#but fanfic is something that always stressed me out

[simp-ly-writes]

"Always, Sweetheart."

─────── · · A Black Ops 6 FanFic

Pairing: Russell Adler x Fem!Handler!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You were a handler of operators out in the field and Russell Adlers was your best and yet the biggest pain in your side with his constant flirting and desire to get under your skin. Yet as soon as someone else tries to annoy you or heaven forbid- flirt with you, it gets shutdown right away.

─ · · TAGS: men being dicks, female pronouns, no use of (y/n), protective!Russell, jealous!Russell, mutual pining, enemies (strong annoyance) to lovers, confessions, pet names, suggestive themes, hurt/comfort.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,477

─ · · A/N: I was going crazy looking at all the fan art. Don't think I will be coming fully back to COD like I was before, but I had to write something for this character. Hope you all enjoy!

─────── · ·

"Officer Adler!" you yell, bursting through the heavy oak doors and into the office space. Fellow agents, officers, and handlers all look towards you and then back at Adler frozen in time and space.

Adler takes a drag of his cigarette before waving his hand in a silent command for everyone to leave you both. Hands quickly pick up their belongings and feet scatter out before the doors enclose you both.

The man in question makes no further movement simply leaning against the corner of a desk, a smirk setting upon his features as his glasses slip down his face to watch as you near, hands gripping a manila folder.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he says in an even tone, observing the curves of your face that have fallen into a serious frown. "We have already gone over this before, agent. You cannot call me such, such-"

"Such what, honey?" He teases further, cigarette sitting between his lips as he leans closer and into your space. You take a half step back, pinching your brows together before letting out a breath. "The pet names, Adler. They have to stop, we are both professionals."

Adler hums out in contemplation, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out in the nearest ashtray. He nods his head in direction to the folder in your hand. "No. Before this," you wave the folder around to further prove your point, "we are sorting this thing out. I need to hear you say you won't do it any longer. It causes way to many issues."

"Issues about what? If someone is bothering you, you'll let me know right?" Adlers face drops, hands forming into fists, his stare already demanding names.

"Yes of course! But it makes me appear less assertive in my role, Adler. I have other operators I have to account for since you left and I can't have the newer ones thinking they can disrespect me in any way!" you try and explain, a hand gripping your hair as you stress.

Adler stands, gently taking your elbow before his fingers trail up your arm and towards your hand and head where he eases your grip from your roots. Before he can go to fix your hair you shake his touch off with a huff. "This is what I mean, officer," you say, throwing the document on the now bare desk.

"Well then maybe you should drop your other agents, (last/name)," Russell counters, arms now crossed against his wide chest. A few buttons to his navy shirt undone as you do you best to not look at the skin showing underneath.

"See you would have been my only operator as you have demanded in the past but as soon as you left, you failed to see that I still need to put food on the table so what little choice did I have but to be given new recruits?" you retort, falling into the nearby swivel chair as you stare at the door.

Adler crouches down, blocking your view. His hand twitching to pick up your chin to see your eyes once more. "Hey, look sweeth-(last/name). I can't apologize for my reasons for leaving but I will apologize for leaving you with no other options."

You nod your head before meeting his eyes once more, "So no more petnames?"

"No promises," is all Adler can say before leaning over you to reach for the documents you threw earlier. You lean back into your chair, hands gripping the arms, "You know you could have just asked me to get those for you?"

"Yeah but I got them anyways." You roll your eyes, "Hey- none of that now," Adler shushes you before looking back down at the files. You watch as his large hands grip the corners of the page, careful not to bend them before flipping it to the other side, a series of photos close to falling out as he tips the folder towards you to stop them. "I'm not a child in need of reprimanding, save that for the field workers."

"Never said you were but seeing you leaning back in that chair while doing that plants some images in a man's head," Adler's familiar smirk haunts you once again in the daylight. "Fucking hell," you swear underneath your breath.

"So, why am I being shown these? I already completed this objective..." Adler closes the folder, placing it gently back on the desk.

"Yeah, thats the issue. You see, Adler, we needed more information on those guys. Not for you to shoot them and the information with them!" you yell, swearing that your voice rippled the coffee in a nearby cold cup.

"Well, I'm going to let you in on a little secret off the books."

"And what secret would that be out of your many?" You lean forwards, playing with a ring on your finger. Adler stares at the movement before turning his back to you.

"I already knew all that information years ago, just had to make sure nobody else got to it."

─────── · ·

You thought that after that whole fiasco with your officer Adler, thing would have cleared up since then but it seemed that life had thought differently.

You were in a board meeting with your fellow operators, their handlers, and council members. One of your officers, Roger was sitting beside you, a notebook shared between the two of you as you both passed notes back and forth on the meeting that was dragging on into your lunch break.

"Well if they are planning biological warfare we have to meet metal with metal! If we are acting as moderates or even submissive what the hell room does that leave the enemy to operate in! They need to be neutralized long before those chemicals get out of the port, fuck the rest of them!" A board member yells from the top of the table as you lean back gaining a headache from it all.

Roger places a hand on your shoulder, his head tilting down to your ear, "You holding up alright?" he asks politely, turning his head for you to whisper your answer. "Yeah, just need this meeting to be over or at least to be paused. We are getting nowhere with all this shouting and violence."

The officer nods to your answer. "Yes, we have been circling over the same-"

"Oi! Do you to have something to share? Or are you both gonna keep whispering sweet little nothing into each others ears? Should I tell Adlers' that your cheatin' on em'?" Another handler chimes in, sending a toothy-white smile in your direction.

The other men around the table laugh as you lean on the table, threatening to stand. Roger makes no sudden movement in his chair, face set in a glare directed to the senior member at the unprofessional comment. Sighing you pick up your notes and crack your neck before reading your own radiant smile, eyes holding daggers picturing to stab through his eye-sockets.

"That will not be necessary, Paul," you spit out his name, "Nor is any of this discussion. We have all made no process since eleven! If we display strength with the military we risk our agents already operating within the operation and civilians. If we sit back and let it happen, we also risk a potential nuclear war. Our best option, which none of you men have brought forward and is embarrassing for our field is that we don't ship ourselves alongside the weapon, that way we can determine who has it, where it is meant to go, and where we want it to go."

You are nearly out of breath by the end of your speech as you stand and begin to walk towards the doors, Roger's hot on your tail as nods his head before all the members on behalf of you both, leaving the room in silence.

As soon as the door closes behind you both, you lean against it. "At times, I wish I had a dick like the rest of them but then I remember it's what makes them this way," you explain before picking yourself back up and continuing down the hall.

Rogers laughs, his eyes crinkling as he bumps your shoulder. You look up, casting him a smile as well. "You have a way of saying things, sweetheart. Would leave to see more of that mouth outside of work," Rogers says causing you to stand still in the hall as people walk around you both.

Turning to face your agent, your smile has turned into a glare once more. "Get back to work, Rogers. I expect a full report from last week still that I have yet to receive. Your co-worker has already sent theirs in with misinformation, I hope to not see the same things on yours. And please remember this, I. am. not. your sweetheart."

Turning back on your heels you continue further down the hall, Rogers left with your words before a whistle has you nearly breaking a heel by how much you want to throw it in his face. Russell. fucking. Adler. Standing there with that smirk yet again as he leans up against the break rooms entrance.

He holds out a hand, shaking it in a silent ask to carry your belongings. You shove them into his hand while using your other to press against his chest and to move him out of your way.

He does not budge, simply looking down at your lingering touch with a softening smile. "I am not in the mood, Adler. Please let me through," you use an overly sweet tone, you can feel him tense from underneath you.

"Hey, though I do love that tone when seeing you in a good mood. I do love viewing your rage. Lay it on, whats on your mind?" Adler asks, hand now resting atop your own.

"Move first and we'll sit and talk," you counter to his nod. Adler drops your touch, arm moving to welcome you into the empty space as everyone had already cleared back for work.

Coffee in hand, sandwich in the other, you took to your seat. "I'm so sick of men constantly stepping all over me when I worked just as hard- no. Fucking harder for this position and I still get treated like a little girl in their fathers suit and it does not help when after three hours of men shoving their dicks on the table a younger one then gets the audacity to be asking to see my mouth while calling me Sweetheart," you complain, downing the rest of your coffee before slamming the cup against the saucer.

Adler appears even more tense then you, his hands grips into fists allowing the veins across his forearms to appear most prominent. "Give me a name."

"Pardon?" you ask, embarrassed that you had became so easily distracted.

"Give. me. a. name, please," Alder asks once more, his eye staring deeply into your own. "Hey, whats wrong, sharing is a mutual affair," you reach across the table to grasp one of his hands, surprised when he pulls away. He's never done that before...

"Nobody gets to say that shit to you, not when I'm here. I'm sorry that you had to hear that, sweetheart." And for some reason you don't feel disgust except an overwhelming feeling of comfort as the word dances through your ears. You try and fake annoyance but Adler only takes that as further fuel against whatever man had wronged you so.

"Theres no need to apologize, Adler. I already told Rogers off-" you should not have said that, already regretting your words and Adlers chair screeches against the tiled floors, the door being slammed behind him as he storms off to find Rogers.

─────── · ·

The next time you are working with Rogers, he does not even look at you unless you command him to. He does well to hide his face to the best of his ability but it is hard not to notice the black eye or scarring underneath his chin. Tisking to yourself, you tell the agent his next meeting point in the south Mediterranean sea before setting off on your next mission, to find Adler.

It did not take long as he was already waiting in your office. First aid it open and displayed across the documents on your desk. He did not hiss or move as he poured the anti-bacterial fluid over his wounds, his teeth gripping a bandage in wait as he had yet to acknowledge your presence.

"Alder," you scolded like a tired mother before taking the wraps from his teeth and standing between his legs, gently wrapping his hand before pressing a kiss to your work that had both of you chuckling.

"You didn't have to do that, you know. Could have gotten you suspended-"

"You really think they would suspend me, honey?" you blush, shaking your head and taking a step away yet Adler catches your elbow, standing, chests touching as he leans down to get a better look of your face.

"All I'm saying is that you have to take better care of yourself, officer," you retort, eyes quickly casting to his lips before holding his gaze.

Alder smiles, hand now cupping your cheek as you allow yourself to lean into his touch. "Are you sayin' you care about me, (last/name)?" he teases, eyes already knowing the answer by the way in which they crinkle, mirroring your own.

"I care for all of my operatives, Russell Adler."

"But am I really just an operator to you, sweetheart?" his words now nearly a whisper upon your lips that part in wait.

"Well there's only one way to find out-" and his lips were on yours. His hand now holding the back of your head, nudging it upwards as you curved into his touch, hands gripping his shirt and around to his waist. Russell's other hand moved to grip your waist, thumb rubbing circles into your side as you felt his smile upon your lips.

Pulling away, lips puffy and eyes starry as you panted for air, Adler barely gave you anytime to breathe before he was kissing you again. Any papers on your desk were thrown to the floor before Russell was picking you up by the back of your thighs and placing you on the desk, legs spreading to keep you both close.

Standing back to full height, Adler looked at you sprawled out before him, hands morning their way up from the ankles that kept him locked into to place, up to your calves and towards your thighs and lower torso. Your breath gasped as his hands teased at the skin between your waist and shirt, skin tingling, his touch lingering with shared desire.

"Kiss me again," you pleaded.

"Always, Sweetheart."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: If this is recieved well may make another one... 🤷

[pavellan-hell]

I know the brainrot's bad when I'm actually considering writing fanfic

[sesamestreep]

Crozier/Fitzjames, fake amnesia

from this list of reverse tropes for fic writers. i told @firstelevens I wasn’t sure I had it in me to write fic for these two and then I went and washed my hair and while I did that, this idea popped into my head fully formed and I was bound by honor to write it down. Also it’s the first thing my brain has wanted to write in like two months, so I took that as a good sign?? Anyway, here’s…something. Kind of a Parks and Rec AU?? but also not in any serious way? It’s like…what if these dudes from The Terror worked in local government or whatever… don’t worry about logistics, I mostly wanted to write Blanky and Crozier being best friends and also talk about sobriety feelings a bunch. AND THEN I DID. only fits the prompt if you squint super hard but, regardless, please enjoy… on ao3 because why not

“So, you feel ready to go back to work tomorrow?”

Francis removes his gaze with considerable effort from the perfect red orb that is the sun sinking steadily under the horizon line across the lake and shifts it reluctantly back to Tom, who’s sitting back in his chair with his booted foot propped up on a milk crate that he got from God knows where. The sight of the boot that encases the lower half of his left leg does push a wave of guilty bile up the back of his throat but he’s already been told that if he apologizes for causing Tom to have need of it one more time, he’ll be drowned in the aforementioned lake, so he resists. Tom knows Francis is sorry about what happened and he’s chosen to forgive him, even if Francis still thinks it’s a stupid choice, second only to him befriending Francis in the first place all those years ago. Francis doesn’t know where he himself would have ended up if that hadn’t happened, though, so it all comes out in the wash he supposes.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Francis says, tracing a hairline fracture in his coffee mug with his thumbnail just for something to do. “If I take any more time off, I’ll just never go back, so it’s now or never, really.”

“Attaboy,” Tom says before taking a long, thoughtful drink from his own mug. Out of solidarity, or maybe sensitivity, he hadn’t had anything to drink tonight either, despite Francis’s assurances that it wouldn’t bother him and might even be a good idea, just for him to get used to it. It’s not like he could reasonably expect to go the rest of his life without ever seeing alcohol again. He’d seen four different ads for light beer alone this afternoon while watching reruns of ‘Bones’ on the couch and imagining every possible way his first day back in the office after rehab could go wrong and that hadn’t sent him into a tailspin, so he’d probably survive watching his best friend drink in his presence. Still, Tom had chosen to just drink decaf coffee with him after dinner like the ancient relics they are, because he is, without a doubt, the best person Francis has ever known. “You talk to anybody about it? I mean, besides me…”

“What, you mean like a therapist? Of course. I’ve got, what, six of them now, for Christ’s sake!”

