#every day feels like torture and then on top of that i keep getting shit on over and over again in ways that have ruined me

[pythonmoth]

cw: violence. heavy torture. stress incontinence (brief). hurt/no comfort.

simon x f!reader. poly tf141. father figure price.

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It's calm.

The sea breeze brushes against your cheeks, your skin warm under the sun, and your toes squirming in the sand. You've been begging your parents to take you to the beach for months since middle school started, and now you're here.

Family. Your cousins, your siblings, your aunties and uncles. Nothing can ruin it! It's perfect.

A bucket of sea water hits you from the back, making you gasp. In an instant, you're up. "You guys are dead!" you scream, laughing as you chase after them.

It's so, so nice.

Then, a weird smell makes you pause as you're chasing your favorite older cousin, knee deep in the ocean.

It brings you back to when you were a toddler, picking up one of your grandfather's old rags, forgotten in a corner. It'd seen too many raining days, all crumpled up. It was sour. Foul.

Almost like poison.

But why did you remember such thing right now?

Your cousin's dark eyes glint, but you can't focus. No, you can't move as she gently makes you lay down in the water, claiming it's a game, and sits on top of you, the sea water filling your lungs.

You scream and fight, your little strength leaving you, until you're finally breaking through the surface.

Another splash of salty water, much colder, wakes you up with a gasp.

"Up" Price's voice says.

You bite back a whimper of pain when Soap roughly grips your hair and drags you up along with the chair from the floor, since Price kicked you the night before. Soap doesn't look at you even once.

"Since you won't open your mouth, let's continue" the captain hums, looking mildly entertained.

"Price, I genuinely don't know anything. I'm not a traitor. You have to believe me, please—"

Smack.

"Save it. It all points to you, so you either speak now, or we start having fun".

Everything hurts, it's all fuzzy and every single inch of your body is burning, yet you still look up at Price, then at Soap. Again, he won't even look at you.

"Where's Simon?" you mumble, trembling. There's silence, but you don't let it stretch. "Please, I really have nothing to do with any of this. Be reasonable. There's nothing in it for me. Why would I sell us out?!"

The door springs open, and your head snaps up. Your world crumbles down as Simon comes in with a little box.

The tools.

At once, you reach another level of panic.

Pure, unadulterated dread.

"Stop! No. No, please. I'm innocent. Simon. Please, stop this!" you wail loudly, your hands clenching hard on the armrests of the chair, uselessly trying to keep them from getting to your fingers.

It doesn't matter how hard you cry out for them to listen. It doesn't matter how badly you fight, leaning forward to push your head against Simon's chest, pleading with him.

There's no coming back from this.

Please. I love you. Please.

When the first nail is ripped off from your fingertip, the intensity of your screams makes Price look away for the first time.

It takes three fingernails and a handful of questions you can't focus on for Soap to turn away from you.

Five.

Away.

Please.

Eight.

It all feels so far away.

Distantly, you feel warmth, right on the chair. For a happy moment you melt into it, too tired to think much of it. Simon's eye twitches at the sight, the white in his eyes bloodshot, and he has to physically stop himself from saying anything.

"I want to die" you croak out, your chin pressed to your chest.

Your heart is pounding in your ears, in your raw fingertips. Your voice doesn't feel yours anymore.

"No. Give me their names".

"I don't know, goddammit!" you scream, your face contorted with pain and anger. So much anger. "Fuck you! I don't know shit. I'm sick and tired of this. I didn't do anything!"

It doesn't matter when Simon rips off another fingernail.

Nine.

It doesn't matter when Soap presses the same disgusting rag against your face, the cold salty water filling your lungs again.

You don't fight.

What for? They want information you can't provide. And you're angry.

Ten.

"I'm breaking up with you" you say, your voice firm, despite the intense shaking in your body.

The pain must have cleared your mind because you just look straight forward, not meeting Ghost's eyes as you speak.

You don't want to look at him.

"I don't want your regret" you continue, your heart slowing down. There's an old bloody spot on the door. You focus on it. "The three of you are dead to me when this is all over".

"Enough chatting. Go on!" Price snaps. You don't hear the trembling in his voice.

The salty water just keeps on coming.

Maybe you hear it. You don't care.

You're not sure for long it goes. Half of your toes are throbbing by the time Price storms out of the room, Soap and Ghost gathering their things to leave.

There are deep cuts in the arch of your feet, several of your toenails scattered on the floor, and the foul smell of urine and blood. Your throat is sore and raw from screaming, and sobbing.

You must've passed out, because you wake up to Ghost's hands untying you quickly, words of apology leaving his lips, curses and promises. You can hear Soap rushing in, the two of them arguing and then running.

Gasps and curses are heard all around the base as Ghost takes you to the medics, demanding them to tend to you now.

It's an order.

