be okay. The wound was serious, but he's stable now."

Price nodded, his respect for (Y/N) clear in his eyes. "Good work. You saved his life."

(Y/N) offered a tired smile. "Just fulfilling my duty."

Price clapped a hand on her shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. The helicopter blades whipped through the night, and (Y/N) stayed beside Ghost, her hands steady as she pressed the bandage on his wound. The field dressings had been held, but the ride was rough, so she kept a close watch to ensure he stayed stable. Despite the dire situation, Ghost’s eyes remained sharp, and focused, a silent testament to his resilience. (Y/N) looked at the others and Ghost knew that she wanted to check on them. He nodded and without another word, he moved (Y/N)’s hand from his gash and pushed her to go to the other injured comrades.

Once she agreed, (Y/N) turned her attention to Soap. She barely took care of his shoulder which took a hit during the firefight, and although he didn’t say anything, she knew he must be in pain.

“Soap,” she called, her voice cutting through the hum of the helicopter. “Let me see your shoulder.”

Soap glanced at her, his usual bravado dimmed by exhaustion. “It’s just a scratch, doc,” he muttered, but he didn’t resist as she moved closer.

(Y/N) carefully peeled back the torn fabric of his sleeve, revealing the graze. The bullet had grazed his shoulder, leaving a raw, bloody scar. She winced at the sight but quickly set to work, cleaning the wound with practised efficiency.

“You need to take it easy,” she said, her tone firm but gentle. “This might not be serious now, but it could get worse if you don’t let it heal.”

Soap grinned, a flicker of his usual humour returning. “Don’t worry about me, lass. I’m tougher than I look.”

(Y/N) smiled back, shaking her head. “Maybe, but even tough guys need to let their medics take care of them.”

As she bandaged his shoulder, Soap’s grin softened into something sincere. “Thanks, doc. We’re lucky to have you.”

She finished securing the bandage and patted his good shoulder. “Just doing my job, Soap. Now sit tight, we’ll be back at base soon.”

She glanced around the helicopter, checking on the rest of the team. Gaz was alert, his eyes scanning the horizon, and Captain Price was deep in thought, already planning their next move. Despite the weariness and the injuries, there was a deep sense of unity among them. They had faced the fire together and come out stronger on the other side.

As the helicopter touched down at the base, the team began to disembark, their movements slow and weary. (Y/N) remained beside Ghost, her presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. His mask was back in place, hiding his features once more. But now, she knew the man behind the mask – a warrior with a haunted past, driven by a sense of duty and honour. She held his hand gently, ensuring he felt her support. Even through the pain and exhaustion, Ghost’s eyes flickered with a rare vulnerability, acknowledging her silent strength.

As the other medics arrived and began to transfer him onto a stretcher, Ghost’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. “You don’t have to stay,” he muttered, his voice strained but sincere.

(Y/N) smiled softly, squeezing his hand in return. “I want to. You’re my patient and my friend. I’m not leaving you now.”

Ghost’s eyes softened, a flicker of gratitude passing over his features. “Not used to... this kind of care.”

She chuckled lightly, adjusting the blanket around him. “Well, get used to it. You’re stuck with me.”

There was a brief silence as the medics prepared to move him, the sounds of the bustling base fading into the background. Ghost looked at her, his expression serious. “Thanks, (Y/N). For everything.”

(Y/N) leaned closer, her voice gentle but firm. “Just focus on getting better, Ghost. We need you.”

He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth behind the fabric mask. “I’ll do my best.”

“You better do,” she said, walking alongside the stretcher as they moved him towards the infirmary.

[crowandmousewritingco]

Pairing: Frankie Morales x gn!reader

Word Count: 760

Rating: R (18+ MDNI)

Summary: Frankie gets frustrated. You give him motivation.

Author: Mod Mouse

Warnings: Cock warming, general horniness. This is a 18+ fics so MDNI.

“Benny you gotta watch my six!” Frankie yells as he weaves his way through the map. “Fuck!” The enemy shot the last squad member, sending them back to the loading screen. This was the third time that his group died before the loot drop, and you could tell Frankie was starting to get frustrated at his long time friend. The way he adjusted his hat with a little more force then more and his finger slammed against the keys made even your own fingers hurt.  

You look up from your shared bed at your boyfriend. This was your nightly routine. Frankie would play whatever video game with the boys and you would occupy yourself with whatever craft. Frankie tended to get a little passionate when it came to his video games to the point of sometimes working himself up. This was one of those times. 

A thought came into your head and you smirked. As silently as you could you slipped off the bed. Frankie was too enthralled with the trash talking as you shimmied off the sweatpants you were wearing letting them drop to the floor. With another swift movement, Frankie’s sweatshirt that you always stole joined the pile. 

“Okay this time you have to watch out for that tank,” Frankie added as the pregame selection popped up. 

As he was choosing his character you tapped his shoulder with an overexertion. “What is it–” He begins swiveling his chair to see you, but was then when he realized that you were naked. Chest scars and thick thighs graced his view and you gave him a small wave. 

“What did you say?” You could hear Benny ask as you pressed your finger to your lips indicating Frankie to not say a word. 

Frankie’s eyes widened when you sexily bent at the hips and gently slid your hand down his chest. Brown puppy dog eyes begged for an explanation, but you continued winking at him as your hand found its ways under the waistband of his pjs. 

He took a sharp intake as he felt your fingertips brush the top of his cock causing a sharp twitch inside his pants. You covered your mouth with the other hand to cover up your giggles as your fingers brushed the top of his dick tracing the soft veins that adorned it. 

“Hey Frankie, what are you doing?” Benny asked as the round started up. 

Frantically Frankie went back to his keyboard as he started playing again. But that didn’t deter you. Slowly you pulled his cock out pumping it up and down now that it was free from its confines. The movement sent Frankie’s shot wide and he cursed under his breath. A quick side eye from you indicated he was irritated, but the blush on his cheeks meant he wasn’t that mad. 

After a few more agonizingly slow pumps you let go of his now hard cock. He bit his lip to keep himself from whimpering, but a swift kiss to the cheek reassured him. “B-Benny on your left,” He called out as you gently straddled his gaming chair. 

He looked up at you briefly before watching his screen over your shoulder. You once again took his cock in your hands rubbing the head with your thumb. “F-Fuck,” He moaned but quickly shut up when he realized what happened. 

“Frankie, did you see them,” Benny asked after a pause. 

“Um ya they went that way,” Frankie answered as you aligned yourself and slowly lowered yourself down until he was fully inside you. 

“But they were just there,” Benny answered. Frankie quickly covered his mouth with his hand keeping his moan inside of his mouth. 

You leaned down and whispered into Frankie’s ear. “If you win this round, then you can take the real prize.” 

That was enough motivation for Frankie. As if a switch was flipped, Frankie started getting head shot after head shot, sending their team rocketing into first place where they stayed for the whole round. You could hear Benny celebrating in the background, and Frankie raised his hands into the air in excitement. 

Frankie celebrated for a bit before saying, “Okay Benny that’ll be it for me tonight.” His hands rested on your ass giving it a squeeze. You had to cover your mouth so your squeak wouldn’t come through. You glanced down at Frankie who smiled with the hint of lust in his eyes. 

