#and it's just cause... I wanted to say things to people and say it quickly

[mooseontape]

There is no such thing as a small business car dealership. Anyone who literally owns something like that is actively for and benefiting from both the exploitation of the Earth and of labor world wide and in their community as well.

Why the fuck would I even begin to care for someone who hoards and creates harmful resources, who push for car centric living standards and who increase prices every year and view cars as simultaneously a luxury fit for only those deserving of mass chaces of money and also a requirement for social living. FUCK OFF. CAR DEALERSHIPS WILL NOT EXIST POST CAPITAL AND I HAVE NO SYMPATHY FOR ANYONE INVOLVED IN THEIR EXISTENCE OR ADMINISTRATION.

I say this as someone who's living situation is provided and paid for buy 2 small business owners. Get over the idea of the Petite bourgeoisie. Many people come to accept the idea that there is no ethical consumption under capitalism but they don't realize, THERE IS NO ETHICAL WAY TO PARTICIPATE IN CAPITALISM PERIOD.

There is no good small business owner that in no way exploits or demeans it workers in some way because the debasement of workers is INHERENTLY BAKED INTO CAPITALISM.

Sure there are ways you can be kinder, less exploitive and more democratic with your workplace, but those practices are actively punished by capitalism and the governments seeking to enforce its grasp on hegemony.

Listen I don't want to be a downer here but shit is about to get worse for workers in the U.S. and unfortunately probably world wide.

If you think the managers, administrators, corporations, or owners, of your workplace or local (even small) business aren't going to seek out harmful and exploitative practices as they become more normalized and actively legally encouraged, you are living in ignorance. Begin to hate those who hold power over you before they convince you your subjugation is a moral failing and the only way to reconcile is to toil harder to prove your worth to the system which consumes human life and spits out cash.

Your labor IS BEING EXPLOITED, EVEN THE ART YOU DO IN YOUR FREE TIME has become a way to train the models they intend to replace us with.

If you think your safe from being consumed by the economic system we live under, I hope you realize that things could very quickly get very bad for you.

I have personally been crushed and targeted by hateful, bigotted and capitalist brained managers multiple times. All it takes is someone you think is safe getting replaced or ousted or even just reprimanded by their higher up. Capitalism and it's administration is moral poison and will cloud your eyes of the human suffering you cause and encourage.

There is no small business, good person, doing the right thing car dealership owner.

And like hey maybe get rid of some of that anti graffiti mindset. IF A SMALL BUSINESS OWNER DID THE FUCKING NAZI SALUTE I SURE HOPE SOMEONE WOULD TAG THEIR BUSINESS LABELING THEM NAZI

THATS WHAT THEY ARE!!!

[cinnamqnx]

heartbreak summer ꨄ︎

pairing. sae itoshi x f!reader

summary. after your friend finds out her recent ex has been in the news tabloids with yet another girl, your idea of get back turns your night into an unfortunate series of events with the outcome landing you directly in front of re al’s star player, and you’re about to kiss him.

warnings: nsfw elements, smut, swearing, toxic relationships & behaviour (not too much from sae surprisingly), angst

11 | pillow talk ( smut 18+ )

you had finally gotten back to sae’s apartment once again, feeling slightly awkward inside from your last encounter here.

“you don’t have to stand so awkwardly, make yourself comfortable.”, sae says casually, walking into the kitchen.

you quickly followed him, “well last time i was here we had a little problem.”

he turned around to face you after getting out a protein shake from his fridge, “didn’t we fix that?”

you stayed silent, “…or are you still upset?”

“i’m not upset, i just feel like there was a bit of awkward tension between us today.”

“i felt it too. it’s probably because we was with other people right after we spoke about it.”, you lean on his kitchen counter, soaking in the view of him.

there’s a small amount of silence before he speaks again. “do you want to stay?”, he asks, shaking his drink.

“i do, i think we should talk too. it’s not the same as over text.”, you nod.

“yeah, i actually didn’t really use my phone before you.”, he sets his drink down, “i feel like you have me doing a lot of talking.”

“is that a bad thing?”

he shrugs, “i don’t know, i just don’t really do all this, so it’s new for me.”

you make an amused face, “you don’t talk?”

“nah, i just mean in relationships. i’ve not really had girls pull me up on things i’ve done.”, he paused after realising what he just said, “sorry, that sounded really dickish.”

“it’s okay. at least you’re improving, a few days you wouldn’t have even realised.”, you joke, a small smile on your face.

“your smile is really pretty.”

you smile while rolling you eyes, “you’re a sweet talker.”

“can’t i just admire you?”, he tilts his head, an innocent but affectionate glint in his eye.

you smile at him, the same glint in yours.

12:22 am

you let out a shaky breath as sae began to kiss up your thighs, itching closer and closer to your centre, “you okay, beautiful?”

you nod, “mhm.”

he uses his arms to push himself up, planting a soft kiss on your lips, “you sure you wanna let me do this?”, he asks in a soft tone, making your heart swell.

“yeah.”, you whisper.

“c’mon, give me more than that.”, he says, placing his large palm at the side of your face.

“i want this, sae.”

he kisses you again, this time with more passion, tracing his tongue against your bottom lip, softly biting at it, causing you to let out a heavy sigh.

he smirks, “you’re so cute.”

he then started kissing alongside your jaw, tilting your head to the side for him to have better access. licking, sucking and kissing, you gasp, moving your head away slightly.

“you’ll leave marks.”, you say, his eyes staring into yours.

“hm? good, other men will know to stay away.”, he says before moving back onto your neck, just to move back to your lips.

you let out a breathy laugh at his possessive response, “i’ve not given you a reason to worry.”, you joke.

“i know. and you won’t, right?”, he murmurs, a vulnerable tone which has you surprised.

“i won’t. promise.”, he simply smiles gently, going back to kissing your neck, collarbone and shoulder, leaving no place unmarked.

he pulls away, looking up at your hazed expression, smirking before moving back down, placing small, gentle kisses on your abdomen.

“am i okay to take this off?”, he asks, his hands lingering at the waist band of your skirt.

“mhm.”, you nod, lifting your head up to look at him before dropping it back down.

he swiftly pulls your skirt off, throwing it to the side of his bed, teasingly pulling on your underwear before placing soft kisses on your upper thighs, moving to your abdomen.

“quit the teasing.”, you breath out.

he looks up at you, a smirk on his lips, “can’t i just appreciate you?”

you huff quietly, making him smile against your stomach, placing his last kiss, rubbing up your thighs and pulling away, getting a good look at you sprawled out on his bed in a tiny crop top and your underwear.

“be good for me.”, he says, his hands rubbing small circles on your hips, “do you want me to take your top off?”

you hesitate for a moment, that being enough for sae to bend down and give you a reassuring kiss on your lips, moving back down, “i’m gonna pull these off, okay?”, his hands on the waist band of your underwear, moving his fingers under the sides, ready to take them off.

you breath out, your stomach knotting with anticipation, “okay.”

he swiftly pulls off your underwear, checking your face for any discomfort, the cold breeze hitting you making you gasp quietly.

“you’re already so wet..”, he mumbles, moving down to place gentle kisses on your pussy, making you nibble softly on your bottom lip.

he hooks your thighs over his arms as he gets comfortable in his position, placing teasing kisses on your clit as he uses his tongue to tease your entrance.

you bite your bottom lip harder, your head leaning back even further.

“don’t hold it back.”, he looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust, “i wanna hear you.”

“it’s embarrassing.”, you whine, but came out more like a quiet moan.

“stop being silly, let me hear how beautiful you are.”, he says, leaning up and kissing you, making you taste yourself.

you nod slowly, looking back at him as he pulls away, “good girl.”

he returns to his original position, but using his now free hand to slowly rub on your clit while his tongue slowly licked along your entrance, eliciting a needy whine from you.

“there you go.”, he says as you let out the noises he’s been dying to hear.

he picks up his pace once he feels he’s edged you on enough, the slow circles on your clit moving faster and faster while eating your pussy like it’s his last meal on earth.

“oh, fuck”, you mutter, your hands moving to his hair, tugging on it as you throw your head back, his quiet moan vibrating on your clit.

he unravels his other arm from your thigh, using his thumb to gently circle your entrance, letting you know what he was planning to do, the new sensation drawing out a small gasp from you.

he gives your clit a teasing kiss before focusing his attention onto his fingers, his middle sinking into you while curling upwards, hitting that spongey spot that’s been dying for attention immediately.

you let out a gasp, arching your back and moaning put his name, “hm? what is it, beautiful?”, he asks, his tone irritatingly condescending.

“asshole.”, you mutter as he chuckled, staring up at you with adoration and lust.

he sinks in his ring finger right next to his middle, fitting snuggly as he picks up his pace while attaching his lips against your clit.

your legs shake with the overwhelming pleasure, your mouth letting out uneven breaths and shaky moans while your hands clutch the bedsheets beneath you.

he never stops his pace, the veins in his arms prominent, continuing to abuse your g-spot.

“wait- wait. fuck.”, you moan out, your brows furrowing as you feel the pleasure start to build up in your stomach, so desperately trying to hold on, “i’m gonna-”

you cut yourself off with your own moan, “yeah? cum for me, baby, fuck. let me see you.”

you arch your back as you feel the intense pleasure hit you like a bomb, throwing your head back while gripping onto sae’s forearm, your legs instinctively wrapping around his shoulder’s as they shake with vigor.

suddenly, you feel a splash of liquid ricochet off sae and onto your thighs, looking down to see you had squirted all over this man’s face and chest.

“my god, i don’t..”, you pause, breathlessly, “i’ve never done that before.”

“yeah?”, he he hums, to which you nod weakly, your head falling back from exhaustion.

he smiles at himself, so obviously smug.

sae had cleaned you up after being so adamant he didn’t want anything else from you tonight, satisfied with just making you feel good.

he was more attentive than you could’ve imagined, running you a warm shower while he got you both some snacks from his kitchen. then putting on a movie for you both while cuddling on his bed, the covers over you both as you get closer and closer to drifting off to sleep.

tracing small patterns on your skin, he asks, “you feeling okay?”

“mhm.”, you pause, “i feel really good.”, you smile at him.

“good, i’m glad. i felt like i owed this to you.”

you half lidded eyes open, confused, “what do you mean?”

“i just feel like ive been a bit.. dickish, with you recently.”, he shrugs.

you hum, leaning your head further into his bare chest, “so you felt like you had to please me sexually?”, you joke.

“i mean, i guess, i don’t really know how to explain it.”, he sounds unsure.

you raise your head to look at his face, “do you wanna try?”

“well, i’m not usually liked for my personality, just what im good at.”, he pauses, trying to word it for you, “sorry, i’m not good at this kinda stuff, talking about how i feel.”

you nod understandingly, “i don’t wanna rush you, but im here to listen.”

he doesn’t say anything, moving his hand to play with your hair, “you’re definitely way too good for me.”

“i don’t think that’s true.”

“it is. i don’t wanna fuck this up with you.”

“you won’t, as long as you’re honest with me.”

“i can definitely do that.”, he mumbles into your shoulder, placing a soft kiss on it.

“then there’s nothing you need to be worrying about.”, you reassure.

he hums at your words, “give me a kiss.”

and of course, you obliged.

navigation. heartbreak summer

next chapter. 12

author’s note. this is the first smut i’ve wrote in years LOL so be nice guys, sorry this took me longer than usual to get out it just has way more writing than usual and i’ve lowkey been having writers block w this story, i think after this chapter i’m going to focus on virtually yours as it’s only going to be 15 chapters long, but after that heartbreak summer will have my full attention 🫶🏻

taglist: @vaelils @shironagi @megumiivs @captainshindo @evry1luvssm @alatusorrow @pookalicious-hq @gigiiiiislife @tnt-kokoo @misosoupii @whisperofae @bontensbabygirl @s4-mmy @viviinpt @werfiedeii @dinnersyummy @sccubss @nuhahani @treeguzzler @pctterheadd @taefanclub @literallyushiwaka @yiiscorner @suksatoru @manjiroswifo @sugacor3 @kaz-0e @rinniebinniebay @heartcam @arwawawa2 @sharks-3 @saeishiro @ira-in-ink (open)

[konjiang]

Cumplane Library au

Sy was in the Library studying when he saw that PIDW just had a new update, he almost couldn't contain himself and started fuming from anger. Thankful no one else beside the library staff was here right now.

He quickly craft up the most vile and disrespectful review post, and hit send before anyone else even left a comment. Some may say his dedication to hating on Airplane was obsessive and unhealthy, but his hands shake with fury every time he read a new chapter. If he didn't do something, he would probably get sick from the repressed feeling.

After spurring out all his hatred towards Airplane in the post, he resumed studying for his class. Right when he was about to put in his earbuds and to start playing some lofi, he heard a quiet chuckle from behind him. The quiet library staff was staring at him and trying to hide his laughter.

The burning in his face was sure to set the library on fire with how hot he felt. He couldn't believe that someone witness him in his lowest form. He quickly got up and packed his laptop away, planning on dying from embarrassment in the safety of his room.

'This is all that fucking dumb hack author's fault!' He practically ran to the door, but the door wouldn't open now matter how he pulled or pushed. He had no choice to turn around and pretend like nothing happened.

He tried to nonchalantly go back to his seat, but a pair of brown eyes followed his movement. When he crossed over the front desk, the guy abruptly stand up and smiled at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you like that. It was that you were so funny getting mad at the novel you were reading." He had brown curly hair, dimples on both side of his face, a ponytail, and a innocent looking face. Sy thought that this guy looked exactly like what he thought LBH looked like.

"That door is currently shut because of construction. A lot of people have been trying to open it all day, but they never read the sign I put up." the LBH lookalike sighed, and SY turned his head and saw that there was indeed a piece of paper tape to the door, but in his flustered state, he couldn't bother to read it.

"Oh. Thanks..." Sy mumbled out, this day was getting worse by the second.

"What were you reading?" the innocent looking guy asked. Sy couldn't tell him, he couldn't be the one to ruin this guy's innocent.

"Just some webnovel." SY deflected, wanting this conversation to end already.

"Oh really?" They guy bounced a bit as he leaned forward causing his ponytail to sway slightly, "I like web novels too, which one were you reading?" SY stared at the guy's doe eyes, noting that he was definitely not as tall as LBH, since he was shorter than SY.

'He would look great cosplaying white lotus LBH.' Sy thought, but he didn't want to entertain that idea at all because his brain kindly provided him with all the sex scenes from varies chapters of PIDW.

"It's not really popular, so I don't think you'll like it." Sy stood there in agony when the cute guy looked at him disappointedly.

"Oh...okay. Sorry for bothering you."

'Fuck! Why can't god just strike me down right now.' Sy impulsively ripped out a piece of paper from his binder and wrote down his number.

"Here, I can recommend you some better novel. Just text me your preferences." Sy said coldly, trying to regain his composure.

"Really? Thank you!" The guy excitedly whispered as a group of student walked in. Sy took this chance to blend in with the crowd and leave when the guy was preoccupied with others.

'Ah fuck. If I ever met that dumbass author. I'm beating the shit out of him.'

--

As a university library worker, he seen a lot of things throughout his shifts. But he would never expect to find Peerless Cucumber reading the latest chapter in the library. Is it shame on him for posting it when he was working or shame on Cucumber for reading it in a public place.

He type in the phone number and saved it in his phone. His shift was about to end and he could fully plan out how to mess with Cucumber afterwards.

"Luo Binghe, you're free to go."

"Thanks" Luo Binghe, or more infamously known as Airplane, skipped out of the library while humming to himself.

[ok8oriska]

what's it going to take

remus lupin x reader | remus wants you back

If you’re being honest, this party is a total drag.

Your friends dragged you out tonight because you needed “fresh air”. Like you’re getting any in here. It’s a room full of people, and you’re pretty sure Frank and some of the boys are smoking pot down the hall.

You have half a mind to join them, desperate for a distraction. But being inebriated would cause you to lose all sense of yourself, and the last thing you want right now is to make a scene. You start rethinking all that nonsense when you catch sight of Remus on the couch with Emmeline.

Your lovely boy. Well, he’s not yours anymore, he made sure of that. He’s sitting there leaning in so he can talk into her ear. He’s flirtatious by nature so your stomach doesn’t drop until she laughs and moves her hand to his thigh. He catches you staring.

That’s when you decide you need air, heading outside to catch your breath. You thought what you guys had had was once in a lifetime, and maybe it was. Maybe that’s why it was so fleeting. Your heart sinks. You’re about to leave altogether when someone comes outside to join you.

Probably Sirius for a smoke, you think, until you turn around and there he is. Remus.

“You alright?” He asks as if this whole situation is nonchalant.

“Just gearing up to head out,” you reply. He nods.

“It’s nice to-“

“Can I ask you something personal?” you interject. You decide to rip the band-aid off.

He nods, “Of course.”

“How did you move on from me so quickly?” You can’t look at him when you say it, feeling stupid the second the words leave your mouth.

“What are you talking about?” He seems confused, but you can’t tell if it's just an act to avoid hurting your feelings or if he’s being genuine.

“I only want to know because maybe whatever you did will work for me, too,” you continue, meeting his incredulous gaze.

“Who said anything about me being over you?” he asks, and your throat dries out.

You sputter, “You just seem to be moved on, is all.”

“Is this about Emmeline? She’s just a friend; she gets a little handsy when she’s had a drink or two, but it’s all friendly,” he insists.

“Remus, you don’t have to defend yourself. You broke up with me, remember? It’s fine, I just,” you sigh. “I can’t keep loving you if we’re over.”

Remus crossed his arms, “ Well maybe I don’t want to be over.”

“What?”

“I want to be with you.”

You’re frustrated now. Dizzy from the whiplash, “Then why did you break up with me?”