[femmeroll]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦

here is the sex tape w/abby ! ty for all the votes on the poll my loves >_<

abby anderson x fem reader

cw: sex tapes, soft dom top abby, sub bottom reader, strap referred to as dick/cock, masturbation mention, modern setting bc what else do i write

abby hates plenty of things. she hates when the machines she wants to use are taken at the gym. she hates when people watch videos in public without headphones. she hates when her hair won’t cooperate in the morning when she tries to braid it. but there’s one thing she hates more than all.

being away from you.

not being able to wake up with you, kiss you, touch you. it’s torture. so when she finds out she has to go on a work trip for a week, she’s crushed.

but you have a plan. a plan that involves her having something to hold her over for a week. if she can’t touch you, she can at least watch herself touch you.

and that’s how you end up here, in your bed, with abby’s phone propped up against some books on the bedside table.

abby’s strong hands are holding your legs open, her warm mouth gently suckling your clit. every moan and whimper that leaves your mouth has her grinding her hips against the plush duvet cover.

“oh baby,” she groans into you. “keep moaning for me, just like that. i love your noises so much.”

despite her rough exterior and intimidating personality, abby is so gentle with you. taking you apart with her tongue like you’re made of glass and will break at any moment.

“cum in my mouth, babygirl. cum for me and you can have my dick.”

you look over at the phone, a bit embarrassed at the idea of cumming on camera. sure, this was your idea. but in the moment it feels humiliating.

“abby…s’embarrassing,” you whine.

her tongue is unrelenting, and despite how uncomfortable it may feel to have it on camera, you can’t stop yourself from cumming as she laps at your sopping cunt.

abby kisses you gently, giving you a taste of yourself.

“there you go, sweetheart. came all over my face like a good girl.”

you moan at the praise, satisfied that you’re making her happy.

“and since you did what i asked, you can have my cock now.”

abby lines herself up, slowly stretching your aching pussy. her cock reaches parts of you that your fingers can’t even dream of. she knows exactly how to make you feel good.

her pace starts off slow and deep, making sure you can feel every inch of her cock inside of you.

“look how deep i am…i can’t wait to fuck myself while watching this in my hotel.”

you can’t help but whimper at that, imagining abby in her hotel room, three fingers deep in her cunt as she watches herself fuck you. horny, touch starved abby drooling at the sight of her own cock inside you.

“it’s so deep, abs…shit,” you groan, spreading your legs further. you need her deep, hard, and fast.

“need it faster. please abby.”

and she’ll do anything to make you feel good, so of course you get it faster. she’d go at the speed of light if it made your moans get louder and your legs shakier.

abby’s thrusts quicken, hips slapping against your thighs and ass as she fucks you.

“look at the camera, baby. watch yourself getting fucked on camera. shit…my little porn star, aren’t you?”

your face turns to the phone, and fuck, you could do this every day. knowing that abby is rearranging your guts, and she’ll have that all to herself. her own personal porno. just for her to get off.

“m’gonna cum, abby. please let me cum.”

abby fucking whines at your pleas, increasing the speed of her thrusts and gently circling your pulsing clit with her thumb.

“cum on my dick, sweet girl. cum all over it on camera. fuck.”

your jaw goes slack, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you cum, making direct eye contact with phone. you want abby to see you cum whenever she wants to. whenever she needs to see it, she can see it.

abby slowly fucks you through your orgasm, decreasing her pace as you come down from your high. she pulls her cock out of you gently, groaning at the sight of it covered in your slick.

“you came so well for me, sweetheart,” she says to your panting, limp figure. she gets off the bed and turns the camera off, knowing that she’ll be satisfied for the whole work trip.

[quarterlifekitty]

The guys with a girlfriend who honestly.. kind of scares them

In different ways of course, but there’s still the underlying theme of her being rather unsettling

- @murderkittyz

I want you to know that this has been living in my mind. I love writing reader characters that are weird af and quite honestly unsettling

To be honest, writing Nikolai was really hard for this one, and I’m still not totally satisfied by it. I think he’s too willing to match your freak.

cw: some graphic descriptions of violence (not enacted, just threats/movie scenes etc)

Gaz is freaked out by how much you like the dark. You scare the shit out of him all the time because he’ll come home, thinking you’re not home because no lights are on in the house, and you’re so quiet�� he is not proud to admit how many times he’s screamed when you suddenly said hi from a spot in the dark. And how whenever you get up in the middle of the night, you don’t turn the lights on. He asks you why, and you just say you don’t need them. Freaky.

There have been a handful of times where you were truly, extremely angry at Soap. And he almost pissed himself every single time because of how scary you get. Not because you scream or shake or slap his chest or anything, but because you don’t do any of it. Outside, you’re calm, you’re smiling. But it’s how you talk to him like he’s a child. “It’s okay. I’m just very, very angry at you right now”. It puts him on fucking edge. It creates this tension like you’re about to do something, that you’re gonna get back at him somehow in some way he’ll never see coming, but you don’t do anything. Absolutely fries his nerves.

Ghost is scared by how easily you tone switch, partially because he’s not really able to do so. The way you can be talking about someone from the base and say “he’s such a fucking prick bastard. I wanna rip off his balls and shove them down his throat far enough that he chokes”. And then the next day, you’ll greet the same guy like he’s an old friend. Extremely polite, pleasant, happy. It reminds Simon that he only sees the real you because you allow him that privilege.