“No, I mean, from the office. Have you talked to anyone about coming back?”

“Well, John, obviously.”

“I suppose you’d have to, yeah,” Tom says, running a ponderous hand over his chin. “Anything interesting from that quarter?”

“Just about what you’d expect,” Francis says, trying to be generous. John had been kind enough to let him keep his job, after all, despite how bad things got in the end, but Francis’s issues with the man remain, even with his newfound sobriety. Francis had sent him a long, downright obsequious email apologizing for the damage he’d done with his drunken theatrics both over the years and in the very recent past and explained in detail all the ways he was going to do better in the future, while expressing gratitude for the unprecedented amount of grace everyone, but particularly John, had shown him during this stressful time. It was, in no uncertain terms, the most embarrassing thing Francis has ever had to do, and he has, in his life, proposed to the same woman three separate times with absolutely no success, so it’s not like he’s lacking in options for that top spot.

John is, thankfully, the sort of man who likes to breeze past unpleasantness wherever he can and is also, more importantly, a deeply entrenched bureaucrat who’d just as soon do no work as do even a little work and therefore could not be bothered to hire a replacement for Francis. In fact, if he had to guess, John was probably clever enough to frame it as some sort of protection against a discrimination lawsuit somewhere down the line, despite the fact that several things Francis did at the staff Christmas party right before hitting rock bottom were definitely fireable offenses. John’s unflappable dedication to the status quo has worked in Francis’s favor for once, and while he certainly doesn’t deserve the break, he’s going to take it where he can get it on the off chance it never happens again.

“And the staff? Your team, I mean.”

“I got coffee with a few of them individually, just to clear the air and apologize, so that if anyone wanted to take a swing at me, they could do it outside of work,” Francis says, scuffing his shoe against the porch.

“Well, that’s considerate of you. Any of them try it?”

“No. The cowards,” Francis scoffs, which makes Tom laugh. “Jopson and Edward both seemed like they might be sick at the prospect of anyone in charge actually deigning to apologize to them, which was…humbling, to say the least. Then I got an extremely nervous monologue from Harry about the history and relative efficacy of Alcoholics Anonymous, which I think was his way of saying we’re square. And Silna told me if I tried to meet up with her outside of work hours again, she’d block my number and quit without notice, so...”

“She’s got the right of it,” Tom says, with a crooked grin.

“Yeah, that was my favorite of the lot,” Francis replies. “We’ll have a team meeting tomorrow and we’ll get someone in from HR so everyone can talk about feelings, God help us, but I think it might be okay. Which I could not have predicted when all this started, but here we are.”

“I could have,” Tom says. “You’ve made plenty of mistakes, I grant you, but you’ve also done right by these people in a lot of ways. They’re not going to forget that in a hurry. They’re a loyal bunch.”

Francis nods, looking out over the water again. The pinks and golds of the sunset a few moments ago have already faded into purples and blues as night creeps in. The nocturnal chorus of frogs croaking and insects trilling is rising in the nearby woods. He’s already said his piece about how absurd it is that they’re sitting comfortably outside on the porch after dinner—with jackets on and a fire going, sure, but still—and it’s only the beginning of March. Tom doesn’t need to hear any more ranting about global warming right now; it’s no fair repayment of his generosity. What Francis really should do is head for home soon and let his friend have some peace and quiet. He could use some of that himself, but he somehow doubts that he’ll get much rest once he’s home for the evening. At least he can panic about tomorrow properly there, though, by himself.

“Speaking of throwing punches,” Tom says, carefully, after they’ve been quiet a moment, “have you spoken to James at all?”

Francis winces with what feels like his entire body. “I haven’t had the chance,” he says, as lightly as he can manage.

It isn’t precisely true. If he found the time to contact everyone else who’d been affected by his spectacular fall from grace during his leave of absence, he could have found the time to reach out to James too, but he hadn’t. The apology he owes James Fitzjames is too big for an email, which he’d, in a truly cowardly fashion, gotten away with for almost everyone else, and the presumption and humiliation of asking for any of his free time as he’d done with some of his subordinates was a bridge too far. Besides, if they’d met up at a coffee shop to talk things out, Francis has no doubt James would have ordered his drink with oat milk or stevia instead of sugar or mentioned a cleanse he was on and Francis would have rolled his eyes and said something awful and then he probably would have had to go to rehab all over again, which would have defeated the point. Francis has been told by outside observers—professionals in the field, for what it’s worth—that he’s making progress, but he’s even more sure that he’s still, at his core, a miserable old bastard. He’s just less miserable than he was before, by a small margin. Unfortunately, he’s not any less old, though. In fact, he’s older, but that’s beside the point.

“You’ll have to face him sooner or later,” Tom says, not quite gently but not as bullying as he could be either.

“I know,” Francis says, covering his face with his hands. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I mean, if anyone’s entitled to an in-person apology, it’s James, surely.”

“After you punched him in front of everyone at the Christmas party and verbally berated him? Yeah, I think something more than a text message might be in order.”

“You accepted an apology text,” Francis says, scowling into his mug. “And I broke your leg. You needed surgery and everything. I don’t even think I broke James’s nose.”

“Only because your aim sucks when you’re wasted,” Tom replies, unbothered. “Gave him quite the shiner, though, if you want to compare wounds.”

Francis sighs. “I already said I’d talk to him. You have my word.”

“What am I? Your bloody father?”

“No, and I like you a great deal better for it.”

“Good, then what do I need your word for?”

“I was just trying to convey my sincerity.”

“I don’t doubt your sincerity, Francis. Never have. It’s everyone else you need to convince.”

“I don’t know what to say to James,” Francis says, into his hands. “I mean, with you at least, we’ve known each other for ages. We can bounce back from quite a lot, it turns out. James, he’s—I’ve never known how to talk to him in the first place. Now I’ve got to do it sober? I don’t know where to start.”

“How about, ‘James, I’m sorry for trying to knock your lights out with an audience present while I was drunk off my ass on the company dime’ to start?”

Francis closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, letting the shame wash over him like a wave and then, more importantly, letting it recede like waves do. He sighs loudly and shakes his head.

“You know, I’ve always regretted I wasn’t the sort of drunk who forgets what he does when he’s wasted. Feels like it might be easier, ultimately. Like, I could say, ‘oh, sorry for whatever I might have done to you, James. The trouble is I don’t remember any of it, but I’m sure it’s nothing I would have done sober, all the same.’”

“Feigning amnesia?” Tom barks, laughing and looking at him sideways. “What’s that? The thirteenth step?”

“Leave me alone,” Francis replies, waving him off but laughing himself despite his best efforts. “I’ve done a lot of owning up to things lately. Can’t I keep one petty grievance for myself?”

“You could probably get away with it, if you’d left it as a petty grievance rather than escalating to violence. And your resistance to dealing with James should tell you making amends there is your highest priority. Discomfort is a good thing here, a signal you’re heading in the right direction. If it were all easy, everyone would do it, you know.”

“That’s lovely, Tom. Will you be cross-stitching any of these aphorisms onto pillows to remind me to stay the course, or shall I just memorize them for when times get tough?”

“Fuck off, you dusty old prick,” Tom laughs. “Hey, what about this? ‘James, I’m ever so sorry for getting plastered and calling you out in front of everyone and then attempting to rearrange your pretty face with my fist! I do think some of the blame lies in you being so pretty and in me having some unresolved issues around my masculinity and my self-esteem, all of which you can blame on my waste of a father figure growing up, but in this case, I suppose I have to shoulder some of the responsibility for my actions myself. Forgive me?’”

“There’s no one else on earth who could get away with saying even half those things to me, you know,” Francis says, even as his blood doesn’t boil or even heat in the slightest hearing them. It rushes to his face instead, no doubt resulting in a fierce blush that the gathering darkness mercifully hides from view.

“I earned it the hard way, my friend,” Tom says, patting his boot.

“That you did,” Francis says, and rises from his seat. “I’d better be going, then. Much to do, after all: apologies to draft, laundry to fold, worst case scenarios to spin out.”

Tom gets up with effort, clunky and inelegant in his boot, but not so proud as to decline Francis’s hand when it’s offered. “I wasn’t trying to scare you off,” he says once he’s vertical.

“You didn’t. It’s like I said, I’ve a lot to do before the big day.”

Tom nods and, after a moment of deliberation, puts a hand on Francis’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, you know.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Francis replies, shifting away from the praise. “More of a bad man trying to be better.”

Tom gives him a long look at that and then shakes his head, smiling. “All that work on yourself and you still don’t get it,” he says, not unkindly. “What else do you think a good man is?”

Francis doesn’t know, but he spends the whole ride home and the rest of the night thinking about it all the same.

*

Francis’s plan of attack, such as it even exists, takes form more easily than he could have predicted. Once he starts thinking about how best to approach James at work and make amends on that front, he finds he knows a lot more about the man than he originally thought. A few years working together, however contentiously, has been enough to pick up on each other’s habits and quirks well enough that Francis can reasonably predict when he’ll be able to get a moment of James’s time without anyone else around. The fact that he can do this and yet never thought to do it before under any other circumstances is the cause of another wave of shame that passes less quickly than Francis would like.

Francis arrives at the City Planner’s office just before 8:30 in the morning with the certainty that he won’t run into John—the man has many flaws but his dedication to never showing up to work any earlier than he absolutely needs to is not one of them, in Francis’s opinion—but that he will, in all likelihood, find James already there and more than likely already working. He also arrives with the materials for a bribe, should that prove necessary.

He’s so worked up, going through everything he’s planning to say one last time in his mind before he actually sees James, that he doesn’t think to knock on the outer door, which is sitting half-open anyway, and just barges in instead. It’s not a great start, he realizes a second after it’s too late to do anything else, and it’s made even worse by the fact that James is there, as expected, and he’s only partially in his shirt, which is not so expected. Francis stops and gapes for a moment with all the grace of someone who’s been tased.

“God, sorry,” he says, and tries to step back, only to collide with the door jamb. “I should’ve—”

“Francis, it’s—good morning, I—this isn’t—I’m the—I’m sorry,” James says, managing to sound crisp and self-possessed even when he’s stammering his way through an apology. “I don’t normally…do this…in the office, I mean.”

“No, of course not,” Francis says, behaving like a teenager in a romantic comedy for some reason and averting his eyes, even though there’s nothing to see. James was in the process of buttoning his shirt when he came in, so it’s really the sight of his clavicle that’s made Francis so uncomfortable. Was he always this much of a ninny? Is that why he started drinking, to cover it up? It’s the only explanation that makes any sense now.

“I went for a run this morning and I neglected to pack a shirt with my work clothes, so I had to use the spare I keep in my desk for emergencies.”

The old Francis (of several weeks and easily a thousand group sessions ago) would have rolled his eyes at any number of things in that small explanation: running to work, keeping a spare shirt in one’s desk, referring to anything related to fashion as an ‘emergency’ and meaning it. Now, he nods thoughtfully and tries to think of it all as part and parcel of what he respects and admires about James: his dedication and planning, his ability to anticipate and address future challenges. The fact that he looks nice in blue. Whatever. It turns out it’s easier to do than he imagined it would be.

“I don’t think you have a habit of undressing in the office for fun, James,” Francis says, instead of any of those nice things. “Don’t worry.”

“Right,” James says, lightly, even as his shoulders remain tense. He does up the last few buttons and his clavicle disappears under the taut poplin fabric of his dress shirt. “Well, what can I do for you, Francis?”

Francis has heard—and, in turn, mocked—James on any number of occasions start conversations with a smooth, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’, which is not an expression Francis himself has been treated to in a long time and for good reason. He doesn’t know why he thinks of it now, except that he’d take even a sarcastic reference to the pleasure of his company (of which there is none and never has been for James in particular, he thinks) over the idea that James should do anything for him, at this point.

“You’re training, then?” Francis asks, skirting gracelessly around the question James actually posed. “For another one of the what-do-ya-call-em’s? Not a marathon. The thing you did last year…?”

“The Ironman,” James suggests, looking slightly pained. “It’s a triathlon.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Another one of those?”

“God, no,” James replies, nose wrinkling slightly before he seems to catch himself doing it and intentionally blanks his expression. “I’m not likely to do another one of those. I already have my bragging rights, after all. Today’s run was just for health.”

“Oh, sure,” Francis says, tapping a fingertip nervously against the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. “I’m meant to be doing that now.”

“Running?” James asks, betraying some surprise, which is fair enough.

“Exercising. For my health. To keep me…”

“Fit?”

“Well, distracted,” Francis replies, with a shrug. “There seems to be some thought of it helping to keep me away from drink, though I’m not sure what the logic is there. But I’m meant to be thinking of something I’d enjoy, anyway.”

“Not running, then,” James says, brow crinkling like he’s giving the matter serious thought. James is a fixer by nature—and by profession, of course, being paid mostly to follow John around and make sure the grand promises that flow from his mouth actually happen somehow. He thrives with a problem to solve. If Francis were even marginally less stupid and less proud, he might have thought to come to James sooner. He’s nothing if not several very large problems wrapped in a trench coat. Or a wind breaker, in actuality. The point is, Francis could use all the fixing he can get his hands on.

“Not likely. Never enjoyed it, really. Hard on the ankles, I’ve found.”

“Yes, it can be quite stressful on the joints. You’ve got to take all sorts of precautions,” James says, in the tone he gets when he’s working his way up to a long treatise of some kind, but he stops abruptly and his face betrays that he’s seemingly caught himself. He clears his throat. “So, it’s not for everyone. I understand.”

“Yes, well, my sponsor was saying that I might try tennis or racquetball, but then I’d have to find a regular partner or group, and I’m not sure I have it in me.”