“Okay catfish. Have fun taking your reward,” Benny teased as you both blushed at the realization. Tonight was definitely going to be something else.

```````

All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

@jessthebaker

Credit: @inklore

[heartfullofleeches]

ignoring erin until he snaps and decides to kidnap reader

Erin fixes his hair using the reflection of a water fountain tap. His father's plain white button up hangs loose around his collar, the antennae of his hornet tattoo visible. The shirt was about three sizes too big, but it was all he could find on short notice. His bleached jeans ruined some of the novelty of the fit which he prayed you'd ignore for him trying to improve. Erin ties his hair into a bun with a rubber band and brushes lint off his tie; straightening his posture as you walk inside the building.

"Morning, Y/n. What were you up to over the weekend?"

You stop briefly to take a look at his attire. It's the most attention you've given him all week. Erin allows you to take a few more steps ahead to create distance before scrambling to catch up.

"Mine was pretty crazy too. My mom was in town and she took me to dinner that just opened up. Maybe I can show it to you sometime?"

You enter your classroom without a word. You had different first period classes so Erin couldn't follow unless he wanted to get yelled at by your teacher. He angrily tears off his tie chucks it in the trash, the top button of his shirt flying with it from the force. He slams his fist into the closest locker and crumbles to the floor below it. Fuck.

"What did I do wrong?"

Erin knew he wasn't a very likable guy. Hell- the first time you spoke was when someone else framed you for stealing his knife. He was comfortable with this idea because he thought it made him look tough. That is until the day it bit him in the ass in the long run.

After the misunderstanding was cleared up, that didn't stop his abrasiveness towards you. Developing a crush on someone he previously berated, the only reason he had for it was the fear of what falling in love with you would mean. That shame was almost justified with how hard he actually fell for you. He thought about you constantly, and when he didn't his whole world felt bleak. He was willing to change for you, and that was the most damning evidence of your claim on him.

Your silence was the cruel awakening to the reality that brute force couldn't win your heart. A person with a better outlook on the world would have realized that from the start. He figured you were find with his tough love and even acknowledged it as such with how you acted at first, but once you stopped responding to him it all became clear.

Erin tried his best. Allowing people to speak before he acted. Returning things he stole. Helping out without being asked. Given, he only did this when you were around, but it had to mean something in his favor. You stopped leering at him in disgust, but that was about it. It drove Erin mad to hear your voice down the halls, only for it to stop when you crossed his locker.

"God fucking damn it." Erin clutches his bruised fist. He tried everything. Neither his status nor his kindness won you over. Couldn't you see he could be whoever you wanted him to be?

Fuck this. If even the better option didn't win, all Erin had left was the original plan.

-

Did they really have to text you so late?

Tailing back to the campus at the peak of dusk, you relay your frustration to your friend using your keyboard. They tell you not to worry about it and just hurry up. Whatever this is better be worth it if you couldn't just head over to their house.

Walking into the parking lot, the only car you see is an old beat up minivan. You confirm with your friend that it's where they are. You peak through the windows before you even think about getting in - the door opening and arm shooting out once you get up and close.

Erin slaps a hand over your mouth as he drags you in. "Don't freak out. Just- just don't scream."

He buries his head between your shoulder blades, tears staining your shirt. "One night. One night is all I need to prove myself to you. I'll let you go home as soon as its morning, but please... just one."

[onhiatus-xxsksxx]

Almost Heaven

Summary:

Mulder’s attempt to find more exciting cases to investigate while stuck in the bullpen turns into another weekend trip to the forest.

Meanwhile, Scully is faced with a tempting offer that could change both her future and their lives.

Notes:

This little story has been stuck in my head for almost a year. It’s taken more than one change of direction over the last months until I was happy with where it was going. I hope you'll enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.

And if you want to leave kudos or a comment—no matter if it’s an emoji or several long paragraphs—that would make my whole month.

I also want to say a huge THANK YOU to the wonderful @baronessblixen!

If it hadn’t been for her, and her constant encouragement to continue working on this story and her questions about its progress, I'm sure this story wouldn't be the same. Your input and excitement for this spark of an idea during a Sunday evening chat about something completely unrelated was invaluable. Thank you, my friend!

This story is complete, and I’m going to post one chapter a day.

AO3 | @today-in-fic

Chapter 1: To the Place I Belong

J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. FBI Headquarters – Bullpen Friday, November 27th, 1998, 3:30 pm

“Any plans for the weekend, Scully?” Mulder placed a sunflower seed between his teeth and looked at Scully questioningly. He leaned back in his desk chair, slowly bouncing backward and forward, returning Scully’s questioning glance with an innocent look.

Mulder was completely bored after spending days doing nothing but paperwork and sorting files. He knew Scully was bored too, even though she didn’t mind doing reports half as much as he did.

Scully reached for her coffee cup and sipped the hot liquid, closing her eyes in appreciation. Mulder grinned; he loved watching Scully enjoy her coffee. Mulder could tell she was frustrated by their punishment, which was exactly what was happening. They were being punished. This was also why he had started making an extra effort to get her a cup of coffee just like she wanted every morning and afternoon. She had stoically navigated his frustration with their current situation over the last few months, keeping him in line. And it hadn’t been that long ago that he had had to reassure her that she played a major role in his life. If getting the perfect coffee for her made her happy, he was all for it.

Scully opened her eyes and hummed appreciatively before looking back at him, and he gave her a knowing look. She blushed a bit but didn’t avoid his gaze, her eyes full of warmth. “Did you finish calling the letters ‘H’ and ‘I’ already, or are you planning on spending YOUR weekend catching up?” she quipped and turned back to her keyboard.

“I don’t care about any ‘E’s and ‘I’s. No one is going to follow up on this, anyway. They just want to keep us busy and off any real cases!” he said emphatically, pushing off the floor with his foot and bouncing his chair back and forth again.

“’H’ and ’I’, Mulder. Not ’E’ and ’I’. You did the ’E’s’ last week already. Remember that report I had to rewrite for you because you couldn’t help but add your opinion on why you consider this pointless?” Scully took a new file off of the pile and gave it a cursory glance before sighing.

“Aha! See? You’re just as bored by this as I am, Scully!“

She slowly rotated her shoulder and neck before turning back around to him. “I never said I wasn’t. Of course, this is pointless. None of these people ever so much as stole a chewing gum, much less organized a terrorist attack. But the more we protest, the longer they’re going to keep us assigned to this, and we’ll never get the X-Files back.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Let’s just focus on getting this over with. If we keep our feet still long enough, they might trust us with the X-Files again.” She smiled tightly, and he knew she was trying to sound confident.

He gave her a long look before sighing and turning back to his overflowing pile of folders. “I hope you’re right, and we’re not wasting our time expecting they’ll forget about us.”

He knew Scully was hoping for the same. He despised sitting around, working on senseless tasks, following up on even more useless information when he could be on the road or talking to people who had actually seen something related to the truth.

“Well, at least Kersh didn’t make you recheck your report this time. Maybe he’ll give up sooner than later,” Scully joked, looking away from her monitor for a second.

“Yeah. By the way, thanks for going over it. I doubt I’d have gotten the same reaction to my original draft. You’re a lifesaver!” Mulder gave her a half-smile and pursed his lips.

She returned his smile with one of her own before turning back to her task.

“So, about those weekend plans—” Mulder began, only to be cut off by the ringing of his phone. “Hello?” he said into the receiver, grimacing at Scully when he recognized the voice of Kersh’s assistant. “Yes, we’ll be right there,” he clipped before hanging up and getting up from his chair, grabbing his jacket. “We’re expected in the Deputy Director’s office asap, Agent Scully,” he parroted, not waiting for her before taking off towards the open reception area of Kersh’s office.

He could hear Scully sigh, but she followed him without comment. What now? he wondered. Nothing good ever came out of being called into their boss’s office.

Office of Deputy Director Alvin Kersh

“Have a seat, Agents,” Kersh greeted them without looking up from his note-taking. His tone was as unreadable and impersonal as ever.

Mulder glanced at Scully, but she wordlessly took one of the two seats in front of their boss's desk.

The minutes passed slowly, and Mulder counted the ticking of the analog clock hanging on the wall at the side of the office, which signaled the passing of time. Kersh was making them wait, and Mulder hated every second of it. Just as he opened his mouth to ask if they were keeping him from his work, Kersh looked up and put his pen aside.

“I have a new assignment for you,” he began, giving them both a calculating look. When neither agent reacted, he slid a thick brown folder across the desk towards them. “There have been reports of some nighttime activities down at the Waterfront Resort. I want you to investigate those reports and ensure that nothing illegal is going on there.”

Mulder reached for the file and started to read the top sheet. The more he read, the angrier he got. “Nighttime activities, sir? From what I’m reading here, there have been reports of some kids staying out past their curfew down there. That’s not an actual assignment, a security guard could easily take care of this.” He angrily snapped the file shut and threw it back on the desk.

Kersh’s eyes narrowed, and his tone became even colder if that was possible. “What is an assignment and what isn’t is still something for me to decide, Agent Mulder. Are we clear on that?”

Scully quietly cleared her throat and reached for the folder. “Yes, sir. Agent Mulder and I will take care of this.” She quickly got up from her chair, placing her hand on Mulder’s arm.

Kersh nodded, his eyes still piercing Mulder’s with a cold glare. “Very well, Agent.” He took his pen back in his hand and began writing again, dismissing them wordlessly.

Mulder stood up abruptly, and for a moment he was tempted to have Kersh have it. He was so tired of being roadblocked every step of the way. A gentle squeeze of Scully’s hand on his arm kept him quiet, though, and with a last glance at their boss, he turned around and headed for the door.

FBI Headquarters – Bullpen

Mulder watched as Scully sank into her office chair, her exasperation clear. Another day, another senseless task, he thought.

Mulder frustration was close to exploding. The longer they worked under Kersh, the worse it seemed to get. Scully glanced over at him, and Mulder realized he had been morosely staring at his monitor. He started to bounce his leg, trying to get rid of some of his anger. He’d definitely have to go for a long run tonight, he mused, or his head would explode.

“Mulder, stop fidgeting!” Scully slapped her hand on his bouncing knee, forcing the offending appendage to stop moving.

Mulder sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to stay still. “I just hate this, Scully. We’ve been sitting around, doing nothing, for weeks now.” He slowly moved his head from his left shoulder to his right, trying to stretch out the stiff muscles. “And now this! We both know this assignment is just to keep us sidelined. I don’t know how long I can stand waiting around! What are they even planning to do with us at this point?”

Scully nodded, her own frustration evident. “I don’t know, Mulder. I just know fidgeting is not going to change anything. What I do know, however, is that we have to play along for now, or this is going to escalate even higher up, and then we won’t ever get the chance to get the X-Files back.”

Mulder turned to face her directly. “It’s just so frustrating! We should be investigating real cases, not watching some teenagers commit the unspeakable crime of underage drinking.”

Scully gave him a sympathetic look. “I know, Mulder. And I’m just as frustrated as you are. I didn’t choose the FBI to do this kind of grind work either. I want to find the truth just as much as you do.”