Price is scared by your good memory. He’s used to being the one who remembers, the one who’s completely on top of things, the one who knows everything needed to know about everyone. But he’ll mention a colleague that you met once, for 10 minutes, years ago and you’ll ask “Is he still with Martha? She wanted to adopt a dog with him, a Siberian husky, and he seemed so scared of the commitment”. That’s scary. Makes him feel like he has a blind spot. Makes him wonder what you remember about him that even he doesn’t recall.

König is a difficult man to disgust and to scare. He’s seen a lot of things, and he himself is rather unsettling. But he’s scared and disgusted by some of your taste in movies. Things with long, painful torture scenes. All of the blood, flaying of skin, needles, ripping bones from flesh. It’s not so much that you enjoy these movies, but how you enjoy them. You lean against him, but not because you’re scared. You laugh in a way that you never do outside of watching a gorey scene, of someone crying on the floor with broken limbs. He shudders to imagine what you’d be like if you had his job.

Nikolai is unsettled by some of the fantasies you share with him, and how you convey them. Not things that you could really enact, just fantasies. “The other day I thought about being a mermaid— and you being a pirate that captured me to cut me up and sell my parts. But when you were about to cut me open you saw my cunt and decided to keep me as a fuckdoll instead, and fingered me right there with the butcher knife still on the table”. And you say it pretty nonchalantly. He’s honored that you trust him with these inner thoughts, and usually they turn him on completely, but it does creep him out just a little.

[thatlotuscookie]

sung jinwoo x reader (nsfw/spicy hcs)

mdni, nsfw ahead. not proofread / in my solo leveling thirst era. idk what this is tbh. wanted to add kink list but this was getting too long eee jealous/possessive jinwoo headcanons

Stamina? Insane When it comes to sex, Jinwoo is a FORCE to be reckoned with. His stamina in the sack is simply legendary. While most men might flag after a single, intense round, Jinwoo can keep going and going, driven by an insatiable hunger for pleasure- and pleasuring YOU. His cock is a pistoning machine, he fucks you with a raw, animalistic power, each thrust a declaration of ownership. His cock spears deep, hitting spots inside you that make stars burst behind your eyelids. And still, he shows no signs of slowing down, his balls churning out endless loads of hot, sticky cum. The man is built for fucking, plain and simple.

"Mmm, you feel so good... I could fuck you forever," he growls, his voice husky with desire as he pounds into you from behind. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging in as he sets a brutal pace, each thrust sending shockwaves of bliss through your trembling body.

Favorite position? Given Jinwoo's dominant nature and powerful build, it's no surprise that his favorite position would be one that allows him to take control and assert his strength. The missionary position, with him on top, seems tailor-made for the man. He loves the feeling of being face-to-face with his you, and to spice it up? He tilts your hips up and presses his palms to splay your thighs wide open. SHEEESH. From this vantage point, Jinwoo can watch the pleasure play across his your features, savoring every gasp and moan. His hands can roam freely, gripping ass cheeks, tracing the lines of your torso, and tangling in your hair as he sets a punishing rhythm. It also puts Jinwoo's impressive endowment on full display, his thick cock plunging in and out of you with ease, his v line and oh lawd the biceps! and pecs

"Look at me, baby," Jinwoo growls, his voice low and commanding as he hammers into you from above. "I want you to see every inch of my cock stretching you open, filling you up until you can't take anymore." His hips snap forward with brutal force, driving his length deeper into your quivering cunt. "This is mine, all mine. Every scream, every tremble, every drop of cum I pump into you belongs to me."

He's OBSESSED with your reactions. For Jinwoo, sex isn't just about satisfying his own desires; it's a game of intense focus, where he zeroes in on every subtle reaction from you. He's acutely attuned to the way your body responds to his touch, the sounds that escape your lips, the flush that spreads across your skin. As he drives into you, Jinwoo watches your face intently, drinking in the sight of pleasure etched into your features. Each gasp, each whimper, each shudder sends a thrill through him, spurring him on to greater heights of passion. He's obsessed with the way your eyes glaze over, the way your back arches off the bed, the way your nails dig into his shoulders.

You're lying beneath Jinwoo, legs splayed wide apart as he pounds into you with unrelenting fervor. Sweat glistens on your skin, and your breasts heave with each ragged breath. Jinwoo's gaze is riveted to your face, drinking in every delicious detail of your expression. "You're so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, his voice rough with lust. "Spread out for me, taking my cock like it was made for you. I could stare at you all day, watching you fall apart on my dick."

Literally a huge tease. In public, This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s gonna whisper the filthiest shit in your ear right when you least expect it. In public? At dinner? While you’re on the phone? Yeah, he gets off on seeing you flustered. And when you're actually in the bedroom, Jinwoo is a master of torture, using his teasing touches to drive his you to the brink of madness before finally granting you release. He delights in building anticipation, his fingers dancing along your skin with maddening slowness, barely grazing your most sensitive areas before pulling away. You find yourself writhing beneath him, desperate for more contact, as Jinwoo toys with you like a cat with a mouse. He teases your nipples with gentle bites and licks, coaxing them into stiff peaks before abandoning them to leave you aching for his return. His mouth trails down your stomach, pausing to swirl his tongue around your belly button in a circular pattern that makes your toes curl.