“There’s a club nearby, actually, and they could help you arrange—” James pauses and shakes his head, once again stopping himself from expounding on the different options available the way he normally would. It’s an uncharacteristic amount of restraint coming from James, who loves recommending things to other people almost as much as he loves the sound of his own voice. Francis sees some of his own handiwork in this new display of shame and feels the need to make amends even more keenly than before because of it. “Well, you can Google it, I imagine, and it would be faster than listening to me. It is, uh—it’s in Eagleton, however, so I suppose that won’t do.”

“No,” Francis replies, frowning. “Thanks all the same, though. I imagine I’ll end up doing water aerobics with the rest of the senior citizens at the community center and call it a day.”

“You’re not a—you’re barely fifty, Francis!”

“I’m fifty-two, actually.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I hope you have your affairs in order,” James gripes, as he messes with something entirely unnecessarily on his desk. Francis smiles at the strange comfort of annoying him, which should not be reassuring to him at all but he’s a messed up sort of fellow even on his best days. The smile grows when James clears his throat again and adds, like he can’t quite stop himself, “Swimming’s rather good for the joints, actually.”

“Swimming?” Francis asks.

“Yes, swimming. As in, laps…in a pool. Something else the community center offers, if you were interested. It’s solitary—meditative, even—and good exercise. In—that is, in case you were wondering.”

“If this is you trying to talk me into a triathlon, James—”

James sniffs, more performatively haughty than genuinely haughty, Francis suspects. “I’d never,” he says. “I was merely recommending an activity that you might enjoy more than water aerobics, and that might spare the elderly of our community from dealing your obvious personality disorder early in the morning, when those classes tend to be held.”

Francis, much to James’s surprise from the look on his face, laughs at that. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he says, while James continues to regard him like he’s wild animal exhibiting signs of rabies who’s suddenly appeared in his path, which is maybe a common occurrence in town, depending on who you ask. “Thank you.”

James nods, distracted. “Sure.”

“Well, I—I…listen, I didn’t come here to talk about exercise regimes, which I figure you could have guessed,” Francis says, in a rush, because anything less than a headlong dive into the subject they need to discuss will hurt much worse than just getting it over with, he suspects. “And I don’t want to presume anything about your life, but I also figure there’s a non-zero chance that you’re already familiar with the famous 12 step program, maybe just through cultural osmosis, and I don’t want to over explain any of it to you, but, well, there’s a pretty important part about identifying people you’ve wronged through your addiction and the resulting behavior and making direct amends to said try people and—”

“I’m familiar,” James interrupts, softly. “Not directly, of course, or, um, anything like that—I don’t want to detract—but—”

Francis waves him off. “No need to explain. I just—well, obviously, that list of people, for me, had to include you, because of what transpired between us at the end of last year and how I behaved. The things I said to you, then—how I’ve always spoken to you, really—and of course, I—God, I’m so sorry. It feels absurd to say out loud but I’m sorry for lashing out at you and hitting you, I should never have—”

“It’s fine, Francis,” James says, starchily. He’s got a nervous hand pressed to his ribcage, so intently that it’s almost shocking to look and see no actual knife sticking out from there, somehow. With that, it’s hard to believe the breeziness of his words. “Really, this isn’t necessary.”

“And I’m telling you it is,” Francis explains, as carefully as he can manage. “Maybe it isn’t for you, I don’t know, but it’s necessary for me. Do you—can you understand that?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” James says, after a deep breath. “Of course. Is there…more?”

“You tell me. Is there any other ways my drinking harmed you that I haven’t thought of?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

Francis holds up a hand to stop him. “That probably read as very sarcastic, given our…history, let’s say, but it was a genuine question. I think I’ve raked myself over the coals for every possible slight I can imagine but if there’s anything I did that I can address for you now, I’d have you tell me.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” James replies, shakily. “I only meant, I don’t really know what goes into all this. Is amends just an apology or is there more to it? I don’t need there to be, I was just curious. That’s all.”

“Well, you’re meant to endeavor to show you’ve changed your ways, I suppose. To indicate that you won’t be perpetuating the same harm in the future. Which, in this case, is tough, because…well, I mean, all I can give you is my word I won’t try to knock you out at work ever again.”

“Outside of work hours, however…” James muses, with a small, mirthless smile.

Francis winces, but otherwise doesn’t react. “I’ll never behave that way towards you again. On my honor, for whatever that’s worth.”

James folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the carpet, appearing like a sullen youth for a brief moment before he raises his gaze and becomes a grown man once more. Francis remembers when he’d shown up with John that first time, how he’d called James an infant to Tom when they finished their initial meeting with him about the town’s budget crisis all those years ago. Tom had laughed at him, wheezing ‘he’s a decade younger than us, if he’s anything, Francis. He’s our bloody peer now, and if you don’t see it, you’re cracked!’ Francis thought—still thinks—Tom is the one who’s cracked, in this case. James looked young, then; he looks young now, everywhere except the eyes, which contain a stormy sea’s worth of disappointment. Francis can be self-centered with the best of them but he knows he’s not the one who put that feeling there in the first place. He’s not that important. For the first time, however, he feels protective of the man in front of him because of it and takes it as his very solemn duty to never be the cause of his disappointment again, so long as it can be helped. All that and it’s not even 9 in the morning yet.

“It’s worth plenty,” James says, eventually, clearly just as uncomfortable with this much emotion so early in the day as Francis is and eager to be done with it. “Thank you, Francis.”

“Yes, well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’ve been nuisance enough for one morning, but if there’s ever anything you want to discuss or clear up between us, my door’s always open. To you, that is. Well, to anyone, but just in case your particular welcome was unclear, I mean, you should—”

James sweeps a hand out wide in a graceful gesture like he’s literally clearing the air. “Understood,” he says, sincerely, “and appreciated.”

“Great,” Francis says, too cheerily and then winces again. “I mean, uh—right, I’ll just be going then.”

As he pivots back towards the door, the sloshing noise of the ice shifting in one of the cups he’d forgotten he was holding draws his attention. Christ, right. The whole point was—Francis really is starting to lose his mind. He contemplates just leaving anyway, like nothing’s amiss, but he’ll have to explain the two drinks to his team, absolutely none of whom will buy that the iced chai is for him. He’s gone on too many rants about how coffee shouldn’t be iced and tea only on certain occasions. He’s the type to drink hot, black coffee even on the most brutal summer days, though his sponsor did warn him that a lot of alcoholics do turn to sweets as a coping mechanism for replacing alcohol in their daily lives and not to be surprised if he found himself needing additional sweetener in his morning coffee as a result. Francis hadn’t credited it at the time, but he had found himself momentarily tempted at the coffee shop this morning by a sign advertising something called a ‘death by chocolate latte’ as the daily special before he’d gotten a hold of himself, so maybe there’s some truth to it. The point is, dragging this extra drink back to his office will be more humiliating than turning around and giving it to James like he originally planned, no matter how awkward it feels right now.

“Okay,” he says, turning back, “I promise this is the last thing and then I will let you get back to work. There’s, uh—it’s not a bribe, mind you, just an extension of the apology for what happened and for the fact that you’ll have to continue working with me for the foreseeable future and—you don’t have to forgive me, you don’t owe me that, I just thought—”

James looks at him, utterly perplexed, fingertips gently steepled on the top of the desk like he’d already been going back to whatever he was working on when Francis interrupted again. “What is it?” he asks, somehow still not betraying any annoyance at the interruption, hiding it well under an open tone of curiosity.

“The—this,” Francis finally spits out with considerable effort, holding the cup out towards James, rather than try to explain himself further. “It’s for you.”

“Oh,” James replies, with an expression like Francis is trying to hand him a live gerbil and not an upsettingly overpriced beverage like the ones he’s seen James drink on dozens of occasions. “I, uh—that’s really not necessary.”

“You must take it, James. Please. I said you’re not obligated to forgive me, I’m not trying to sway you, really. It just felt wrong to show up empty handed, after everything.”

“I understand, but, really—”

“You’re not on another one of your cleanses, are you? Giving up sugar or…calories before noon or something?” Francis ventures, imbuing his tone with more patience than he normally would, even though he still feels very little towards this thing in particular.

James is already so annoyingly healthy and brisk and handsome, it does take extraordinary amounts of patience to tolerate his talk of intermittent fasting and green juice with the goal of making himself even more annoyingly perfect. Surely, there’s got to be a limit to that sort of thing, but Francis doesn’t know; he’s on the opposite end of the spectrum it seems, having to re-learn the fundamentals of barely looking after himself in middle age without the aid of alcohol. It’s pretty grim, if he’s being honest. It really is no wonder that James has been so consistently earning the gold medal spot in the competitive sport of getting on Francis’s nerves, with that in mind.

His intentional gentleness does seem to pay off in this case, though, since James smiles at him in only mild embarrassment. “Uh, no, I’m not. I just—you’re not obliged to—”

“I know, but—listen, James, I already committed my penance by having to say the phrase ‘dirty chai’ with a straight face to a college student with a lip piercing at eight in the morning, okay? The damage is done. You might as well enjoy the spoils of my humiliation.”

James’s smile widens at that, looking for all the world like he can’t really stop himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that mental image might be worth more to me than the entirety of your apology.”

“No offense taken,” Francis says, finally succeeding in handing off the cup, slick with condensation by now, into James’s care. “I hope it will sustain you for a while yet.”

“Oh, it shall,” James says, placing the cup gingerly onto his desk.

“Right, well,” Francis replies, “that’s all, then. I’ll see you…later, I suppose.”

James nods. “We have a meeting set for Tuesday—tomorrow. It should be on your calendar. Thomas said he—”

“If Jopson says it’s there, it’s there.”

“Great,” James says, easily. “Until then.”

“Yes. ‘Til tomorrow.”

Mission completed, Francis turns once more towards the door and is only interrupted in leaving by the sound of James clearing his throat behind him. He pauses, and looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in question when he meets James’s eye.

“It’s only—forgive me if this is the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances,” James offers, fidgeting with the edge of the notepad lying open on his desk, “but you do—that is, you look well, Francis.”

Francis doesn’t allow himself the liberty of moving even an inch, not to fiddle with his collar or brush back his hair or otherwise indicate he gives so much as one singular damn about his appearance. “Do I?” he asks, tone purposely vague, like James has just told him the weather forecast and it’s only interesting to him in theory, really.

“Yes, very well,” James says, putting his hand flat on the desk very deliberately, like it was giving him away before. At what, who knows, but he’s got it under control now. “This change, it suits you.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.”

James now looks at his computer screen, absently. The next words he says might be something he was reading off of there, if they were anything else. “You look good, is what I meant.”

“How—?” Francis pauses, feeling immense pressure to say this right, somehow. “Sorry, but how would that be the wrong thing to say?”

“I wouldn’t want you to think, well—” James interrupts himself by laughing, just a little and rather joylessly. “It’s not that you didn’t look good before.”

“Oh, right,” Francis says, even as those words continue to make no sense to him in that particular order coming from this particular person. “Wait, you’re saying—I did?”

James meets his eye again, finally, but only to give him the most impatient, long-suffering look in human history. “Is it too much to hope that one of the twelve steps involves learning to take a compliment?” he asks, sounding depleted by the effort. “Because it is one of your most exhausting qualities that you can’t do so without endless interrogation first.”

“And it’s got a lot of competition,” Francis replies, feeling himself smile and choosing to do nothing to stop it, “what with all my other exhausting qualities.”

“You’re really only proving my point here, you know.”

“Thank you, James,” Francis says, dutifully. “It’s very kind of you to say. Better?”

“Much,” James sighs. “You’re showing remarkable improvement already.”

Francis leaves him, then, because to stay any longer would just be exposing himself to further ridicule and he’d absolutely deserve it, what with the stupid smile he now can’t seem to get rid of.

[ghostlynimbus]

...I'm putting way too much thought into this wings au

[ilys00ga]

.

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

[elllisaaa]

YOU SHOULD DO FILMING A SEX TAPE WITH ENHYPEN

yes yes yes !! the only downside of me thinking about this too much is that now i have the increasing need to write a full fanfic about filming a sextape with heeseung

HEESEUNG gets hard the second you mention the possibility of filming a sextape. he strikes me as someone who would fucking love to receive and send nudes, so having videos of the two of you would feel even better. it’s perfect for when he’s away on tour too, because he’s a visualizer and he cannot cum if he doesn’t hear your pretty moans. he’s basically down for doing everything on camera, and he will even end up creating a special folder just for these videos. he has some close up of your pussy covered in his cum, of you drooling around his cock, of your cunt swallowing his big cock. i think he’d also tease a whole lot more, being cocky about the whole situation even if he’s the one losing his mind every time he watches the footage again. anyway, he’s on the nasty side.

“- open your mouth for me pretty, show me how much of a slut you are for me… yeah, just like that.” 

JAY would literally do anything for you, so of course he is going to say yes. i don’t think he would particularly into it himself, but how much it is turning you on is what makes him hard. he’s the definition of a service dom, so it isn’t surprising. he’ll talk about it with for hours before actually doing it so that he can be sure he will fulfill your desires perfectly. and there will also definitely be a much more romantic dimension - footage of your face when he’s making you cum, of him while he’s worshiping your body and you’re the one holding the camera, or of your whole body on full display while he’s fingering you. your fantasy will slowly grow on him though. 

“- you look so beautiful, princess. i love you so much.”

JAKE is a whore, of course he’s saying yes. actually, he will surely be the one to ask you about filming a sextape, something he had always wanted to try. he’s horny all the time, and even more when he’s stressed out and far away from you - some videos of the two of you are not a want, they’re a need. though the content is a little different from the one his two hyungs like, in the sense that jake loves when you’re on top, and that’s what he wanna see when he needs to jerk off. videos of you riding him, of him whining pathetically when you’re edging him, of your hand on his cock while you’re telling him that he’s your toy. he wouldn’t be against having some footage of him destroying your pussy too, but you domming him is always what gets him going the most.