“I wasn’t thinking it just,” he pauses, dropping his gaze, “I just got overwhelmed by the prospect of my heart being in your hands. I’ve never given someone that much control before.”

“Well, my heart was in your hands, too, did you ever think of that?” you retort, sharp as a knife.

“I know now, dove, I was unfair to you, and I’m sorry, but don’t think that I ever stopped loving you for a second,” he looks up, eyes boring into yours.

“Well, fuck,” you say, throwing your hands up. “That just makes it all better then.”

He chuckles lightly against his better judgment. If this were a movie, he’d yell at the screen, telling you you deserve better. “Never go back,” he’d shout. But instead, he’s standing in front of you about ready to get on his knees and beg.

“Remus,” you start, “Don’t fuck around with me.”

“I’m not. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”

You sigh. “I don’t know if I can go back to how things were.”

He takes a step closer to you, impossibly so, his hands finding purchase on your biceps. “I’m willing to be yours in any way that you’ll have me.”

You drop your head to his chest, groaning. “Don’t get all lovey-dovey on me now.”

He laughs, and you feel it in your skull. “You bring out the worst in me.”

[lizard-ratt]

NOTE: this is all steam of consciousness, minimal editing and proof reading, not to be taken seriously. Cool, thanks, enjoy.

WC: 2,288

Steve, in all honesty, should have seen this coming. Really, it was staring him right in the face, if he was just brave enough or smart enough to figure it out.

Eddie Munson was his soulmate.

Since he was young, his parents held a particular distaste for his soulmates. Soulmates, plural. Having read every last word scrawled across his skin, they decided the two people he was bound to for eternity were everything they stood against.

For years, they told him that he was to avoid his soulmates at all costs. “They’re just not right for you,” they said. “We’re just looking out for you.” Then they had nothing to say about them at all, too busy with their business trips to France, Germany, Costa Rica, and wherever else they went to.

Steve decided everything they taught him was bullshit anyway.

He met his first soulmate on accident. Robin Buckley. Assigned to a group project with her in Mrs. Click’s class, he couldn’t get a single word out before she just started to talk. He recognized the words immediately. Could’ve recited them in his sleep.

He glanced down at his watch and waited.

Eventually she petered out and the finished the essay tattooed across his chest. He glanced down at his watch again, ran the numbers and spoke.

“Three minutes and forty-two seconds. Impressive.”

Robin’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “No. No way.”

“I’m sorry, do you need more proof. Perhaps the three page thesis you tattooed across my chest?” Snark came naturally. Probably for the best that he wasn’t on his best behavior. Cause then he’d be lying to his soulmate. Robin needed to know her soulmate was a bitch. Cause he was a bitch.

Robin snorted, but it came out a bit forced. “Thesis, big word for you.”

“You’re avoiding the point,” he prodded.

“I need to process.” Steve could understand that. He accepted it with grace and they moved on to their assignment.

Robin, as Steve found out quickly, was fun. Bitchy in the way Steve was bitchy. They traded barbs and poked and prodded at each other like they’d been doing it their whole lives. Neither of them mentioned the whole soulmate thing.

By Robin’s request, they kept their friendship quiet, for the most part. He was well known and brought a lot of attention wherever he went, and Carol and Tommy probably wouldn’t take too kindly to Steve hanging out with a Band Nerd. That was fine with him. In his opinion, they weren’t good enough for Robin anyway.

One month into their friendship, Robin told Steve that she wasn’t ever going to be interested in him romantically. Told him about Tammy Thompson.

It didn’t shock him as much as it probably should have. It wasn’t like he knew, but it just felt right. Like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Robin wasn’t meant to be his romantic with him. Platonic Soulmates.

“Tammy Thompson’s great and all but she’s a total dud,” he told her.

“She is not!”

“She is! She wants to be a singer. She wants to move to Nashville and shit.”

“She has dreams!”

“She can’t even hold a tune!”

The relief is pouring off of Robin in waves, thick in the air, practically a physical sensation. Robin had looked so scared, like Steve could ever not want Robin in his life.

Later, after they sang Total Eclipse of the Heart together, Robin told him about her other soulmate. Said that she had another one. A simple two words scrawled on her wrist. Robin, right?

“I’ll show you my other soul mark later,” he promised her, in response. “I don’t really feel like taking off my shirt right now.”

About two months into their friendship, Steve showed Robin his other soumark. Lounging in his backyard, he took of his shirt and showed her. First, the giant block of text across his front, her words etched permanently on his skin. Then, he turned around and showed her his back, the other three page thesis tattooed to his body permanently.

“…. Oh. Oh no.”

Steve appreciated the real effort she put into not laughing. It lasted a whole ten seconds before the dam burst and she was in tears.

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up.”

“You are so unlucky!” She got in between wheezes of laughter. “You don’t have any torso left!”

“You think I don’t know this?”

She quieted down, before the laughter started up again. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I just imagined little baby Steve covered front to back with his soulmates’ first words to him.”

“I’m pretty sure I have a picture of myself somewhere…” he trailed off, forcing his grin off his face.

She zeroed in on Steve, like a shark smelling blood in the water. “I have to see it.”

“What’ll you give me for it?” He asked.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” she offered.

“You’re terrible at baking. Try again.”

“I’ll get my mom to make you a cake.” He considered it. Her mother was a fantastic baker.

“Better, but still no.”

“I’ll get Mom to bake you her secret brownies.” That one almost broke him. Those brownies had to have cocaine in them or something, because they were the best thing he’d ever placed on his tongue, but he knew he could still get something better from her.

“Better….”

“I’ll give you my family’s brownie recipe.”

“Sold!” He put on his best impression of an Auctioneer. “You bring me your mother’s Brownie recipe and I will hand over not one but two photos of me as a baby with my Soul Tattoos on display.”

They sealed it with a handshake.

For a few years after that, he didn’t think about soulmates.

He started to date Nancy Wheeler, despite not being each others’ soulmates. They worked, in Steve’s opinion. Then Barb vanished from his house, and he found out that Jonathan Byers took photos not only if the party but of Nancy getting undressed.

He probably should’ve felt guiltier about breaking his camera, but he just didn’t. He told Robin about it, though. She agreed with him that it was creepy, so it eased some of his concern.

Then later, he found Nancy and Jonathan in her bedroom and felt his heart plummet. He ran to Robin as quickly as possible and spent a little bit too long eating ice cream and listening to sad music while crying about how unfair life was, content to break up with Nancy and move on.

Tommy and Carol saw that as the coward’s way out and took it upon themselves to publicly shame Nancy Wheeler.

He ended up in a fist fight with Tommy (got his ass beat) and spent about thirty minutes cleaning off the spray paint from the Movie theater’s Marquee with Robin shouting encouragement.

They later went to apologize for Tommy and Carol’s behavior and all Hell broke loose. He and Robin, he decided, made a pretty good monster hunting team

Things kinda sped up after that.

He and Robin got all their information from Nancy and Jonathan who were, surprise, surprise, soulmates! (They swore up and down the wall that they didn’t do anything and planned to tell Steve, which he believed). They explained the alternate dimension and the monsters inside. A little girl with superpowers who sacrificed herself to kill the Demogorgon.

Steve and Robin went back to his house, laid down, and stayed there for a long time.

For a year, it was just those four. Robin, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan. He didn’t talk to Tommy and Carol, and let his social standing slip away from him. The four of them fit together. They were jumpy and anxious and any flicker of the lights made them all stiffen, waiting for something Other to crawl from the walls.

It never did.

A year passed in a blur of anxiety and paranoia. He and Robin spent most of their time in each other’s back pockets, never too far from each other. Too worried that it wasn’t as over as everyone claimed.

Then, Jonathan and Nancy vanished with no warning. They had been shifty for a little bit prior to their sudden departure. Going quiet when certain topics came up, giving each other meaningful looks.

He and Robin went to the Wheeler house already positive they weren’t there.

They ran into Dustin Henderson instead.

If asked, later, what happened, exactly, he wouldn’t be able to tell you any specific details. Robin would be his go to whenever he had questions about everything, as she seemed to remember everything in high definition. What he did know is that he threw himself in front of a whole bunch of middle schoolers (and Robin) not once, not twice, but three times. In the process he got himself concussed and nearly mauled by a bunch of Demodogs, while wrapping himself around little Dustin Henderson.

After that, Dustin attached himself to Steve’s side like a barnacle and brought his friends (Lucas, Will, Mike, Max, and El) with him. Steve was okay with that.

He helped Dustin with his hair and gave him a ride to the Snow Ball. He gave the kids rides everywhere and hosted sleepovers and filled the silence with their noise. It settled something that Steve wasn’t even aware needed settling.

He graduated and when his parents didn’t show up, everyone else did. Nancy and Jonathan and the Party, and Mrs. Byers and Hopper. And Robin, playing with the band.

He didn’t make it into college, not that he tried all that hard. Officially, he got cut off, not that it mattered to him all that much. He saved up, stowing away cash whenever he could. Saving the Hush money, and allowance money, and lifeguard money. He was, for a while at least, fine. He still got a job, and Robin was right there with him, applying to Scoops Ahoy.

Dustin left before he could see their uniforms, and he expressed great disappointment in this. Steve promised him free ice cream for when he got back.

The Uniform was… ridiculous. They looked stupid and felt it, too. It got them money and kept them busy, and it was all fine. Even as he got covered in melted ice cream, and cleaned up kids vomit and got yelled at by kids parents, it was all fine because he had Robin.

The Party visited often, taking full advantage of his employee discount and the hall behind scoops that led direct to the theater. At least one of them thanked him each time (Will. Will never forgot his manners).

Then Dustin came home and shit hit the fan again.

Russian Code, hidden Bunker, child endangerment, and more!

More that he didn’t want to talk about let alone think about. More, like the questions, demanding he tell them what they wanted to hear. More, like the fists, like the broken bones and blood and pain. More, like the pleading, begging for mercy. Screaming. Crying. More, like everything that came after.

If Robin and him were inseparable before, they were practically conjoined twins after. After the mall blew sky high and Hopper died, and half of their group left to move to California. They had each other, and that would have to be enough.

Dustin Henderson first mentioned Eddie Munson about two days after his first day of Senior Year and already, Steve was regretting the fact that he still had most of his hearing on his right side. He was able to make his first joke about it, a few hours later. ("Do you think if I ask the Russian's nicely, they'll take away the rest of my hearing so I don't have to listen to Dustin's hero worship of Eddie Munson?") The look Robin gave him was a mixture of so many emotions, he nearly apologized before she burst out into hysterical laughter.

It didn't stop there. It only got louder and louder, the more Dustin got to know the guy.

From all the stories, it should have clicked in his mind, then, that the words tattooed across his back could come from none other than the 'Best Dungeon Master in Indiana'.

He first spoke to Eddie on a random Hellfire night, when he was picking up Mike, Dustin, and Lucas. In a near perfect repeat of the first words he traded with Robin, Eddie spoke before Steve could.

"If it isn't King Steve," he began. Steve stole a quick glance at his watch and he waited for the theatrical monologue to play out before him. Some things of note in the monologue included: scathing critiques of capitalism, scathing critiques of putting people into boxes, comments about the 'Little Sheep' that Eddie had taken under his wing and their supposed hero worship of Steve.

It was strange, listening to him talk. Like puzzle pieces falling into place. One of the first mysteries of Steve's life, and it was all coming together before him. Context finally provided for some, frankly, insane sentences.

Finally, Eddie wore himself out and stared at Steve expectantly. Steve stole a glance at his watch, did the metal calculations, and announced loudly, "You spoke at me for four minutes and two seconds. That is impressive."

Eddie's eyes bugged out of his skull, as did the other members of Hellfire that Steve could never remember the names of.

"There is no way..." one of them muttered. The one with the halo of curly hair in the flannel.

Steve turned and lifted his shirt to show the veritable wall of text tattooed to his back. Shoulder to shoulder, neck to hip, he was covered. He heard a sharp inhale of breath, before he dropped the shirt and turned back.

"Surprise?"

Steddie soulmate first words are fun and all but Eddie Munson will forever be a dramatic motherfucker, Steve has a full 3 page essay scrawled over his back about the dangers of capitalism and his dad hates it, you think Eddie would get the chance to speak to the Steve Harrington and wouldn't milk it for the most Shakespeare worthy performance you've ever seen in your goddamn life

Bonus points, Robin is his platonic soulmate and she'll ramble till the sun goes down so steve just has no space left on his body by the time those two are finished

[the-uninformed-zennial]

Okay so I wanna talk about the ecosystem of a fandom space like Fable/Bound SMP and those that extend off of it.

(long post below)

So one of the things that kinda stands out to me is that many of the popular ships are just canon. Like… off the top of my head the only two popular ships that aren’t necessarily canon in Fable are Kaleidoscope (Midas x Malitae) and Prison Duo (Centross x Icarus). But even one of those has been hinted at being canon by Sherbert in a few streams so like???

Looking at this from the outside it’s almost worrying. But the thing is, I think it has to do with three different things that are all unique to the Fable/Mer/Bound (and adjacent) fandom(s) and might actually be the sign of a really warm and welcoming community (as the Fable & adjacent fandoms have always been imo).

Firstly, the medium. If these were not lore-heavy, highly improvisational, live-streamed stories the fandom wouldn’t be able to provide feedback and the creators wouldn’t be able to react to said feedback in time to adjust. Think about Hermitcraft, it’s highly improvisational, yes. But lore-wise it’s not super heavy and thus all ships kinda teeter on the edge of being canon or not canon. Likewise smth like Whitepine where it’s recorded beforehand (and I think scripted??) doesn’t give the creators the flexibility to adjust the content in the same way the fandom is moving as quickly as the fandom moves.

Secondly, the fact that the creators interact with the fandom. Hi, hello, I’m living proof of this cause if I hadn’t gotten picked up by Heyhay and Art I never would’ve gotten to become one of said content creators. But this goes far beyond that. This has to do with the fact that they listen and interact and bounce ideas off of their fan base. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it, the opinions and ideas you guys share out here do influence the story, even if it’s just confirmation that you guys are picking up what the creators are laying down. It still serves as a sounding board to see how well things are coming across, and speaking as a creator myself (albeit a newer one) I find it incredibly helpful.

Thirdly, the size. Obviously if this venn-diagram of fandoms was as large as say Hermitcraft or QSMP the content creators simply wouldn’t be able to keep up with the fandom and many ideas would get lost in the jumble. Even just with how large Fable got at it’s peak, there came a point where it was nearly impossible to keep up with the amount of fan art and theories that were being made. So I think this point kinda feeds back into the second, that having a smaller size helps the content creators keep up with the feedback they receive from their art and lead to the fandom having more influence on the story than anyone really realizes.

These three things work together to create a space where people get to feel heard and seen. One of the most enticing things about being a community member for me was having that ability to influence the story, to talk to the characters themselves, to poke them about things I wanted to know the answer to. And when they responded?? It was so cool! I remember I used to keep a tally of little things in the world that I had affected because of messages that had been sent during live chat. It wasn’t ever anything big, but sometimes it’s the little things that count. That’s why, as a creator now I try really hard to interact with community members. I know I’m obviously not one of the big creators in this space, but I still want to help you guys feel seen and heard, because that’s where so much of the magic of being a part of this fandom space comes from imo. And if I can help recreate what helped me fall in love with this fandom space even a little bit, I’ll do what I can.

Anyway, I’m just super grateful to this community and the fellow creators within it. I have been so lucky to be able to get to experience this fandom from both the community member and creator side and honestly it has just been one of the most overwhelmingly positive experiences of my life, from both sides of the spectrum. I know things like that are fickle. I know fandoms and people are always growing and changing and maybe that won’t always be the case. But I just wanted to say I really appreciate the community that has been built here and all the work that goes into keeping it a positive and safe space. So, thank you guys 💕

[andy-15-07]

The Father's Heart

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 2076| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the cozy kitchen. Y/n hummed softly as she flipped pancakes, the sizzle a comforting counterpoint to the gentle chatter of her family. Pedro sat at the kitchen island, scrolling through his phone, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. Their youngest, Leo, a whirlwind of energy at eight years old, was attempting to build a tower out of cereal boxes, while their middle child, Mateo, fourteen and perpetually attached to his headphones, mumbled something about needing more syrup. Elena, their eldest, sixteen going on seventeen, was the last to arrive, a vision of effortless cool even in her pajamas.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Y/n greeted, placing a stack of pancakes in front of Elena.

"Morning, Mom," Elena mumbled, giving her mother a quick kiss on the cheek. She glanced at Pedro, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before grabbing a fork and digging in.

Pedro watched her, his frown deepening. He’d been doing some thinking, some serious thinking, and he wasn't entirely sure he liked where his thoughts were leading him. He cleared his throat.

"Elena," he began, his voice carefully neutral.

Elena looked up, a question in her eyes.

"Your… friend, Ethan," Pedro continued, choosing his words carefully. "He's coming over later, right?"

Elena nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Yeah, he said he'd be here around two."

"Two," Pedro repeated, the word hanging in the air. He glanced at Y/n, who gave him a subtle ‘don’t you dare’ look. He ignored it. He was a father. It was his job.

"So," Pedro continued, "what exactly are you two planning on doing?"

Elena’s flush deepened. "Just… hanging out," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"Hanging out," Pedro repeated again, the words laced with suspicion. "Doing what, exactly?"

"Dad!" Elena exclaimed, her voice rising in exasperation. "We're just going to watch a movie or something. Maybe work on our history project."

"History project," Pedro echoed, unconvinced. He knew teenagers. He’d been one himself, a lifetime ago. "What's this project about?"

"The French Revolution," Elena replied quickly, a little too quickly, Pedro thought.

"The French Revolution," he repeated, nodding slowly. "Interesting. Tell me, Elena, what was the primary cause of the French Revolution?"

Elena blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… economic inequality?" she stammered.