 Jinwoo kneels between your parted thighs, his hot breath wafting over your slick folds as he leans in to taste you. His tongue darts out, flicking lightly against your clit in a feather-soft caress that leaves you panting for more. But instead of delving deeper, he pulls back, his eyes locked on yours with a wicked gleam.Not yet, baby, he murmurs, his voice husky with promise. I want to hear you beg for it first. With that, Jinwoo resumes his teasing assault, his tongue tracing the outline of your pussy before dipping inside just enough to coat his mouth with your juices. He sucks gently on your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves.

Aftercare KING Following sex with Jinwoo, aftercare becomes an intimate ritual, a chance for him to show tender affection to the person he's just dominated in bed. Despite his rugged exterior, Jinwoo has a soft spot for cuddles and soothing your post-coital tremors. He cradles you close, his strong arms wrapping protectively around your spent form as he presses warm kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and the sensitive skin of your neck. His touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to the aggressive passion of earlier. Jinwoo's voice rumbles softly as he whispers reassurances, praising your responsiveness and the pleasure you brought him. He strokes your hair, tracing patterns on your back, and lavishes attention on your sensitive nipples, easing them with his thumbs.

As the aftershocks of your climax slowly subside, Jinwoo gathers you into his embrace, his muscular frame enveloping your smaller one. He holds you tightly, his heart still racing from the intensity of your coupling. "Damn, that was incredible," Jinwoo murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You took everything I gave you and begged for more. I'm impressed, baby." He rolls onto his back, bringing you with him so that you rest atop his chest, your ear pressed to his thundering heartbeat. Jinwoo's hands roam your back, stroking and kneading the muscles, working out any remaining tension. "Let me take care of you," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Just relax and let me soothe you."

[xxsinisterbunniexx]

✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙ Creepypasta general NSFW headcanons ✮⋆˙ ☠︎︎ ★☠︎ ✮⋆˙

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, BEN drowned, X Virus

Thought I’d kick off with some NSFW headcanons for the most popular characters (plus X virus simply because I adore him)

Jeff

☠︎︎ need to be on permanent birth control with him, does not pull out and does not care

☠︎︎ he would just be oh so mean

☠︎︎ lots of degradation

☠︎︎"come all over my cock like the fucking slut you are”

☠︎︎ spits in your mouth

☠︎︎ knifeplay!

☠︎︎ generally very rough: choking, slapping, general manhandling

☠︎︎ BUT

☠︎︎ every once in a while he has a bad day and he becomes just so soft

☠︎︎ takes his time with you, touches you gently

☠︎︎ “you know I love you so much”

☠︎︎ fav position is doggy in front of a mirror because he can watch your face while he fucks the shit out of you

Toby

✘ also need permanent birth control with him, but unlike Jeff he would try to pull out if you asked him to but he’s only like 50% consistent about it

✘ but if you didn’t ask him to…

✘ lowkey has a breeding kink so he’d come inside every time

✘ his family is broken so he lowkey wants to have one but do it right

✘ bites you, bites you!!!

✘ cannot feel pain so this man is a SADIST!!!

✘ he would be so intrigued with watching how you react to pain

✘ slips into German if he’s really getting into it

✘“Du fühlst dich so gut an, mein Mädchen. Du wirst so schwach für mich.”

✘ big on marking you (both with bites and hickeys)

✘ talks you through it

✘ “gonna come for me, pretty girl?”

✘ loves eating you out and gets really sloppy with it

✘ and when he’s receiving he’s a head pusher, hair puller, face fucker

✘ loud as fuck, this bro will moan and growl in your ear without shame

✘ his fav position is mating press cause he gets to watch your face while he bruises your cervix <3

Eyeless Jack

⛥ major breeding kink

⛥ would come in you, tell you to keep it in, and when it inevitably starts to seep out he’d breed you again

⛥ also fingers his cum back into you

⛥ “look at how wasteful you are. Guess I’ll have to fill you up again”

⛥ this man is a demon so he’s so feral oml

⛥ can smell when you are ovulating and it drives him WILD

⛥ makes a shit ton of demonic ass noises

⛥ I’m talking growling, groaning, may even purr a bit (in like a demonic scary way LOL)

⛥ ummm SpongeBob why is it in a cage

⛥ because it growled at me

⛥ jk you could not cage this man

⛥ he has multiple tongues and he’s gonna put them to use

⛥ like eating your pussy until you are BEGGING for him to stop

⛥ knows a lot about human anatomy so….