“- fuck, you’re so tight… please, let me cum inside and film it dripping from your pussy… please.”

SUNGHOON is so cocky about it, it’s actually infuriating how confident he is. the whole time you’re discussing it with him, he has that smirk on his face, and maybe he’s even sitting on the couch and manspreading and and and ! anyway, he’s down for it as long as you beg - it’s not that he’s against the idea, it’s just that he loves to see you get down on your knees for him. the majority of the videos consist of showing how much of a slut you are : ones of you being ruined from behind, of you grinding against his thigh with tears in your eyes, and of your eyes rolling to the back of your head just because of his fingers. he’s sending you those footage at the worst moments because he loves it when you’re all needy for him, he just wants to see you go crazy on him.

“- that’s it darling, fuck yourself on my cock like the dumb girl you are.”

JUNGWON is not very big on nudes, he prefers the real thing or to call you if he’s really in need of a quick release, so you’ll have to be the one to bring up the thought. but once you do, he’s actually down to try it with you. i can’t see him loving it as much as the others, but once in a while, it’s something he enjoys. with him, it’s mostly short videos focused on your boobs bouncing with each one of his thrusts, or of his cock buried deep in your cunt when he’s barely moving. what turns him on the most about it are the sounds the both of you are making. 

“- you feel so good, baby, don’t stop… say my name again.”

SUNOO is so shy at first, he’s really hesitant because he doesn’t want to disappoint you if the videos turn out to be bad. but he’s trusting you with his life, and he knows you will stop as soon as he asks you to do so. as much as he is a pillow prince, he will make the videos all about you and your pleasure. his favorite footage is the one in which he’s eating you out like a starved man and you’re moaning his name like a prayer. there will also be some shots of you caressing him while filming everything through the reflection of the mirror, or of his hands running your body up and down. he mostly does it for you because he knows how much you miss him when he’s away, but he gets to cum every time so he loves it too. 

“- i want you to remember how good it feels everytime you rewatch this.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

I am constantly procrastinating working on my original fic by writing fanfic. Any advice for how to refocus and finish my novel?

Well. The novel probably needs a nap.

Procrastinating is a symptom that something is preventing you from doing the thing you "should" be doing. Most of the time it's an unrelated, but actually higher priority task like resting after an illness (society is fucking lying about anything else being more important) or filing your taxes (actually this one is pretty important).

...but if you're procrastinating on one creative project with another creative project, you're not procrastinating: something about the novel is off right now, the fanfic is more appealing to you.

Consider the following:

You may be writing fic because it brings you more joy than the novel. If you really want to get back to the novel, figure out what would make working on it more enjoyable. Engagement from a beta-editor? Skipping this really boring scene and coming back to it later? Adding more smut?

You may also be writing fic because it's got a lower spoon coat than the novel and you need to conserve your spoons right now. Any extra stress in your life? Moving? Toothache? Recovering from Covid? Annoying roommate? Sick family member? It's an election year? ANY of those could soak up extra spoons and make your novel too expensive for your spoons budget. Let it take a nap, and come back when you're feeling better.

You may be sharpening your artistic skills on a lower-stakes project before going back to the novel. This is pretty normal- even Michaelangelo took breaks to work on other pieces while sculpting The David, both for a change of pace and so he could try something out without fucking up the big block.

Fortunately, you're writing, so you can always try writing the challenging scene a dozen times in different docs or save the parts that were good but don't not in a spare parts bucket doc.

Or keep working on that fic, it's helping you learn on a subconscious level.

You don't love the novel right now. This is alright. This is usually temporary, and the solution is the same- put it aside and work on something else.

Maybe you are just bored of the novel. That's fine and normal, you just save all the documents to your hard drive and come back later. When the fic inevitably gets boring too, you'll come back to the novel and either go "oh hey this kicks ass!" And return to it with renewed enthusiasm.

...Or you'll come back to it and go "oh. This is actually a piece of shit" And that's okay too, because there's nothing more useless than polishing a turd, but that turd is still valuable as compost. You learned things writing it, and you can still rifle through the novel for good lines or scenes or turns of phrase and put those in your spare parts doc to ferment into The Good Shit in the back of your mind.

HOWEVER:

If you are experiencing a different phenomenon wherein you are actively distressed while writing the fic- either out of misplaced guilt, or the fic isn't actually fun you just feel compelled to do something, or absolutely every creative endeavor is stressing you out, you may be experiencing a serious mental or physical health issue and you should see your GP or a specialist ASAP. Pain is an indicator that something is wrong. Do not ignore your body's warning light.

That sounds really dramatic and hyperbolic but realizing I was not enjoying ANY creative work was the symptom that finally got me to sit down and go "huh. All these random pains, irregular sleep cycle, frequent migraines and weird bouts of vertigo aren't normal either, I should get this looked at." And it turned out I had dangerously low blood oxygen at night from undiagnosed sleep apnea. I have a CPAP machine now and it's AMAZING.

I really hope this is regular artistic shuffle and not a serious health concern, but if you're experiencing creative stress AND a bunch of other shit, it may be serious.

[cannellee]

MIKEY! ALPHA! HEADCANONS! WE NEED THEM! i love all your works, please continue to try your best!! (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾ you’re the only blog that we can count on for amazing cute abo fanfics! ♡ 🍓

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ★

alpha! Mikey x omega! Reader

— tokyo revengers a/b/o headcanons

tw : mikey's a perv, outdoor sex.

my masterlist : ☆

(thank you so much anon!! I'm so happy you like my blog, thank you for keeping me motivated!!🫶🏼 I also included nsfw headcanons here since I had 2 other requests for alpha mikey which included this)

I think alpha mikey's main trait is that he's extremely protective.

he's protective but not in an overwhelming way, he's way more subtle than baji can be for example. glaring at anyone when you got your back turned, but he's giving you an angel face when you face him.

mikey's a walking warning for everyone and alphas know better than to challenge him.

you might think mikey is a passive type of lover, unbothered and going with the flow. people could think that you're the one leading the relationship but you're not.

as long as you're not hurting yourself or others are not bothering you, it's all good.

but a no from mikey is a no, and a firm one at that. no negotiations or compromises : mikey's your alpha and he knows better.

and that's why you trust him! you listen well and he loves that about you.

you're such a docile omega! mikey's melting everytime you obey him so quickly without questioning any of his words.

but he has to admit there's something about you being bratty that amuses him.

he loves to see you act all big and sassy : it makes him want to show just who is in charge!

but mikey's very soft. don't misinterpret his assertiveness as him being controlling. he cares about you and your opinions more than anything.

he takes your thoughts into account so much that a simple word from you could have him doubt himself.

he's anxious and always stressing over his capabilities of fulfilling his duty as your alpha.

this worry alone pushes him to do his very best at looking after you.

when you first met mikey, he knew you were gonna be his. he couldn't have it any other way. you were just so perfect for him : his complete opposite, a breath of fresh air.

if you had a partner when you met, you should have been ready to say bye to him because mikey was not letting you go around with someone that wasn't him.

one might think mikey's not attentive, reliable or understanding and that he's a bit detached, but that's a misconception.

actually, mikey's really soft and cares for you so freaking much :(

he's a huge fan of skinship, hugs, hand holdies and anything of the sort.

he lives for the attention you give him! if you're ignoring him too much for his liking, especially when you're out with people, he will kindly remind you of his presence and casually spread his pheromones.

mikey can act cute all he wants, but once anyone gets a sniff of his scent, they'll be fleeing far from the both of you.

his scent is literally threatening to anyone that's not you.

of course you don't know that, mikey doesn't want to scare you off. but he can't help but get overly jealous sometimes!

and it works everytime : nobody wants to get on his bad side.

also, don't expect mikey to make you food, he's hopeless when it comes to cooking. but he will be buying you toneless of snacks and sweets though.

but make him food and he falls in love all over again. food is literally mikey's weak spot and there's just something about seeing his omega takes care of her alpha the best she can that is so endearing and cute to him.

asks you to spoon feed him and while you do he'll 100% make a mess purposely & ask you to clean his mouth yourself...

he's down bad and always touching you. there's something primitive in him which highlights his possessive instincts whenever you show yourself a bit vulnerable to him

as your alpha, he feels deeply touched that you're feeling safe enough to show this side of yourself and does everything he can to assure you that you can, in fact, trust him fully.

your small frame and doe eyes looking up at him make you look so delicate, it sparks up his protective instincts and a comfortable sense of purpose. knowing he has someone to come back home to, someone who'll always be waiting for him warms his heart.

mikey is all about staying inside : he's a lazy and cuddly alpha, he could bet he's in heaven when you let him lay his head on your lap while playing with his hair.

your nest is his favourite place. he's inside of it even when you're not, even adds his own little plushies and stuff, scents them and rearrange your nest.

you constantly nag him about it because you hate it when someone is moving your nest, even if it's him.

he apologizes and offers to make up for it by eating you out lol.

he has no shame and is dying for your touch. he loves the way you taste! your slick is filled with your fruity scent and makes his head dizzy.

if you were to let him, mikey would be fucking you 24/7 without a rest. he's just addicted like that<3

don't expect him to be slow and gentle, mikey likes it rough and so do you, luckily.

expect to wake up the next morning covered with bruises and bite marks : he likes it so much when your whole body is a reminder of how much you belong to him!

let him scent you and claim you the way he wants and you have the happiest mikey on earth!

but mikey'll take you out! he loves late night dates and watching sunsets with you <3

always gives you his scent covered coat to keep away both the cold and unwanted attention from you.

during your walks, mikey's body and mind are only focused on you. his senses are alert, he's careful and very observing. nope, you're not getting out of his sight tonight and nobody's getting too close to you.

but it doesn't stop him from being a perv.

you've learned not to wear skirts or dresses when you're out : his hands magically grab the hem of your skirt and flick it just to sneak a peek at your undergarments.

the embarrassment you feel is insane, but what's more insane is the pool that's forming between your legs everytime he does so.

your arousal is so strong it drives mikey mad and you're somehow still surprised when he appears to not be able to control himself.

"my sweet omega, be good for me and spread your legs".

he ends up fucking you in a dark alley, your panty pushed on the side and your skirt all the way up with your bare ass out.

you're bend over with your hands on the wall while he's pounding into you from behind just the way you need it!

he's fucking your brains out and you find yourself crying both from pleasure and the exciting fear of being caught.

once you've both cumed, he carries you back to the safe place of your home where he can please you properly. because you and your pleasure matter more than his >:(

(and also because your aroused smell is enough to attract all the alphas of the neighbourhood and mikey doesn't want to fight when he's too busy burying his cock inside your warm pussy).

your presence gives him so much peace, there's not a day he's not grateful to have you. you're the only one who can make him sleep soundly at night and actually appreciate life.

his nightmares and urges are now under control. you keep him composed. just one look at you and your pheromones (his favourite smell) suffice to put his mind at ease.

the first time he introduced you to toman, he made sure they all acted right in front of you. they were a bit surprised by you and how kind you were compared to the invincible mikey, but everyone knew you were the perfect match <3

randomly calls you during the day and comes pick you up after school. he's your personal bodyguard and takes his job rather seriously tbh. asks you what you want to eat and buys everything you ask.

making sure you ate is his priority n.1! he needs to make sure you're well taken care of.

doesn't show it but he's always worried about you.

mikey doesn't let his emotions show, he only lets himself be vulnerable in the comfort of your embrace.

he's always carrying an item with your scent and expects you to do the same.

he's soo loving and affectionate, alpha mikey is the perfect mix between a guard dog and a big teddy bear. it's all about balance!

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[agirlwhodreamsandwishes]

Never again

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you feel like you are not worthy of being part of the avengers, you discover someone who thinks exactly the opposite.

a/n. So, this is my first fanfic :). I would really appreciate if you tell me if you liked and your opinions about it! I hope I don't dissapoint anyone! Any advice would be appreciated. And please, remember English is not my first language.

Word count: 1.5k

Fluff, shy Bucky.

As a new avenger everything was hard for you. Not because the rest of the team wasn’t nice or understanding with you, but because of all the pressure you had to go through. Everyone in the city was looking at you all the time, at the new girl, questioning every move you made. Why wouldn’t they? You are the novelty, something new to talk about after a calm period of time. You were there for six months and you were already stressed. 

“Hey Y/N, you okay? You seem off.” You heard Wanda asking as she looked at you with a frown. You had made friends; Sam and Wanda were immediately your favorite people in the team since the first time you arrived, always so welcoming and nice. But you never tell them how you really felt; you didn’t want to be a bother, they all had their own worries and you didn’t want to be another one to add to the list. “Yeah! I’m just tired, I couldn’t sleep last night.” You try to fake a smile hoping she would buy it and stop asking.

Every day at night you go on a walk by a little beach near the compound— your safe place, a moment of peace in which you let your feelings out, crying while nobody is watching or listening to you. At least, you don’t think anyone notices your daily routine, you think you’re being cautious. But that’s not the case, there’s one person who has been watching you since almost the first time— Bucky Barnes, the cold and sometimes rude super soldier. 

Bucky Barnes was stunned the first time you met him, but you thought he didn’t care about you. He looked at you when you introduced yourself, nodded and left the room. You almost cried. Why was he that rude? The truth was that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. When you met him you didn’t look scared of him nor you didn’t seem to hate him. You were like a ray of sunshine, smiling and being nice. He couldn’t allow himself to be near you, he didn’t deserve you. But he started to notice your nightly walks and he couldn’t allow you to go alone. What if something happened to you? No, no, that couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Bucky suffered each time he saw you cry, but he didn’t want to interfere, thinking you wouldn't want him near. So he tried to cheer you up from a safe distance. You received flowers (sunflowers, because they reminded him of you), your favorite candies and, even once, a book you wanted to read for a few weeks before he sent it to you. You didn’t know who was buying those things for you, you thought you had some fan like the other avengers had. 