Mulder didn’t reply, his eyes firmly fixed on Kersh’s reception area, where the Deputy Director had just appeared and had started laughing with his assistant. Mulder deflated once again, dropped back in his office chair, and gave Scully a pointed look. Kersh had them right where he wanted them.

Scully returned his look grimly before turning back to the folder with their assignment and started rubbing her temples.

He watched her for a few long moments before jumping up and grabbing her arm, pulling her with him. She let him drag her out of her chair, hissing, “Mulder, what are you doing?!” while taking a cursory glance around the large office space. No one was paying them any attention.

Mulder reached for his jacket from the back of his chair, shrugging it on. “This assignment is going nowhere. I’m pretty sure no one has even glanced at this file in the last several weeks. Let’s get out of here, Scully.” He grabbed his keys from his desk and slipped them into his pants pockets before putting his arm on her shoulder, squeezing softly.

She gave him a long look before sighing. “Might as well,” she added, grabbing her coat and putting it on.

Mulder placed his hand against her lower back, and together they walked down the hallway towards the elevator.

[small-sinclair]

This is for me. Don’t judge. I promise I’ll write/answer questions I swear—

You’re Doin' Great

Bo x college student!y/n (burned out and super drained)

Tw: burned out, drained, slight nsfw because you two shower (but nothing happens!), super soft Bo

Lester’s comfort

"Good morning," you greeted the Sinclair brothers as they cleaned up the table from this morning's breakfast. Before Bo could say it back, you started on your list. "I'll be in the study all day working on a college project. Please, for the love of everything, don't come bother me," you held up finger, "don talk to me," you held up another finger, "or bring anyone to the house. Only come see me if the Pope is dead or you found the keys to Narnia. Other than that, I don't want to see any of you." You shifted on your feet and offered a trying smile. "I'm telling you as politely as possible."

Bo would snap back with "this is my house; don't tell me what to fucking do", but he knew that this book was your ticket to graduate college. Instead, he nodded and glanced at his brothers. "Ya heard 'em. House is theirs for the day."

You sighed in relief when Lester nodded in agreement with Vincent already getting up to leave. As he passed you in the doorway, he stopped and his wax lips pressed a kiss against your cheek then left.

"I'll be in town for most of the day," Lester said in a sing-sung voice. "Do ya wan' me to bring anythin' back, y/n?"

"Raspberries and my lemonade order," you answered as you entered in the kitchen. You past the mugs as you took the whole coffee pot. Without warning, you drunk straight from the pot and kept eye contact with Bo's disgusted face and Lester's a gaped mouth. You finished the last bit of coffee and placed it with the dirty sink. "I'm off. Love you," you leaned over and stole a kiss from Bo and starting out, kissing the top of Lester's head before you left.

Your laptop was already sat up and plugged in. All that's left is to refill your water cup and put on your noise canceling headphones. You did that quickly, a shock Bo still looking at the empty coffee pot that you downed in four swigs without hesitation still in the kitchen. Your shoulders fall as you let a huff out, kissing him again, then leaving. You didn't notice when Lester left, but he did say goodbye to you. You were too focused on the book in front of you as you typed away.

You did, however, leaned into Bo when he kissed you on the head. He knew the drill: if he or his brothers were to bother you today, you would turn them into wax just by glaring at them.

"Be back later," he hummed in your hair as he kissed you once more.

"Yeah, that sound's good, honey," you answer aimlessly. If you're going to write to page 100 today, you better get to it because you are on page 23. Oh, to be a creative writing minor.

You cracked your fingers and got to it.

*****************

"Y/n?" Bo called as he walked through the door. It's late at night when he comes home, and he was hoping you would be in bed by now, but he found you in the study by the pool table, the same place where he left you. "What the hell," he said out of irritation. He hung up his hat, took off his boots, and made his way towards you.

Your eyes were still glued to the screen as your fingers moved tiredly across the keyboard, rereading over every paragraph as you did so. You've went up to go to the restroom and refill your water. Lester brought your items and that was your lunch and dinner for the day. Vincent didn't bother you, but he did bring your favorite snack and refilled your water cup while you vented about how much you hate a character you made. You thanked him and watched him go back to his work.

You were so tired, your brain melting every time you typed a word, but you were almost done; you were at page 97 by 11pm. Three more pages and you can go to bed! You can shower and go to sleep!

...unless you want to finish writing your book.

"Darlin," he hummed as he read over your shoulder. "I think it's time to call it."

"Three more pages," you answered numblessly as you started page 98. "Almost there."

"Almost 'bout to sleep at your computer," he hummed. He stayed silent as he listened to your fingers stroke over the keys. You were writing a scene about the earth opening up and swallowing a group of heroes underneath it, sending them to the Realm of Crystals. "Your creative mind 's somethin', honeycomb."

"Sounds good, dear," you answer, not listening to him as you pushed your hair back. You lifted your shoulders to crack them, making him look down at you concerned. You felt your skin melting off like wax as you added more detail to a paragraph, taking time to describe the roots and falling flowers.

Bo shook his head as he stepped back. Soon, his hands snaked over your tense muscles and started to rub your shoulder blades like you did whenever he had a long day. You jolted at the touch, but relaxed. Your eye lids felt so heavy but your kept writing. You were almost done! You are so close to page 100.

Then you felt his lips trace on the back of your neck, kissing gently at your skin, then rested his head on your shoulder again. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back, and it felt like heaven. You didn't close your eyes until you pressed the save file over and over and over until you watched the little circles on the cloud icon turn green. Confidently, you exited out of your writing and closed your laptop. You leaned back until you rested your head against his chest. You could feel his soft heartbeat through his shirt. Your hands went up and went through his curls and oiled skin. you just wanted to feel something else then the hard plastic of your laptop.

"Co'ere," he whispered, kissing your lips gently. "Let's go, yeah?"

You hum to his touch as he guided you to stand and led you upstairs. Before you knew it, you were undressed and standing in the shower with him. He didn't say anything as he washed your back and shoulder as you allowed the warm water to run over your skin. You had to process what shampoo was when you washed your hair, Bo helping you when your hands failed to work. You trade spots and you did the same for him, but you kissed his shoulder and held on to him as he washed his hair. Irish Spring never smelt so sweet.

You dried off and dressed in your pajamas. Then you looked in the mirror, cringing at your reflection. Your eyes were so sunken and deep, the lines of purples and tired blues colored your skin. You looked lifeless and disgusting. What this man sees in you is a mystery. Then Bo came in sight, shirtless and clean, and kissed the nook of your neck and shoulder.

"Com'on, bed, sweetheart," he whispered against your skin. "You've worked so hard today."

"I look terrible," you said defeated, your mind filling with static.

He shook his head as he kissed your neck again. "Naw, just tired, 's all." His hand slipped into yours and he guided you to bed. "You did so good today, darlin'."

Resting against the cool sheets, you curled against him like a kitten. "Hold me tonight?" You whimper like a child. "Promise you won't let me go?"

"Never," he answered, pulling you into a tight hug, his arm around your waist while the other held your head against his chest. "You're doin' great, y/n. Workin' so hard for 'at degree." His voice echoed throughout his chest. "Proud of you."

"Don't need that," you said in the darkness, feeling his skin against yours. "Say you love me? Please?"

He couldn't help but smile as he looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars you put up on his ceiling when you two decided to share rooms. Ever since your placed them on his walls and ceiling, he felt safe and slept more easily. "I love you, y/n," he said in your hair. "I love ya to the moon an' then some."

"Promise?" Your voice was tired as you started to drift to sleep. You were too tired to stay awake.

The last thing you heard was him, answering, "Promise. Love ya."

And he held you all night, not letting go once. It was you and him in this aimless world, and that's all you needed.

[princessofdarkness21]

Metal Family Glam Headcanons :)

<3 When Glam first ran away from home, he didn't have any clothes so he borrowed stuff out of Ches' close and now Glam will only wear things he either stole from Ches or thrifted that look like Ches' clothes because he has happy memories of those clothes

<3 Glam wore his old suit to his father's will reading

<3 Glam is one of those parents that's an intellectual snob, like, "oh your little susie got a 92? WELL MY SON-" and he loves to one-up other parents about things they're proud of

<3 Glam actually knows twelve types of martial arts because his family was so rich that he had to learn self-defense in case of being kidnapped and held for ransom, but he prefers to stand back and let Vicky fight when the need arises because he trusts her strength

<3 Glam struggles with social anxiety

<3 Glam loves to take Dee to the mall so that they can sit on a bench eating salted pretzels, sipping iced coffee and talking. Glam likes to simply sit and watch all the people milling about while Dee enjoys making fun of all the people milling about

<3 Glam still feels guilty about leaving Lydia behind and sends her an invite to every single family holiday he has. She never accepts the invites but she secretly keeps all of Glam's letters and postcards and looks at them now and again

<3 Glam attends a yoga class every Saturday

<3 Glam loves cleaning, making meals for his family, and doing laundry because it helps him feel more independent from his past when there was a private butler doing everything

<3 Glam's mother sends him letters and money all the time. She's so proud of him and she buys recordings of every single one of his songs

<3 Glam was the one who bought Heavy's SlipKnot shirt and took Heavy to his very first SlipKnot concert

<3 Glam's favorite holiday is Christmas because he loves buying gifts for people. He gets Dee fluffy socks, books, journals, tea, and new boots. For Heavy he buys candy, band t-shirts, slap bracelets, gaming keyboards and headsets, and new albums. Vicky gets new helmets, gear, poker sets, and cool patches for her jackets that Glam will lovingly sew on for her later. For Ches, Glam will get new bandanas, guitar picks, and cool vinyls (Glam gets a new Twisted Sister cd hidden inside a Bach cover from Ches every year). Glam even sends over beautiful scarves for his mother and lockets for Lydia with pictures of them when they were younger

<3 Glam still sometimes sneaks out to go busking in the middle of the night, because it helps him de-stress

<3 Glam is so good at skincare like he puts so much nice crap on his face I bet

[deerfests]

Tagged by @phenanthreneblue (Thank you and much love!)

ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? By given name-- no. By chosen name-- I stole it off a guy who wasn't using it. Does that count?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Don't remember, I easily get weepy over wholesome content for some reason, though, so might have seen a rescue video of a dog and cried last week. (Alu stop sending me them, I'm weak).

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Heavens, no! And if I'm lucky, I never will!

WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? Outside of physical education, I haven't participated in any game-like sport. Took swimming and karate classes as a kid, if that's anything.

DO YOU USE SARCASM? I do, not all the time, but often enough.

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Ah, I guess in real life I notice their hair and face first if I'm getting introduced to somebody or talking to somebody. If I'm just passing somebody on the bus or outside, I try not to look at them...

WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR? I think they're blue, but they always gave me the impression of being more gray. Apparently that's a rare eye color, so likely not.

SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? [chanting] scray movies, scary movies--

ANY TALENTS? None that I'm aware of, but back when I played the keyboard, my instructor insisted I had a talent for it. I think she was being nice, however.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN? I could say, but since my country is this small I'm gonna opt out to say "some country in Europe, most people barely have heard of"

WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? Writing and doodling. Occasionally, I enjoy making videos, but I've never gotten decent enough at that. Sad, because I have ideas for them.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? Everyone knows Winston! If they don't, I have a dog named Winston. Hello.

HOW TALL ARE YOU? 161cm, and the internet tells me that's 5ft3. I'm relatively short. If I ever meet the guy whose name I stole, I'm gonna look like a garden gnome.

FAVOURITE SUBJECT? I'm no longer in school, so this feels redundant as a question. I think I mostly enjoyed maths and biology in school until the teachers got more obnoxious about hating their jobs in high school... I used to want to be a forensics scientist back then.

DREAM JOB? I would love to write for a living, but that's not likely. Especially with the whole preferring my second language over my native one thing.

TAGGING feel free to steal, I have no idea who to tag.

[raonwashere]

*in a DJ khaled voice* ANOTHER ONE

This idea is more simplier then the last one but its basically a kaitou joker x civillian and aspiring magician reader‼️ Like when he was stealing a treasure one time at a party, one of the guests there catches his eye and he wants to know more about them. He talks to them while digsuised as a waiter and AND get this

THE READER IS A MAGICIAN

Er well they are aspiring to be one

So they try to show Joker this cool new card trick they just learnt and joker’s heart just melts like “omg omg so their pretty AND does magic tricks??”

So after the party, reader is kinda bummed out when they realized that the cute waiter just suddenly disspeared after joker arrived but then when they finally get home, they find a note by this person named ‘KJ’

Its obvs by Joker and so the phantom theif just sometimes sends love notes or flowers to reader. Hachi notices it and goes “ohh who are you going to send these to, Mister Joker?” Joker is just flustered and embaressed.

AAAA please my crush on Joker is unreal 🚶🏻‍♀️

UGHGHFFB I DON'T KNOW HOA LONG IBE LEFT THIS IN THE DRAFTS IM SO SORRYY 😭😭

I'LL DO MY BEST TO SERVE 👍

Apologies if there any errors !!

Stole my heart !

Kaitou joker x aspiring magician ! Reader

( imma assume she/her )

—

It was as any other night for the one and only Kaitou Joker and Hachi. Going on another heist to steal a treasure at a party. What wasn't Joker's goal was to get his heart stolen~♡

At this particular party , stood a magician amongst the crowd. Well , an aspiring magician but she's working on it !!! And at this particular party , Kaitou Joker stood amongst the crowd as a waiter. Though he couldn't help himself as curiosity got the better of him. He'd take glances , or even look at the tricks of the magician.

The magician had a cheerful smile and a beautiful voice. Not only that , beautiful face and well , Joker did find EVERYTHING about this magician absolutely perfect! From the way she did the tricks , to shuffling the cards. Oh he was definitely in love.

And of course , sooner or later the magician noticed that a certain some one was staring and looking at her. All she did was shoot a smile at him but can't help but think on how cute the waiter was. She soon walked up to the Joker and showed him a trick , which made a rose appear and she giving it to Joker.

—" a gift for an adorable waiter."

At an instant , he falls heads over heals like a highschool boy in love for this magician. He could feel himself overheat as he took the rose. The two accidentally brush fingers for a split second. He feels his heart pounding against his chest at like 16982382838 per millisecond. ( PLS I JUST RANDOMLY KEYBOARD SMASHED OK DONT THINK ITS SOMETHIGN ELSE )

Soon , the party had come to an end , Kaitou Joker managing to leave with his treasure. But he did leave a disappointed magician , who felt bummed out that he couldn't get the attractive waiter's number at least —!

—★

The dear magician returns to her home , to be greeted at the front door by a bouquet of flowers and a card at the side..

“ thank you , my sweet for the beautiful rose . I hope you love these in return. ”

— KJ .

As time went on , this was a repeated occurrence. It was unexpected , but a nice unexpected surprise ! The Phantom Thief would drop off flowers , gifts and other stuff.

And oh how he loved your genuine reaction as he watches you from a taller higher building .

“ you really do like her huh ?"

“ Maybe I do Hachi."

AAAAA IM SO SO SO SO SO SO X 92839283828328 SORRY THAT I DIDN'T UPLOAD THIS FASTER 😭😭

i hope you didn't starve much !! Hope you liked this :33

Reblogs are very much appreciated !

Hey! Check this post out !

[itsscatballou]

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 5

A Negan Series

Chapter 4 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 1

Warnings: adult themes, adult language, rough/slightly violent smut (18+ only)

A/n - my husband got a new video game so my Friday night was wide open to work on this. It's my favorite in the series so far, and I apologize for how long it is. Feedback is welcome! And a quick inspo credit to @green-eyedladywrites - she reblogged this photo of a statue in a sex museum in Korea several weeks ago, which stuck in my brain and brought about this sex scene. I hope you all enjoy! (ps - I was having major keyboard glitches so if there are bad typos I'm sorry!)

Being part of a Savior crew seemed to come naturally to her. It wasn’t a surprise; she’d been part of groups like these before. She’d learned how to work them to her advantage many times over. Simon started her as a grunt, sending her on the errands and tasks no one else really cared to do, but she didn’t mind. Every task gave her more information about the place, another advantage in her planning.

One of the tasks she was assigned was to check on Dwight’s guard team. Dwight and a couple of his guys took shifts guarding Daryl’s cell door or taking him out for his work with the walkers at the gate. She would check in with them a few times a day, bring them meals when they were on duty, and occasionally kept them company for a while. She cherished this task, the chance to be so close to Daryl. She had to force herself not to pay him any attention, but she stole as many glances as she could when his guards weren’t looking.

All the guys in the crew took to her quickly. They began including her in jokes, games, often inviting her for drinks after their shifts.  Simon especially seemed to enjoy her company. They soon had a rapport full of banter and laughs. It didn’t take long for her to move out of grunt work, although she suspected being a wife helped her rise in rank, too. No one wanted to be the one sending Negan’s wife on dumb errands and risk his anger. As her status on the crew rose, Simon began asking her advice. Much like Negan with Rick’s group, he was looking for the best ways to exploit the weaknesses of  leaders of the communities he collected from. It was unsettling to her how good she was at it. She had always been good at reading people. She’d used that in the past to survive, but this was different. This was no longer survival, this was… dominance. She couldn’t deny there was a part of her that found naming a stranger’s weakness and using it to get what the Saviors wanted somewhat thrilling. The more Simon asked that of her, the better she got at it. It became a point of pride for her amongst the crew. After a few successful runs, Simon started asking her to stay behind. They would spend hours debriefing or discussing the next run, sometimes over drinks.

It was during one of these after collection debriefs with Simon that she noticed a shift in him. She was sitting on the edge of the back of a refrigerated truck where Simon was leaning against it right beside her. They were laughing about one guy that wet his pants when she had gotten in his face, whatever threat she made hitting the nail on the head.

Suddenly Simon wasn’t laughing, he was staring at her. An intense look in his eye, like he’d just seen her for the first time. She squirmed shyly and nudged his arm gently with her shoulder.

“We make a good team, huh?” she grinned at him.

“We do… but I think it’s more you than me.” He replied, nudging her back.

She heard boots crunch in the gravel nearby. She put a hand on Simon’s arm and leaned a little closer as she said in a low voice, “I’m glad Negan put me on your crew.”

A Savior appeared from around the corner of the truck and both she and Simon quickly separated, attempting to look as casual as possible. The Savior stared at them for a moment, seeming to debate saying something. Finally, he informed them, “Negan called a gathering in the warehouse. He wants everyone there, you especially,” he looked at her. “You should find the other wives for this.”

She did as she was told, finding where the wives were standing, and making her way to stand beside Sherry and Amber. Amber looked pale and gaunt.  Y/n raised an eyebrow at Sherry to ask what was up with Amber. Sherry jerked her chin to show her. Following the direction Sherry motioned, she saw a handsome guy strapped to a chair, in front of a blazing fire.

Oh no. Mark. Amber’s lover. They’d been stupid – they’d been caught. She’d tried to warn Amber it was a bad idea – Negan only had one rule for the wives: do not cheat on him. She was honestly amazed only Mark sat before the fire now. Someone must have done some convincing to get him to let Amber off… She looked around, seeing Dwight at the fire with the poker – her blood boiled. She already despised him, but the more she learned of him from Sherry, and the more she saw how he treated Daryl, her dislike had transitioned to blind hate. Her eyes moved from Dwight to the person beside him and she nearly gasped when her eyes met Daryl’s. They locked eyes and she instinctively began to move toward him.

She was stopped short as Negan entered then, walking forward to talk to the crowd. She didn’t hear a word he said, though, as she saw who came in behind him. The Sherriff’s hat gave him away first, and her heart stopped. Why was Carl here? When had he gotten here? Had Negan taken him?

Her eyes shot to Daryl, and she found him still looking at her. What the fuck? She mouthed at him. He subtly shook his head, and she turned her attention back to Carl, willing him to look at her. His face changed at something Negan was doing, she felt Sherry move to Amber and saw her embrace her, so she turned her attention back to the spectacle. Dwight was pulling the hot iron from the fire and Negan was gloving his hands to take it.

She couldn’t let this happen. Mark and Amber had been dumb, but they didn’t deserve this. Amber was not the strongest, she wouldn’t handle this well at all. And Carl… Carl didn’t need to see this. How could she stop it?

She didn’t know what drove her to do it, barely registered her own voice as she called to Negan, “wait!” He put his outstretched hand down and looked at her, fury building behind his eyes at the public challenge. If she shut up and sank back now, he’d probably let this go. That would be the smart thing to do. She felt all eyes on her as her body did the exact opposite and she found herself standing in between Mark and Negan. Idiot. What are you doing?

“I’ll take it. Burn me instead.” She heard some gasps and murmurs from the crowd. She refused to look at Daryl, who was no doubt readying to fight off every Savior in this building for her.

Negan tilted his head as he asked, “Now why would you do that? Why would I do that?”

“Mark is an incredible shot, way better than I’ll ever be, and very valuable to his crew. If you burn him, he’ll be down healing for weeks, and you’ll be lucky if his aim is ever the same going that close to his eye” she pointed at Dwight’s scarred eyed. “I’m barely more than a grunt. If I’m down a few weeks, the worst that happens is Fat Joey doesn’t get his sandwich delivered and he has to go get it himself.” Some guys chuckled behind her.

She could feel the crowd lean in, could feel their pity, and their gratitude – Mark was beloved by a lot of these people. He was a good guy, that’s why Amber liked him so much. And she’d made good points – his crew needed him. They were already short-handed with the redistribution of men following Rick’s massacre at the satellite station. Losing another one from their barebones crew would hurt. They would not be happy about it.

“That’s so very noble of you, sweetheart,” Negan cooed at her. “But what lesson would that teach Mark? How is he going to learn the importance of following the rules if someone else can just step in and take his consequences?’

After a long pause, Negan reached again for the hot iron and added, “and your face is plenty hot enough as it is.”

Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the crowd as Negan advanced toward Mark. She stumbled back with them, and as the screaming started, she turned and left. She could feel the rage of the crowd behind her as she exited. She walked until she reached Negan’s apartment and sat down against the wall outside his door to wait.

She didn’t have to wait long before Negan and Carl approached. She stood as they neared Negan’s door and gave Carl a hard look.

“Carl,” Negan drawled, “I don’t believe you have met my new wife!” Carl scowled at her at the realization.

“Negan, could I speak to you?” she asked him, glancing at Carl pointedly, “privately?”

“As much as I would love a little romp in the sack with you, I am a little busy right now.”

“Negan.”