⛥ fav position is mating press (for obvious reasons)

BEN drowned

⚠︎ he’s a little shit and this would translate to the bedroom

⚠︎ teasing you 24/7 it’s like torture

⚠︎ won’t just eat you out, he’s gotta bite your thighs and then get real close and let his breath fan over your clit just to make you tremble

⚠︎ would love to tie you up so he can torture you even more

⚠︎ likes to hear you beg

⚠︎ edging to the max like bro loves orgasm control

⚠︎ “aw, you wanna come? Better ask real nicely”

⚠︎ plays ur titties like a video game controller LMAO

⚠︎ corruption kink

⚠︎ loves to use toys with you because he can use his influence~

⚠︎ fav position is anything where you’re on top

X Virus

☣︎ so meticulous about it

☣︎ like has precise control over your body and commands it so well

☣︎ also loves orgasm control but less in an edging way and more in a you come when I want you to come kind of way

☣︎ “don’t you dare come without permission. I control when you come”

☣︎ experimentalist, for obvious reasons

☣︎ like bro will genuinely try anything once

☣︎ so when he comes to you with that special look in his eye you know you’re in for it

☣︎ especially if he’s been holed up in the lab for a few days before

☣︎ because you just know that means he’s made you an extra special drug he wants you to try

☣︎ loves giving head but lord when he is receiving…

☣︎ like jaw goes slack, soul leaves his body, he can only run his fingers into your hair and squeeze a little when you tease him too much otherwise he is OUT

☣︎ keeps in control for 95% of the act while he fucks you until the very end when he’s close to coming and then he’s erratically thrusting into you and his voice is cracking

☣︎ his fav position is anything where he can see your face because he needs to observe your reactions

These are my general thoughts on the characters :3 I’m gonna start writing more headcanons and also cross posting my other fics little by little but until then hope you enjoyed <3

[writinginatree]

Attention

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson/Garrick Tavis/Reader

Summary: You're on your period and desperately want cuddles, but both of your boyfriends are too busy with paperwork to notice, so threats have to be made.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of the torture that is menstruation, established polyamorous relationship (idk if that's a warning but I feel like I should put it somewhere lol), reader has a period but no pronouns mentioned. Set during Fourth Wing.

Today sucks, you decide.

As if getting your period wasn't bad enough, the marked first-years you're responsible for training had acted especially clumsy and overall insufferable during today's practice session, and now, to top it all off, your boyfriends are too busy to pay attention to you. They barely glanced up from their work to greet you when you came to Xaden's room earlier — a quick kiss from each of them was all you got before they returned to their papers.

At first, that had been fine. You had enough homework to occupy yourself with, even if your period cramps made it hard to focus.

But now, almost an hour after you finished everything you had to do, Xaden and Garrick are still huddled over the former's desk and paying zero attention to you, and it's really starting to bother you. Not their fault, you know. It's your period that makes you so irritable, but that doesn't stop you from cursing the fact that it's today of all days that they have to be so busy.

Despite the multiple attempts to get their attention you've made already, they remain so focused on their work they haven't even noticed how miserable your mood has gotten over the span of the last two hours.

No, this really isn't your day — usually, they're much more observant than this.

Even though you know interrupting them won't make their work get done any faster, you can't stop yourself from once again asking, "Are you almost done?"

"Soon," Xaden says without looking up, but that's what he'd said half an hour ago, too.

"How soon?" you insist.

"Soon," he repeats, pushing the paper in front of him to Garrick to point something out. A heated discussion ensues, and you're forgotten again.

You sigh into Xaden's pillow. What's the point of having two boyfriends if neither of them has time to cuddle with you?

While them being wingleader and section leader has a lot of perks — bigger rooms, more control over their — and your — schedule, and the authority to punish anyone giving you shit for the rebellion relic on your arm, to only name a few — this is the downside. Loads and loads of extra work. They've been sitting at Xaden's desk brooding over gods know what for hours now, the only sounds in the room the rustling of paper and the occasional muttered question.

Usually, you don't mind keeping them company while each of you does their own thing — it's a peaceful kind of quiet, something so rare in this godsforsaken place. You like to silently sit with them while you study, despite how tempting it is to let yourself get distracted by them. Since they always tend to have more work than you thanks to their leadership duties, you're always done before them, anyway. And it's nice to just curl up on the bed and watch them while you wait for them to finish their work too — just not today. Staying patient is hard when it feels like your lower body is being stabbed with burning knives, and all you want is to be held. With every passing minute, it gets harder to sit and wait.

You could break their concentration. You know if you asked outright, they'd put everything aside and come cuddle you in a heartbeat. But as tempting as that is, you also know how important it is that they get their work done. Being marked, they had to work harder for their leadership positions than anyone else, and need to be better than everyone else to be treated with even a fraction of the respect they deserve. If they mess up, the consequences will be worse than they'd be for anyone else. They can't afford to get sloppy with their duties.

You know how Xaden would argue against that reasoning: That you are more important than any of that, that they can still get the work done later tonight, when you are asleep. But Xaden already doesn't get enough sleep as it is; you refuse to be the reason for making it worse.

And yet, it only takes a few more minutes for your resolve to crumble. Unable to take this any longer, you tell yourself you won't keep them from working for long. A few minutes of their attention, that's all you want. Surely, a small break like that can't hurt.

"If neither of you comes cuddle me in the next five minutes I'm going to fucking riot," you declare into the quiet. "And by riot I mean I'll go get cuddles from Imogen."

Now that gets their attention more effectively than anything else could have. Finally looking up from their paperwork, your boyfriends share a confused look and turn to frown at you.