"And the Reign of Terror?" Pedro pressed.

Elena’s eyes darted around the room. "Robespierre… guillotine… lots of people died?"

Pedro sighed. "Elena, I’m not trying to grill you on your history project. I just… I want to know what you’re doing. I want to know who you’re spending your time with."

"Dad, I know you don't like Ethan," Elena said, her voice low.

"I didn't say that," Pedro countered, though it wasn't entirely true. He didn't dislike Ethan, exactly. He just… he was sixteen. Sixteen and full of… hormones. And Elena was his little girl. Always would be.

"You don't have to say it," Elena retorted. "I can tell. You’re always giving him the ‘look’."

Pedro knew exactly what ‘look’ she was talking about. The ‘I will disembowel you if you even think about breaking my daughter’s heart’ look. It was a work in progress, he’d admit.

"Elena," Y/n interjected gently, "your father just cares about you. He wants to make sure you’re safe and happy."

"I know, Mom," Elena said, her voice softening. "But I'm not a little kid anymore. I can make my own decisions."

"About some things, yes," Pedro said, "But some things… some things your mother and I still get a say in."

"Like what?" Elena challenged.

"Like… like who you spend time with," Pedro said. "Like… making sure you’re not getting into any trouble."

"Dad, I'm not going to get into trouble," Elena said, rolling her eyes.

"I know, honey," Pedro said, reaching across the island to take her hand. "I trust you. I do. But… Ethan… he’s a nice boy, I’m sure. But he’s still… young."

"So am I!" Elena exclaimed.

"That’s my point," Pedro said. "You're both still figuring things out. And I just… I don't want you to get hurt."

"Dad, everyone gets hurt sometimes," Elena said. "That's just part of life."

"I know," Pedro said softly. "But I don’t want you to get hurt unnecessarily. I don’t want you to make any mistakes you’ll regret later."

"I won't," Elena promised, though Pedro could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes.

"Okay," Pedro said, finally relenting. "Okay. Ethan can come over. But," he added, pointing a finger at her, "the French Revolution better be discussed. And," he added, glancing at Mateo, who had finally removed his headphones and was listening intently, "no funny business."

Mateo snorted. "Dad, please."

"I’m serious," Pedro said, his gaze sweeping over all three of his children. "I love you all. More than anything in the world. And I’ll do anything to protect you. Even if it means being the overprotective dad."

Elena smiled, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "I know, Dad," she said. "We love you too."

The tension in the room dissipated, replaced by a warm, comfortable silence. Y/n smiled at her family, a feeling of contentment washing over her. They weren't perfect, not by a long shot. But they were hers. And she wouldn't trade them for anything.

Later that afternoon, Ethan arrived, a shy, lanky boy with a mop of brown hair and a nervous smile. Pedro greeted him at the door, his ‘look’ firmly in place. Ethan swallowed nervously, but managed a polite "Hello, Mr. Pascal."

"Ethan," Pedro replied, offering a curt nod. "Come in."

He led Ethan into the living room, where Elena was waiting. "Hey," she said, giving Ethan a quick hug.

"Hey," Ethan replied, his cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink.

Pedro watched them, his eyes narrowed slightly. He cleared his throat. "So," he said, "the French Revolution, huh? Big topic."

Ethan blinked. "Uh, yeah. We have a presentation to do."

"A presentation," Pedro repeated. "Interesting. What aspect of the French Revolution are you focusing on?"

Ethan looked at Elena, who gave him an encouraging smile. "We’re looking at the role of women in the revolution," he said.

"The role of women," Pedro repeated. "Fascinating. Did you know that Marie Antoinette…"

And so began a lengthy discussion about the French Revolution, with Pedro occasionally interjecting with historical facts and anecdotes. Ethan, to his credit, held his own, demonstrating a surprising knowledge of the subject. Elena, meanwhile, seemed amused by the whole exchange, occasionally rolling her eyes at her father’s over-the-top protectiveness.

As the afternoon wore on, Pedro’s ‘look’ softened. He could see that Ethan was a respectful young man, and that he genuinely cared about Elena. He still had his reservations, of course. But he was starting to realize that he couldn't protect Elena from everything. All he could do was offer her guidance, support, and unconditional love.

Eventually, it was time for Ethan to leave. "Thank you for having me, Mr. Pascal," he said politely.

"You’re welcome, Ethan," Pedro replied, offering a genuine smile. "Just… take care of her."

Ethan nodded. "I will, sir."

He turned to Elena, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I’ll see you tomorrow," he said.

"See ya," Elena replied, a soft smile playing on her lips.

After Ethan left, Pedro turned to Elena. "He seems like a nice young man," he said.

Elena nodded. "He is," she said.

"Just… be careful," Pedro said.

"I will, Dad," Elena promised. "I know you’re just trying to protect me."

Pedro smiled. "That’s my job," he said.

He pulled Elena into a hug, holding her close. She was growing up so fast. It seemed like just yesterday she was a little girl, playing with dolls and dreaming of being a princess. Now, she was a young woman, navigating the complexities of life and love. And he, her father, would be there for her every step of the way.

Later that evening, after the kids were in bed, Pedro and Y/n found themselves alone in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the refrigerator the only sound. Y/n was washing dishes, while Pedro leaned against the counter, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"So," Y/n said, breaking the silence, "what did you think of Ethan?"

Pedro sighed. "He seems… polite. Respectful. Nice enough."

"But?" Y/n prompted, knowing there was a ‘but’ coming.

Pedro hesitated. "But he's still sixteen. And Elena… she's my little girl. It feels like just yesterday I was teaching her how to ride her bike, and now… now she's dating."

Y/n chuckled. "I know what you mean. It's hard to believe how quickly they grow up. It feels like just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital."

Pedro nodded, a wistful look in his eyes. "She was so tiny. So fragile. And now… she's this beautiful, intelligent young woman. And I just… I don't want anything to hurt her."

"I know, honey," Y/n said softly, drying her hands and turning to face him. "But you can't protect her from everything. She has to learn to navigate these things on her own. We can guide her, support her, but we can't shield her from the world."

"I know," Pedro said, running a hand through his hair. "It's just… it's hard. Seeing her with him… it makes me realize how much time has passed. How quickly she's growing up."

"I feel it too," Y/n admitted. "But that's a good thing, isn't it? It means we've done our job. We've raised her to be a strong, independent young woman."

"I hope so," Pedro said. "I just… I don't want her to make any mistakes she'll regret."

"She will make mistakes, Pedro," Y/n said gently. "Everyone does. The important thing is that she learns from them. And that she knows we'll be there for her, no matter what."

Pedro nodded, his gaze softening. "You’re right. You always are."

He reached out and took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Thank you," he said. "For everything. For being such an amazing mother to our children. For… for putting up with me."

Y/n smiled. "You’re not so bad," she teased. "Most of the time."

Pedro chuckled. "I love you," he said, pulling her close.

"I love you too," Y/n replied, resting her head on his chest.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the silence once again filled with a comfortable warmth. They knew that the road ahead wouldn't always be easy. There would be challenges, and heartbreaks, and maybe even a few French Revolution debates. But they would face them together, as a family. And that's all that mattered.

A few weeks later, Pedro found himself having another conversation with Elena, this time about her future. She had been accepted to a summer program for aspiring writers, a program that would take her out of state for six weeks. Pedro was… hesitant.

"Six weeks?" he repeated, his brow furrowed. "That's a long time."

"I know, Dad," Elena said, "But it's an amazing opportunity. It could really help me with my writing."

"I know, honey," Pedro said. "It's just… I'll miss you."

Elena smiled. "I'll miss you too, Dad. But it's only six weeks. And I'll call you every day."

"I know, I know," Pedro said. "It's just… you're growing up so fast. It feels like just yesterday you were asking me to read you bedtime stories."

Elena laughed. "I still like you to read me stories sometimes," she admitted.

Pedro smiled. "I know you do," he said. "And I always will. No matter how old you get."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with love and pride. She was so talented, so passionate. He knew he couldn't hold her back.

"Okay," he said finally. "You can go. But," he added, pointing a finger at her, "you better call me every day. And," he added, his gaze softening, "be careful. Okay?"

"I will, Dad," Elena promised. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," Pedro said, pulling her into a hug.

He knew that letting her go was the right thing to do. It was part of growing up, part of becoming her own person. And as much as it pained him to see her go, he knew that he had to let her fly. All he could do was be there for her, waiting for her return, ready to catch her if she fell. Because that's what fathers do. They protect. They guide. And they love. Unconditionally. Always.

[flwrkid14]

I was reading the two posts about Tim's Christmas list, and just thought of the Bat Family noticing how happy Tim is.

Maybe Damian sees the new brushes and asks why Tim has Stephanie's things?

"Oh no, those aren't her's. They're mine. Danny got them for me cause they were on my list. I've needed a new set for a few years, but I only remember when I'm on a mission and needs to use them. Isn't he so sweet? And he got me really good quality ones, too!"

Or Jason mocking Tim for finally getting new hoodies. And instead of huffing or quipping back, Tim just brightens. Smiling in a way Jason's never seen.

"Danny got them for me! They're so soft. There's some of my favorite gifts from him! It's honestly nice to have new clothes that aren't formal. I'm so happy he read my list." And kinda just bounces away.

Maybe Bruce asking if Tim finally got new cups for his office?

"Danny's so sweet, isn't he? He found my list for Christmas and decided to get me a few mugs and thermoses. It's great I don't have to worry about accidentally cutting my mouth open again." 😊

Or Stephanie (who was injured on patrol and Tim's Nest, with apartment on top, was the closest place she could get to.) commenting on the fact that Tim has a lot of blankets, pillows, and plushies.

"Danny got them for me for Christmas I love how soft and warm everything is. He even found a plushie of a sleeping ghost! It's weighted, has a heating feature, and is made of glow in the dark fabric. Matter of fact, almost all the plushies and blankets he got me were weighted! Just like I had written on my list. They make me feel so loved. After all, he wants me to feel warm and safe, what's more considerate than that?"

Cass looks for Tim, knowing he's staying in the manor overnight because of a gala the next day. She hears music coming from the bathroom, but the light isn't on. So she goes in to turn it off, just in case Tim accidentally left it on. Only to see that there is a light on. A music box made to look like a record player spinning a vinyl, projecting blue light to look like you were underwater. Tim was in the bathtub, with the music box on the rim.

After the kerfuffle of them realizing Cass walked in on Tim taking a bath, and Tim getting dressed quickly, Cassandra asks him where he got it? It's cute and sounds really nice.

"Oh, it's a gift from Danny. He gave me it for Christmas. He knows I like cute things like that. And it's nice to listen to. He even got me this cat eared fluffy hairband for when I do my skincare or makeup! So cute, right?" 🥰

And slowly, all of them realize they never got Tim what he wanted. They try to justify it by saying he put tech on the list, but they look back through past lists and realize Tim changed his list because no one ever got him what he put on the list.

omg, I love your take on my posts! Your writing is so good! And you're absolutely right—the batfamily realizing their oversight and coming to terms with is such an interesting angle to explore! I like the way you went about it, especially all the times Tim kept mentioning the items were from his list!!

That said, I also wanted to address something that a lot of people were frustrated about when reading my original post.. many were upset with the family for not reading Tim’s list, wondering if they lost it or ignored it on purpose. I realize I didn’t provide enough context on my post for how the list actually functions!

The christmas lists in the batfamily aren’t necessarily meant to be followed to the letter—they’re more of a reference in case someone doesn’t know what to get. For example, Damian’s interests are pretty well known (art supplies, things for his animals, weapons), so most of the family can buy him something without needing to check his list. But for someone like Alfred or Bruce, where their preferences might be harder to pin down, the list serves as a guide.

With Tim, the family assumes they already know what he likes. They don’t think they need to check his list because, in their minds, they already understand him. So they keep giving him things they know he uses—cameras, electronics, hard drives—without realizing he already has more than enough. It’s not necessarily neglectful; it’s just a blind spot.

Danny, on the other hand, actually looks at the list. Not only because he wants to get Tim the best gifts possible, but because he lives with him. He sees what Tim already has in abundance and what he’s been meaning to get for himself but keeps putting off. That’s why his gifts are so thoughtful—he pays attention in a way the others don’t.

I hope this explanation helps clarify things for those who were confused or frustrated!!

[owlwithanapple]

Life is change

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Y/N 🥰

♥️♥️♥️ I love the character Ghost very much. I want him to be happy and have a different life. A happy marriage, family and love. If you like it, please reblog my fanfiction. You are also welcome to give me comments to motivate me to write more and more exciting works. 🖤🖤🖤

Ghost and you have been married for over few years and have always had a very harmonious relationship. Unexpectedly, had a quarrel. Because had a fight about work and he acted rashly to save Gaz. You ran away from home in a rage and went back to your brother Soap Mactavish's house. “Soap! I’m gonna stay here for a while.”

Soap was sitting down on his couch reading a newspaper when he suddenly heard the loud banging on the front door. He quickly placed the paper down on his coffee table then got up off the couch and approached the front door before opening it. Standing there was you in an obviously annoyed state. Soap chuckled slightly before looking at you with a small smirk. “Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes. What's wrong? You look pissed.”

“Your fucking teammate Lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley has pissed me. Last operation with Gaz, he acted rashly to saved Gaz.”

Soap sighed heavily as he listened to your explanation, not being surprised to heard that Ghost acted rashly and was being an idiot. Soap said as he shook his head and then placed a hand on his forehead before looking back at you. “Of course he did...that idiot. So that's why you’re here? Because of some argument between you and Ghost?”

“Yup. I’m angry, that’s why I’m here.”

Soap chuckled softly then stepped to the side, allowing you to come in. He said with a smirk, which caused you to give him a look. He shrugged it off and began to walk over to the couch, sat down and then gestured for you to sit down to. “Well you’re welcome to stay for as long as you want. Just don't let me hear any complaining while you’re here. So how angry are you at Ghost then? On a scale of 1 to 10.”

“Hmph! He doesn’t care about me and my feelings. Keep doing rashly things. He’s saving Gaz and hit by bullet. I was angry and about to explode.”

Soap chuckled softly as he listened to your complaints. He knew that Ghost's tendency to act rashly would inevitably cause a reaction out of you. Soap could practically hear Ghost's voice in his head saying I can take care of myself. Soap shaking his head as he leaned back onto the couch. “I can only imagine how hard it must be to hold yourself back from blowing up every time he does something stupid. But you still love him though, right?”

“Hmph! But…He doesn’t even call me or find me! That’s shitty skull mask husband!”

Soap chuckled softly at your insult toward Ghost, finding the nickname that shitty skull mask husband to be an amusing as he let out a sigh. He said before taking a pause then looking at you again. “Yeah I don't think Ghost is smart enough to do that. He's not really one to apologize for anything either. That man is dense as hell. But I still think you love him, don't you? I know you do.”

“Hmph! Of course I do. I just don’t want him reckless.”

Soap smiled slightly as he heard your words before letting out a deep sigh and leaning his head back onto the couch. “Ghost doesn't know any other way to work. He's the type to throw himself into life-threatening situations and come out of them uninjured. I'm surprised he hasn't suffered any major injury all these years of service.”

Soap said before looking at you again, his expression becoming more serious. “Just try to remember that he's doing all of it to keep other people safe. That includes yourself.”

“I don’t care others, I care my fucking husband. I’m a medic, you know how hurt my heart especially I patching my skull husband?”

Soap let out a heavy sigh and nodded his head, understanding how you felt. “I know how you feel. I feel like Ghost is gonna give me a heart attack everytime he risks his life. But I've known him for many years, so I know he'll always be able to get out of trouble.”

He paused for a few moments before looking you in the eyes. “But Ghost isn't just your husband, he's a soldier first. He has to prioritize his duties over his personal life.”

“Tch, don’t remind me that. I just want to complaint about my skull face husband.”

Soap smiled slightly at your response before letting out another sigh, realizing that nothing he said was really gonna make any difference. “Trust me, I know you're worried about Ghost. I am too, everytime he goes out on a mission, I sit by the phone wondering if he's coming back this time. But I know he will.”

He looked at you then patted you on the shoulder. “Ghost probably is feeling bad right now you know, even if he'll never admit it.”

“Hmph! I watched the tv first. Bye, Soap.”

Soap chuckled as he heard you before waving you off. “Alright, I'm gonna make some lunch later if you want any. Just hollar.”

He said before you began to walk away, his expression turning slightly more serious again as he muttered to himself. “That idiot Ghost better not have gotten himself in trouble this time.”

Soap was busy cooking lunch in the kitchen, suddenly heard the sound of the front door being opened. He paused for a moment listened to the sound of footsteps entering the house. “That must be-"

His thoughts were cut off when he saw Ghost enter the kitchen, still wearing his black tactical gear. Soap's expression hardened slightly at the sight of him. “Speak of the devil.”

Ghost didn't say anything at first, his expression as blank and unreadable as always underneath the mask. He took a few more steps into the kitchen before finally speaking in his familiar raspy voice. “Soap.”

Soap nodded his head in acknowledgment before taking a closer look at him, noticing the various injuries he had sustained. “You really did it this time, didn't you? Looks like you took a beating.”

Ghost shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as if the injuries he had received were nothing serious, and replied with a dry tone. “I've had worse.”

Soap rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief, knowing that Ghost had a tendency to downplay the severity of his injuries. “Of course you have. But this time you've done a good job pissing off her. I don't think I've ever seen her so angry before.”

Ghost's body stiffened at the mention of you, and for a moment, Soap could see a hint of guilt in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by his usual emotionless mask. “She's angry with me?”

Soap raised an eyebrow at his response, surprised that he was even asking that question. “Yeah, she's beyond angry. She came over here earlier, ranting and raving about how you're not caring about her feelings and how you always act rashly during missions.”