He moved closer to her, a cat on the prowl. “I said not right now.” He leaned in close enough to whisper in her ear. “I’ll find you later. I have some things to discuss with you too.” His breath on her neck tickled, causing goosebumps to rise. He gently kissed the area, and she saw Carl tense and clench his fist. Negan left her in the hall, leading Carl into his room.

Frustrated, and still confused about Carl being here, she stomped back to her room to wait.

-----

Her time with Negan since the night he held her while she cried in her room had been, well, confusing. He called her to dinner again the following night and they played their question game again, both seeming to ask more interesting questions about the other. She’d learned a lot about him that night, his softer side. It surprised her. She’d also been given a gift, a “reward” he’d called it for such good information about Rick.

“Anything thing you want, ask. A new, badass gun? A bottle of the whiskey we took from Hilltop? Name it. I am in a giving mood, and you earned a good gift,” he’d told her, flirtatiously but genuine enough.

“Do I have to name it right now, or can I think on it a bit?” she’d asked.

“My generosity does have limitations, but you can take the rest of dinner to think on it.”

After dinner, and a few shots later for each of them, she’d chosen what she would ask for.

“I know what I’d like my reward to be,” she declared after he downed his 4th shot, dodging a question about his love life before the old world fell. He smiled at her and nodded in invitation to ask.

“I would like…” she said, drawing it out to tease him a little. The three shots of Whiskey she’d taken had her in a playful mood. He raised an eyebrow suggestively at her. “Oh, you wish,” she fired back. “No. Nothing like that. What I’d like is, well... 5 free questions. I let you know when one of my questions will be the free pass, and you have to answer, 100% truthfully, with no option to back out by taking a shot.”

She quickly saw the loophole in her request so she added, “and I can use them whenever I want, no time limits.” She replayed her words in her head, making sure they were airtight. She felt like she was dealing with a genie from a fairytale.

Negan studied her, a mix of pleasant surprise and something else behind his eyes. “I will give you 3.”

She grinned at him, about to agree when he added, “but I get 3 of the same.”

“Wha- how is that a gift if you get it too?” she whined back.

“Because the gift is from me, and those are my conditions. If you’d like to change your choice to that gun or something a little more… intimate, I will allow it.” He bit his lip, and something in her heated. Stupid whiskey.

She knew it wasn’t a good idea, it was risky to commit to that.  But the thought of him having to answer her with no possibility to back out was too tempting to pass up. She prayed the reward would be worth this risk.

“Deal.” This was the second deal she’d made with the devil in a week.  

The following nights were unpredictable. She wasn’t invited back for dinner for a few nights, and by the third, she felt unnerved by it. Not afraid, just... bored.  On those nights she’d make her way down and usually found Simon eating outside by a fire, where she’d sit and drink and talk with him until she felt tired enough or tipsy enough to go to bed.

The nights she did have dinner with Negan were the same: eat, questions, drink. Sometimes she’d ask to play a boardgame, and they’d continue their game of questions over Scrabble (which she always won and let him hear about it).

One night, after a brutal placement of the word “quiz,” she used her first free question.

“Negan,” she approached it gently. He looked up from his scrabble tiles with curiosity. She didn’t use his name often. “I’d like to use my first free question.”

He slowly grinned at her. “Alright,” he agreed, “let me finish my drink first. I’m sure I’ll need it.” And he downed the remainder of his whiskey in one go. “Okay, shoot.”

“We’ve had a lot of these dinners together,” she prefaced, “and at our first one, you said as a wife I would have to perform ‘wifely duties.’” She paused.

“There a question in there?” he teased her.

She took a deep breath, suddenly nervous to ask this. “Well, you haven’t, um… touched me. At all. You haven’t even asked to… so I guess my question is, why not?”

Negan chuckled. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s not your looks, if that’s your concern.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. He knew that wasn’t what she was asking.

“Fine. No, I haven’t tried or asked, but it isn’t because I don’t want to.”  He winked at her. “In fact, I want to so bad it drives me crazy when you leave here at night. None of my other wives leave here until I’m satisfied… but I knew from the night you came in here and told me to make Rick hold Lucille that you wouldn’t be like my other wives.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to continue.

“You’re different. I want it to be different with you. I told you before, I have enough obedient dogs. So as badly as I want it, I will not touch you until you want it too. And trust me, darlin’, you will want it,” he purred in that Negan arrogance.

She would never want it, she told herself. She told herself so many times she started dreaming it. But no matter how much she told herself she would never want it; it didn’t stop a part of her from heating every time she thought of those words.

She was invited back the next night, where instead of their typical drinking game of questions, Negan upped the ante with a rousing game of strip questions. If they didn’t answer a question, they had to remove an item of clothing.

She was thanking her lucky stars she’d come straight to dinner from a collection with her crew, so she had a lot more clothing on than she normally would at dinner.

With such high stakes, the questions got very personal. “Where is the craziest place you’ve ever fucked?” started it off, and it moved into first loves, worst heartbreaks, hardest kills, and eventually biggest fears.  They were both on the couch, him sitting a little too close to her, and both down to their underthings when he used his first free question.

“Free card question,” he stated, leaning a little closer to her. He kissed her bare shoulder, and it sent goosebumps down her arm. Tracing circles with his finger where his lips just were, he asked in a growly tone, “why did you really volunteer to come back with me that night in the woods?”

Uh oh. She sent a silent thank you up to whoever was listening for not being three shots deep into this game. She paused a minute, what could she tell him?

“What?” she flirted, buying some time to think, “you don’t think you impressed me enough for me to want to go with you?”

“No,” he replied, still tracing circles on her shoulder. “I knew when the words left your mouth it wasn’t true. I’ve been trying since then to figure out why you’re here. I thought maybe it was to spy, help Rick take us down from the inside. But you’ve proven to be working against him, and other communities, over and over since then.” She cringed inside at that. Had she gotten that bad? “Then I thought, maybe you were just biding your time to get close enough to kill me. And that could still be true, but the way your body is reacting to my every touch right now, I am doubting it. So, I’d like to know now, what was your reason?”

Think, y/n. Think. It had to be believable. She obviously couldn’t tell him the truth. She feigned a little nervousness, hoping it sold her story.

“I… well…I wanted to kill Dwight,” there was plenty of truth in that. “Honestly, I still wouldn’t mind doing it. I thought my best bet was to get inside here with him.”

He waited for her to continue. “He killed the girl I was seeing. The doctor in Alexandria. Shot her through the eye with Daryl’s crossbow.”

“Wow,” Negan replied. “You play for both teams? I did not see that coming!” He laughed. “I will remember that for our future. As for Dwight… well, I don’t hold a special place in my heart for him, but I’d like him to stay alive for the time being. If or when that changes, you will be the first to know.”

He seemed satisfied with her lie.

“I’m glad it wasn’t to kill me,” he purred, leaning into her neck, “I think you would have missed things you don’t want to miss…” his hand found her knee and began slowly trailing from up her thigh. His lips found skin again, this time on a tender part of her neck.

No, no, no, no. She thought, though her body was responding differently. She franticly searched for any sort of distraction to stop where this was headed. Her eyes scanned the room, anything to ask about, to suddenly find fascinating enough she needed to look at. Then she saw it, leaned against the wall under a window.

“I have a question now. A free one.”

“Mmhmm?” he moaned out, still kissing her neck in a way that was making her quiver.

“Lucille,” she said, putting a hand against his chest and pushing a bit. “Where did you get the name?”

He froze, his lips no longer on her skin. He didn’t seem to breathe for several long seconds. Then he was standing, putting on his pants, and walking toward the door.

“We’re done here,” he said firmly, holding the door open for her.

She stared in shock for a moment, and when it was clear he was not joking, she quickly grabbed her clothes and fled his room.

That was the last time she’d seen him, until now, with Carl in tow. It had been days, maybe a week. What she’d thought was an innocent question had really struck a nerve.

-----

Negan didn’t send for her until late in the evening. She’d had supper already, a bath, and was about to settle into bed with a book when the guard knocked on her door.  She didn’t bother dressing up, she decided her leggings and cropped sweatshirt would be just fine if he was pulling her out of bed. She had half a mind to tell him he could see her at a decent hour tomorrow, but she desperately wanted to know what was going on with Carl.

She didn’t knock when she got there, she just walked right in, to find him sitting on the couch with a drink in one hand, and the other hand dragging down his face in exhaustion.

“Long day?” she quipped, looking around for any sign of the Grimes boy.

“You could say that,” he replied, humorless.

She decided not to waste any time with flirting or working up to her questions.

“Where is Carl?” she demanded.

He stared at her, and she was not sure he was going to answer her at all when he finally said, “he’s back home with daddy and baby Grimes, safe and sound.”

Relief washed over her. “What was he doing here?”

Negan chuckled. “He was here to kill me. You weren’t lying when you said the kid was reckless. I like the little bastard.”

“He just showed up to kill you?” she asked, surprised but not shocked. It was a very Carl thing to do.

“He snuck in on a supply truck earlier today. Killed two of our guards before we got to him.”

She didn’t let her face show the pride she felt.  “And you just let him go?” she accused.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to question anything I do,” he replied angrily.

“What the hell does that mean?” she challenged. He’d shut her out and ignored her for a week now, she’d lost any desire to filter her annoyance with him.

“I think you know exactly what it means.”

She glared at him, at a loss. What was he accusing her of?

“Tell me,” he said, standing up and taking a few slow steps toward her. “How many people were you screwing in Alexandria?”

“What?” she asked, incredulous.

“Carl seemed real pissed when he learned you were my wife. I just wonder how many people in Alexandria you went through before coming here to expand your selection. Rick, obviously. Your little girlfriend, who else? The redhead? The mullet guy? Spencer? Yeah, I met that douche bag today. Is there anyone else I should know about? I hear you’ve gotten mighty friendly with Simon. Practically throwing himself yourself at him, touching all over him, going to him every night, not days after licking your lips and batting your lashes at me. Anyone here you got your eye on?”

She heard a slap, Negan’s face turned abruptly to the side, she felt a sting in her palm, and a redness began spreading across his cheek.

She’d slapped him. Shit, she’d slapped him.

She bit down the terror of the realization – she’d seen very bad things happen to people who’d done a lot less to him. She willed her face into a rebellious glare, daring him to retaliate, promising hell if he did.

Negan’s stare was just as hateful, never breaking eye contact as he rubbed his cheek and flexed his jaw. Suddenly he sprang toward her, his hand was on her throat, and he was shoving her backwards, she could barely keep upright they were moving so fast. Her back slammed against the concrete wall. Negan’s face was within an inch of hers, she could feel his warm breath on her mouth as he growled, “that. will. not. happen. again,” pausing on each word like a forceful bite. She was prying at his hand with both hands, trying to loosen his grip enough that she could take a breath, refusing to show him the panic rising in her.

He let his grip loosen a bit. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she breathed out as she gasped to fill her lungs again. He did not remove his hand from her throat or yield even a centimeter to her.  He continued to stare daggers into her eyes, but there was something other than anger behind them. What is that?