“Hey! Sam! Look what I received today! Someone sent me some candles! They smell amazing!” Sam chuckled at your excitement looking discreetly at his super soldier best friend, who was sitting at the sofa, peeking at you from behind the book he was reading. “Y/N, that fan of yours must really like you a lot, doesn’t it look like that, Bucky?” Of course, he knew his friend, and he knew Bucky was head over heels for you. “Yeah, sure.” Bucky hid himself again behind the book, not before sending a death glare to his friend. You blush, realizing in that exact moment that he was there. You might have developed a tiny crush on him. Well, maybe not that tiny, but he was so handsome. And even though he barely talked to you, you loved when you saw him laughing and joking with Sam and Steve. It was a rare but beautiful sight.

It was night again, and the day had been really hard for you, you had made a mistake that caused the loss of some important files. The team was able to recover them, but still, you felt awful. It was like you only failed again and again. That night, you started walking by your comfort beach but you couldn’t see through all the tears falling down your eyes; it was too much. You sat in the sand and started crying; you couldn’t stop. 

You felt strong arms wrapping you. “I’m here.” You could recognise that voice anywhere. Bucky was there, with you, hugging you and telling you that he was there for you. You hugged him tight while crying more and more, while he caressed your hair. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay.” 

When you calmed yourself, you didn’t want to move, you were too embarrassed to do something. Not only had someone seen you crying, but that someone was Bucky Barnes himself. “Y/N? Do you feel better now?” 

You nod and look at him, your face completely red. He chuckles when he sees how embarrassed you are. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m here for you if you need me.”

“I… I feel awful. What I did today… it could’ve ended really badly, Bucky. I’m only a burden; I don’t belong here. People are watching me fail everyday at something. I can’t anymore.” You try to not start crying again but you fail.

“Don’t say that That’s completely false, Y/N. You’re really important here. You don’t realize how helpful you are here.” He hugs you again and kisses your forehead while you keep crying. 

“Do you really believe that? I’m not that relevant; I’ve been here for six months.” You look at him again, still blushing.

“Don’t you realize how much we need you? It’s not only the fact that you are an amazing agent, it’s also because you always have a smile on your face, always smiling. You are always there when someone needs something, willing to help. You don’t want anyone to suffer, but you suffer alone. The team would not survive without you. I wouldn’t survive without you.” He whispered that last sentence and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were still hugging and you were so close to him, you would’ve missed it.”

“What?” You blushed again. “Bucky, what do you mean?” 

It’s his turn to blush, as he ignores your question. “You know, it’s not the first time I see you here… I just didn’t want to bother you. It seemed like you wanted to be alone and… yeah, today… I couldn’t just stare and do nothing.” 

“I appreciate it. I really do. I needed that hug.” You look straight in his eyes. “But can you answer my question, please?” You saw how he avoided your eyes and blushed more. You then realize that he hadn’t let you go off his arms, and you blush as you start to chuckle because you two look like idiots. 

“Are you really gonna make me answer that? Can we ignore it, please?” He knew he’d have to answer but he didn’t want to. 

“Yes, please.” You now looked at him with a serious expression and he realized that this was his chance, he was going to tell you how he feels about you.

“Okay, but please don’t interrupt me, I need to say this quickly” You nodded. “Y/N, I… since the fist time I saw you, you live rent free in my mind. You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. You truly are light; you bring sun to the darkest days. You remind me of a sunflower. When you started walking at night, I started too; I couldn’t let anything happen to you. When I saw you crying every night… my heart broke in a million pieces, I wanted to help you, be there for you everytime you needed me. But I didn’t know if you would’ve wanted me to be with you, I know that we are not that close, and I feel it’s my fault.” You didn’t know what to say; you stared at him in shock.

“Bucky, why? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Why didn’t you talk to me? Or tried to be my friend?” You were trapped in his eyes, so blue you thought you could drown in them.

“I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I… I have something to confess. The flowers, the candles… It was me.” He looked away from your eyes.

“Look at me, Bucky, please.” He looked at you, then at your lips. The tension was palpable. You looked at his lips and then up at his eyes. When you saw the way he’s looking at you, you felt at home, safe. You had never felt as loved as in that moment. So you did it. You kissed him and the world stopped. It was just both of you; nothing else mattered. You felt safe with him and you knew you’d never be alone again.

“Bucky? I don’t want to do this walks alone again.” He laughed and wrapped his arms around you again, kissing your forehead. 

“Never again, love, never again”.

[koolades-world]

Ok ok ok hear me out because this is gonna be so cute

All the brothers but Lucifer turning into babies/toddlers and it’s just the most adorable thing ever

Mammon is clinging to his older brother like he’s his life support(if Lucifer puts him down he cries) 🥺

Omg I’m gonna cry thinking about this

Ok so back to the original thing I was gonna say

Can you do headcanons / a fanfic of MC helping Lucifer deal with his now baby brothers and actually has a knack for it

Like they’re rocking them to sleep, helping feed them, playing with them, etc

MC also obviously takes pictures of Lucifer taking care of his brothers too and it’s the absolute cutest thing you’ve ever seen

The brother’s ages also depend on how old they actually are, so mammon is like 4, Levi is maybe 3, Satan is 2, Asmo is 1, and of course the twins are like a few months old

Belphie and Beel cannot be separated or they will start crying

OMG asmo saying his first words / taking his first steps

I’m actually gonna cry this is so cute

I can totally see Satan insisting he doesn’t wanna be near Lucifer but the moment Lucifer isn’t within his sights he starts throwing a tantrum because he does indeed want to be near him

HFHCKWBGHWJCUSHVZBC anyways-

(Can we also get his reaction to MC humming Belphie and Beel to sleep)

hi!! AWWW this is literally so cute!!!!

parent mc and luci <333

decided to do hcs and a drabble since this is just so so so adorable. i could totally be talked into writing more of this concept haha

please enjoy!

Mc and Lucifer take care of his brothers as babies

I've already decided this was def solomon's fault, just like most other shenanigans

lucifer was at home with his brothers, and you happened to be with diavolo, helping him with a redecoration project at the palace

he could hear his brother yelling in the living room, but suddenly, it all stopped. at first he wasn’t too alarmed, but as the silence persisted, he decided to get up and check it out since his older brother instincts began to kick in

solomon actually met him at his door, word vomited, and almost vanished on him. lucifer managed to catch him by the collar and made him repeat himself

when he finally explained what happened, lucifer almost dropped him out of shock and called you up because he needed major help

once you arrived, you were less upset than lucifer

while he was stressed already, you couldn't help but coo at how adorable they all were

mammon and levi were arguing about something you couldn't understand, satan was occupied with a pillow with tassels on the couch, asmo was playing with the ends of solomon's cape, and the twins were fast asleep

luci fully expects you to back out, and is prepared to deal with them on his own, but is surprised when you scoop up asmo and began playing with him

after that, he learns what a wizz you were with kids

when they had a problem, you were on top of it

the two of you took turns changing diapers and things like that but he was surprised on just how much you were able to handle on your own

his brothers also adored you and were always competing for you attention and showing you all of their things

anything you did, they would want to do too, which was both cute and useful

in the meantime, solomon was supposedly trying to find a reversal spell or potion of some kind, but lucifer didn't really believe him

a few times, you had visitors. luci only allowed diavolo, barbatos, luke, simeon, and solomon into the house. luke had lots of fun and helped you take care of the brothers, while lucifer and simeon talked and did other chores

over this time, luci learnt a lot about you, and grew to appreciate you evermore

"Mammon! Levi! Time for dinner. Come sit down please." You set out four plates of vegetables, pasta, and chicken nuggets for the older brothers. Asmo and Satan were already in their chairs, waiting for food to be served. While they ate, you and Lucifer would feed the twins from a bottle. You'd fallen into a routine and learnt exactly how each of the boys liked everything done.

The two, who were running around the dinner table, settled into their chairs beside each other, and began to eat. Granted, they were arguing the entire time, but as long as they ate their food, you could care less. The arguing became background noise quickly enough.

Once they were mostly finished eating, Lucifer took them upstairs to get ready for bed, while you handled the twins. To make things easier, the two of you decided to let them all sleep in Lucifer's bed. At first, you had wanted to keep Beel and Belphie in a crib in his office, so the others didn't wake them up, but they couldn't rest there for more than an hour or so without waking up and bawling their eyes out.

As Lucifer got his younger brothers into their pajamas for bed, they all began to act as they had every night when he did that routine with them nightly, such as beginning to get restless and whining about bedtime. As he did, and while he humored them, he remembered how thankful he was for you and how he wouldn't be able to do any of this without a child expert like you.

It took him a while, but eventually, he had them to bed, and while it took a little longer, you had the twins to bed temporarily, to give the two of you time to get ready for bed.

"Mc." Lucifer greeted you as you walked into the room with a nod.

"Hey! Everything all good?" You slid into the seat next to him and began eating the plate of food he had set out for you.

"Yes. They're all asleep but I had to promise Mammon cartoons tomorrow morning. Expect to be woken up early." He chuckled a little.

"Ahh, that's alright. Could be worse. Besides, you love him." You smiled at Lucifer. He had finished eating, and was just relaxing, and enjoying the silence. As you continued to talk to him, he sat and stared at you. After a while, you realize he hadn't said much of anything. "What's wrong? Something on my face?" You wiped your face with a napkin.

"No, no. I just wanted to tell you thank you." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Even if this is the rest of out lives, I wouldn't mind, as long as you're here." Lucifer had never said something so sweet so randomly to you.

"Luci! You're too kind. Thank you too." You threw your arms around him. You were thankful for him too, and while you didn't exactly know how to put it in words, you tried your best to put all your feelings into that hug.

Once the two of you were done there and ready for bed, you got the twins and joined his other brothers in bed. You were able to drift to sleep with a baby on your arms and with the thoughts of Lucifer's true affections for you.

[miskamix]

Hii!! Can I req Chuuya x SH reader? Can be both angst and fluff, you don't have to tho if you don't wanna <3

𝓒𝓱𝓾𝓾𝔂𝓪 𝔁 𝓖𝓝! 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

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This is another thing i didn't expect people to request, and it brings me so much comfort when i find sh comfort fanfics:(

If you are struggling with sh please know i'm always open to talk if you want:) and i'll try to comfort you to the best of my ability! (i'm usually not on here during the day so you can ask me for my discord in dms)

I'M SO SRRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE I REALLY NEEDED A BREAK SINCE I WAS SO STRESSED FROM SCHOOL 😭

Also, English isn't my first language so please dont mind any spelling errors!!

TW: SH, gore? Talk about fresh SH cuts, Might be ooc😓 please tell me if i missed anything!

Words: 1,3k

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sometimes in life things don't go the rigth way, is what people say, they say "sometimes in life things don't go the way we want, but thats just how it is"

But right now it felt like absolutely nothing was going the right way, you felt like the whole world was against you, like you were some useless peace of garbage that could be thrown out at anytime, like there was no one in this damn world that would sit down and listen to your pityfull problems. you were at your abselut worst.

And the only thing that could help the with it was the razor in your hand, which is cutting your thigh. you move almost like a robot, you don't even feel the pain of the razor anymore. everything seems like a dream, all the blood coming out of your cuts and dripping and mixing in with the water of the bathtub, your vision being slightly blury.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you bring your razor to your Radial vein. you shake slightly as you look down at your wrist debating if you should cut it or not.

As you start breathing faster you look at the suicide note you left on the chair next to the bathtub. you wondered how long it would take for chuuya to find you, would he even care if you died?

you feel tears start to run down your face and you start to sniffle uncontrollably.

As you're about to cut the vein you hear a loud knock on the door, "[name]? baby are you in there..?" your boyfriend chuuya asks in a quiet voice.

You quickly wipe your tears and panic a bit as you didn't lock the door since you weren't expectinc chuuya to come home this early, "Y-yeah.." you say trying to not sound sad, but knowing chuuya he most likely heard the saddnes in your voice.

"Darling.. is something wrong..?" He asks in a conserned voice, "i'm just.. washing my hair" you try to come up with an exuse while your whole body is shaking. "Darling, you washed your hair yestarday tho? are you really okay in there..?"

'Damn i forgot about that' you think while trying to find a place to hide the razor. While you panic you some how bump into the soaps and knock them down making a loud noise. "Baby are you okay? i'm coming in" he says and opens the door, "NO WAIT!" but before you can stop him, he has already opened the door and seen your cuts.

.....

.....

After a few moments of silence and staring at each other, chuuya finally makes a move closer to you.

"...Chuuya.. please i'm sorr-.." You try to explain but your voice starts to shake and you feel a lump in your throat. "...shh.." He quitelly walks closer to you and wipes the small tears that have started to for in your eyes.

"...I'm so sorry.. i k-know i said i'd.. try to stay clean for you.. i tried my best.. i swear.. i'm sorry.. please.. p-please don't get mad.." You sob as more and more tears start falling from your eyes. Your vision is starting to blur from all the tears, so much so that you can't even see chuuya anymore.

"....shh... darling.. i would never be mad at you.. what could ever make you think that..? i understand how hard it is to recover from something like this.." He whispers into your ear while holding you close, not even caring about the blood staining his clothes.

All you can do is cry and cry, you cant even manage to answer his question, all that came out if your mouth were pityfull sobs and 'i'm so sorry'. Chuuyas shoulder was becoming wet form all the tears but he didn't mind, he would do anything just so that you could feel better.

After some time of Chuuya trying to comfort you and trying to get you to tell what happened, did you finally calm down slightly, just enough for you to able to answer his questions.

....

Chuuya starts washing your cuts gently, you both sit there in silence with the only sound beinf your small sniffles and some small choked sobs.