Ghost's expression remained unreadable, but Soap could tell that the words were getting to him. He let out a heavy sigh and spoke, his voice slightly strained. “She doesn't understand the work we do.”

Soap shook his head and let out a snort of derision. “She's a medic, dumbass. She understands better than you think. She's just worried about you.”

Ghost let out a scoff of disbelief, feeling insulted by Soap's words. He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke in a defiant tone. “She worries too much.”

Soap rolled his eyes and shook his head once again, not surprised by Ghost's lack of insight. “You know that's what happens when you marry someone. They worry about you because they care about you.”

You heard their conversation, you cleared your throat and clenched the fist then approached to interrupt them. “No need to persuade him, Soap. He doesn't need to know, and he doesn't want to know.”

Soap and Ghost both turned to look at you as you interrupted them, Soap looked slightly surprised while Ghost's expression remained as blank and unreadable as ever. Soap took a step back and raised his hands slightly in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I was just-“

Ghost interrupted him and took a step forward, his voice still lacking in any emotion. “You're here.”

“Of course I’m here. My brother’s home. A home that I stayed before I married.”

Soap nodded his head and looked between the pair of you, sensing the tension in the air. He took a step back and leaned against the counter. Ghost's expression remained blank, but Soap could see a hint of guilt flickering in his eyes as he spoke. “You're angry with me.”

It wasn't a question, more of a statement. You rolled your eyes and responded with a sharp tone. “Of course I'm angry with you. You're always acting rashly and putting yourself in danger without even thinking about how it affects me.”

Ghost's jaw clenched at your words, his expression still blank but you could see the frustration building within him. He let out a scoff and spoke in a defiant tone. “You don't understand. My job is dangerous. It's what I do.”

Soap shook his head and spoke up once again, trying to diffuse the situation. “She knows that, Ghost. She's just worried about you.”

Ghost turned to Soap and snapped back, his voice rising in volume. “I don't need anyone worrying about me. I can take care of myself.”

“I just don’t understand why my husband wants to push me away? I’m a medic and I know the risks. But…it’s my fault that I worry my husband more? Tell me, Simon. I beg you.”

Ghost let out another heavy sigh and shook his head, his expression still conflicted. “It's not your fault for worrying. That's the natural response someone has when they care about someone else.”

He took a step forward and reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder gently. “But I don't want to be the reason you're worried all the time. I don't want you to constantly be worrying about me getting hurt or killed on the field.”

“Simon. Listen carefully, I’m your fucking wife. I’m the person who says I do when you proposal to me. So I fucking definitely will worrying about you, even you just accidentally cut your finger!”

Ghost chuckled softly at your words, his usual blank expression softening into a small smirk under his mask. “You're a stubborn one, aren't you?”

He took a step forward until he was standing directly in front of you. He placed both his hands on your shoulders and spoke in a quieter voice. “I know you'll worry about me. I can't stop you from doing that. And I know you'll be there to patch me up if I get hurt.”

“That’s right, because I’m a fucking medic.”

Ghost chuckled softly again and nodded his head in agreement. He paused for a moment and then spoke again, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Yeah, you're a damn good medic. You've saved my life more times than I can count. But you're also a damn good wife.”

“Hmph. So you know I’m not just a medic, also your wife. I thought I’m just a statue.”

Ghost nodded his head and a small smirk appeared on his face. “Yeah, I know you're more than just a medic. You're my wife. My partner. The one person who's always there for me, no matter what.”

He took a step closer to you and spoke in a quieter voice, the tone of his voice changing to a more serious one. “And I know that I don't deserve you, but I'm thankful to have you. I'm still grateful for the day you said I do.”

You could feel your heart rate increasing as he spoke, his words making you feel slightly flustered. Soap cleared his throat from the side, reminding you of their presence. You blushed slightly and turned to look at Soap, who was watching the two of you with a sly smile on his face. Soap chuckled and spoke up, his tone teasing. “Looks like the lovebirds are getting all cozy over here.”

You rolled your eyes ignoring your brother then stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his masked cheek, feeling the rough material brush against your palm. Took a deep breath, still feeling the anger and worry in heart. “I married you because I love you, Simon. But it's because I love you that I worry about you all the time. I can't help it. You're my fucking husband.”

Ghost's expression softened even more as you placed your hand on his cheek, the rough fabric of his mask against your palm. He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a soft sigh before opening them again, looking into your eyes.

He placed a hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him. He paused for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you worry about me. And I know it's because you love me. But I can't help worrying about you too.”

You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke, the closeness between you both causing a mixture of emotions to swirl within you. On one hand, you were still angry and upset with him for his reckless behavior. But on the other hand, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and security in his presence.

Soap cleared his throat once again, interrupting the intimate moment between you and Ghost. “Alright, lovebirds. I get the feeling I'm the third wheel over here.”

“Tch. Fine. Alright alright. Can’t let my lovely brother ignore by us.”

Soap chuckled softly at your words, shaking his head in amusement. “Don't worry about me. I'm used to being the third wheel around here.”

Ghost rolled his eyes under his mask at Soap's comment, but didn't say anything. He was too focused and concerned about you. Soap leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, a small smirk on his face. “So, you two lovebirds figure things out yet?”

“Um…I think so. I’m not angry anymore..”

Soap nodded his head and looked between the two of you, noticing the change in the atmosphere between you and Ghost. “Good, I'm glad you're not angry anymore.”

Ghost remained silent and let out a soft sigh, relieved that you weren't angry anymore. He kept his hand on your waist, holding you close. Soap spoke up again, his tone somewhat amused. “So, lovebirds, you gonna make out in front of me or what?”

Ghost's grip on your waist tightened slightly and he let out a scoff under his mask, clearly amused by Soap's words as well. “You wish, Soap.”

Soap chuckled and held his hands up playfully in mock surrender. “Hey, can you blame a guy for asking? It's not every day you see a cute couple like you two getting all romantic.”

You rolled your eyes at Soap's comment and swat him playfully, trying to hide the slight flush on your cheeks. “Jeez, come on, Simon. Let’s go home.”

Ghost nodded his head in agreement, seemingly grateful for an excuse to get out of the situation with Soap. “Yeah, let's get out of here.”

He kept his hand on your waist and guided you toward the door, giving a dismissive wave to Soap. “See you later, Soap.”

Soap chuckled and watched the two of you head out the door, a smirk on his face. “Later, lovebirds.”

As Ghost and you stepped outside, the cool evening air hit your face, providing a sense of relaxation. Ghost's hand remained on your waist, guiding you toward a black SUV parked nearby. He opened the passenger door and gestured for you to get in, his voice still gruff but with a hint of tenderness. “Get in. I'll drive.”

“Tch, isn't it me who's driving? Alright, I don't want to scratch your car again.”

Ghost let out a soft chuckle, his tone slightly amused as he remembered the time you accidentally scratched his car. “Right, I remember that. You're lucky I didn't make you pay for the repairs.”

He closed the passenger door once you had settled in, then made his way to the driver's seat. As he was about to get in, he paused for a moment and looked at you. “Remember, no loud music this time. I don't need my eardrums blown out again.”

“Tch. Fine. Hm…ocean background music. Satisfied?”

Ghost nodded his head in acknowledgment as he started the car, the engine purring to life. “Sure, ocean background music is fine. As long as it's not too loud.”

He began to drive, maneuvering the car through the streets with practiced ease. The streetlights cast a warm glow on his face, illuminating the sharp angles of his jaw and the slight tilt of his head. “You know, you're the only person I let touch this car.”

“Good. That’s my privilege I want.”

He continued to drive, his focus mostly on the road ahead. The tension from earlier in the day had faded, replaced by a comfortable silence between the two of you. Ghost chuckled softly at your words, his expression still mostly hidden under his mask but his eyes betraying a hint of amusement. “Yeah, well, don't get too used to it. You've already scratched it once.”

“Hey, that’s was an accident. I was too panicked at reverse parking then boom. You scold me that time. And I feel like, oh ~ my lovely husband is not loving me anymore ~ I’m so sad.”

Ghost rolled his eyes under his mask, knowing you were only teasing him, and played along with your little game. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You're a terrible driver and you should never be allowed behind the wheel of a car again.”

He paused for a moment and then continued in a more playful tone. “And don't act so dramatic. I scolded you because you scratched my car, not because I don't love you anymore. Idiot.”

“Hmph! Now I’m idiot, not lovely wife anymore.”

Ghost let out a soft sigh and shook his head in mock irritation. “You know I was just messing with you. You're still my lovely wife, even if you're a terrible driver and an idiot sometimes.”

He glanced over at you and saw the teasing glint in your eyes, knowing that you were just having fun. “But seriously, don't scratch my car again. I'll make you walk everywhere if you do.”

“Suddenly I felt I had reason to file for divorce.”

Ghost feigned a look of shock, his eyes going wide under his mask. He was clearly playing along with your teasing, enjoying your playful banter. He reached over and poked you gently in the side, his touch playful. “You wouldn't dare. Don't even think about it. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

“Then let me drive, I want to scratch it.”

Ghost let out a scoff and shook his head, his tone still playful but slightly incredulous. “Absolutely not. You are not touching the wheel. I don't want to end up in a ditch somewhere because of your crappy driving.”

He continued to drive, his eyes focused on the road, but a small smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “Nice try, though. I know how much you enjoy pushing my buttons.”

“Oops, you found me.” You chuckled playfully.

Ghost chuckled softly, his amusement clear in his voice. He paused for a moment and then continued in a more serious tone. “Oh, I know you well enough by now to know when you're trying to stir trouble. But seriously, no driving for you. Stick to being a passenger princess.”

“Alright alright. Please call me Princess Mactavish. Hm~if you huh, Knight Riley.”

Ghost chuckled at your request, his tone somewhat amused. “Princess Mactavish and Knight Riley, huh? Sounds like a fairy tale.”

He reached over and gently patted your head, playing along with your little game. “And what requests does the princess have for her knight?”

“Hm~kiss me a lot and love me forever.” You blurted out happily.

Ghost chuckled softly at your request, the sound warm and affectionate. “Ah, the easiest request to fulfill.”

He took his hand off the steering wheel for a moment and reached over, gently taking your hand in his. He brought it up to his mask and planted a soft kiss on the top of your hand, his eyes meeting yours through the mask. “I promise to love you forever, Princess Mactavish.”

You felt a wave of happiness wash over you at his words, your heart swelling with love and affection. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, grateful for his promise. “And I promise to love you forever, too, Knight Riley."

Ghost felt a warm feeling spread through his chest at your words, his heart filling with a deep sense of comfort and contentment. He tightened his grip on your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze in return. “Good. Because I don't plan on letting you go anywhere.”

He paused for a moment and then continued in a more playful tone. “And if any pesky princes try to steal you away, I may have to fight them off.”

“Oh wow~ such a great knight.”

Ghost chuckled softly and shrugged his shoulders slightly, his tone playful. He turned his attention back to the road for a moment before continuing. “What can I say? I'm a man of many talents. Protecting my lovely wife from pesky princes is just another one of them. Besides, you're mine, and I'm not planning on sharing you with anyone.”

“Thanks, my lovely husband.”

Ghost chuckled softly at your words and smiled gently under his mask. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze again, his touch gentle and affectionate. “You're welcome, my lovely wife. And I won't let anyone take you away from me.”

You nodded your head in acknowledgment, knowing that he was possessive but also feeling a shiver went down your spine. The tone in his voice was always a mix of affection and command. It was like he was making sure I knew exactly where you belong. And the last sentence was almost a warning. “Yeah, I know you don't.”

You could hear the finality in his voice, no room for argument. And you couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and comfort from his possessive yet caring demeanor.

The drive continued in silence for a moment, the only noise being the hum of the engine and the occasional passing cars. Then, Ghost spoke again, his tone shifting slightly. “You know, there's one thing I've been meaning to ask you.”

“What is it?” You curious about what he said.

Ghost paused for a moment, his expression remaining mostly hidden under his mask. However, his eyes gave away a hint of anticipation. “We've been married for quite some time now. And... there's something we haven't done.”

“Hm? Like what?” You kinda nervous. Wonder he’s thinking the same thing like you.

Ghost took a deep breath before speaking, his tone carefully neutral, though you could sense a hint of anticipation in his words. He paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I've been thinking about it for a while, and I feel like it's something we should talk about as a couple. Have you ever thought about... having children?”

“Huh?! Really?! You sure?! I thought you’re not interested in this kind of thing.”

Ghost chuckled softly at your shocked response, his mask not showing any other expression. “Yeah, I mean it. I've been thinking about it lately. And I know I may not have ever shown much interest in the idea, but lately, I've been feeling different.”

He paused for a moment, his tone growing serious. “I want to be honest with you. I used to think that having a family wasn't really in the cards for me, given my job and the dangerous lifestyle I lead. But now, I've been reconsidering.”

He took a deep breath and continued, his voice quieter this time. “I've realized that maybe I want something more than just endless missions and bloodshed. And the thought of having a family, of being a father...it's something new to me.”

He reached over and placed a hand on your knee, his touch gentle and careful. “What do you think, love?”

Suddenly you realized that he had this idea. You always thought he didn't want children. Both of you knew how dangerous each other's duties was, but lives took a big turn after you two fell in love and got married. At this moment you realized that you two would face new challenges. You took out phone from pocket to check some of your private data such as ovulation and menstrual period. “Do you busy tonight? We can try this week….no condom….”

Ghost's eyes widened under his mask at your words, his expression a mix of surprise and arousal. He hadn't expected you to bring up the idea so quickly. He nodded his head, his grip on your knee tightening slightly. “Yeah, tonight, I'm all yours.”

He couldn't help the slight huskiness in his voice, the thought of starting a family with you now more tantalizing than ever. “You've checked your cycle?”

“Yup. I am. I think this week will hit the jackpot.”

Ghost's eyes darkened with desire at your words, his mind racing with thoughts of starting a family with you. He took a deep breath to steady himself, his body already reacting to your words. He aid gruffly, his tone a mix of excitement and anticipation. “Alright then. Let's do it.”

His hand on your knee gripped you just a little harder, his touch possessive and needy. “And I promise to be very thorough tonight.”

The rest of the car ride was full of tension, both of you unable to hide your excitement about what was to come. It was as if the air around you was charged with electricity, building up the anticipation exponentially. As the car pulled into the driveway of your house, Ghost shut off the engine, the sudden silence in the cabin making the tension even more palpable. He turned to look at you, his eyes burning with desire. “Come on, love. Let's take this inside.”

Ghost got out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you. He took your hand and helped you out, his grip firm and possessive. As you walked towards the house, he couldn't help but steal glances at you, the mere thought of the night to come making his heart race with excitement and anticipation. Once you were both inside, he closed the door behind you with a quiet click and immediately pushed you up against the wall, his body pressing against yours.

“Take off your mask, I’m not gonna fuck with you while looking at that skull mask tonight.”

Ghost chuckled softly at your request, his tone teasing. He pulled the mask off, revealing his sharp jawline and rugged handsome face. His eyes were dark with desire, and his lips curved into a small smirk. “Is that more to your taste, love?”

“Yup. No more Lieutenant Ghost, only Simon Riley and my lovely husband.”

Ghost's expression softened slightly at your words, his tone a little more affectionate. He said, his fingers tracing gently along your cheek. “Only Simon for you, love. Your lovely husband, Simon.”

He leaned in closer, his body pressing even tighter against yours, his proximity making your heart race. “I plan to show you just how much I love you tonight.”

The heat between you was palpable as he continued to kiss your neck, his touch growing more urgent with each passing moment. His hands roamed your body, one resting on your hip and the other gently caressing the sensitive skin of your stomach. It was a teasing touch, one that both aroused you and drove you insane with anticipation. He leaned in closer and whispered huskily in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “Are you ready, love?”

“Ha—yes. I’m ready.” You moan softly.

Ghost chuckled softly at your readiness, his tone thick with desire. His hands gripping your hips as he began to guide you towards the bedroom. The air was electric with anticipation as he led you into the room, his eyes never leaving your body. Once you were inside, he closed the door behind you, shutting out the outside world. The bedroom was lit by soft, flickering candlelight, creating a sensual atmosphere.

Ghost walked you over to the bed and gently pushed you down, guiding you to lie on your back. He stood over you, his eyes roaming over your body with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. He began to undress, his moves slow and deliberate, giving you a full view of his toned, muscular body. As he pulled off his shirt, baring his chest, he noticed your gaze lingering on him. A cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Like what you see?”

“Oh my fucking Simon, that’s definitely awesome.” You teased him.

Ghost chuckled at your reaction, his smirk growing even cockier. He could see the desire in your eyes, and he knew he had you exactly where he wanted you. He climbed onto the bed, straddling you and pinning you beneath him. His hands traced over your body, his touch both gentle and possessive at the same time.

Ghost's smirk grew wider as he continued to touch your body, his hands mapping out every curve and contour. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, his voice a low, sinful rumble. His lips grazed your neck, his teeth nipping gently at your sensitive skin before moving down to your collarbone. “Good. Because I plan on using every inch of it to pleasure you tonight.”

“You better do it. My lovely husband.”

Ghost let out a soft growl at your words, and his hand gripped your hip a bit tighter, the possessive gesture making your heart race. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his proximity making your body ache with desire. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yup. I’m ready.” You pressed a kiss on his lips.

He claimed your mouth with a kiss, his tongue delving inside, tasting and exploring every inch of you. It was a kiss that was both demanding and possessive, a reminder of just who you belonged to. Ghost's hands roamed your body, his touch both gentle and possessive as he explored, his fingers tracing a path of fire across your skin. He broke the kiss, his lips moving down to your neck, leaving a trail of biting kisses along your sensitive skin.