Desire, she realized. Animalistic desire.  It was then she noticed just how close their bodies were, his hips pinning hers in place against the wall, her feet barely touching the floor. She could feel his growing erection pressing into her. She felt a tingle in her core, her body betraying her. Her breath suddenly felt heavy, her chest heaving against his. An image of their naked chests pressed together flashed in her mind, it was as if she could already feel his bare skin. Did she really want this? From him? After all he’d done? She knew she shouldn’t, but with him pressed against her, hand still on her throat, and looking at her like that… she couldn’t deny the desire growing in her, verging dangerously close to need.

He must have read that on her face, because suddenly Negan’s mouth was on hers, crushing her lips with his, his scruff scraping her chin and cupids bow as he sucked, unrelenting. His tongue began forcefully pushing against her lips, like a battering ram, demanding entrance. She conceded. He tasted her mouth like he was eating for the first time in a week - hungrily, greedily, but savoring the taste of each section of her mouth he explored. Then she was kissing him back, just as greedily – no, angrily. It became not a dance of lovers, but a battle of opponents. His tongue pushed, hers pushed back in turn. Her lips sucked, he fought for dominance with his. She bit – not gently- down on his bottom lip and slowly dragged against his lip until it was free. He pulled away from her face at that and his eyes met hers, amusement dancing in them now. He’d met his match. He grinned at the realization.

Their noisy, shallow breaths filled the otherwise silent room, awakening her from the trance his tongue had put her in. She fought to stay above the fog, forcing herself to remember the things he’d done, to remember Daryl, but the memories would not come. All there was in this moment was him - his body, and hers. His dark eyes held her stare a moment longer, and then they were closed, and his lips were crushing hers again. His hands began lifting her sweatshirt from around her waist, his fingers trailing up her stomach. He explored with gentle fingertips, caressing up and down her sides, his knuckles grazing across her lower abdomen, leaving no patch of skin untouched, a trail of goosebumps in their wake. As his hands creeped up her torso, his touch became fiercer. He reached her breasts, found them bare under her shirt, and groaned into her mouth as each hand took a full palm of breast and began massaging. He was not gentle, but she did not pull away. He backed away from her only enough to allow room to remove her shirt and expose her fully. His lips were back on hers in an instant, no less demanding than before. They moved to her neck, and she felt one of her traitorous hands move to the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his short hair. She hadn’t planned on encouraging this, but she gripped his hair harder as he his trailed his lips down her chest, finding a breast and softly biting down. An involuntary moan purred in her throat. He moved to her nipple and began a rough pattern of sucking and biting, causing the heat between her legs to flare.

Again, it was as if he read her mind, as he worked her breast with his mouth, he quickly pulled down her leggings, taking her underwear with them. She was thankful she had not put on shoes to come here tonight, providing no obstacle to kicking out of her pants as he sank to his knees and began moving his lips down her stomach. Further.

“Jump,” Negan growled against her stomach.

“Wh- what?” she barely stuttered out.

“Jump.”

She hopped slightly, then she was being lifted her by her backside, her thighs placed on either side of his head, her bodyweight now shared between the wall and his shoulders. He did not waste time kissing those thighs, or staring lustfully, or slowly working his way to her center. Hungrily, almost angrily, he dove straight for her, parting her lips with his fingers to make way for his tongue. He lapped at her liked a parched animal at water, and found she was just as wet. She arched away from the wall in response. His warm tongue hitting her clit at every angle as it moved. He sucked, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she cried out. Both hands now in his hair, gripping in response to each flick of his tongue, encouraging his rough movements. She rode his face, rolling her hips, her thighs unapologetically pressing in on his head. She wouldn’t last much longer; she could feel her climax building quickly. Now his tongue was at her entrance, teasing as he gently licked around it. She pushed his head into her, needing him to be inside her, desperate to be filled and to find release. He plunged his tongue in, flatting it as he found the underside of her clit, and slowly dragged it back out and up, never breaking contact. He plunged in again with no pause. Dragging, plunging, dragging, plunging. He worked her with expert pressure, she was all but screaming at the sensation. On the last slow drag of her clit, he swept up as he exited, an unrelenting pressure on her sensitive bud, sending her orgasm exploding through her. She threw her head back and did not recognize the noise that escaped her open mouth as she came against his face. He lightly flicked his tongue against her until he was sure she had fully completed.

Before she knew it was happening, she was back on the floor, and he was walking away from her.

“You’re dismissed,” was all he said as he moved to open the door.

She gathered her clothes – she would need to have a word with him about this new habit of sending her from his room undressed – and made for the door. She paused in front of him and turned to meet his eyes, letting him see a twinge of hurt in them.

“Since you asked, and I am counting this as one of your free questions, I did not sleep with Rick or anyone else in Alexandria. And I have about as much romantic interest in Simon as you do,” and with that she made her way back to her room, naked but not caring who saw her.

Back in the dorm, she raced to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. Sherry must have heard her, because moments later she was sitting beside her, holding her hair back. Sherry sat with her until she was finished, and then let her lay her head in Sherry’s lap while Sherry stroked her hair.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t shake. She wasn’t traumatized. She hated herself. She hated herself because she knew then she didn’t hate Negan, and she didn’t hate what they’d just done. She hated herself because she wanted more.

It’s time, she vowed to herself, tomorrow we leave, even if we have to burn this place to the ground to get out.

[ruinationz]

hey guys just wrote the requested fic ever. throws this at you like a rabid dog

thank you to @bambi-on-the-ps3 for additional help

hope you guys like this because i went through all the stages of grief doing this if you make this weird i'll fucking kill you

description from ao3 and shit:

(("Maybe some Caine x Pomni if you're comfortable with it, please? :D"-UrSw33t3stNightmar3, this one's for yuo))

(trips) kyaaah how embarrassing i tripped and fell onto the keyboard and made this oh noooo aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

(or, caine has many sides to himself.)

(pomni is somehow lucky enough to see one that he's never shown to anyone else before?)

actual fic under the cut

In Pomni's eyes, Caine was a highly complicated person.

Through the duration of her stay in the digital world (albeit short), she had seen Caine display his, often shifting, array of personality. Right when Pomni was finally starting to figure out his patterns, the ringmaster would somehow paint himself in new behaviors.

She could only compare his bizarre emotional patterns to a chameleon; One color for one moment, and a different one the next.

Some (and by some, she meant a majority) of his "colors" were...beautiful, in a strange sense.

And others, well...not as pleasing to the eye, to put it simply.

Caine really was something else, and she couldn't quite wrap her head around it.

But even so, Pomni took some sort of comfort in the fact that she at least had familiarity with every shade of his personality that he showed to the group.

...

"POMNI, MY DEAR!"

The ringmaster's characteristically loud voice soon cut through her thought process, and she looked up to find him standing before her.

"YOU DID ABSOLUTELY MARVELOUS IN TONIGHT'S PERFORMANCE! STOLE THE SHOW, IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF!"

...Oh, right. She'd gotten distracted from the situation at hand.

It had been a long day of one catastrophe after another, with not a single moment for the makeshift troupe to rest. And now, the only thing anyone could ever do was immediately collapse in exhaustion after all the antics they were dragged into.

Giving a sigh as she grounded herself back in reality, Pomni managed a small smile as she met the ringmaster's gaze. "W-Well, um...thank you...?"

"YES, YES, OF COURSE!" Even with the absence of facial features, she could tell that Caine was absolutely ecstatic as he beamed down at her.

"AND, YOU KNOW...I TRULY BELIEVE THAT ALL THAT HARD WORK DESERVES...A REWARD!"

...

What?

"...Huh? I-"

Before she had the chance to ask anything further, Pomni found herself taken by the hand as the ringleader dragged her away from everyone else.

For a moment, she was confused.

Where was Caine taking her? What was he planning? Was she safe? Was he safe? Pomni felt like her mind was running at lightning speeds as it sifted through all the possible scenarios, and each one only made the feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach grow further once Caine finally stopped the duo in some unknown area of the circus.

Oh, dear.

Knowing the ringleader, he'd most likely do something rash and send everything into chaos. Perhaps his "reward" would be another bizarre "performance". Or...what if it was something harmful? What if it hurt her? What if it hurt him? What if-

Just as Pomni's worries reached their peak, the cluttered thoughts that filled her mind came to a screeching halt as Caine delicately took her hand and, almost hesitantly, bent down to press it to the lower row of the teeth that made up his head.

The ringmaster, in that moment, almost seemed just as shy as Pomni was as he released her hand and returned to his normal posture.

"...I-I, UM..."

He stumbled over his words, trailing off into an awkward silence. She watched as he shifted his weight from side to side, messing with his bowtie whilst he looked away from the jester, then finally clearing his throat before inhaling deeply.

...

"W-WELL! I'D...BEST BE ON MY WAY." He managed to stammer out, as if he'd given up on what he'd truly meant to say.

And just as quickly as he dragged her into it, Caine left the area, leaving Pomni to process the situation alone.

She gave a few surprised blinks as she held her hand close to her, gazing down at the back of it as the realization of what Caine had done slowly dawned upon her.

If that small, innocent gesture, that tiny "reward", was a glimpse into who the "real" Caine was, the shade of his personality that he'd never shown before...

...

...Then god, was it a pleasure to get to know him.

"Did you see where Pomni went?" Ragatha questioned Jax as she glanced around the area.

"Nope. Not my problem," The rabbit shrugged. "Probably never will be."

The doll rolled her eyes at his response. "I'm not too worried, to be honest. I trust her to pop up again!"

"If you aren't worried, then why'd you go and ask about it in the first place? That doesn't make much sense to me."

"..."

Jax snickered at the lack of response from Ragatha. "Don't got a good answer, huh? Looks like I win that one."

Giving a small, frustrated huff, she turned away from him as the two shortly went back to meeting with the others.

[cyb3rscoups]

The Glory AU (3)

Wrote this while listening to the most high note packed bubblegum kpop thats ever existed.

Wanna be tagged? LMK in the comments <3

Other parts of 'The Glory'

Attuma relentlessly taps his foot, creating a redundant knocking sound against the floor of M'Baku's office. He hated having to come there. The police station was too familiar to him and his early years.

Before he discovered the fight club, he took the act of punching people in the face to the streets where he was caught more than a dozen times giving his comrades black eyes and broken ribs. By the time he was 20, he was an overly familiar face to the holding cells and handcuffs. He never had any charges only thanks to Namor and the money he kept to hush people up.

But now, he only came there to prod Chief M'Baku into 'accidentally' wiping his juvenile record so he could start from scratch in a way.

"Brother is director over one of the biggest and best hospitals in the country. Your best friend is chief of police. And you...do what? What do you do, Attuma?"

"I gave you that split lip and tattered ego."

"Your mother must be so fucking proud." M'Baku swiped his tongue over the bandaged cut mindlessly before going back to his computer. "And obviously, this woman isn't an imbecile like you. All she's got is a police report from like 2009 and she's your age so...16 years old?"

"What the hell did she do at 16?" Attuma, jumped up and rounded the oak desk, leaning over M'Baku's shoulder to take a look for himself.

"Not what she did. Some one brought her to the station because of some pretty nasty bruises and shit she had but she didn't say a word when asked what happened."

Attuma's jaw ticked as he squinted at the report. "Move." He started to push M'Baku out of the chair gratingly until the man gave in from a grunt and stood over him while he took the seat.

He must've scrolled through the same information for at least five minutes before he brought a brutal fist down on the keyboard in anger. His chest heaved as his striking glare shifted to M'Baku who only rolled his eyes.