"What?" Xaden asks, and Garrick adds, "Why the fuck would you do that?"

"Because I've been trying to get your attention for like an hour and you just keep on ignoring me," you whine. "I. Want. Cuddles. And I'll get them, one way or another."

You don't actually mean to make true on your threat, even in the unlikely case that they insist on finishing their work first. There's no way you're getting up now that you finally found a position that makes your cramps at least kind of bearable. Your best friend isn't much for physical affection, anyway. And while she might make an exception for you, it just wouldn't be the same as getting held by your boyfriends.

Luckily, the threat does the trick, even though the both of them are certainly aware of how empty it is.

"You didn't say that you want to cuddle," Xaden scolds, gathering up a few papers before rising from his chair to join you on the bed. "I thought you were just bored. Are you okay?"

The question comes as no surprise — it's very unlike you to interrupt them like this, even more so in such an agitated manner.

"Yeah," you mumble, a little ashamed of being so needy. "Sorry. 's just that I got my period, and it feels like you guys are taking forever today."

"Nothing to apologize for," Xaden assures you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Garrick explains, "It's taking so long because of that leadership meeting we have tomorrow morning to sort some stuff out before Threshing. Lots of shit to plan, but we can just as well do that in bed with you."

"Right, you mentioned that... Forgot it's tomorrow. Does that mean I have to sleep in my own room?"

More often than not, Fourth Wing's leadership meetings take place in Xaden's room.

Xaden shakes his head. "You can sleep wherever you want. If you want to sleep here, we'll just have to be quiet. I'm not letting anyone disturb your sleep."

He's completely serious, you know. You can imagine it all too well, Xaden waiting for the squad- and section-leaders at the door and instructing them to keep their voices down as they enter the room, his shadows engulfing you like a cocoon so no undeserving eye will catch sight of your sleeping form. Xaden just is dramatic like that.

"Makes it kinda hard to hold a meeting when no one is allowed to speak," you chuckle.

"Oh, I don't know," Garrick jokes as he settles at the head of the bed, letting you and Xaden rest your heads on his lap. "It actually would be kind of nice if the other idiots had to keep their mouths shut and just listen for a change."

Xaden hums in agreement. He has made himself comfortable behind you, one arm slid beneath you, the other thrown over your waist, holding his papers in front of you both so he can finish his work while he holds you. His legs tangle with yours, head resting in the crook of your neck. The hand not holding the papers slips under your shirt, resting warm and comforting on your aching lower abdomen.

With a content sigh, you close your eyes, finally relaxing as Xaden's body heat seeps into you. You swear just being near him is enough to release the tension from your muscles.

"Did you take something against the pain yet?" Xaden asks after a minute.

When you shake your head, Garrick immediately moves to get up, ready to disappear and get the medicine for you in a blink. Before he can, you explain, "I was too nauseous to eat, so I can't take anything."

You'd made the mistake of taking painkillers on an empty stomach once, and spent hours throwing up bile as a result. After that, it had taken you months to work up the courage to try taking them again at all, even though logically you knew you'd be fine as long as you ate something first. You would much rather endure the pain than make that same mistake again.

"Damn, that sucks. I'm sorry, baby."

You shrug, opening your eyes and angling your head back to smile up at Garrick. "I'll survive. I'm just glad we're not scheduled for flight lessons until the end of the week."

Garrick nods, but observes, "This is worse than usual. Maybe you should see a healer, don't you think?"

"No. They have enough patients with real problems."

"Being in so much pain from your period that you can't eat or sleep through the night is a real problem," he insists.

"Ehh, I'm used to it. There's nothing they can do, anyway. And besides, this isn't even that bad. One time my period was so bad I actually fainted after getting up a bit too fast."

Xaden tenses, pushing up on his elbow to lean over you so he can look at your face. "Why don't I know about that?"

"I guess it just never came up? I dunno." You shrug. "It's not that big of a deal, Xaden. That was before I came to Basgiath."

"You should have warned us in case it happens again. It's fucking dangerous. What if you faint during a challenge or while flying?"

"If I felt like fainting I'd let you know, I promise. It's not like it's a frequent occurrence, and I'm pretty sure that one time it did happen was mostly due to low blood pressure."

You lift your hand to cup Xaden's cheek as you speak, rubbing your thumb back and forth along his cheek bone to soothe him. He's adorable when he gets all worried and protective, but you know better than to tell him that right now.

"Still," he grumbles. "Maybe you should stay in bed until your period is over. You shouldn't have to go to class and fight while dealing with this torture. We can cover for you. No one would doubt it if we say you're sick, and you can easily catch up on the stuff you miss."

"Tempting," you admit, "but I think we both know that's not actually an option."

With a sigh, Xaden lies back down and buries his face in your shoulder. "I know."

"Is there anything we can do to make you feel better?" Garrick asks, setting his stack of papers aside in favor of lying down on your other side.

"Just cuddles," you mumble, the words barely intelligible as you bury your face in the soft fabric of his shirt. "Think I'll try to nap for a bit."