He continued to kiss and bite your neck, hands gripping your hips, his touch both possessive and gentle. He moved down to your shoulder, his lips leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses along the way. His body was pressed against yours, the feel of his muscular chest and stomach against your skin making your body ache with desire. He lifted his head again, his eyes dark and burning with lust.

“I love you, Simon.” You moan softly and said.

Ghost's expression softened slightly at your words, his tone becoming more affectionate. He leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, tender kiss, his mouth worshipping yours. His hands caressed your body, his touch both gentle and possessive. “I love you too, love. My lovely wife.”

The times flew away and the sun was setting on the sky. Ghost stirred from sleep, his eyes heavy as he slowly awoke. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the soft light of the early morning sunlight filtering through the curtains. He shifted his weight on the bed, his body still feeling the aftereffects of a long, passionate night with you. He turned his head to look at you, a contented smile on his lips at the sight of you still asleep beside him.

“Mm…mhm. Morning….” You mumbling softly.

Ghost chuckled softly at your groggy response, his smile growing. He stroked your hair again, his hand gentle as he caressed your scalp. “Good morning, love. How'd you sleep?”

“Good, it’s so fucking wonderful.” You yawned and leaned forward to press a kiss on his lips.

Ghost smiled again at your response, his heart warming at the sight of you still half-asleep and rumpled from the night before. He reached out and ran a hand down your bare back, his touch both possessive and gentle. “Did I wear you out last night?”

“A little. But it’s a great moment.” You nuzzled him.

Ghost chuckled softly at your words, his touch growing firmer as he continued to run his hand down your back. His voice dropping an octave lower. “You were pretty spectacular yourself last night, love.”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin. “Ready for a shower, my lovely wife?”

“Do you mind carrying me? My legs are sore. Yesterday night ride you, my muscles are numb.”

Ghost chuckled at your request, his expression both amused and affectionate. “Of course I don’t mind.”

He slid out of bed and picked you up in one easy motion, supporting you in his arms as he carried you towards the bathroom. He teased lightly, his arms holding you securely. “You really wore yourself out last night, oh my lovely wife.”

“You’re a soldier, I’m a medic. Don’t expect a medic’s stamina can win over you. Oh! So tell me, my lovely husband. Our first baby you wish it’s a boy or girl?” You pecking his cheek and asking him.

Ghost paused for a moment, his expression growing thoughtful as he considered your question. “I don’t really care. I know this might sound cheesy, but all I really want is a healthy baby – a chance to start a family with you.”

He looked at you, his eyes warm and affectionate. “But if you’re asking my preference, then I guess I wouldn’t mind a little girl with your eyes and your stubbornness.”

“Holy shit. A skull mask lieutenant with a baby girl. Little princess’s daddy huh.”

Ghost chuckled at your words, the image you painted obviously amusing to him. He stepped closer to you, his hands coming to rest on your hips again. He said with a hint of sarcasm. “Yeah, the Lieutenant, the big bad boogeyman of the 141, reduced to being a daddy of a cute little princess.”

You chuckled then pressed his lips with a kiss. Ghost responded to your kiss, his arms tightening around you as he deepened it. His mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was both possessive and demanding, his tongue exploring and tasting you with a hunger that betrayed his need for you. One of his hands moved to the back of your head, holding you in place as he angled your head for better access, his other hand pressing firmly against the small of your back, holding your body flush against his.

The next few month, you were as busy as usual at the Task 141 base. At lunchtime, you took the tray and went to pick out the food. Suddenly felt unwell had the urge to vomit. You immediately threw away the tray, covered mouth and ran into the toilet to vomit.

Ghost was in the commissary when he noticed your sudden change in demeanor. He saw the expression on your face, the way you suddenly went pale, and knew something was wrong. Without a second thought, he was on his feet and moving in your direction, following as you rushed towards the bathroom. He was there waiting by the time you reached the toilet, concern written all over his face. “Love. Are you alright?”

“Fucking hell…today is already third time.” You washed your face and wiped it with handkerchiefs.

Then realization dawned on him. He remembered the signs, the sudden nausea, your paler than usual complexion. He knelt down beside you, his hand moving to gently brush the hair back from your face. He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is it…is it possible that you’re…?”

“Eh? You mean that thing?” You tilted your head pointed your stomach.

Ghost nodded silently, his gaze locked on your face. The thought had crossed his mind before, but he had pushed it aside, not wanting to get his hopes up. But now, seeing you in this condition, it seemed like more than just a possibility. He reached out and took one of your hands in his, his touch gentle and possessive. “Have you... Have you taken a test?”

“Not yet…I'll go to the infirmary to get tested. You go to training first, I'll let you know if there's any news.”

Ghost was reluctant to let you go, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. He had a protective streak in him a mile wide, and the idea of you being unwell and him not being there for you made him uneasy. But he knew you were strong, capable, the badass medic he knew and loved. He nodded reluctantly. “Alright. But you promise to let me know as soon as you know something, alright? Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Roger, Lieutenant Ghost.” You salute playfully.

You went back to the infirmary and dug out a few pregnancy test sticks that you had prepared earlier. You held them tightly and began to doubt yourself. Could it really work this time? You ran into the toilet and started testing, waiting for the results of the pregnancy test sticks.

Your hands trembled slightly as you clutched the test sticks, your heart thudding in your chest. This was it. The moment you had been hoping for, praying for, for so long. The minutes ticked by, each agonizingly slow second feeling like an eternity. Finally, you couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t bear the anticipation any longer. With trembling fingers, you picked up the first test stick and waited for the result.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you watched the test stick, the wait excruciating. And then, almost as if in slow motion, the results started to appear. Positive. Your eyes widened, your heart nearly stopped. A wave of emotions washed over you, relief, joy, disbelief, excitement. Tears welled up in your eyes as you grabbed the second test stick with trembling hands.

And again, positive. The same result. No mistaking it, no denying it. You were pregnant. You clutched the test sticks to your chest, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the moment. You were filled with a fierce sense of protectiveness, a fierce love for the tiny life growing inside you. You had to find Ghost. You had to tell him. “Fucking hell…finally. God damn it. Took us so long. Finally Ghost can be a father…”

You could barely control your emotions as you raced through the base, your thoughts racing just as fast as your legs. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and disbelief, your heart swelling with joy. You had waited for this moment for so long, and now that it was here, it felt surreal. You finally reached the training ground, scanning the area for Ghost. And then you spotted him, his broad shoulders and strong presence immediately catching your eye.

You also saw Price standing next to him talking about something. You walked forward holding the pregnancy test stick hidden behind you , and you cleared your throat to attract their attention.

Ghost's head whipped around as soon as he heard the sound of your cough, his face immediately lighting up when he saw you approaching. But the way you were holding your hand behind your back, the secretive expression on your face, made him curious. And he could tell something was up. He turned towards you, his expression a mix of curiosity and something that looked an awful lot like hope. “What’s that you’ve got there, love?”

Price turned, too, his eyebrows furrowing as he noticed the same secretiveness that Ghost did. A faint smirk played on his lips, as if he was already guessing what was going on. “What are you hiding, medic?”

“Something happened. I’m pregnant. We really did succeed this time, Ghost.” You blurted out.

Ghost’s expression immediately softened, a look of almost disbelieving joy spreading across his face. His eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed speechless. He took a step towards you, his arms reaching out to pull you into a tight embrace. “You’re pregnant? Really? My lovely wife pregnant?”

Price, standing nearby, let out a loud whoop, a huge grin on his face. He teased, poking Ghost in the shoulder. “Finally, eh, Ghost?”

Ghost pulled back slightly, his gaze fixated on the test sticks you held out to him. His fingers trembled as he gently took them from your hand, his expression filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. He turned them over in his hands, his eyes scanning the results, as if he was afraid he was dreaming.

Price stepped closer, peering over Ghost’s shoulder at the test sticks. His voice filled with both doubt but more of excitement. “Damn, you’re not pulling my leg, are you?"

“Fucking hell. We really succeeded this time! Ghost!”

Ghost set the test sticks down and pulled you into his arms, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around in a tight, overjoyed embrace. He held you against him, his body trembling with emotion. He rasped, his voice filled with wonder and awe. “We did it! We did it, love. You're carrying our child."

Price chuckled, watching the two of you with a grin on his face. “Looks like the 141 is getting a new recruit.”

“Seriously? Captain, a baby you want to recruit too?!”

Price chuckled heartily, his eyes shining with amusement at your words. He paused, then gave a wink. His voice playful. “Imagine the possibilities. Tiny recruits, following orders in their little uniform...”

“Sounds like chaos. But…I guess 141 will have headaches, don’t mind my pregnancy symptoms.”

Ghost chuckled, his arms still around you, holding you close. “Don't worry, love. I'll handle any headaches, and I'll take care of you and the little one.”

Price joined in again, his tone still teasing. He said, nodding sagely. “Us seasoned 141 members can handle anything. Including pregnant medics.”

“Hahahaha. Thanks. So, my lovely husband Ghost. New adventures are coming soon.”

Ghost's expression softened even more, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity. He held you tight, his arms encircling you protectively as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Indeed. New adventures, new challenges. But we'll face them together. You and me, and our little one.”

Price, standing nearby, couldn’t help but add his own two cents. “Hahahah. Better start getting used to less sleep, Ghost.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at Price's words, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. He said sarcastically. “Thanks for the reminder, Captain. As if I wasn't already preparing for a lifetime of sleepless nights.”

Price chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. He said, his tone mock-serious. “Just warning you, son. Babies are noisy. And they never sleep when you do.”

“Hahaha. Alright alright, guys. Don’t say anything negative that will make me regret having a baby.” Ghost and Price exchanged glances after your words, their expressions immediately sobering.

Ghost shook his head vehemently. He said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “No regrets. Not a single one. This is a blessing, love. Our little miracle.”

Price nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “Ghost is right. This is a wonderful thing you're doing. Bringing life into the world...it's the most important job there is.”

“Hahaha. Guess my responsibility increased when I had a baby. Oh! Soap definitely will happy! His nephew or niece is coming.”

Soap appeared as if on cue, sauntering into the conversation with a cocky grin on his face. He drawled, his Scottish accent thick and unapologetic. “Did I hear my name?”

Price chuckled, turning to Soap. He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Your ears are still sharp, son. Speaking of which, you have some news to hear.”

“Hwah! Jeez! Oh, since my lovely brother is here. Ghost and I have something to tell you.”

Price couldn't help but chuckle at Soap's eagerness. Soap's ears perked up at Ghost's words, his expression going from cocky to curious. He asked, his voice tinged with excitement. “Oh yeah? What’s this important news you’re sharing with me, Ghost?”

Ghost took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Soap's. His voice filled with a mix of awe and wonder. “We’re having a baby.”

Soap's eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open. He stood there speechless for a moment, as if trying to process the news. And then, his face broke out into a huge grin, his eyes sparkling with joy and excitement. He exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine happiness. “Are you serious? That’s amazing news!”

“Yup. We have a baby, you will be uncle soon.” You pointed at your stomach and laughed.

Soap's grin widened even more, his face lighting up with happiness. He exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement. “I'm going to be an uncle? Bloody hell, that's brilliant!”

He turned to Ghost and clasped him on the shoulder, his grip tight. He said, his tone filled with genuine enthusiasm. “Congratulations, mate! You’re gonna be a dad!”

Ghost nodded, his expression softened by a genuine smile. His voice filled with gratitude. “Thanks, Soap. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself.”

Price, standing nearby, chuckled at the reaction from Soap, his eyes filled with amusement. He said, his tone lighthearted. “Looks like this 141 family is expanding. I wonder how the little one will handle all the excitement around here.”

Nine months later, your voice of pain and crying could be heard in the delivery room because the baby was being born. Ghost paced back and forth outside the delivery room, his heart pounding with anticipation and a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He could hear your voice, filled with pain and exertion, and he wanted nothing more than to be by your side, to hold your hand and offer whatever comfort he could.

Soap stood nearby, his expression a mix of anxiety and excitement. He clasped Ghost on the shoulder, trying to offer some reassurance. “It’ll be fine, mate. Just a few more hours, and you’ll be holding your little one in your arms.”

Ghost nodded, trying to take deep breaths to steady himself. The wait was excruciating, and he couldn't help but worry about you and the baby. He knew childbirth was difficult, knew it was painful, and he wanted to do anything he could to ease your suffering.

Price standing nearby, couldn't help but chime in as well, his tone filled with his usual sarcasm. He said, a smirk on his face. “Hang in there, Ghost. You're in for a world of chaos now.”

Finally, your voice had quieted down a lot, and a baby girl's cry came from the delivery room. You collapsed on the hospital bed, holding your newborn baby girl in your arms. You were very tired and at a loss as to how to comfort her. You felt so helpless that couldn't help crying with her. “Nonono…Freya…what should I do..?”

Ghost rushed into the room, his heart pounding with worry and excitement. He saw you, exhausted and overwhelmed, holding your newborn baby girl in your arms, tears streaming down your face.

He crossed the room in a heartbeat, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you. He reached out a trembling hand, gently stroking your hair, trying to soothe you. He whispered, his voice soft and comforting. “Shhh...it’s okay. Don’t cry, love. You’re doing great.”

“I don’t know how to do? Freya kept crying…”

Ghost's expression softened, his heart swelling with love and concern for you. He gently took the baby from your arms, cradling her against his chest. He said, his voice soft and soothing. “It's alright. Babies cry. It's the only way they can communicate.”

He slowly rocked the baby back and forth, gently shushing her, his touch tender and caring. He repeated, rocking her gently. “Shhh...it’s okay. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here…”

The baby gradually calmed, her crying diminishing to soft hiccups and gurgles. Ghost smiled, his expression filled with a mixture of wonder and amazement. “See? It just takes a bit of patience and some gentle shushing.”

Price and Soap stood nearby, their own expressions filled with a mix of amusement and affection. Soap teased, a cheeky grin on his face. “Who knew the mighty Ghost would be a natural at this dad thing.”

You’re still crying after you feel the pain and loss. After the baby girl stopped crying, you wiped away your tears and catch the breath again. Ghost’s attention shifted back to you, his expression filled with concern and love. He could see the tears streaming down your face, the exhaustion and pain you were experiencing.

He carefully handed the baby to Soap, who held her with a look of wonder on his face, and turned back to you. He sat back down beside you, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You did great, love. You brought a beautiful little girl into this world. You were amazing.”

You couldn't bear it anymore, you threw yourself into his arms and cried. The pain of pregnancy and the helplessness of the baby's cry almost made you despair. Ghost wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his touch gentle and comforting.

He could feel your body trembling, the tears soaking his shirt, and his heart ached with sympathy and understanding. He held you tight, rocking you slowly from side to side, his voice soft in your ear. “You’re okay. You’re okay. You did great, love. You did great.”

“Thanks…Simon. I’m scared when Freya crying.”

Ghost's expression softened, understanding your fear and helplessness. He held you tighter, his grip strong and reassuring. His voice tender. “It’s alright to be scared, love. Being a parent is frightening. But you don’t have to be scared alone. I’m here for you, and so is Soap and Price. We’re family. We’ll figure this parenting thing out together.”

“I know…but I’m still panicked when she cried.”

Ghost caressed your cheek gently, his touch gentle and soothing. He could see the worry and exhaustion in your eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to ease your mind. “Don’t worry. You’re doing great. You brought a beautiful baby girl into the world. And we’ll figure everything out together.”

He pulled you closer, holding you tight against him, his warmth enveloping you like a comforting blanket. “We’re in this together, love. Me and you.”

Price and Soap watched the exchange between you and Ghost with knowing grins. They could see the love and affection between you, and they were both happy to see their comrades finding such contentment and happiness. Price, in his gruff way, chimed in with a sly comment. “Alright, you two lovebirds. Get a room.”

“Oh come on! I’m just finished, give me a break.”

Price chuckled, his expression filled with devilish amusement. He teased. “Ah, come on. You can't blame me for being envious. Ghost gets to be a dad now, and I'm still stuck as the old, grumpy Captain.”

Soap chuckled at Price's comment, unable to resist joining in the banter. Soap chimed in, his tono mock serious. “Don't worry, Captain. You can be the fun uncle. Spoil the kid rotten and give them sweets before bedtime.”

“My lovely brother, hand over my daughter.”

Soap grinned, his expression filled with mock indignation. He protested, his tone light and playful. “Ah, little sister, I thought I could hold my niece for a bit longer?”

Price chuckled, shaking his head at Soap's antics. He said, patting Soap on the shoulder. “Alright, alright, give the girl her daughter back.”

Soap reluctantly handed the baby back to you, his expression filled with a mixture of reluctance and affection. You stroked her cheek and smiled. “Hey, Freya. Mommy’s here…”

Your baby girl looked up at you with wide eyes, her expression curious and innocent. She gurgled softly, her little hands reaching out towards you. Ghost watched the scene with a heart filled with love and affection. Seeing you holding your baby girl, the bond between mother and child so strong and immediate, made his heart swell with pride and joy.

He stood by your side, his hand resting gently on your shoulder, watching as you cooed to your baby girl, your voice filled with love and tenderness. Soap and Price stood nearby, their expressions softened by the scene unfolding in front of them. Soap had a warm smile on his face, and even Price had a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

Soap couldn't help but chime in, his tone filled with affectionate teasing. “Look at you, little sis. Already a natural at this mom thing.”

Six years later, late one night, at Ghost's home. Ghost hasn't come back from the base yet, Freya and you are the only ones left at home. You are sleeping in the upstairs bedroom, and Freya suddenly woke up in the downstairs bedroom. Ghost quietly entered the house, closing the front door behind him with a soft click. He was just returning from the base, still clad in his tactical gear and balaclava.

As he walked towards the living room, he heard the sound of soft footsteps coming down the stairs. He looked up and saw his little girl, Freya, standing at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes wide with surprise as she saw him in his balaclava for the first time.