"Don't fucking go there, Attuma. It's not my fault she doesn't have a record!"

Attuma's temper was nothing new. He had a big tendency to go overboard and if things didn't go his way, he never thought with the morality in his head. For example, the only reason he knew the little information he just got about Okoye was because he stole the glass she held from the bar and had M'Baku scan it for her fingerprints.

Now that it seemed his delusional efforts were in vain, morality was out the window and run all the way down the street.

"You really gonna make me punch it out of you? So fucking childish sometimes." M'Baku grumbled and started to roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms. "Bring it on, kid."

Attuma had a hint of a smirk before he swung at his friend, only being met with a blow to his stomach, making him double over and groan.

"Fuck!" He held to the desk. "Alright shit! I'm cool!"

"Good. Now get the fuck out of here."

------

Everett Ross. It seemed that Valentina got her highschool wish. She married well and Everett was quite high up in the social hierarchy. Now, whether he earned his spot or bought it was up for heavy debate with him. Nevertheless, Valentina made sure to marry him quickly and loudly so she could maintain her status.

They were the perfect family; Valentina, Everett, and their five year old girl, Harlow. One that Okoye hoped that they had raised well. She needed to be perfect and pliable for the cause.

She found the prestigious private school that they had enrolled Harlow in and promptly black mailed the principal into a job. Now, she was head teacher of the adorable kindergarten class.

"Good morning, kiddos." Okoye smiled as she leaned against the wood of her desk.

"Good morning, Miss Okoye." They beamed back in perfect unison, fidgeting and giggling in their seats.

"Who would like to tell me what they did this weekend?"

Instantly, the tiny hands shot up as the stories of the weekend began to crowd their brains and threatened to bleed through their eyes if they did not get a chance to speak.

"Miranda! Let's start with you." Okoye pointed to the brunette sitting a few chairs to her left and the girl squealed in excitement.

"Ooh Mommy and Daddy and me went shopping! I got a build-a-bear!" The girl gleamed with happiness as her feet swept the floor from her forceful kicking.

"That's beautiful! Dillon, how about you?"

The boy stood up sending his chair back with a squeak as he began his recall of memories. "I went fishing with my Uncle!"

"Ooh how many fish did you catch?" Okoye began to inquire.

"Two! But we let them back out when we were finished." Dillon shrugged as he dragged his seat back to his desk and plopped into it.

"That is great, Dillon. It is very important to not interrupt the environment and let nature do its job."

The kids hung to her every word with mouths agape and sparkling eyes of wonder. Suddenly, Harlow's hand went up and she waved it like a fish out of water before Okoye acknowledged it.

"Yes Harlow?"

"What did you do over the weekend, Miss Okoye?"

Okoye shrugged. "I visited some old friends from when I went to school."

It was true. The alumni awards were held just the Saturday before and Okoye had the pleasure of facing her old peers again. It was almost satisfying as they didn't even recognize their dearest Koko at first, greeting her as if they had never met before.

"Oh no. This won't do." She sucked her teeth at the trio, standing in the same spots as if they hadn't moved an inch since 2009. "You can't forget me. It won't be any fun if you don't remember me."

"Excuse me?" Valentina's tone had darkened as a tilt of her head gave away her annoyance at Okoye's arrogance.

While, the other alumni of Fredrick High had gathered by the long table of food and drinks as the interaction went on. It was almost an illusion of sorts. To the isolated group, it was like they were the only ones there but they mustn't forget, this time, there's an audience.

"Don't be coy, Val. It's me, Okoye."

Okoye could've watched the color drain from their expressions a thousand times and it never would've gotten old. "Hang on a minute. Okoye was the one that died right?" W'Kabi mumbled to Erik who rolled his eyes at the clueless man.

"No you idiot. Aneka died. Koko dropped out." Erik sneered.

"Ah!" The light bulb over the poor man's head flickered until it shone in recognition, "Now I remember. I had a lot of fun with you, Koko." He chuckled.

Valentina scoffed as she stepped to Okoye. "You've grown up." She smirked.

"You've grown old." Okoye feigned a smile. "How's your husband and kid? Bet you're the best housewife."

An audible laugh from her then and a look of pure disbelief at her words. "Bold too! You see this Erik?"

"Mhmm." Erik smiled as Valentina continued to get closer to Okoye, allowing her stiletto heels to meet her sneakers.

"You listen here, girl." She leaned into her with piercing eyes. "You were a loser then. You are a loser now."

"Who me?" Okoye doubled over in exaggerated laughter as the other looked on, half amused and quite convinced they were losing their minds. Once, her laughter died down, she sighed. "I'd watch what you say to me considering I have sweet little Harlow right under my thumb."

Again, Valentina went white as a ghost. "What about my kid?"

"The kid that I teach everyday? Tell stories to? Make sure she learns her right from her fucking left. That kid?" Her smile only grew as Valentina pigmented red with anger and fear.

"You stay away from my child, Okoye." She growled out, venom spitting from her lips

"Why? You must be scared. Hm...maybe I should enlighten her about who her mother really is. Show her the things you showed me."

"You crazy bitch!" Valentina screeched and Erik moved to hold her arms, soothing her spilling anger as he leaned into her ear

"Val...They're watching."

Surely enough, the scene had been witness by their class as they muttered their suspicions among themselves.

"Fuck who's watching." She snatched her arms from Erik's hands, glaring at him to retreat before sneering at Okoye. "I will kill you, Okoye. Just like I should've back then." She muttered.

"Yeah you should've. But you didn't, so, let me tell you what to prepare for since you let me live and sit in my pain..." Okoye raised her hands, landing them on Valentina's shoulders and swiping away the dust on her jacket before tugging at it so they were close enough for her to whisper, "Hell on earth, bitch. And trust me, I'll make sure it burns."

With a laugh, she shoved Valentina back hard enough for her to stumble and lose her footing. "I'll see you around, Val!"

@pilesofpillows @loeysaeri @hottie-hotch @xblackreader @faatxma

[obxthornton]

Chapter 1

WC: 3179

5 years prior

If you took satan himself and slapped him in the black skinny jeans your mom wears, it would be Luke Hemmings.

I hated Luke more than life itself, more than rain on a beach day or the last cigarette in the box. 

It used to not always be like this. My band and his band used to be best mates, he and I had alittle chemistry. Alittle. Not a lot, but a tiny drop. We hung out every day after school, we played songs with each other. 

That was until Luke stole my song.

Stole my song. A song about how I felt after the events of the breakup and Luke Hemmings changed a few pronouns and broadcasted it across the school. And fucking 5 seconds of summer got the credit for it.

I didn't blame the other bandmates. Ashton and Michael were oblivious to when Luke had even written the song and Calum, well Calum said he just showed up to rehearsal and played the bass.

Luke claimed he came up with it in a dream. Isn't that the most bullshit excuse ever? A song about my personal life made up in his dream. He claimed I stole it from him. Even more bullshit.

I wrote that song, expressing all the emotions I had felt concerning the breakup and he stole it.

~~

"I can't wait to leave this school," Maddie said fixing her bag on her shoulder. She was significantly shorter than all of us and I wasn't even sure how her legs could catch up. She was maybe a foot shorter than Kiara who stood at almost 6'. Maddie was the bassist of our band and what she would call the 'hype man.' She was bouncy, bubbly, and not afraid to call people cunts to their faces. She liked to watch Star Wars movies and play soccer in her free time. 

"Aren't we all?" Kiara rolled her eyes at the girl's words like they weren't known. Kiara was our lead guitarist who was actually from America. She moved here for Dad's job back in grade 7 and we had been friends ever since. She had dark skin with her natural hair and she towered over most of us. She wasn't that much taller than me but she still intimidated the crap out of me. When Kiara was not volunteering at school or saving the world, she was usually with one of the two bands.

"I actually like school." Willow smiled, sunglasses covering her bloodshot eyes. Willow was our drummer. And when Willow wasn't banging on drums, or with her girlfriend, she was usually getting high or drinking. She was the party one of our group and was the best fucking drummer in all of Australia. Don't tell Ashton I said that.

"This is the first time you've been at school all week," I told her rolling my eyes. Then there was me I guess. I'm the lead singer in the band. Sometimes guitar, sometimes keyboard, sometimes wherever I was needed. 

"And? That doesn't mean I can appreciate the beauty of learning." Willow said sarcastically. It was good to say we were all done with year 12 and just wanted to leave. Kiara was going back to America for university, Willow was marrying her girlfriend and moving to Spain, and Maddie was going to university in England. I was staying here.

It was hard knowing that after this year I'd be alone. The band would be broken up until further notice and I'd be stuck here, alone.

"Georgina Summer? Where's Georgina summer?" A voice boomed through the hallways. I turned my head to look behind me to see Michael Clifford with one of those megaphone speaker things. His red hair made it easy to spot him in the hallway, so I didn't know why he couldn't spot me with the same hair color.

"Shut the hell up, Clifford!" Maddie yelled loudly at the boy whose head snapped in our direction. He had a huge smile on his face as he ran up to us.

"Women." He said still in the megaphone making us wince. He realized he was still talking into it and pushed it down, "women." He said again a lot quieter, shooting us all a grin.

"You really couldn't have just called me?" I asked unamused staring at the megaphone in his hand. 

"You wouldn't have answered." He pouted.

I leaned in towards him slightly, sending him a sarcastic smile, "Exactly."

"You're no fun, but hey, I'm here to invite you to this party Ashton's having tomorrow At his house," Michael said looking at us four.

"I'm in," Willow said smiling before turning and walking away suddenly.

Michael's eyebrows scrunched in confusion  "o-okay? She's in. Maddie's also in because Calum will be there and-"

Maddie shook her head and her arms at the boy, "wait wait wait. You can't just assume I'd come to a party just because My boyfriend is going."

Michael raised his eyebrows at her before she grumbled, "I'll see you there." She said before walking away in the direction Willow went

"Kiara is always in," Michael said smiling. Kiara shrugged, "always. Bye Gigi."

"And you." He said looking down at me, "You'll say you won't come because Luke's coming but then you'll break and come."

Michael Clifford thinks he knows me so well, doesn't he? I shook my head giving him an amused smile. "We'll see about that."

~~

"Black or red?" I asked holding up two dresses as the girls lay sprawled across my room. Willow was on my roof smoking a cigarette that I wouldn't let her smoke inside, Maddie was on the phone with Calum and Kiara was actually giving me input.

"You have red hair," Kiara said unamused. "You don't wear red on red."

I held up my hands in defense, putting the red dress back in my wardrobe, and slid off my jeans and T-shirt before sliding on the dress.

"Calums picking us up," Maddie said pulling the phone away from her mouth for a second.

"Hell no. I do not want to be stuck with you and your boyfriend making out in the front seat for 5 minutes before we leave the house." Kiara said glaring at Maddie.

Maddie pouted, "fine he'll pick me up."

"I cannot 7th wheel all night tonight." Kiara groaned and rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. My eyes narrowed at her, "I don't have a partner."

"You and Luke have so much sexual tension that it feels like you're still together," Kiara said making me groan in response.

"It's true, you guys need to like bone already," Willow yelled from the roof. I walked over the my window and smiled at her sarcastically before shutting the window and locking the latches.

"Just because me and Luke dated for the tiniest amount of time doesn't mean we have any chemistry left," I said grabbing my trainers and putting them on my feet.

Maddie looked at me puzzled, "tiniest time? are we talking about the same Luke? You dated for four years." 

"Maybe alittle more than a tiny amount of time. Either way, it doesn't change how much I hate the guy. He stole-"

"My song." Maddie and Kiara said at the same time rolling their eyes.

"We know. Still don't know how that happened, I mean it has been seen that people come up with the same ideas at the same time." Kiara said.