"Alright, love." Xaden kisses your head, then you feel him half sit up again. "Here, drink some water first, hm? You've got to stay hydrated, or you'll feel even worse."

Since you know he's right, you force yourself to sit up and accept the water he hands you, draining half the glass before settling down once more.

Xaden and Garrick wrap you in their arms, making you feel safe and warm despite the pain, and soon you fall asleep to the sound of rustling paper. Before you drift off, you remind yourself you'll have to return to your or Garrick's room later, before actually going to bed for the day. If you don't, Xaden really will prioritize your rest over his meeting, and you can't have that.

[stars-eclipsing]

If you take requests or suggestions, might I ask for pegging Mohawk, Sinister, or Lensless Mark? (Take your pick tbh) all of the variants are so pretty I NEED to top, bite and choke them 😔 unfortunately, there is a serious lack of Dom!Reader in this fandom

You can totally ignore this if you want to, I always feel awkward abt writing these cause I don’t want to ever seem rude or entitled 😭

Omg, not at all!!! I love this idea so much hahaah

Also, I completely agree, in regards to all fandoms ngl! So I just decided to put out the content I wanna see, lol

uhh warning very perverted I guess

✩ MOHAWK MARK ➔ Asphyxiation, Reader is like, mean

His eyes roll to the back of his head when the obscene shlick! sound of your strap thrusts into his asshole again. His spine shivers and he moans into the pillow at the feeling of fullness. A feeling that may just be better than the thrill of controlling the entire Viltrumite empire. Just maybe. 

Both of your bodies are slick with sweat, and the air around you is intoxicated by the heady, unmistakable scent of sex. Your legs still haven’t begun to ache from sitting on your haunches for so long, but it’s only because you have practically memorized this position, and the view, too. Besides, your body has already learned its lesson on becoming tired when pleasuring Mark, and it won’t be one it soon forgets. 

“Shit.” He chuckles shakily, shifting slightly to accommodate the fullness, “So are you planning to make me cum by Christmas or what?” 

You pull out, keeping just the tip in, and he groans. “It would be a nice gift.” You hum, then push the pink rubber back into his warm, inviting hole. Your lips form a small smile when you notice a shiver pass through him. “But I'm not so sure you even deserve it.” 

He frowns at your flippant comment, looking behind him to see your calm face. You drag your fingernails gingerly across the length of his spine, helping him subtly into an arch. He takes the hint, although not without a bratty huff under his breath. 

He rests his head back on the soft pillow, a pillow made with material better than silk, worth more than half your internal organs back on Earth. To your gleeful delight, it will be ripped, ruined and discarded. Funny. But honestly, you never really did like him to have nice things too often.

He’s just far too spoiled, in your opinion. 

His eyebrow twitches in annoyance, “Just so you know, I wouldn’t treat you like this.” 

The frustration breaks way to a half-truth. Would your despicable Mark torture you while he was on top? Absolutely. Would he adhere to your set of cruel methods? Not exactly. While he preferred to pull as many orgasms from both of you as possible, you believed in the art of patience. Of drawing out the perfect, warm orgasm that steadily bubbles up from the deepest part of your stomach and burns off your nerve endings when washing through. 

The kind of orgasm he would be reaching for every time he’d sit on his plush bed and draw his hard cock from his pants. He’d stroke the underside of his sensitive dick and think: “I wish my angel were here to help” Though you wouldn’t live to see the day he expresses any sentiment of gratefulness. 

However, Mark believed in patience just as much as he did mercy. In no quantity at all. 

He senses that he hasn't swayed you at all by the way you lightly trace over the skin of his hips, and he sighs. He succumbs to desperate, perverse methods like some kind of whore. 

He shimmies his hips upwards a bit, trying to entice you into fucking him hard like he wants. He whines, “C’mon, baby don’t you want to make your man proud?” He says in the prettiest voice he can muster. 

Sadly, you can read Mark like a book, and all the act does is make you roll your eyes. 

You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks. 

You grab the sides of his narrow hips, and meanly squeeze the fat of his ass, deciding to humor him, “Can I get a please?” 

He sticks his tongue out in distaste at your demand, yet he predictably complies. Though not without uttering the word in the most annoying way possible, “Please–” 

The sentence ends on a choke when you quickly pull the plastic dick out of his hole then slam back in, taking pleasure in the sound that he makes. 

You grip the back of his neck for leverage, and pound his greedy hole into oblivion. Because when has Mark ever even deserved nice things? Even a romantic orgasm would be far too much for him. He was too much of a goddamn leech. 

You press your chest to his back, pushing him further into the mattress, intending to get inside of him as deep as possible. You switch your grip from the back of his neck, to the front, squeezing at his airway mercilessly. 

He chokes, surprised at your boldness. “Oh, fuck– shit, babe.” He laughs shakily, taking perverse joy in your rough treatment. “So good to me, aren’t you?” 

Not bothering to spare him a respectable response, you continue to pound into him like that's what he was made for. You don't grace him even a second to take in a breath. Just the way you fuckin’ like it. 

The lewd sounds of skin slapping fill your bedroom like they were made to be there, and you barely resist squeezing his throat like you’re going to kill him. Keeping it to an every once in a while. 