Ghost froze, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the fear and confusion etched on his little girl's face. He hadn't expected her to wake up at this late hour. He quickly realized that he must have looked intimidating to her, with his face covered and his body in tactical gear. He took a slow step towards her, his voice soft and gentle. “Hey, sweetie. It's just me, daddy.”

But Freya backed away, her eyes still wide with fear, her little body trembling. She had never seen her dad looking like this before, and the sight of him was clearly unsettling her. Ghost felt a pang of worry and concern in his chest. He knew he had to find a way to reassure her, to show her that he was still her dad, despite his appearance. He crouched down, making himself smaller and less intimidating.

You are sleeping soundly when suddenly heard a loud cry and scream. It was Freya. You opened the drawer, took out a gun and loaded it, then ran to downstairs. As soon as you got downstairs, Freya ran to hide behind you, hugged your legs and cried. You pointed your gun forward without hesitation. “You son of bitch—eh?! Simon?!”

Ghost held up his hands in surprise, his balaclava still covering his face. He looked at the gun in your hand, then at Freya hiding behind you, her little arms wrapped tightly around your legs. He said, his voice low and urgent. “Love, put the gun down. It's just me. I just came back from the base.”

“Shit. Oh, sorry. I thought someone kidnapped Freya. Jeez, I’m glad that I didn’t pulled the trigger or else your head would be hurt. I’ll put down the gun.”

Ghost watched as you slowly lowered the gun, your hand trembling slightly. He could see the realization and relief washing over your face, as you finally recognized him. He took another step closer, his expression gentle and reassuring. “It's alright. There was no need to shoot me.”

He looked down at Freya, who was still hiding behind you, her little arms wrapped tightly around your legs. You coaxed your daughter gently. “Freya, he’s not gonna hurt you. Daddy is here, he’s just covering his face because his work.”

Freya peaked her head out from behind you, her eyes locked on Ghost's masked face. She looked scared and uncertain, her little body still trembling.

Ghost crouched down to her level, trying to make himself smaller and less intimidating. He slowly reached up and pulled the balaclava off his face, revealing his familiar features. “See? It's just me, sweetie. It's just daddy.”

Freya's eyes widened as she saw her dad's face, her confusion giving way to recognition. The fear slowly faded from her expression, replaced by relief and comfort. She hesitated for a moment, still clinging to your leg, before slowly letting go and taking a tentative step towards Ghost.

Ghost held out his hand to her, his expression warm and encouraging. “Come here, sweetie.”

Freya hesitantly stepped forward, her little hand reaching out towards Ghost's hand. He took her hand in his, his grip gentle and reassuring. He guided her towards him, sitting down on the floor as he pulled her into his lap. “Daddy's here. There's no need to be scared.”

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against his chest. Freya buried her face in his chest, her little body trembling with lingering fear and surprise. Ghost held her close, rubbing her back gently, trying to soothe her. He could feel her heartbeat slowly returning to normal, the tension in her body easing as she felt the safety and warmth of his embrace.

“Well, first experience Freya with your mask on.” You couldn’t help it and teasing him playfully.

Ghost chuckled softly, his expression filled with fondness. He said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, I suppose it was a bit of a shocker for her.”

He looked down at his daughter, who was still clinging to him tightly, her face buried in his chest. He joked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It seems like maybe I should start wearing my mask around the house more often.”

“Jeez. Fucking nononono. No, I can’t kiss your sexy lips, and Freya can’t clinging you.” You pinched his cheek, your voice tone like warning.

Ghost chuckled again, amused by your reaction. He said, his voice teasing. “Well, I wouldn't want to sacrifice the kissing or the cuddling.”

He looked down at his daughter, who was still clinging to him, her arms wrapped around his neck. “And I suppose this little one wouldn't appreciate it if daddy was always covered up either. She needs to see my handsome face sometimes.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at his words, your own expression softening at the sight of Ghost holding his daughter so gently in his arms. “Yeah, I don't think she'd like it very much if she couldn't see her daddy's face all the time either.”

Ghost looked up at you, his expression warm and affectionate. He asked, his voice low and playful. “And you, love? Would you miss my handsome face if I kept the balaclava on more often?”

“Hahaha. I’m not gonna asked you to take it off. I’m just gonna kick your ass and ripped the balaclava out. Oh! Freya, you okay now?”

Freya had finally stopped crying, her little sobs turning into hiccups as she slowly calmed down. She lifted her head from her dad's chest, her tears still staining her cheeks. She looked up at you, her expression a mix of fear and confusion, before looking back at Ghost. She said in a small voice. “Daddy?”

Ghost smiled gently at her, his expression softening. He replied, his voice gentle and warm. “Yes, sweetie?”

Freya's little hand reached up to touch his face, her expression filled with awe and curiosity. She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “You're not a bad guy?”

Ghost's expression turned solemn, his heart filling with sadness at her words. He knew she had been scared of him when she saw him in his balaclava, and he understood why. He shook his head softly, his voice tender. “No, sweetie. I'm not a bad guy. I'm your daddy.”

“Freya, it’s your daddy, truly.” You continue coaxing her, you pressed a kiss on Freya’s forehead then Simon’s cheek.

Freya looked up at you, her little hand still touching Ghost's cheek. She seemed to be processing what you had said, trying to make sense of the situation.

Ghost looked at her, his expression filled with tenderness and love. He reached up to gently grab her little hand, holding it in his much larger one. He placed a gentle kiss on her small fingers. “It's true, sweetie. I am your daddy, and I would never hurt you.”

Freya looked at him, her expression still etched with a hint of fear and confusion. But slowly, she seemed to be softening, her little body relaxing in his arms.

She looked down at their hands, her small fingers clutching his tightly. She asked, her voice a small whisper. “Promise?”

Ghost's expression turned gentle and reassuring. He took her little chin in his hand, tilting her face up towards his. He said, his voice filled with conviction. “I promise, sweetie. I will always protect you and keep you safe. I will never, ever hurt you.”

“Ahem. Sorry for interrupting this moment. By the way, Little Freya Riley. I thought you’re sleeping? Why did you suddenly wake up?”

Ghost looked at his daughter, his expression filled with curiosity. Freya looked sheepish, her little face blushing as she looked down at her feet. She fidgeted with the hem of her pajama top, her voice small and hesitant. She mumbled, her words barely audible. “I had a bad dream.”

“Hm. Understood. Well…daddy is back today. Do you want to sleep together with us?”

Freya looked up at you, her eyes lighting up at the suggestion. She nodded eagerly, her little body still clinging to Ghost's. She replied, her voice filled with anticipation. “Yes, I want.”

Ghost chuckled, his expression softening as he looked at his little girl. He stood up, holding her close to his chest. He said, his tone affectionate. “Alright, sweetie. Let's go get you settled in bed.”

“Uh huh. Love. You shower first, take off your gear. This is home, not the war zone.” You mentioned.

Ghost chuckled at your words, his expression amused. “Aye, love. I'll go take a shower, and then I'll join you both in bed.”

He looked down at his daughter, who was still clinging to him. He could feel her little body trembling slightly, the remnants of fear from earlier still lingering. “You gonna be okay with mom for a bit, sweetie?”

“Of course she’s okay with me. She’s my daughter.”

Ghost chuckled at your response, his expression filled with affection. He said, his voice soft and warm. “I know, love. I just wanted to make sure she was alright.”

He looked down at Freya, who was looking up at him with wide, trusting eyes. He kissed the top of her head, his expression filled with love and tenderness. he asked, his voice gentle. “Be a good girl for mommy, okay?”

Freya nodded, her expression serious and determined. She replied, her voice firm. “I will, daddy.”

Ghost smiled at her, his expression filled with pride. He knew his little girl was strong and brave, just like her mother. “That's my girl. Alright, love. I'll be back soon.”

You picked up Freya, kissed her on the forehead. Then you approached Simon, you covered Freya’s eyes to shield her sight. You leaned closer to him and pressed a deep kiss lingering for a moment. After, you took her upstairs to your bedroom.

Ghost watched as you picked up their daughter, his expression amused and touched by your gesture. He chuckled softly as you covered her eyes before you leaned in and kissed him. He felt a warmth spread through his chest at the familiar sensation of your lips against his, the taste of you still as sweet as he remembered.

He watched as you took Freya upstairs, his expression softening as he saw his little girl clinging to you. He knew she was in good hands, and he would be with you shortly. Ghost stood there for a moment, his heart full and his thoughts swirling with affection for you and his daughter. He could hear your voices coming from upstairs, your soothing tone as you spoke to Freya, and her little giggles in response.

He took a deep breath, letting the tension and adrenaline from his mission release from his body. He knew he could finally relax, knowing that he was home with his family. He finally turned and walked towards the bathroom, ready to take a long and much-needed shower.

“Since daddy is showering, my little Freya come give mommy a good night kiss kiss?” Your cheeks nuzzling her cheeks as you want your daughter little kiss.

Freya's eyes lit up at your request, her little face breaking into a wide smile. She exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. “Kiss kiss!”

She wriggled out of your arms, her little legs wobbling slightly as she stood on her own. She took a few steps towards you, her expression filled with anticipation. She leaned forward, her little hands bracing on your shoulders for support, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

You pressed a kiss on her forehead. Then opened the bedroom door and settled Freya on the bed. You’re laying down beside her and covered you two with the blanket. You gently patted her to coax her sleeping.

Freya snuggled up against you, her little body tucked firmly under the covers. She closed her eyes, her expression finally relaxed and content. She wrapped her little arms around your waist, her grip loose and comfortable. She nuzzled her face against your chest, her breathing soft and steady.

As you continued to gently pat her back, you could feel her body growing heavier with each passing moment, a sure sign that she was falling into a peaceful slumber. You continued to hum the lullaby, the soft sound filling the room and creating a peaceful atmosphere. You could feel your own eyelids growing heavy, your body relaxing as you watched over your sleeping daughter.

Her little face was so peaceful and content, her expression soft and free of worry. Her little chest rose and fell with each breath, her soft, golden locks framing her delicate features. You couldn't help but smile, feeling so much love and protectiveness for this little girl who was now almost sound asleep in your arms. “Good night, my little girl.” You kiss her cheeks.

You laid there for a moment, just holding her, not wanting to disturb her peaceful slumber. Every now and then, a tiny sigh would escape her lips, and her little limbs would twitch slightly, but otherwise she remained completely still. You could hear the faint sound of water running in the bathroom, signifying that Ghost was still in the shower.

You gently poked Freya's cheek. She was completely asleep. You quietly left the bed and went to the bathroom. You opened the door and saw your naked husband drying himself after taking a shower. You take off your clothes completely naked. You wrapped your arms around him. Slowly your left hand slipped down to his down part jerking off his hot dick and whispered. “Do you want it before bed?”

Ghost's eyes widen in surprise as you suddenly appeared behind him, completely naked. His body shivered as your arms wrap around him, pulling him close. He felt your hand slowly traveling down his body, and he couldn't help but let out a small gasp as you begin to touch him, your touch soft and teasing. He looked back at you, his expression a mix of surprise and excitement. “Oh, love. You're insatiable.”

Ghost turned around, his expression intense as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him, his body pressed against yours. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it only served to heighten his desire. “We have a little one asleep in the next room.”

“You were out on a mission with 141 for two weeks, and we didn't do it during that time. I had my needs. Don't you want to do it now?”

Ghost couldn't deny the truth in your words. It had been two long weeks since he had been away on a mission with Task Force 141. The absence of any intimate physical affection had left him feeling desperate and needy. He looked at you, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness. “Of course I want it. I craved your touch every moment I was away.”

He pulled you even closer, his body pressed tightly against yours. He could feel the heat of your skin against his, and the way your breath hitched as he touched you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling against your skin, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered again. “But we have to be quiet, love. We don't want to disturb little Freya in the next room.”

“Then shut my mouth, Lieutenant Ghost.” You kissed his bare skin and touched it to tease him.

Ghost's eyes darkened at your request, a thrill of excitement running down his spine as he looked down at you. He didn't need to be told twice. He cupped your face in his hand, tilting your head back as his lips descended upon yours in a deep, passionate kiss. His other hand pressed itself against your back, pulling you flush against his body as he let his tongue invade your mouth.

He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with eagerness and desire. He could feel the heat of your body against his, the way your breath hitched with every touch he gave you, and it drove him wild. He pushes you up against the wall, pinning you in place, his body pressed intimately against yours. And his lips never leave yours as he continues to kiss you, his lips moving forcefully and eagerly against yours, his need for you overwhelming.

He pressed his body against yours, his hardness pressing against your stomach. He groaned into your mouth, the sound filled with need and desire. His hands roam over your body, touching you anywhere and everywhere he could reach, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of your body. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, nipping and biting at your skin as he whispers huskily in your ear. “I missed you so much, love.”

“Oh—fuck—I missed you more—“

Ghost's lips move along the line of your neck, his tongue tracing a path to your collarbone, where he nips at the sensitive skin with his teeth. He whispers hoarsely, his hands roaming over your body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touch. “I don't think that's possible, love. I was counting the hours until I could be with you again.”

You feel he’s sucks hard on a patch of skin at the base of your neck, his intent on marking you as his own. “Fuck—ah—you—still want to compete—with me—”

Ghost chuckles against your skin, his lips moving to another spot, where he repeats the same action, leaving another mark on your body. “Always, love. I always want to compete with you, and I always want to win.”

He starts to move down your body, his lips leaving a trail of biting kisses along your collarbone, his hands reaching up to cup your breasts. “Damn—ah—you—“

Ghost chuckles again at your curse, the sound muffled against your skin as he continues his exploration of your body. He teases, his mouth moving lower still, his lips brushing over the swell of your breasts. “Language, love.”

His hands grip your sides, holding you in place as he continues to kiss and nibble at your flesh, his touch growing more urgent and possessive. Ghost's hands move down to your thighs, his fingers spreading them apart, as his kisses move lower. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, as he slowly trails his lips along your inner thigh, his mouth hovering just above where you want him most.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, as he slowly trails his lips along your inner thigh, his mouth hovering just above where you want him most. His breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the tension coiled in his body like a tightly wound spring. He whispers, his voice low and rough. “I've been thinking about this since I left. I can't wait to taste you, love.”

Ghost grins, his lips ghosting over your sensitive flesh. His tongue flicking out to taste your skin. He can feel the way you shiver, how your body responds to his touch, and it only encourages him to tease you further. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping you tightly as he moves closer to your core. “I'm going to make you feel so good.”

“Fuck—ah—Fuck me now, I can't wait—“

Ghost's eyes darken with desire at your plea, his body responding to your neediness. He looks up at you, his expression hungry, before he rises to his feet. He grabs your hips, turning you around to face the wall. He pushes your body against the wall, pinning you in place as he presses himself tightly against your back. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts, and his mouth moves to your ear. “Are you ready for me, oh my lovely wife?”

“Yes—ah—“ You moan softly.

Ghost's hands move down your body, his fingers trailing over your skin, as he positions himself behind you. He leans over your body, his chest and stomach pressed firmly against your back. He presses his hardness against your core, his body quivering with anticipation, as he grips your hips tightly. Ghost's breath catches in his throat at your words, his body responding to your eagerness. He lines himself up with your entrance, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

His words send a shiver down your spine, your anticipation growing even more intense. You take a deep breath, feeling his hands on your hips, as he starts to push into you slowly and gently. You breathe out, unable to stop the words from escaping your lips. “Ah—Ghost—“

Ghost shudders at the sound of his name on your lips, his body trembling with desire. His mouth leaving a trail of kisses along your shoulder blade. He begins to move, his hips rocking gently against yours as he pushes further into you. He whispers, his voice ragged and rough. “You feel so good, love.”

Ghost's body presses against your back, his movements growing more urgent and desperate. His words almost lost in the sound of your combined gasps and moans. He pushes into you harder, his fingers digging into your hips as he struggles to control himself. His movements become rougher, more demanding, as if he's trying to make up for the time he was gone.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your breath coming in short gasps as you cling onto him for support. He leans in, his chest pressed against your back, his breath hot against your ear.

“Yes—yes!—“ You gasp out, your body trembling with pleasure. You manage to say, barely coherent as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You plead, your words half-gasps and half-whimpers.

“I won't stop—not until you come apart for me—“ He whispers and his hot breath on your bare skins.

You gasp, your words a desperate plea. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alive and buzzing with pleasure. You manage to say. “Don't hold back—I want all of you, Ghost.”

“I—I can't—“ He gasps again, his body on the edge.

“You make me-I-“ His words are lost as he finally comes undone, his body shuddering as Waves of pleasure washes over him. He holds onto you tightly, his breath ragged and uneven as he tries to catch his breath. His body is covered in a sheen of sweat, his muscles quivering with exertion.

He breathes, his voice soft and tender. “Ha—Damn it—I love you, love. So fucking love you.”

“Ha—I love you too—“ You feel Ghost collapses against you, his body spent and boneless, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly against him, as he tries to catch his breath.

He whispers, his voice filled with affection and admiration. “You're incredible, love. I don't know how I survived two weeks without you.”

“Hahaha. Let's clean it up. Today Freya sleeps with us, I don't want she wake up and not find us.”

Ghost chuckles, his breath still a little ragged. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment, before he pulls away reluctantly. “Fair enough. Let's go take a quick shower, then we can check on Freya.”

As you and Ghost make your way to the shower, you can't help but feel a deep sense of contentment and peace settling over you. The water cascading over your bodies is warm and soothing. You wash each other off, your touch tender and gentle. Ghost's hands roam over your body, his touch possessive and caring. He washes your hair, massaging your scalp with his fingers, as he presses soft kisses to your neck.