After a few seconds chuuya decides to break the slience, "..Darling, please.. what happened that made you relapce..?" he asks with a gentle tone while holding your shaking hands in his. For a moment you stay slient, wiping your tears. "...i... i-i've...", you say in a shaky voice trying to break out into a crying mess again. Right at this moment you didn't know what to say, you really didn't know how to say what made you do it.

"...take your time..", Chuuya's soft voice snaps you out of your trance, you feel his thumbs rubbing on top of your hands in a comforting way.

"...its hard to say.... i-i don't know how to put it into words..", you whisper, hoping chuuya wouldn't be mad. You're scared he'll be mad at your answer, scared he'll force you to talk, force you like your mother would always do. You remember the first time you relapsed she got mad and forced you to talk, even when you were crying.

"..thats fine.. its not always easy to put something like this into words.." Chuuya caressed your back in a comforting way, making you want to just cry, cry so hard and let everything out, everything that has been bothering you, all your worries and troubles. You felt so comfortable in his arms, like you were safe. "would writing it help?", he asks and runs his fingers through your hair.

You burry your face in his neck and nod, feeling him pick you up and carry you over to your bedroom. He gently puts you on the bed and you slightly whine from the stinging pain that came from your cuts, holding back your tears. '..i'm sucha an idiot..' you think while watching chuuya leave the room to go get paper.

....

Chuuya comes back after some time with a piece of paper and a pen. He gives you the stuff and sits down next to you while waiting for you to write on the paper.

You sit there for a second before starting to write about how you've been feeling really insecure about yourself and thinking that you arent enough for him and that he should be with someone else. Once you're done writing you hesitate to give the paper back to chuuya for a bit, but you decide to just do it.

Once its in Chuuyas hands, you look away embaressed about the thngs you wrote, hoping he wouldn't judge you for it.

After a bit of silence, chuuya finally says something, "Darling.. why didn't you tell me..? i could've helped you feel better.." He says quietly and you just look down ashamed feeling like everything is your fult. You knew you should have told him, maybe then you wouldn't be in so much pain at the moment.

You felt like you were about to cry again, you felt weak. You just wanted to lay down and forget about the world around you.

"...i was scared.. i'i was so scared you'd be mad at me..." Your voice breaks as you try to explain everything to him. Chuuya sit there with you in his arms listening to you with a worried look on his face.

"...darling i would never hate you.. you're the most important person in my life, i would never be mad at you for relapcing.." He says while stroking your hair and rocking back and forth slowly. you hug him tight, like your scared he'll be gonne once you let go of him.

For the rest of the night chuuya keeps you in his arms while he comforts you and tells you how much he loves you.

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Grr the end was rushed 😓😓

Anyways, pleae give me some feedback, it really helps me when people tell me what i should try to be better at.

Do not repost this on any other website without asking me first and giving me credit!!

Requests: Closed for now

[aardelea]

How They Would Comfort You After a Long Day

Hi everyone!

I wrote this little headcanon to brainstorm some new scenarios for fanfics, and I thought you all might enjoy it too! It’s all about how each of the ghouls would react when you come home after a long, exhausting day—and the unique ways they’d comfort and soothe you.

Jin

You wouldn’t even need to tell him that you’re overworked. He’d notice right away.

He sits down at his piano and gently pats the seat beside him, inviting you to sit next to him.

While you rest your head on his shoulder, he plays a few soothing melodies just for you.

Afterward, he takes your hand and leads you to the couch, where you rest your head on his chest as he holds you close, stroking your hair while you both simply lie there, enjoying the quiet.

Tohma

Tohma is a keen observer, so naturally, he doesn’t miss the fact that you barely made it through the long day.

He pours you a nice aromatic tea and waits for you to drink it and absorb its comforting warmth before asking if you’d like to talk about your day.

If you’re the type who prefers to vent, he’ll listen patiently without making a single comment. At the end, he’ll ask if you want an honest piece of advice (which can be brutally honest) or if you’re just looking for comfort.

In the latter case, or if you choose not to talk about your day, he’ll simply offer to let you sit on his lap. He’ll hold you and let you bury your face in his shoulder for as long as you need.

Luca

Luca will want to know every single detail of your day so he can fully understand what’s going on with you.

But if you’re not in the mood to talk, he’ll understand and won’t pressure you.

He’ll offer to take you to the training grounds with him to meditate together and release the stress.

His entire focus for the rest of the day will be on you. Whatever you ask of him, he’ll do it.

Kaito

Kaito will initially panic when he sees you’re stressed and ask if he’s done something wrong or upset you.

After you (even more tired than before) assure him that he (so far) isn’t the reason for your stress, he’ll become the brightest star in the sky, making it his personal mission to make the rest of your day as pleasant as possible.

He’ll offer to bake something for you. If you enjoy it too, he’ll love sharing the kitchen with you.

Whatever you wish is his command. He’s ready for any mischief and always has a contagious smile on his face.

He’ll spend the entire evening thinking of how he can make your next day sweeter too.

Alan

Alan is a bit awkward in situations like these and simply says he’s sorry you had a tough day.

He’ll suggest taking a little drive with him to clear your mind. He’ll drive you to the harbor, where you’ll have a wonderful view of the Rainbow Bridge. You rest your head on his shoulder and just enjoy the view.

A walk through the woods is also a great way to forget the stress. Don’t worry about the dark; he’ll protect you.

Sho

Sho will ask what’s wrong when he sees you so lost at the end of the day. He’ll tell you not to take everything to heart and to relax more.

You might initially feel like Sho doesn’t understand your feelings, but trust me, he does. Seeing you so upset hurts him deeply.

The kitchen is his familiar ground. He’ll make you anything your heart desires.

Once he’s sure all your basic needs are met, he’ll offer to take you and Bonnie wherever you want to go.

Leo

You're making a big deal out of a tough day? Ugh, how annoying.

He doesn’t even want to know what’s wrong unless it involves gossip. You shouldn’t take everything to heart; otherwise, you won’t get far in life.

But fine, if you insist: sit down next to him. He’ll put an arm around your shoulder and pull you close. Have you heard the latest gossip?

He’ll pet your head while showing you the latest TikTok trends. Leo’s real intention, of course, is to distract you with trivial stuff. Nothing shuts down the brain better, and he knows it.

At some point, you’ll end up on his lap, where you’ll fall asleep peacefully. Anyone who dares make a sound near you will face his wrath.

Haru

Haru is often overworked himself, so he quickly recognizes that you’re not feeling well.

Once he’s finished with his tasks for the day, he’ll devote all his attention to you and only you.

Expect a candlelit bath with the most pleasant scents.

While you bathe, he’ll prepare something for you to eat. It won’t be a feast, but he’ll make the best of whatever’s in the fridge and pantry.

He’ll listen to everything you have to say during the meal. But after the bath, you’ll probably already feel much better. Haru will find many comforting words for you.

You’ll end the evening together on the couch, where you’ll lie in his arms and start planning your next getaway for when you finally have some free time.

Towa

Towa doesn’t really get why someone could be so down over something as trivial as daily stress, but he absolutely hates seeing you so sad.

He’ll take you outside if you’re not already there, lay down with you on the grass, and stargaze together.

He’ll hold you tight and won’t even think about letting go.

Towa will ask if a particular person is responsible for your tough day. Why? You wonder. They might have a stormy day tomorrow.

While lying there, he’ll give you a gentle kiss on the forehead, pull you even closer, and suggest staying together until sunrise. Tomorrow, he could show you the most beautiful spots on campus. Forget about work. Just relax.

Ren

Ren might seem a bit annoyed when he asks about your day, but he’ll patiently listen to whatever you want to share.

Since he doesn’t have much experience with comforting people, he’ll suggest you both retreat to his room to watch your favorite movie. Voluntarily watching anything other than a B-movie? Absolutely. After all, this is about you. If you still suggest a bad horror movie, you’ll hardly miss his relief.

He’ll get all the snacks and drinks ready. He’ll fend off any potential disturbances. You don’t have to worry about anything.

Cuddling together in bed, you won’t miss how much more caring he is than usual as he does his best to be the most comfortable pillow you’ve ever experienced.

Romeo

As if his own day hadn’t been stressful enough, now he has to take care of his girlfriend’s well-being too? But fine, what’s up?

Despite his initial annoyance, he quickly pulls himself together because, as we all know, constant stress is really bad for the skin.

He listens calmly to what you have to say and occasionally offers genuinely helpful advice on how to handle similar problems in the future.

As you sit on his oversized couch, you’ll plop onto his lap and let him stroke your hair.

Shortly afterward, he’ll ask you to sit up. He’ll grab his tablet from the table without leaving your side and show you an absurdly expensive shopping website full of designer clothes. Pick something out. He’ll get it for you. Isn’t shopping always incredibly relaxing? That dress would look absolutely stunning on you (whether you want it or not, it’ll soon be in your possession).

Taiga

Phew.

His reaction will largely depend on which Taiga you’re facing.

Possibility 1 – The Calm Taiga: You’ll probably find him in his room. Even if he sighs in annoyance at first, he’ll pull you onto the bed, hold you, listen to your worries, and tell you that all these problems are completely insignificant. Just relax a bit and lie down with him. He’ll surprisingly gently stroke your back while holding you in his arms.

Possibility 2 – The Irritable Taiga: Even if he recognizes you as his girlfriend during this phase, he won’t react positively to you. Regardless of your mood, if you don’t want your problems to multiply, you should make a quick exit.

Possibility 3 – The Crazy Taiga: Stress? What for? Whatever, play with him a bit! Wander through the casino, sit on his lap, and be his beloved good luck charm, accompany him on his rounds to intimidate people. The night is yours, and your problems are in the past. At least your old ones, because after tonight, you’ll surely have new ones.

Ritsu

If you’re this stressed, you probably didn’t manage your time well and ended up working inefficiently. Ritsu will sit down with you to go through every second of your day, looking for ways to optimize it.

Someone gave you trouble? Don’t worry. Ritsu will dig up something about that person that’ll make them quiet down quickly. However, he’ll never tell you about it. Just trust that he only has your best interests at heart.

He doesn’t want you staying up late, so he responsibly takes you back to the cathedral on time.

If you ask him to, he’ll (though very reluctantly) stay with you until you fall asleep.

Haku

The best remedy for stress is long, leisurely walks. That’s why Haku wastes no time and takes you outside.

He’ll patiently listen to whatever you have to say without interrupting you. Every now and then, he’ll make sympathetic comments.

Only when you’ve finished speaking will he wrap you in his arms, give you a gentle kiss, and tell you that you’re handling everything wonderfully and that he’s proud of you. You’ll get through this, he assures you.

However, be prepared for him to start teasing you again on the way back to your dorm once he notices you’re feeling better. Get ready to fire back.

Subaru

Subaru is also one of those who immediately notice your emotions.

He prepares a wonderful tea for you and serves the best sweets he can quickly find. Of course, he apologizes for not having anything better at the moment (he’s already making a mental note to always keep something on hand for emergencies like this).

You won’t find a more patient and understanding listener. At the end of your story, he’ll lean in and gently stroke your hand if you allow it.

He offers to take you home and keep you company for as long as you like.

Zenji

Zenji is absolutely outraged that anyone could put so many obstacles in the path of such an angelic being as you.

He listens intently to every word you say, and it’s clear he’s emotionally invested in every detail. It’s incredibly easy and oddly satisfying to get worked up with Zenji about certain events and people.

But there’s no dwelling on negativity for long. He immediately starts listing all the positive things that await you in the near future, things you must not let negative emotions overshadow. Life is simply too short for that.

He’ll encourage you to get creative with him. Why not turn the day’s events into an exciting story, a poem, or even a song? His Biwa is at your disposal.

Rui

Rui invites you to his bar, closes it off to everyone else for the night, and treats you to as many cocktails as you like while patiently listening to whatever you want to share.

He’ll join you in venting about certain people’s behavior or how certain events unfolded. There’s no better partner in gossip.

Although he can’t offer physical comfort, since you both agreed to be in a relationship despite your circumstances, he gave you a cute teddy bear to hug whenever you feel the need. Beneath the shameless womanizer lies a cheesy romantic.

Every time you cuddle that teddy bear, his heart practically bursts with joy, sorrow, and longing.

He’ll gladly tuck you into bed, and as always, you’re free to sleep in the guest room or his room. He’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.

Ed

Even though Ed is usually the one complaining about something, he’s just as good a listener when it comes to your problems.

He invites you into bed, where he’ll stroke your head while you bury your face in his chest.

He’ll patiently listen to your story and occasionally marvel at the seemingly trivial things that bother humans.

If you don’t doze off in his arms, he’ll show you interesting YouTube videos he watched during the day. You might have to stop him from making some questionable purchases.

Lyca

Lyca tries his best to be empathetic, but he doesn’t really understand most of your problems. Why not just speak your mind? Or simply don’t do things you don't want to do?

By the end of the conversation, Lyca himself is so frustrated that you have to talk him out of accompanying you to work the next day. That can only end badly.

Poor Lyca doesn’t have much experience with humans, let alone women. So, he directly asks what he can do to make you feel better.

Whatever it is, he’ll do it. The more exotic the request, the more reluctant he might be, but he doesn’t want to lose you. So, he’ll do his best. That has to be enough.

Yuri

If you’re bold enough to bring your trivial problems to the great Mr. Isami, then you’d better have some real issues that only he can solve.

Since he’s very busy, he’ll ask you to keep him company in the lab. If that doesn’t appeal to you, he’ll begrudgingly take time and meet you in the visitor area upstairs. His expression will clearly show that he’s not thrilled.

Nonetheless, he’ll listen to your problems without complaint. If it involves people he doesn’t like, he’ll happily join you in venting.

But you’ve already stolen enough of his time. Come here, get your hug, and then back to work.

As he watches you leave through the door, he’ll watch you until you’re out of sight. His heart longs for your presence, but there’s still a curse to break. He won’t let anything happen to you.