"Not the entirety of a song!" I said before sighing, "Look, me and Luke are history. And by history I mean we hate each other's fucking guts. It's not changing."

A tap came from the window and Willow smiled before blowing her hot breath on the window. She drew an arrow heart and wrote L+G in it backward.

I rolled my eyes before standing up and closing the blinds on her.

"I'm not saying that you have to, bone, him tonight, I'm just saying try to be civil for the rest of us," Kiara said with a pleading look.

"I'm alwasy the civil one." I argued, "It's him you should be telling this to."

------

I had already regretted coming to this party. 

I didn't have school in the morning and I was staying over at Maddie's so there was no reason for me not to let loose and have a drink. But god did I hate the taste of alcohol. I also didn't like who I was on alcohol, it wasn't me I guess. I didn't mind being the designated driver.

"Here," Willow yelled over the music handing me a red solo cup of something. It looked like piss if I was being Honest.

"Don't get your pants in a mess, it's apple juice." She said rolling her eyes at me. "I brought some in my bag for you so you wouldn't feel left out."

I smiled gratefully at her before taking a sip; Apple juice at parties always hit differently.

"I'm going to find Danica." She said patting my shoulder and looking around for her girlfriend. "Call me if you need me." She disappeared into the crowd as soon as I nodded in approval.

"Hey, pretty girl." I turned my head to see Ashton Irwin smiling a toothy grin at me. Ashton and I had been friends since we were 4 years old, making him my utter and total best friend. He's how I met Michael, Calum, and the other one.

I smiled brightly at him before throwing my arms around his neck, "come here often?" He asked dipping me like we were dancing.

"A lot actually." I winked at me causing him to blush and set me back on my feet. This was our relationship, anyone from the outside would think we had been dating for all our friendship but in reality, he was just my best friend.

"Didn't think you'd show up. If you get tired or bored, just go up to my room. I'll tell Maddie where you are." He said taking a sip of his beer can he had.

"Thanks. Neither did I," I said raising my eyebrows slightly. "But Michael is just so persuasive with that megaphone. I mean who let the loudest kid in the group get a megaphone?" 

Ashton laughed and shook his head, "Luke bought it to shut him up in the moment, however, it just made everything worse."

I rolled my eyes, that was such a Luke thing. Only thinking about now and not the future.

"Are you guys like ever going to makeup? I hate not being able to hang out with both of you at the same time." Ashton said, his face turning serious as his fingers danced over the top of his cup.

"You know how bad the breakup was," I said shuffling my foot uncomfortably. It was true, even before Luke stole my song our relationship was in shambles. 

"I know." Ashton sighed, "I'm not trying to tell you who you love but come on Gigi. You and Luke were unbreakable. What even happened?"

I shook my head slightly, tugging on my lip ring anxiously with my teeth. Me and Luke never told anyone why we broke up. After you date for so long people expect you to last forever, but that wasn't the case with me and Luke. It was all I ever heard these days. 'Why did you and Luke break up?' 'Y'all were so cute!' 'Such a shame' 

People just fall out of love.

"Sorry," Ashton mumbled seeing my discomfort. I shook my head again waving him off, "No no it's fine." Maybe I did need a drink. I turned my head to the living room to see some kid throwing up in Ashton's mum's vase. Never mind.

"Shit." Ashton said, "Hey mate! That goes outside not in the vase." He yelled at the guy pointing towards the backyard, "I'll talk to you later alright?" Ashton said kissing my cheek before running off towards the sick guy.

I sighed at his absence, Taking a sip of my drink. "Gigi!" Maddie yelled over the music, pulling Calum along who was pulling Michael.  "Hey," I said to the three.

"Where'd Ashton go?" Michael asked looking around. I pointed to Ashton dragging the sick guy by his shirt towards the back door. Michael 'ahead' in recognition and turned back to us, "'Well see' huh?" He smiled 

I rolled my eyes at him bringing up what I had said yesterday. "We did see. And I chose to come." I said.

"We're always happy to see you, Gigi," Calum said smiling at me, I hadn't talked to him in a while but he was just always with Maddie.

"I'd like to take the credit for it," Maddie said smiling proudly.

I rolled my eyes at her, "it was Michael's obnoxious voice actually."

Michael smiled at her in a mocking 'ha ha I win' kinda look but then it fell and he snapped his head towards me. "Wait what?"

I smiled brightly at him as he pouted, "I'm dying my hair back." He threatened.

My mouth was agape and I glared at him, "Rude Michael! We're twins." He shook his head before putting the hood of his hoodie over his head to hide his hair. "Not anymore."

"I liked it when it was black." Calum said, "Oo or the green."

"God I hated the green." I said, "It made my hair completely dead." Me and Michael alwasy dyed our hair the same color. It was fun, alittle weird, but it was fun.

"Your hair is always dead," Maddie said reaching out to touch my hair, making me smack her hand away. 

"Maybe we should take a break after this color," I told Michael.

He nodded, "Yeah or we may have to shave off our heads. This is the 5th color this month."

"Speaking of shaving off our heads, where's Luke?" Calum said more to Michael than me.

I scrunched my eyebrows at him slightly, "why does shave heads make you think of Hemmings?"

Michael rolled his Eyes, "Calum shaved Luke's head in grade 5." Calum had a wide smile on his face as he remembered that day. I didn't remember that day, maybe we hadn't met yet but I only remembered Luke with long hair.

"I don't remember that," I said shrugging and turning around looking for the blonde boy for Calum. "If I see him I'll let you know."

"I need a drink." Maddie said looking at us, "One of you want to come with me?"

Calum nodded before Maddie grabbed his arm and pulled him along towards the kitchen. "I need one!" Michael said waving goodbye to me quickly before following the couple, who probably wanted to be alone, to the Kitchen.

I sighed looking around at the unknown faces. I didn't really hang out with people other than 5sos and Sugar's so this entire party was not in my comfort.  I mean sure at school I knew everyone and everyone knew me but did I know them? Absolutely not.

Willow was gone probably smoking on the roof with her girlfriend. Kiara probably went home to be honest, I hadn't seen her all night. Maddie and Calum were making out, Ashton was nowhere to be seen and Michael was in the crowd partying.

Ashton's bed was always comfy. He had stuffed animals that he put under his bed when the guys came over but in reality, he slept with them every night.  It always smelt nice in there, you wouldn't expect a teenage boy to have lived there. Clean laundry, lavender, citrus. It probably smelled better than my room.

So with that thought I ascended the stairs up to Ashton's room. I'd play on my phone, play his guitar, do something. Anything was better than standing alone at a party or following the only person you knew around like a sick puppy.

I twisted the knob of Ashton's room and opened the door.  I immediately groaned seeing Luke hemmings on top of some girl now both staring at me.

"Put a fucking sock on the door hemmings." I groaned throwing my head back annoyed.

"Get the hell out Geo." He said glaring at me before throwing the pillow behind the girl's head at me.

"Hemmings? I thought your name was Luke?" The girl under him asked.

I stifled a laugh but failed miserably. Luke shot me a glare before turning back to the girl, "Hemmings is my last name."

"I thought it was Robert?" She asked.

Luke sighed closing his eyes and sliding off the girl, "That's my middle name." He mumbled, "Just go." 

The girl pulled back on her jacket, still looking confused as she walked past me out the door. I sent her a cheeky smile as she did before turning back to Luke. "Got you a real keeper there," I said sarcastically motioning out the door with my head.

"At least I can get some if I want to." He grumbled sitting back down on the bed. 

I rolled my eyes at him, "are you going to leave now? Kinda want Ashton's room."

"Absolutely." Luke said, "not." "I was here first so I will stay." He kicked back his Legs on Ashton's bed nuzzling himself into the bed.

"Yeah, but Ashton said I could have his room. And I'd hate to call Ashton to kick you out." I said shaking my head.

Luke thought for a minute before shaking his head and getting underneath the covers.  "I'm not scared of Ashton. And I'm also not scared of my ex-girlfriend of four days."

"Four weeks." I corrected him.

"Four years!" Ashton yelled walking into the room. "You guys dated for four. Years. Years!" He said franticly. 

"he is drunk," Luke said groaning earning a confused glance from sober Ashton.  I looked at Luke with the same expression he was giving me before shaking my head, "I think I know how long we Dated."

"4 months at most," Luke said nodding in agreement.

Ashton let out an audible sigh, "At least you guys arent yelling at each other."

"Oh yeah. Back to that. Get out." Luke said pointing towards the door. 

I shook my head, "fuck no. You leave." I said grabbing his shoes from the ground and throwing them out the door.

"Stop that." He said as I threw the other one out as well. I grabbed his phone out of his hands too throwing it out the door as well.

"Hey!" Luke yelled standing up to go retrieve his phone. I smiled as I shrugged off my jacket and jumped on the bed, digging myself under the covers.

"Bitch!" Luke yelled as Ashton started to close the door. I didn't know if he was talking to me or Ashton but we both flicked him off before shutting the door completely. 

"Kiara told me you guys would be civil," Ashton said looking at me unamused.

I scrunched my eyebrows at him slightly, "that was me being civil. If I wasn't I would have thrown it out the window."

[nastyatticman]

Winslow Leach x gender neutral! Reader

18+ ONLY, Minors DNI

Contains - suggestive content, fluff

Premise - Winslow spent a long time working on his music one night. His lover makes sure he takes a break. Set in a Winslow Leach & Y/N as starving artists AU.

“What brought this about, hm?”

He acted annoyed, but still held onto you, letting out a little groan as you ground up against him.

“You should go to bed,” you said, kissing up his neck. “With me.”

He laughed, breathy as you licked that part of his neck you knew was ticklish.

“Well you’re not being terribly convincing, my heart,” he retorted, his hand resting on your back. “Why would I go to bed with you when I can have you here?”

“You know what I mean.”

Your hands wandered down to his pajama pants, resting on the drawstring.

He nodded his consent.

You untied the drawstring, almost going to pull his pants open out of habit, but stopped. You looked up to his face again.

He was looking over your shoulder at his sheet music, squinting, until you met his eye again. Winslow smiled nervously.

“Should I stop?”

“No! I was just…”

“Winslow darling, when’s the last time you looked away from your work?”

“When you climbed onto my lap,” he said. “Tease.”

You sighed. “At least give your eyes a break. Focus on a point 20 feet away for 20 seconds.”

He huffed. “Our whole apartment isn’t even that big…”

You kissed his cheek. “Outside, then.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes, but still looked out the window.

You followed his eyes, and looked at the street light nearby as he counted under his breath.

When he got to nineteen Mississippi seconds, he stole a kiss.

You got him back.

“Can I go back to my work now? Just one more line.”

“”Fine,” you said. “But as soon as you’re done you’re going to bed with me.”

He smiled.

You hugged him closer as he worked, listening to his soft breaths as he scribbled notes on his paper and played the keyboard to test.

It took longer than you thought. He made an effort to be quiet, and you almost dozed off, only stopping when your balance was thrown off and you nearly fell out of his lap, which shocked you awake. Winslow held you tighter.

“Don’t worry.”

You nuzzled against his neck.

A few more minutes went by. You almost dozed off again. This time, you were jolted awake by your own body.

Winslow made a noise in surprise and cursed under his breath.

“Sorry,” you mumbled against his shoulder.

“It’s not you, I know you tend to twitch when you fall asleep, just… I was so close. Totally lost my train of thought.”

“Think you’ll get it back after you sleep?”

He sighed. “I might. I don’t think I can work under these conditions.”

“What?” 

“With you on my lap like this, you’re distracting me.”

“If I’m so distracting, why don’t you send me away?”

You worried you sensed some actual irritation in his voice. He was probably just tired…

“I know you’ll let me alone if I really need it. But I wouldn’t put all this in front of you,” he said. “This is my life’s work, but you… you’re my life.”

You buried your head in his neck again, face burning.

“It’s true,” he teased. “I love waking up next to you in the morning even when both of us need to go to work. I love kissing you when you’re all sleepy and incoherent, you say the funniest things like that.”

“You’re funny when you’re sleepy too,” you said.

He yawned. “I bet I’m really funny right now. To bed?”

You nodded, letting him carry you to your room.