You return the favor, your own hands gliding over his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles, and the scars that mar his body. You wash away the stress and tension that had been building up for the past two weeks, replaced by a deep sense of comfort and intimacy. Ghost pulls you close, his body pressed against yours, as he whispers words of love and reassurance into your ear.

By the time you finish washing up, the steam in the bathroom is thick and hazy. You and Ghost step out of the shower, wrapping yourselves in towels, as you make your way to the bedroom.

As you enter the room, you can see that Freya is still asleep, her small body curled up under the covers. “Huff. Lucky our noises didn’t wake her up.”

Ghost smiles, his gaze shifting to the sleeping child. He crosses the room and sits down on the edge of the bed, his knees touching the mattress. “Yeah, she's a heavy sleeper. You go get dressed, love. I'll keep an eye on her.”

“Alright. You can sleep first. You haven't slept with her for two weeks. Both of you must be miss each other.”

Ghost's expression softens at your words. He looks down at the sleeping child beside him, a mixture of affection and guilt crossing his face. He admits, his voice low. “I missed her so much.”

He reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair away from her forehead, his touch tender and gentle. he adds, looking up at you with a soft smile. “But I missed you too. More than I thought I would.”

“Hehehe. Get your sexy body lying down and stay with her. I'll get dressed and come join with you two.”

Ghost nods, giving you a small smile. He crawls into the bed, pulling the covers over him as he settles in beside Freya. She shifts a little in her sleep, her small body seeking the warmth and comfort of her father. Ghost wraps his arm around her, his hand resting gently on her back as he watches her sleep.

You head into the bathroom, quickly drying off and getting dressed. When you return to the bedroom, you find Ghost and Freya asleep. Ghost is on his back, his arm still draped over Freya, who is snuggled up against his side. They look peaceful and content, their faces relaxed in sleep. “Hehehe. This father and daughter are so cute.”

Ghost's head is turned towards Freya, his face softened in sleep. You can hear the steady sound of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest as he keeps his arm wrapped protectively around her. Freya is cuddled up against him, her small body pressed against his side.

You walk over and stand beside the bed, a soft smile on your face as you watch the sleeping pair. “Guess tonight my little girl sleeps in the middle huh. What a cutie pie.”

You climb into bed, slipping in carefully on the other side of Ghost, trying not to disturb the sleeping pair. Ghost stirs a little at your movement, but he doesn't wake up. Instead, he shifts a little, pulling you closer to him, his arm draping over your body as he settles back into his sleep. Freya is sandwiched between you and Ghost, her small body nestled in the middle, as she continues to sleep peacefully.

You smile as you feel the weight of Ghost's arm around you, his touch a familiar and comforting presence even in sleep. As you lie there, watching the sleeping pair, you realize that this moment of peace and contentment is exactly what you need. The stress and tension of the past few weeks fade away, replaced by a sense of safety and contentment. You close your eyes, feeling the warm presence of Ghost behind you, and the sweet breath of Freya against your chest.

“Good night. My love, my little Freya.”

The End 🖤♥️

[hishumanbellestories]

First kiss, but nothing serious.

I wanted something about the first kiss between Alastor and Deborah, I let myself go with the feelings, sweet and pathetic. 🫠

The air crackled between you like the charged silence before a storm. It had always been this way with Alastor — his presence was a static hum in your bones, an unseen force twisting the world around him. And yet, you were drawn to it, to him.

He grinned, as he always did; that sharp, ever-present smile that seemed more a mask than an expression. But his eyes — deep, endless red — lingered too long tonight, watching you as if there was something he couldn’t quite place.

«You do enjoy testing your luck, my dear», he said, voice syrupy smooth, but there was something else beneath it. Something unsettled.

You tilted your head, challenging him with nothing but a look.

«And you enjoy pretending you don't care».

For once, he didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he took a step closer, the space between you vanishing like smoke. His gloved hand reached out, hovering just near your cheek, fingers twitching as if fighting the impulse to touch you.

«You make the most dangerous assumptions», he murmured, and his voice was softer now, almost uncertain.

A rare thing.

You could feel his breath, though he didn’t need to breathe; could feel the static between you tightening like a wire pulled taut.

You knew Alastor — knew the way he toyed with the world, with people, but this wasn’t a game, was it?

The moment stretched, a delicate thread of something unnamed. Then, without thought, without fear, you closed the distance, placing your soft lips against his, just to spite him, and ruin his "I've got it all under control" ways.

The kiss was not meant to be anything but a test — chaste, fleeting. But the moment your lips brushed his, a current surged between you, sharp and consuming.

His entire body stiffened, and for a single, breathless second, the ever-present grin faltered. Then, just as quickly, it was back.

He pulled away, laughter bubbling up, but there was something wrong with it — too high, too forced — control slipped from his hands, causing the world to collapse beneath his feet.

«My, my, what a bold little thing you are!», he took a step back, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his face before his mask slammed firmly back into place. «Careful, darling. You wouldn’t want to start something you can’t handle.»

But you saw it.

The way his hands trembled ever so slightly.

The way his grin no longer reached his eyes.

He didn’t know what this was.

And that...

Terrified him.

For the first time, you saw Alastor shaken. It wasn’t much — just a tremor in his fingers, a flicker of something too raw in his eyes before he forced it back into that gleeful, manic mask. But you saw it. And he knew you did.

He recovered fast, of course. Spun on his heel like nothing had happened, hands slipping into his pockets as he whistled some old radio tune, his voice bright, careless. Too careless.

«Well, well! That was unexpected! Can’t say I planned for a lady such as yourself to be so…», his grin sharpened, «forward».

You crossed your arms, tilting your head.

«It was just a kiss, Alastor».

He stopped.

Just for a second.

Barely noticeable, but you caught it.

He turned to you, that ever-present amusement still there, but something lurked beneath it, something restless.

«Just a kiss?», he repeated it like the words were foreign on his tongue. He took a step toward you, then another, the distance between you vanishing once more.

He didn’t touch you, but you felt him all the same, the crackle in the air thick enough to choke on.

His voice dipped lower, softer, almost dangerous in its curiosity.

«Tell me, my dear… was that just a kiss to you?»

You held his gaze, refusing to flinch.

«I don’t know yet».

His grin widened, but his fingers twitched at his sides. That was new. Alastor never hesitated. He never second-guessed himself. But right now, he was doing both.

For a man who delighted in control, in knowing the game before it was played, this uncertainty was driving him mad.

The silence between you stretched, thick with something unsaid, something unacknowledged. You could see it in his eyes — the war raging inside him.

Then, suddenly, the tension snapped. He laughed. Loud, sharp, as if trying to shatter whatever had settled between you. With a theatrical flourish, he stepped back, hands thrown up as if waving off the entire moment.

«Well! That was certainly entertaining!», his voice was back to its usual, sing-song charm, but there was something off about it. «But really, darling, if you were expecting a fairytale romance, I’m afraid you’ll have to find some other poor fool for that!»

He winked, as if that sealed it, as if he hadn’t just been shaken to his very core.

You didn’t argue. Didn’t push. You just smiled.

«Who said anything about a romantic fairy tale?», you teased.

Because you knew.

He was running.

And one day, he’d realize there was nowhere left to hide.

Alastor kept his distance after that night.

Not in an obvious way — no, he was far too cunning for that. He still laughed with you, still appeared at your side with a flourish and a grin, still teased you like nothing had changed.

But it had.

You saw it in the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his hands would twitch when he got too close, the way his smile would slip — only for a fraction of a moment — whenever you so much as met his eyes for too long.

He was unraveling, and he knew it.

But Alastor didn’t unravel. He didn’t falter. He was chaos, but controlled chaos. And yet, you had done something to him.

And he hated it.

It came to a head one evening, the two of you alone in one of the lesser-used sitting rooms of the hotel. Rain pattered against the windows, and the room was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of an old lamp. It cast long shadows, twisting along the walls like they were alive, like they were watching.

You were watching too.

Alastor had been quiet all night, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his smile a little too sharp, his posture a little too tense.

«You’re avoiding me», you broke the silence with ease, not bothering to mask the amusement in your voice.

Alastor’s fingers stilled. His eyes flickered toward you, red and unreadable. Then — laughter. Bright, grating, forced.

«Now why would I do a thing like that, darling?», his voice was its usual sing-song self, but it lacked its usual bite. «I think you must be imagining things! After all... I am here, with you, all alone».

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm. «Am I?».

He hesitated.

It was brief, but it was still there.

A moment of hesitation, a sliver of uncertainty, and that was all you needed.

«Do you regret it?», you asked, voice softer now.

He went very still.

The shadows stretched around him, his antlers casting long, spindly shapes against the wall. The radio static that always followed him crackled just beneath the surface, an unspoken tension thrumming between you both.

Then — he laughed again, but this time, there was no humor in it.

«Regret?», he cocked his head, grin stretching unnaturally wide.

«Now why would I regret something so insignificant?».

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.

«Then why are you running from it?»

His smile twitched. It was the smallest thing — so small most people wouldn’t have noticed. But you weren’t most people.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if shaking off something he couldn’t name. Then, with a sudden, almost violent movement, he was out of his chair and in front of you, too fast for you to react. One gloved hand braced against the chair’s armrest, the other hovering just near your face, fingers curling like he wanted to touch you but couldn’t.

Couldn’t.

Or wouldn’t.

You held your breath, but you didn’t look away.

«You think you’re so clever», he murmured, voice too low, too smooth, like a blade hidden beneath silk. «Poking at things you don’t understand. Playing a game you don’t know the rules to».

You smiled, slow and knowing.

«Then tell me the rules, Alastor», your voice firm and your gazes locked.

His breath hitched. Just for a second. And then, something in him snapped.

His lips were on yours before you even had a chance to react.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.

It was a collision — sharp, desperate, edged with something neither of you had words for yet. His hand finally found your face, going against his instinct to give up on you, on your skin. Gloved fingers pressing into your skin, as if grounding himself, as if keeping himself from slipping through the cracks of something he couldn’t understand.

For a moment — just a moment — he let himself have this.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

He pulled away as if burned, eyes wide, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came.

Then — he laughed.

It was sharp, grating, too loud for the room.

A poor attempt at covering the tremor in his hands, the way his whole body seemed to be fighting against something it couldn’t name.

«Well, now!», he straightened, adjusting his tie with an exaggerated flourish. «That was certainly… enlightening!»

You didn’t speak. You just looked at him.

Waiting.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

«But I do believe I’ve kept you up far too late, my dear! Sweet dreams and all that!»

And before you could so much as blink, he was gone, vanished into the shadows like he had never been there at all.

But you knew better.

Because this time — he was the one running.

And sooner or later, he’d have to stop.

The distance didn’t last.

Of course, it didn’t.

You were attracted to each other like two magnets, the attraction for each other was too strong.

Alastor could run. He could retreat into the static, into the shadows, into the illusion that nothing had changed. But it had. And now, it was eating him alive.

It had been days since that kiss, since he had fled from you like a man on the edge of something he couldn’t name, something he couldn’t control. You had given him space, knowing he would break before you ever had to chase him.

And tonight, he did.

It was well past midnight when he found you.

The storm outside had swallowed the sky whole, thunder rolling in waves, rain hammering against the windows like impatient fingers demanding entry. The dim light of the hotel flickered, struggling against the pull of something unseen, something raw and waiting in the air.

You were in the lounge sitting on the sofa, the piano under the moonlight that created nostalgic atmospheres with the shadows of the reflections.

Alastor stood near the grand piano in the lounge, back turned to you, shoulders stiff beneath his coat. The room was empty, silent but for the faint crackle of radio static, seeping from him like a wound he couldn’t close.

You stepped forward.

«Alastor».

He didn’t turn.

«I should have left», he said, voice thick.

His voice was different. Not his usual sing-song lilt, not his playful, taunting tone. It was quiet. Unsteady. Almost human.

You frowned. «Left?»

He let out a short, breathless laugh, shaking his head.

«The moment I met you, I should have left».

Finally, he turned, and when he did, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Alastor had always been unsettling — too sharp, too knowing, always grinning like he was two steps ahead of everyone else. But now… now he just looked wrecked.

His red eyes burned, feverish, his usual grin nowhere to be found. Instead, his lips were slightly parted, like he wanted to speak but couldn’t form the words.

You stepped closer, and this time, he didn’t back away.

«What are you so afraid of?», you asked, voice gentle.

His jaw clenched. «Don’t».

«Don’t what?»

He exhaled sharply, running a gloved hand through his hair.

«This», he whispered.

«You...», he gestured wildly, like the very idea of you existing in his world was an offense to the natural order of things.

«It’s not supposed to happen like this».

You searched his face. «Like what?»

His eyes flashed. «Like this!»

And suddenly, his hands were on you — gripping your arms, pulling you close, too close.

You could feel the tremor in his fingers, the barely contained storm raging beneath his skin.

«You think I don’t know what you’re doing to me?», he whispered, voice rough, unsteady. «You think I don’t feel it? The way you—», his breath hitched. «The way you’re ruining me?»

Your heart pounded. «Ruining you?»

His grip tightened.

«I don’t love. I don’t want. Not like this».

His voice shook, something raw bleeding through the cracks in his mask.

«Not until you», his voice a tremor.

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

You lifted a hand, brushing your fingers over his jaw, his skin burning even through the gloves. «Alastor…»

He sucked in a sharp breath, as if your touch had cut him open, and for the first time, he didn’t move away.

«I hate this...», he confessed, voice barely above a whisper.

«I hate you», he said again.

«I hate that you’re in my head.

That I dream of you.

That every time I close my eyes, all I see is you. I hate it because I can’t stop it. I hate it because I don't want to stop it».

His forehead rested against yours now, his breath mingling with yours, the storm outside howling like a beast.

You swallowed hard. «Then stop running».

He stilled.

You slid your hands up his chest, fingers curling into his coat, holding him there, as if anchoring him to this moment.

«I don’t want you to love me if it means destroying you. But I see you, Alastor. The real you. And I’m not afraid».

His whole body shuddered, as if your words had shattered something inside him.

And then, before you could say anything else, he kissed you.

It was nothing like before.

There was no hesitation this time, no fleeting, confused touches.

This was something deeper, something desperate, something starving.

His hands tangled in your hair, his body pressing against yours like he wanted to disappear into you, like he wanted to drown in the feeling.

You gasped against his lips, and he swallowed the sound greedily, his grip unrelenting, as if letting go would tear him apart. The static around you roared, the air splitting with unseen energy, lights flickering wildly. The very room seemed to bend around him, as if he was losing control of everything but this.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his hands still cradling your face like he didn’t dare let go.

His voice was hoarse, barely audible.

«You ruined me, my dear. You have no idea what it means to want you mine. What it means to be mine. Like a poison you have corroded my mind. My heart».

You smiled. «No. I saved you», a shiver runs down your spine.

Alastor let out a sharp breath, something like laughter, something like surrender.

Then, with a slow, almost reverent touch, he kissed you again.

And this time, he didn’t run.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