Jiro

Jiro isn’t familiar with the concept of stress. You’ll have to explain to him exactly what’s going on, or he won’t notice or understand your feelings and behavior.

He’ll listen to everything you tell him and dryly offer suggestions for how you can handle these situations better in the future. They may or may not be helpful.

If you don’t want to hear his logic, you’ll need to tell him directly and explain how you want him to react instead.

Whatever you tell him, he’ll implement it without fuss. Want to cuddle in bed with him? He’ll pick you up and carry you across the campus to your room. Want to go out with him? He’ll take off his lab coat, hold your hand, and march with you to the restaurant of your choice.

He doesn’t understand what it is that makes him feel this way, but he’d do anything to see a smile on your face.

[reveriebae]

How it tastes like

pairing(s) : Roommate! Song Mingi x Fic writer! reader

word count : 2912

genre : smut

synopsis : when your roommate wanna check what's make you stressed out from writing end up to an unexpected tasting experience.

warning(s) : afab! reader, oral (m & f receiving), fingering (f receiving), no protection (please use in rl!), cumplay. Lmk if I missed something.

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

A loud sigh escaping from your lips, your room is dark but the screen from the laptop in front of you lights up your face and some spot behind you which is the headboard of your bed.

"Fuck this is so hard, what the hell am I gonna type" you muttered.

Being a writer is fun, actually really fun, but there's a time where you can't think any word and stressed out when people who read your fics give you a bunch of requests but they doesn't give you any plot idea or something that could boost your writing mood, especially when it comes to something you never even experience but you really want to write about that thing. You don't have to be a full experienced person to write stories, but sometimes to make your story feels alive and entertaining you gotta know the details about the thing that will be the main 'thing' for the whole story.

It's about blowjob in this case, as a smut fanfic writer it's really stressed you out when you realized how powerful and amazing your imagination are but the lack of experience you have is sometimes become a barricade for you to explain every detail of it, it's making you feel exhausted and confused and of course losing your interest to write, but the image of finish your writing that satisfied your imagination feels so so good.

"Hey, Y/N are you still awake?" Your roommate said after knock your bedroom door.

"Yeah, why?" The door cracks open, showing Mingi on the door frame peeks inside your room while all he could see is just a dark room with a small light from the laptop screen.

"Are you serious? Still writing at this fucking hour? Y/N please look at the time..you gotta rest, you gotta work, you have a class tomorrow and you gonna blind yourself if you keep writing in the dark dumbass".

"Shut the fuck up, you always say that I have to find some hobby to not stressed out from my-".

"Hobby do not supposed to make you feel stressed Y/N.. don't get me wrong, can I go in?" you nod and he turn on the light switch of your bedroom, he sits beside you on the bed.

You hurried to close the laptop cause everyone knew you are a writer but no one knows what in the hell your writings are about. Mingi frowns and his face is all confused.

"I was about to help Y/N, don't be such an ass".

"No no, you don't have to Mingi, I... I feel tired, I'm gonna slee-" he grab your laptop in one hand and his other hand grips both of your hand, you gasp as you tried to get off of his hand but you can't match his power.

"Nah you're not gonna fool me this time, come on let me help. You gotta remember your family is not even here, if you sick I'm gonna be the one who got to and will to take care of you".

"But Mingi, that's not the problem..".

"Just tell me what story are you writing right now? Is it romance?" You shook you head.

"Fantasy?action?" Nuh-uh.

"You do horror??".

"No you dumb, I am a smut writer" your face flushed it's now all red and hot from the embarrassment, but his face remained still.

"What is smut? A killer documentary? World secret? Conspiracy theory?" You stare at him in disbelief.

"It's.. it's some kind of... Porn" You stutter as he still grips you hand and your laptop is on his lap. Your faced get hotter when he just laughed in front of your face.

"You? Write a porn? That's amazing actually, despite you interact with guy is a rare view that so cool that you could write that such a thing, so what makes you stressed lately?" He lets out your hand to give you a small clap with smile that you want to wipe of his face, cause you're literally suffering while he unexpectedly support you when he knew you wrote filth all this time.

"You won't help me at all Mingi, just go.." you let out a deep breath, can't seem to look at his eyes.

"You're just unsure of the things that you want to write, because I know you are inexperienced. Now tell me, what makes you stressed?" He ends up rubbing your knuckles softly, wants to make you sure that you're safe with him, wants to make you sure that he cares about you in every way.

"Shut the fuck up Mingi, I said you won't help me".

"You are the one who's gonna shut the fuck up and tell me now" he grumbled he lets your hand then lift up your chin to make you look at his eyes.

"Blowjob, it's blowjob!" Your face might be directed to him but you shut your eyes closed.

"Wasn't so hard was it? Tell me more of your curiosity about blowjob".

You have no choice but to explain to him, it's overshoot. "I- I know blowjob is sucking- you know..dick, I have read those blowjobs scene from a lot of different writers but I'm not sure if I can write about that cause I don't know what to write for the details, I always thought of 'what if I make a mistake?' 'what if my readers mock me because of my writings?' 'what if they call me an inexperienced smut writer?' I got so many 'what if' in my head Mingi and I know you could barely help me, beside this is so embarrassing to talk about this with you cause you're literally a dude".

"That's the point, I'm a dude and that's why I said let me help you. All you gotta do is just ask" Your mind wandered into something you shouldn't thought about, the word 'All you gotta do is just ask' is so ambiguous, is he telling you to ask a question or ask him to do something? You decided to give up and receive the help Mingi gave you.

"So..how a cum tastes like?" You ask bluntly makes him chuckles under his breath.

"I never taste my own cum Y/N" you frown and slap his shoulder make him hissed.

"Fuck off Mingi, you told me you gonna help me!".

"I was Y/N, but I really never taste my own cum so I really don't know" he laughed while blocking your hands that's about to puch his chest. "But you can taste it yourself, if you want to" he smirks after finish his laughter.

"Mingi..you did not..".

"I'm just tryna help, if you want to let's do it..the blowjob, once again if you want to. But if you don't I'll be back to my room right now " You thought he's just playing with you but when you gather your courage to look at his face, he's serious about it.

"But that would be so weird.." he shakes his head at your words "isn't it?".

"No if you would trust me as much as I trusted you, you gotta remember that you are the one who need this Y/N, I'm just trying to help" His hands wraps around your shoulders, make you hold a shiver that could run down your body. "Do you want to?" His eyes drilling holes into your soul, you could only nod at him and smile plastered his face.

"So..w-what should I do?" You look back at your lap, you're so embarrassed right now you can't even think straight.

"My eyes are right here love, now help me to remove my pants" he lifts your chin up again, and now your hands begin trailing his sweatpants as he move his hips up to make you remove the pants easier.

Now he's half naked, in front of you, on your bed and the night dress you are wearing is slutty enough for the man's view.

"Show me what you learned from those smuts you read love" You start to touch his dick, hold and experimentally stroke his dick. You could hear his breath hitched, it gains confident in you so you stroke it a bit faster makes him lets out a moan, you could feel yourself started getting wet.

"Good love, now try to use your mouth" You wet your lips then stick your tongue to lick on his shaft then roll your tongue on the head. A salty liquid appears you guess that is what's called a precum, you open your mouth and try to take his cock inside, take a look at Mingi make you moan at how good he looks right now. His head falls back to the headboard while his mouth wide open, the sweats rising on his forehead and chest going up and down at how hard he is breathing, when you taste the salty precum of his your moan send a vibration right into his dick then his right hand suddenly have a nice grip on your hair as he starts moving your head up and down his cock.

The more he moves your head the faster it become and deeper it gets down your throat, when you swallow your saliva that collected inside your mouth, his moan became louder then you do it repeatedly. His not gonna last and you know it, you could feel his cock pulsing against your lips then you could taste a really bitter liquid spurts out of his dick, he calls your name on repeat then you bob your head on his dick for about 4 times before you pull out.

When you watch porn or read smut, it looks so easy to swallow the cum but you can't seem to swallow it, Mingi noticed your panicked expression then quickly open your drawer to take 2 sheets of tissues then hold the tissue on his hand and put it near your lips "Sorry love, spit it out don't worry" instead of spit his cum out of your mouth, you stick out your tongue while look at him to give him a nice view of his cum trickle down your tongue and land on the tissue on his hands.

"Fuck you look so beautiful doing that, so pretty for me, so messy with my cum like that love" when his cum is all out of your mouth Mingi throw the tissue to the trash bin and hand you a glass of water. "Your throat might feel a bit rough, you gotta drink a lot " you nod as you do what he tells, you could still feel the taste of his cum washed by the water and crashing down your throat.

"Mingi..uhm, I think you caused me another problem" you cleared your throat then Mingi eyes went wide he thought he hurted you or something.

"What? Are you okay? Am I hurting your throat? Too big for your lips it hurts?" He ramble then you close his mouth with your index finger to shut him up.

"No, it's just.. I need you to..".

"To what? You want another glass of water? Or do you want a candy? Yeah? I have some in my room wait a seco-".

"I need to you fuck me Mingi! You moaned a lot when I suck you, you..make me kinda wet".

"Oh..you sure?" Mingi blinks multiple times when you finally stand up and kissed him, the kiss is slow and passionate, his hands begins to roams all over your body as you gasp onto his mouth.He lays you in your bed, pull up your night dress to reveal you are not wearing anything but only your panties inside the dress. "So beautiful for me love, bet you gonna touch yourself while imagine about me tonight if we don't fuck" he lowers himself until he's between your legs then he removes your panties in no time.

"I actually did, sometimes" he looks at your face at the words, he grips your thighs so hard you let out a hiss.

"You are really driving me insane my love, do you also write smut about me?" He opens your legs wide and place his face right in front of your bare pussy then blow on it, the action make you whimper above him. "I hope you could take a look at how wet you are love, eager for me to ruin your pretty little pussy, don't you?" He trails kisses on you inner thigh.

"Please Mingi..don't keep me waiting" you mewl then smile to him when he looks at your face, pushing his middle finger into your wet cunt make you gasp as he trusts it slowly inside you.

"You're not ready to take me yet my love, I gotta prepare you first" he trusts his finger faster and when you start to moan loudly he pull his finger out of you and lick them clean. "So sweet for me" you whimper at his action.

"Don't you wanna eat me out Mingi? Please do" smirk plastered on his face when you say the word, he lifts your legs until they touched your chest then he devour you immediately. Your eyes rolling back and your hand automatically get a grip on Mingi's hair as he growls into your pussy. He inserts his middle and ring fingers into your cunt then curling it up while his tongue doing a kitten lick on your clit, a fast kitten lick on your clit. "Fuck Mingi.. don't stop-mmh gonna..gonna cum" His index finger joins the other two fingers and he suck your clit make you scream as you cum so hard your body spasming and Mingi holds your hips down.

"Just like that love, let it out for me" he trails kisses on you cheeks and jawline until you stop shaking under him.He peels off his shirt then rubbing his cock on your clit, you let out whimpers because of the sensitivity "And from now on..fuck with me will be your new hobby, my dick is gonna be your fucking hobby" with that he enters himself inside you in one hard trust make you scream so loud. "Oh shoot, it hurts? Sorry, I'll pull it ou-".

"No please, just keep going" you breathed while holding into his arms, he nods at you then starts to move slowly. When your moans become louder he sped up his movement, "ah- fuck you feel so good Mingi, so big.." you moan uncontrollably.

"Yeah, you take me really well Y/N my love" his words sounds so sweet with the soft deep voice he lets out, but his grip on your waist and the way he's pistoning his hips so hard your tears start to gather at the corner of your eyes.

"Faster Mingi! Please make me cum please please fuckkk" Your eyes closed, whimpers and rambling flow out of your lips. You can hear his whisper, definitely sounds like he's begging you to cum. His movement become faster and faster, you lose it when he moves one of his hand and rubs your clit with two fingers that you assume it's his index and middle finger.

"Yes love..yes, fuck you are so so tight, so good for me, you are amazing baby" you cum for the second time, your legs feels like giving up but Mingi still thrust himself into you. "God.. I'll fucking give you what you want, I'll make you taste what you wanna fucking taste" it doesn't take him so long to cum inside you with sharp thrust that make you let out a choked moan. He pulled out make you whimper then go down on you to suck his cum out of your cunt.

"W-wait Mingi! What are you doing?!" You look down but he pays you no mind, when he finishes whatever he's doing he hovers over you and then give you an open mouthed kiss, your eyes open wide when you could taste a salty liquid over your tongue, when Mingi fills your mouth with all his cum he pulls off from the kiss then spit right into your tongue, he is doing a fucking cumplay and you know that.

"Now swallow it love, I know you can do it" You don't wanna swallow it, but the moment when Mingi spit into your mouth and the fact that your cum, his cum, your spit and his spit are mixed together make your head dizzy in a good way then you swallow it unwittingly and without hesitation, you show your tongue to him to proof that you have swallow all of it, his smirk grows. "You do really good for me love" he's keeping you in his embrace for a good half an hour. When he feels you dozed off, he give a light pat on your cheek you wake you up. "Don't sleep yet my love, we gotta clean you up first".

"I'm feel so tired Mingi, let me sleep" He lifts you up into his arms instead, but it's not like you're complaining tho. He takes you to your bathroom then put you inside the tub after he fills it with warm water.

He stokes your hair make you dozed off again, he giggles at the sight.

"What are you going to do without me, my love".

[reds-skull]

Fanfic Recommendation: Multi-Chapter (Completed)

The comic I'm working on is taking... a long time (understatement of the year, been working on it since July 31st...) so I wanted to make another post like this

Like last time, there's no shared theme between these beside having multiple chapters and being completed (both SFW and NSFW)

As always please check the tags for CWs, and if a link doesn't work you're welcome to reach out!

Every Morning by sauceboss_yahoo - Ghost is back on base with the rest of the 141, ready to fall into his usual routine. Someone else, however, is itching to be a part of it and wants to peel back the curtain concealing him more than he already has, whether Ghost likes it or not.

Mask of my own face by Avidcatperson - Ghost takes great offence to the implication that he’s going to eat his cell mate, who is clearly sentient, with his bare hands. Soap is fairly sure he’s about to die. Chucked into a cell with a human? Pretty much a death sentence…hopefully Gaz can get out at least. [Space AU, multiple works in this series!]

bare my skin by Cristinuke - A study of moments as Ghost learns to trust Soap's touch.

Anomalous by Brigadier - Ghost, a SCP-056, finds a certain human worthy of his love, trust and adoration.

let these hills absolve me by flowersferns - When the news of three weeks’ forced leave reaches Ghost, he’s resigned himself to loneliness in an empty base. That is, until a certain Sergeant offers him an invitation he just can’t seem to refuse. Or: the sheep farming fic nobody asked for [this one hurts so bad but comforts so well]

Punch Drunk by Drolly - If you told Soap the second time he’d see Ghost’s face was in a shitty bar on a shittier block of Chicago… Well, he might have asked for a little more pomp and circumstance. At least then he’d have an excuse for the way he could hear his blood pumping faster in his ears and why he could feel it, hot and burning behind his eyes.

Simon's Gateway by wayfaredsoldier - When things get too rough on retired soldier Simon, his friends help him out and unknowingly provide him a gateway to something, or someone, beautiful. [veteran support hotline operator Soap]

A Bit Too Much by cod_dump - Soap always acts confidently, brave. Almost always has a smile on his face. But the fact is… He’s a bit too much. [locked for non-AO3 users]

Until The Nightfall by Mikhail - Upon realizing their friendship had grown into something deeper and more serious, Ghost is left torn between duty and longing. With each mission, Ghost is reminded of all the things he can't control, and it's becoming clear that this - whatever it is - he has with Soap, just might be one of them.

Philematology by ErlKönig (Herm_own_ninny) - Ghost kisses Soap while begrudgingly playing spin the bottle, and tries to repeat it with other party games.

stick up by amongthebooks - While off base, the 141 are unexpectedly caught up in a robbery. The raiders clock Soap, Gaz and Price as SAS operatives…but without his usual gear, Ghost was seen as just another guy. His team is rounded up, whilst he's treated as a civilian. Can Ghost take down the attackers and rescue his team without exposing his identity?

I Will by lemonwrap - After going missing on a mission, Soap has been gone for an entire year. Ghost finally rescues him, but he’s not quite the same.

The Worthy Vessel by MildLimerence - To take the edge off his maddening attraction to his aloof and inscrutable Lieutenant, Soap decides to try his luck with the local barflies off base. To prevent Soap from fucking anyone else but him, Ghost offers himself up under the guise of mutual stress relief. Soap thinks he’s just taking one for the team, but Ghost has just had everything he’s ever wanted fall right into his lap.

Damaged Goods by Red_Clegane - After an encounter at a club, Soap needs to know if he's actually into men… like into men. In a fit of desperation and homoerotic panic, he arranges a one night stand with a prostitute. It was just supposed to be a one off arrangement. But when Ghost shows up, it sets a series of events into motion that neither men could have predicted. [locked for non-AO3 users]

They Blame it on the Times by WildFlowerSolitude - "We were never anything. You need to get that through your head." Soap laughs hollowly into the empty corridor. I can live with that OR Ghost says some fucked up shit and Soap crumbles.

home is where the heart is by Anonymous - Soap vanishes from base one day. The Captain says its nothing to be concerned about. Ghost disagreed. [literally so so good]

Personal Affairs by sannikovs_bastard_son - Ghost got injured on a mission in Spain and was forced to take a temporary leave, leading to some buried feelings being brought to light, and Soap doesn't make his inner turmoil any easier by being the casual flirt he is.

Tug A Little Harder by puffyfish2006 - Ghost really really really likes Soap's long hair.

Burned and Broken, but Not Beaten by sick_of_sleep - Ghost ends up burning his hand pretty badly and Soap help his lieutenant while it heals. But Soap ends up helping Ghost in more ways than one.

Lofticries by Arodana - The mafia had always escaped John "Soap" MacTavish. No matter what evidence he found, it would disappear. For lack of words, it pissed him off. On top of that, he has to find a serial killer that has been evading the police and any efforts they've made for months. Soap finds himself stuck between his sense of justice when he is offered an opportunity to work with the one man that had been making his police career a living hell. Soap might just get what he wants.

Freely Given by Tatzelwurm - After the stress and danger of Los Almas and Chicago, Soap is finding it near impossible to let go and relax. He can’t sleep, jumping at shadows. Ghost wants to help him, dutiful lieutenant that he is. But Soap can’t bear to take any more from Ghost than he already has. At least, not without feeling exceedingly guilty about it.

Hold my hair up, Darlin (Ice packs on my neck) by JackiboysHorrorHouse - a fic where Soap's wisdom teeth end up having to be removed when he's in the 141, and ghost is the one who takes care of him during recovery!

Misplaced Jealousy by dyn42ty - Soap hinted that he had been crushing on someone within the base to Gaz. Overhearing the conversation, Ghost wonders who has Soap captivated. Not to mention it wasn't him? The more he thought about it, the more angry he had gotten.

lotus flower by exavibus - a new flower shop opens across the street from 141 Tattoo, in london's shoreditch district. one of the florists already seems to have something against him. the feeling's mutual.

Cry by kcisbroken - Ghost always leaves. After an intimate night together, Ghost picks up his things and doesn't look back, leaving Soap to sit in silence and ponder on whether or not it's worth breaking his heart over and over again.

i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm by marviless - Soap spends three and a half days in Ghost's house after getting injured on a mission.

used to hide behind a mask by kj_crwn - What a pitiful thought; the scary hound of 141 force turned into a pliant mess by one simple man. “’Bout your scary mug,” Johnny clarifies, as expected. He leans down again and settles against Ghost’s chest, his head resting just beneath Ghost’s chin. “Yer a bloody gorgeous lad, Simon.” Except that Johnny is anything but simple.

We Are Ghost by Murmeloni - Instead of having to crawl out of his own grave, Simon escapes Roba's clutches with the help of Ghost. A klyntar stranded on earth who decided to make Simon his new home. The two of them were content with each other. Until they met Johnny.

Emergency Contact by soapsbeloved - John MacTavish is about as unlucky in love as you could get, never finding someone that would give him enough of a chance for a second date, resorting to sleeping around when he gets stood up. Simon, his best friend, seems to be the only person in the world willing to give Soap a chance, but the dumbass can’t see past the fact that Ghost isn’t very good at talking about things, and is completely and utterly oblivious to how Ghost feels about him.

dicentra by crown_twist - There's someone new joining the 141 and everyone is happy about it. So happy, in fact, that they don't seem to realize one of them is slowly slipping away. Johnny's only all too aware. [I reread this one so many times it's the ultimate hurt Soap fic]

and i wish i could change by SoftKing - Which meant he also noticed when Ghost frowned heavily and murmured, “Not really my thing.” “Oh,” Gaz said with his brows raised. “So you haven’t got one then.” He slapped Price on the shoulder and grinned. “I do.” Ghost interrupted, taking another long sip from his nearly empty glass. “Just think they’re rubbish.” [soulmates AU]

Night Has Always Pushed Up Day by Sillililli - Simon "Ghost" Riley is stuck in a shared hospital room, which has been fine up until then. He'd been alone, alone to fight the shame of having his face uncovered and having failed his team. But they bring someone into his space, a younger soldier, temporarily blind.

Domestic by Sillililli - Simon and John are coworkers. Both ex military, they relate in ways others can't. Soap is facing hard times at home and finds a safe place with Simon.

So Call Me Maybe? by cripplingchips - Ghost is trying to focus on the mission at hand when Soap starts getting a little… strange.

A Kiss For Luck by iamtheidiot - Soap and Ghost start playing gay chicken.

Mission: Cardsharp by nyxite - Soap (accidentally) gets a love reading from a fortune teller.

death is in the air (wish i could be brave) by aetherealmoss - Ghost gets injured severely and is sad and upset about it, until Soap appears at his doorstep and makes it better.

My frozen heart (would melt just for you) by Red_Clegane - After a mission goes wrong in Russia, Soap has to patch Ghost up... and keep him from freezing. Huddled together in a tiny cabin in the middle of the frozen tundra, something warm blossoms. [locked for non-AO3 users]

demolitions threat by amongthebooks - Home on leave, Soap has to instruct Ghost on how to disarm a bomb over the phone. The pair make a good team - but not every mission can end well. Ghost has dug himself out of his grave once already. Can he do it again?

i'm something else when i see you by oh_ellie - The first time Ghost had enough courage to plant his lips against Soap’s they’d both been drinking. They're fairly heavily intoxicated.

In the Middle of the Night by JDigital - “Go!” Came his Sergeant’s gruff exclamation as he threw his elbow into the Shadow’s face, an alarming amount of blood still soaking through his clothes. “Get out of here, go!” A few Shadows stopped their assault on Ghost’s cover to subdue their captive, and he was forced to watch as Soap was brought to his knees by a cruel strike of the stock of one of their rifles. “Ghost, move! Get out of here!”

Racing hearts season by Nuria123 - The F1 COD AU no one asked for SoapGhost style.

Through His Eyes by WhisperedWords12 - Ghost accidentally finds Soap’s sketchbook, is taken aback when he sees a familiar face looking back at him.

Peeping John. by A_BitOfStrange - When he considers it properly, the only person that would be either brave or stupid enough to go into Ghost's room while he’s away would be Johnny. The little fucking shit.

Surviving You by WhisperedWords12 - Ghost forced himself not to feel frustrated, had to admit to himself that Soap might be the most challenging sub he had ever had assigned into one of his units.

Yours Sincerely by LeoDoesGames - Johnny "Soap" MacTavish has been medically discharged following a mission gone wrong, which left him with severe agoraphobia and PTSD. He joins a programme which connects both active service members and veterans through the act of writing letters. Although things get off to a bad start, the connection he forms with his letter mate slowly becomes unbreakable. That is until he gets too close and strikes a nerve. [one of those fics that will not leave your brain for weeks]

Doing Time by MildLimerence - Soulmate AU: On leave from the 141, Soap lands himself in Strangeways prison, home to some of the worst criminals in the UK. When his soulmark activates on the inside, Soap must contend with Ghost, an infamous soulmate-hating killer who seems intent on haunting his every move.

Spiorad agus Corp by Oud_smoker420 - A bet is made between the notoriously reckless Soap and Alejandro to try and get their respective crushes and the most stoic and traumatized men of the 141 in their beds. It definitely has the potential to go so bad.

Smooth Sailing on Choppy Water by coderaven - Soap and Ghost are sent on a mission to the middle of American suburbia to protect a Russian journalist targeted by Makarov. Their cover is that they're newlyweds. And very much in love.

Bathe in Sunlight, Take Deep Breaths by coderaven - Ghost gets honorably discharged after taking a bullet to his shoulder that completely obliterates his rotator cuff and leaves him with nerve damage. He joins a gym to help with his recovery. He meets Soap, ray of sunshine personified, a trainer at the gym. He falls pathetically in love.

Learning Experience by AvaLoren - Soap is forced into a simulated interrogation with his Lieutenant and the information he learns about him isn't what he expected.

If tomorrow you don't open your eyes by Swiftwater_Prawn - Ghost loves Soap but is bad at feelings and gets stuck in a time loop. [multiple works in this series!]

Collecting Strays by WhisperedWords12 - Ghost didn't trust Soap, couldn't know for certain what a year and a half of forced fighting in the pits did to something as volatile as a Wolf. But Price insisted that the man may have valuable intel, might be enough to finally bring down the Fighting Ring where they'd found him.

Driving Myself Home by Aether_Ghoul - Gaz insisted that he was just the thing for Soap. Soap insisted that everyone had a "but" and for the life of him, Gaz wouldn't tell him what this Simon guys "but" was.

all that's said in the low light by headlocket - After a near-fatal injury, John MacTavish finds himself back in his hometown in Scotland. Fresh off an untimely discharge, he's forced to cope with disability, his dysfunctional family, and the lingering knowledge that there are some things he's just not ready to leave behind… [literally if you haven't read this yet what are you doing with your life]

Lay back and think of England by Aether_Ghoul - From the outside, Ghost is well adjusted. He seems like everything recruits and rookies could ever wish to be. Inwardly, he is falling apart. It is when Soap asks him to spend their leaves together, that he makes a decision that will haunt him. Do everything Johnny wants, needs or dreams of because if Ghost is useful, maybe Johnny will finally love him. [this is another one I keep going back to T_T]

Our Time Is Right Now by ChaoticEmeline - A serial killer is making their mark on the newly installed crime factions in London. Smart, savvy, and undetectable in a city covered in CCTV. The man operates…like a ghost. Captain John Price and his team aren't afraid to get their hands dirty and do a little ghost hunting. But what happens when the ghost starts hunting them back?

Spectre-Unit by Zosch - The Spectre-Unit was a task force shrouded in mystery, not much was known about them and it was a rare occasion to witness one of their members in action. Until the Task Force 141 gained a new addition; S-U: 25, John "Soap" MacTavish.

Velocity Of Envy by leathfaic - Soap has a friend with benefits back home in Glasgow and Ghost, Ghost doesn't have a problem with it of course. After all, Johnny is his sergeant and anything else would be unprofessional, wouldn't it?

Crystalline by Sillililli - Soap and Ghost end up captured at the same time and as much as they'd like to save each other, they can't let their captors know they could be used against each other. Easily. Simon concocts a plan to save them that he can't let Johnny in on, hoping the lie won't shatter what little is left of them when it's over.