I found a way to restore what I wrote!! ❤️

Here’s what I started:

~~~~~~

Tim, what exactly am I looking at?” Dick questioned as he stared at the stills on the Batcomputer. In them stood a young man who looked so unsettling like an older version of his deceased brother that it made his heart break.

“I’m… I’m not sure,” the teen stated as he pulled up the cowl footage and played it.

In it, Tim was being held and threatened by the unknown man as he stood over Jason’s grave, one in a different location from what he remembered (had Bruce moved it?). After Selina managed to get Tim out of his grasp, something that seemed just a little too easy, the unknown and Bruce fought. His words and movements, both familiar and foreign, suggested he was a resurrected Jason, but as the footage came to an end, the man was revealed to be Clayface. Normally, he’d say it the unknown man had been the rogue the entire time, but something wasn’t quite right.

Replaying the footage a few times, he tried to pinpoint exactly what bothered him. There were a few brief seconds Bruce lost sight of the unknown as the fight moved from the graveyard to the nearby church. After that, there were slight changes in the man’s movements. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough. Then there was the blood. The unknown had bled before running towards the church. Was it possible Clayface switched places with the person who started the fight? The more he reviewed the footage, the more certain of it he became.

“There was someone else there,” he murmured as he brought up stills of the unknown before disappearing from sight and afterward reemerging.

“I thought so too!” There was satisfaction in Tim’s voice. “And he knew Jason’s grave was empty when even the Riddler didn’t, and it was him and Hush who set up most of what happened.”

That had been a surprise when he found out since he’d only been around for part of it. The Riddler, using a temporary boost in intelligence from being exposed to a Lazarus Pit to help heal a terminal illness, somehow made a partnership with Thomas Elliot, a man who was once Bruce’s childhood friend but now went by Hush. Between Riddler’s desire to show he was a threat and Hush’s need for revenge, the two created an elaborate game that caused Bruce to run himself ragged due to the shear amount of hints and red herrings. In Bruce’s briefing, it was suggested everything was orchestrated by the two men, but if the Riddler had no idea Jason’s grave had been touched…

“You think there was a third person involved?” Before Tim had a chance to answer, Dick finally registered a detail the teen mentioned. Spinning around, he stared at him. “What do you mean Jason’s grave is empty?”

“It’s empty. The body is missing. Bruce thought the Riddler was just trying to make it seem like Jason somehow came back to mess with him, but, like I said, the Riddler didn’t know. And I’m pretty sure he was telling the truth since Bruce broke two of his fingers during the questioning,” Tim quickly explained as he pulled up that specific footage so Dick could see for himself.

“So, our third party happens to use this mess to steal Jason and impersonating him for some unfathomable reason or… were they trying to let us know he’s been gone? Or…” he glanced at the footage of the man who looked like his brother. The man was older than Jason had been when he died and was much taller and broader than they ever thought was possible for someone who had dealt with severe malnutrition. Yet, other people they knew had returned from the dead, and depending on how it happened, maybe it affected him in more ways than one. “Is it possible that’s really him?”

“The only thing I know for sure is that his movements really rattled Bruce,” Tim admitted. “But he convinced himself it was just Clayface the entire time. I don’t think he can bring himself to believe that Jason, if that really was him, could question his love for him.”

“Or maybe he doesn’t want to believe another person he loved could possibly turn against him.” He glanced at Jason’s memorial case and sighed. Bruce shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss the idea. If it really was him, there was no telling what could have altered or manipulated him in the resurrection process. Besides, he knew things hadn’t been great between him and Jason in those last months. Happy kids don’t run away.

“But, as we know, that’s probably the least likely option. But for now, our focus should probably be on finding out who this third person is and what he knows about the grave. I’m going to need to talk to Bruce about this eventually. It’s not okay that he hid something like this from me.” Flashing a smile that he hoped made him look more confident than rattled, Dick gestured towards the images. “Anyways, let’s go talk to the Riddler and see if he can tell us anything.” The way Tim’s expression lit up in excitement as he scrambled to get his stuff softened his fake smile into something more genuine.

Plot bunny that I wish to write but don’t currently have the motivation to work on:

After the who thing with Hush, Tim asks Dick to review cowl footage from the fight in the graveyard when Clayface took on the appearance of an adult Jason Todd.

After watching the footage a few times, he comes to suspect Clayface was only there at the end of the fight. There was someone else at the beginning. Tim admitted he felt the same way and let slip the fact that it was due to that fight that Bruce found out Jason’s grave was empty.

Upset he wasn’t informed of that and suspicious of the mysterious Jason lookalike, Dick ends up doing some research of his own and finds evidence of this familiar looking stranger slowly gathering information and power within the shadows of the city.

Going undercover as someone presumed to be associated with one of the Families, he eventually finds a guy who initially mistakes him for the stranger.

“What’d I do this time? Wasn’t the info I gave you enough..? Wait, you ain’t the guy. What is he? Your brother or somethin’? You two look almost identical.”

That gave Dick momentary pause, but he quickly decided to roll with it. “That’s right, but he unfortunately decided to strike out on his own in a way our family doesn’t approve of. It’s my task to find him. You know how it goes. Care to point me in his direction?”

This leads Dick on a merry chase trying to find Jason while trying to keep up the act

Edit: I was gonna post the little bit I got done a few months ago… and somehow Word deleted it? But I can see the file that was called ‘Resurrected Hope’ and the page/page and a half is gone :(

[gayofthefae]

Let's talk it through. Because it sounds silly, but Mike being straight ruins the entire story. Not because it hold so much weight, but because it is an ensemble cast, and ensemble casts' stories are intertwined. One tiny move from the originally and everything falls apart. People say it isn't planned but it's impossible for it to NOT be with the intertwinement REQUIRED of this structure.

So let's go through it. Every character can only have one ending and his being straightness is disprovable because it tears everyone else's apart (and I won't even touch themes):

Mike loves El. Fine for Mike and El in concept. But...

Not fine for Will. (If your argument is "they shoehorn that he's happy", yes, technically any writer could write literally any ending at any time in any story for anyone. That isn't an argument basis). So Will's story is ruined (yes, every protagonist needs a happy ending unless it's a tragedy, it can't just be your fave or who you think is the main and everyone else's is expendable). Will's is distressed

Which causes Jonathan distress. Jonathan's protectiveness over Will is then what has caused

Nancy's anxieties over their relationship. Nancy's anxieties over her relationship drive her to

Steve, who wants the nuclear family Nancy has repeated said she will quickly grow to resent, which will lead him to focus his energies away from his platonic relationships like

Robin, exploring her queerness in practice alone - a very scary thing she has shown to need support and a vent space in in 4x01 - but also away from

Dustin, which isolates him in his grief when he needs Steve the most. Dustin isolated, Will isolated, Mike and El preoccupied with each other leaves

Lucas isolated in his grief. Lucas isolated in his fight. This ties

Erica to him, unable to branch out and explore her nerdy identity and community as she is the only one there for him in the same way she was in the Creel house at her death and in the hospital before the team got back. Only the two of them together will fail much like season 4 in saving

Max, who died because of the group's physical separation in season 4, would now likely fail to be saved because of an emotional separation, and with everyone isolating themselves in depression, what would she have to come back to as a friend group?

Then we have their parents. Will struggling would directly affect Joyce in the same way it would Jonathan. She can't be happy if he isn't. And Hopper can't be happy when she isn't. And El can't be happy when he isn't. And Mike can't be happy when she isn't. Also, all of this has a history of just generally annoying Murray, as an addendum.

It's like when you play one of those connecting games with the lines, get one thing wrong, and have to erase the whole thing.

But I actually didn't even need to go through all this because, canonically, no one is happy they're together

especially in their most romantic season - season 3 - AND including THEM THEMSELVES. The only people off the list are characters who aren't present for their relationship to be hurt by it directly in the first place.

But let's go through how Mike being queer affects things, shall we?

Mike has feelings for Will. They get together and

Will is happy.

El and him break up, enforcing her independence from men though sad, sending her off more freely in her fight for Max. El being more independent relieves

Hopper of a weight, allowing him to focus more on

Joyce, who is also able to as well and instead of over worrying about her children now that she trusts that

Jonathan has been able to relax because he now trusts that his brother doesn't need him too much for him to be with

Nancy, who pursues her career alongside him as intended, keeping a platonic relationship with

Steve, who is then able to prioritize more platonic relationships in his life like

Robin, who has him to lean on as she ventures into romance for the first time and

Dustin, who can depend on him when he is grieving especially an "older male friend" like Steve is to him. With that support, he is less likely to isolate and more likely to seek solidarity with others grieving such as additional support to

Lucas, who now has both him and El supporting him, healing their grief together and making it so he has enough support that he isn't dependent on only

Erica, who is able to branch out more and cement her identity and friends who are more like her rather than just socially acceptable. Their team will also still be strong enough to get

Max back more successful than season 4 now that they are all working and strategizing together and in the same place.

When everybody else isn't stressed, Murray is less irritated with them. As an addendum.

So if Mike stays with El everyone including them is sad but if he's with Will everyone including them is happy.

This is why I shipped Byler. They're cute also. But this was why FIRST. Because it's formulated to be right.

I'm rooting for everybody's happiness. Most GA or other shippers are too, it's why we get converts as soon as they realize what "everybody's happiness" ACTUALLY means.

And I didn't have to do all this either. Because think(because there's a gif limit) how they were canonically when Mike and El are not together and he is with Will. Think season 2.

Lucas with Max. Dustin with Steve. Nancy with Jonathan. Joyce with Hopper. El finding herself. Everything as we know it should be. Or season 4.

That's no coincidence.

As I've said, it isn't about individual irrefutables. It's about patterns. Very, very consistent patterns. When everybody is happy and when they are not. "Season 3 changed and went downhill" and what single factor was altered as of season 3?

Mike Wheeler is not straight. Because everyone is doomed if he is. No less than everyone is doomed if Max dies or Robin doesn't get the Vickie or Vecna wins. Mike Wheeler is in love with Will Byers because everyone is doomed if he isn't.

If you move that piece of the puzzle, everything topples...which tells us that it is a piece of the puzzle.

[cvrnelians]

novacane - pt. I

dark!Bucky Barnes x reader: Bucky is the ideal boyfriend, until he isn’t. He doesn’t mean to scare you, but sometimes he just can’t control himself. There is no other option for you but to find a way out; if you can, that is. Because you are determined to make this your story—not his.

Warnings: domestic violence, emotional manipulation, stalking, non-con elements, 18+ only.

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry! Alright? Please let me see you. Please just open the door.”

You had locked yourself in the bathroom. Whether you were actually keeping him out or not wasn’t hard to guess. You knew he was more than capable of knocking down the door.

There were arguably many things in your life that had snowballed into something you didn’t know how to handle. Your relationship with Bucky was one such thing. You hadn’t expected it to even get off the ground, nor did you expect it to evolve into engagement territory. 

You had only known him for six months. 

Things were moving fast—too fast, so fast you began to feel woozy. Bucky was, as expected, old fashioned. He wanted to get married, start a family. And he wanted it now. As such, things progressed rather quickly. There were red flags. Lots of them. Little signs here and there that this wasn’t the right person for anyone, much less the right person for you.

He was demanding, controlling, smothering. But he was also kind, caring, honest. Authentic. Real. Bucky made you feel understood, more than everyone. More than anyone. He was special to you.

He was special to you, and he knew it.

“Angel, please. Open up.”

He began to knock on the door, or more accurately, slam on it. The doorframe began to shake. It was always the same with Bucky. He didn’t want to scare you, not at first. But he ultimately couldn’t control himself. He always managed to do so when all was said and done.

Not just scare you. Terrify you.

“You have fun tonight,” he had said pointedly, after you had broken up with him. You had chosen to do so in a well-lit, public place, at a party your best friend was throwing. You’d run it by her beforehand, not wanting to cause a scene. But somehow, you knew this was the right move. Bucky wasn’t the type to cause a scene. He liked to fly under the radar. He wasn’t proud of his behavior. He said he didn’t like hitting you, scaring you, hurting you. And he wouldn’t want other people to know he did just that. People already viewed him as dangerous. At his core, he didn’t want to prove other people right. 

“Have fun tonight,” he repeated. “But you’re going to regret this.”

Regret it, you would. But not for any heartfelt, melancholy, sentimental reasons. You regretted it simply because he would go on to make your life a living hell. Slashed tires. Little messages on your car, your windowsill, your doorstep. You didn’t bother reporting it. You couldn’t. What would be the point? He was Captain America’s best friend, for god’s sake. He was the Winter Soldier. Who was going to want to go up against that?

A crack formed in the center of the door. You were running on limited time, that much you knew for certain. You had two choices: 

Open the door and face him.

Let him knock it down and face you.

“Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to scare you.”

You’re too late for that, you wanted to say.

“Please just go away,” you sobbed. “Please, Bucky. Please.”

The slamming stopped, the shaking doorframe ceased in its movements. His voice was quiet, hushed.

“I’m sorry, okay, doll? I’m really sorry this time.”

This time. You suppressed the urge to laugh.

You had a choice. You had two, until in mere seconds, Bucky made it for you.

Let him knock it down and face you.

[usoppinggg]

100% agree on zosanuso couple to throuple being goated. The question is which variation is your fav? You could have established zosan, zosopp, or sanuso. I like them all but i dont think ive ever seen established sanuso bringing in zoro. I like the idea of zoro being blushy and stoic and insisting he "didnt want to intrude"

I have fic recs for the other two variants though its likely youre familiar with them as a fellow avid zosanusoer

Hope you don't mind but I'm gonna use this as an excuse to throw out some ideas on this topic that live in my head and/or partially on (virtual) paper bc I’m actually insane about them!!! It's all under the cut cause this is going to be long.

TLDR; my favourite couple to throuple dynamic depends on how much ~drama~ I'd like to indulge in. I think they're all fun and I'm happy once they're all together, because ZoSanUso is one of my favourite OP ships. I think I've read all the fics of them on ao3 multiple times :P I'm very curious into what version of the dynamics others enjoy!

SanUso -> ZoSanUso

I also haven't seen any established SanUso bringing in Zoro and I think that's a crime!!! SanUso who are very happy together but let's face it, Zoro is hot, and they both enjoy poking fun at him, they both revel in having his attention. It's not easy though, as they both have their reservations. Sanji's a little skeptical at the thought of intimacy and vulnerability with Zoro, and Usopp is terrified Sanji will discover he loves Zoro more than him--or worse, they'll come to love each other and not Usopp. But SanUso talk through it until they're confident it's what they both want, and if it happens, they can work through it together, and with Zoro. Zoro, for all of his stoicism and idiosyncrasies, is a reliable and dedicated problem-solver.

They know that with Zoro, actions speak louder than words, so SanUso make their move. Usopp's always been touchy with Zoro, but he lets his touches linger, presses with more intention. When their words come to blows, Sanji grins when they fight instead of snarling. And they're both flirty with him, smiling and giving him eyes.

It continues until Zoro can't take it anymore. They've been driving him crazy. He doesn't think he's misreading their signals, but without them explicitly stating their feelings, he's left confused. Zoro corners them and asks why they don't just say anything outright, making him guess and wonder. Wonder if they're teasing him.

SanUso of course, feel terrible and quickly assure Zoro that they do like him, and it wasn't their intention to make fun of him, but rather, express their feelings. Zoro shares that actions are important to him yes, but it's in combination with words that gives him the confidence to build trust and move forward.

So! Enter Zoro into the relationship! He's a bit awkward in the beginning, unsure of how he fits in their new dynamic and embarrassed to express his affection. SanUso are happy to close the gap, continuing with their flirty words and touches until Zoro's comfortable enough to lean into them and reciprocate in his own more low-key manner.

A relationship with three people is different, of course, and more than a bit terrifying, but it's also exciting and fun and they all look forward to seeing where it takes them.

ZoSopp -> ZoSanUso

Established ZoSopp is drama. Lots of silent pining on Sanji's part because he refuses to intrude, and doesn't feel like he deserves to impose himself on them. Doesn't want to mess things up for them by inserting himself. He tries to suppress his feelings, tries to will them away, but it doesn't work. So in his usual self-sacrificial manner, he pulls away from them, denying himself even their friendship so he won't yearn for more.

Then there's Usopp, who realizes that he's actively crushing on Sanji despite being in a committed relationship with Zoro. He's happy with Zoro and loves him a lot, but he knows that he's falling for Sanji and it's wrong, so he does his best to push his feelings down. But then Sanji pulls away from them and he thinks it's his fault for being too transparent with his feelings. He's terrified that he couldn't keep it together and is going to lose a friendship and a relationship.

Despite Usopp's denials that something is wrong and his refusal to talk about what's on his mind, Zoro knows what's up. He's not dumb, and he knows both Usopp and Sanji very well. He can see clear as day that they have feelings for each other. And when he thinks about it (while Usopp refuses to be honest and talk to him), he thinks he'd enjoy having Sanji as part of their relationship.

Zoro eventually gets to his last nerve because both Usopp and Sanji are annoying when they try to deny themselves what they want. When they won't even talk and try to fight for what they want. He confronts Usopp first, reminding Usopp that he doesn't have to go through his feelings alone. That they can't work through things if they aren't honest. So Usopp spills everything, all of his hopes and fears and doubts. And Zoro assures Usopp that this is something they can want and have.

Convincing Sanji probably isn't easy because as we know, he doesn't let himself have good things. But he's up against Zoro and Usopp, who are infuriatingly stubborn and blessedly patient. Romantic as he is, he can't possibly stave off his affection when they display it to him so obviously. He soon agrees to enter the relationship and is guarded at first, but with explicit permission to care for them and having them care for him in turn, he inevitably settles into the relationship which continues to thrive with his addition.

ZoSan -> ZoSanUso

In general, I’m only a fan of romantic ZoSan if there’s at least one other member of the EB5 in the mix. Despite the trust they have in one another, I don't think they'd stand the test of time in a monogamous relationship. But add Usopp (and/or Nami and/or Luffy) in the mix and I think it's much healthier all around.

I do have a couple AUs for this situation though because I think it can be lots of fun!

In my favourite one, ZoSan are in an established, but open relationship. They meet Usopp individually—Sanji meets him when Usopp comes to fix the oven at the Baratie/All Blue. Usopp’s his usual funny, charming, reliable self and when he’s done the job, Sanji asks him out. At the same time, Zoro chooses Usopp to do his latest tattoo after coming across the tattoo and piercing shop he works at. It’s a large piece that requires multiple sessions, and Zoro’s thoroughly entertained during each one. Cue them dating.

So both Zoro and Sanji are dating someone else, but neither knows the someone else is Usopp, and somehow, he never gets name-dropped. That is, until one day they're at home, Sanji twirling and humming to himself as he flutters about the kitchen and prepares a batch of treats. When Zoro asks what's got him in such a good mood, Sanji swoons and gushes about the date he's going on tonight, how he longs to see Usopp's dazzling smile, and the swordsman is in disbelief. Because there's no way they're both seeing Usopp, no way he's been unknowingly sharing Usopp with the damned waiter.

But they both know a good opportunity when they see it and try to figure out how they can proposition Usopp without scaring him away. They realize there's no possibility of him not freaking out in some capacity, so when Usopp invites Sanji to his friend Vivi's party, they know they have the perfect chance.

Usopp is, of course, petrified beyond belief at the sight of his boyfriend approaching while he's cuddled up under his other boyfriend. Especially considering that both boyfriends are terrifying in their own right. Before he can truly freak out though, Zoro comes over and explains that he's not angry, reminding him both he and Sanji are polyamorous, and it just so happened that they were both dating Usopp. They invite Usopp into the relationship and he happily accepts.

A lack of communication is definitely an issue here. Still, overall, it's the best possible outcome for Usopp, who's ecstatic that not only can he keep both his boyfriends, but they'll all be dating each other. And Sanji and Zoro never could've predicted how good Usopp is for their relationship--able to bridge the gap between them.

As for which one I like the best, that depends on what kind of mood I'm in. Today, I'm enjoying the ZS to ZSU timeline, but tomorrow it may change. I'm interested in knowing which dynamics everyone else enjoys and why.

Thank you for this and sorry for going a little overboard but like I said, I really enjoy the three of them together!

[bibuckleykinard]

how many times do we need to learn as people that irony and hyperbole can be harmful because 'jokes' aren't easily distinguished from genuine thoughts and feelings until we stop rewarding people for speaking or posting about violence

like even if you're joking/don't actually believe that/think whoever you are insulting is bad/immoral/fictional therefore deserves it - ad hominem attacks always do more harm to the people who share those characteristic then the individual you intend to cause harm to or discredit

[gibbearish]

anybody else like. dislike the concept of putting the ways youre privileged in your bio in general