Though… you honestly can’t resist the sounds of his sweet choking, so you channel all your strength into your fist. Leaving him gripping for purchase on the mattress. 

The sounds of fabric ripping, or his face turning pale don’t deter you. In fact, it does the exact opposite effect, giving you motivation to fuck him harder. He continues to sputter chokes and pleas, but is largely unable to by the unwavering force you have around his neck.

When he starts to shake and twitch uncontrollably, you begin to understand what exactly he’s trying to babble. 

“C-Cu-.” You bite the cartilage of his ear, then let loose on his airway, just so he could spill the words out, “Gonna- fucking–” He stutters hoarsely, and his hips twitch and jerk. 

You hum in affirmation to his warning. Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled.

Using your free hand, you snake it down to his poor, leaky cock, and squeeze its base roughly, delaying his orgasm. 

You let go of his throat and smile when he gasps in a large breath. 

He coughs, "Baby, please, wait--"

“Say please like you fucking mean it.” You lick at his neck, then bite the area harshly, and he screams. You still don’t let up on the abuse your strap-on does to his poor hole. 

“P-Please!” He cries, gasping desperately. You push his face back in the pillow, making sure he struggles for breath, “Please!” You hear him scream into the pillow, muffled. 

You dig your fat cock into the deepest part of him and let go of his dick. You smile when his hip stutters and his dick releases its seed onto the sheets beneath him. 

Weak spurts spill from his tormented cock and he groans. It’s only then that you decide to pull out, making him whine. 

You sigh, tiredly and get off of him. You feel hot, and disgusting, and Mark still somehow got what he wanted. You tsk to yourself.

Silently working on removing the belts from your hips, he rolls on his back to look at you, quirking a brow, ”Why’d you stop?”  

✩ SINISTER MARK ➔ Asphyxiation, oral fixation, dog imagery

Mark’s mouth wraps around the bright pink of your strap-on like it’s a glorified chew toy. You’re lucky it’s not your actual dick. Because with the way he bites, chews, sucks, and drools all over it, you’re sure it would have been a strict off-limits zone for him. 

Your hands move to tangle into his dark, thick hair, petting it softly. Hoping it the action will let up on his aggravation just a tiny bit. 

It works, because he shoves the cock up his mouth deeper, letting out a small choke as he sucks. 

He looks at you with the prettiest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen, waiting for his well-needed praise after such a hard day.

You know if you don’t give it, he’ll have your head. Or at the very least, he'll sulk in a corner. Either case is less ideal than the other.

You coo to him, watching spit drip from his lips and onto his spread thighs, “So good, Mark.” The dribble is everywhere from down his mouth, and you can't tell when exactly the sweat ends and the saliva begins, “You look so pretty like this.” 

His moans are muffled around the pink dick. He takes slow, measured breaths through his nose, so he won’t have to stop for air frequently, and blinks his eyes up lazily at you. Then rolls them. 

Exactly like a pretty puppy. 

Despite the defiance, you still play nice, “Are you going to lube up my dick so it can go in your pretty hole?” His hard dick between his thighs twitches at the reminder, and he does his best to nod with the strap-on in his mouth. He tries to say, “Yes”, but it comes out more like an incoherent garble. 

He tries his best to slide the thick cock from out of his mouth, coughing and sputtering when it’s fully out. He wipes at the dribbles of saliva around his lips, speaking throatily, “Yes, I want to.” 

The plastic cock drips of his saliva, practically soaked in it. Yet, he puts his mouth back on the tip, sucking lightly to get used to the feeling, before putting it halfway through his mouth. 

He tries to shove as much of it as possible inside of his mouth, but then looks up at you for help when he doesn't seem able to. 

“Help?” You ask. If he could pout around the dick, he would. You grab the back of his hair again, and steadily help him down the length of it. 

Instinctively, he stutters and chokes as the sex toy slides down the wet cavern of his mouth. He instantly grabs your thighs for support, trying to alleviate the intruding feeling. You remove your hands from his hair and stroke at his cheek, trying to coax him back his measured breathing through his nose. 

There’s no point in pulling him off. If he says he wants to take it all, he’s going to take it all. And no amount of praise will get his mind off his goal. 

He looks back up at you, ‘Help me.’ he seems to say.

You sigh. For all his imprudence, you cannot wait to make him cry on your dick. 

However, you are beginning to  feel impatient at the way he only steadily inches more of it down his throat. The slow pace is starting to frustrate you.

The hedonistic side of you wants him around your cock, now. Irrationally, you grab the hair on the back of his head harshly, he gasps around the cock at the contact. You brutally push him all the way down to the base of the cock. 

He chokes around it immediately, and his grip on your thighs turns bruising as his throat tries to accommodate to the sudden intrusion. He fails, and a pool of drool spills from his mouth, but your hands don't let up, keeping him there. 

“Come on. You can do it,” You goad, tilting your head to the side, “Can’t you?” 

You see alarm bells ring in Mark’s head, and he tries his best to accept the length of it in his greedy mouth. “Can.” He slurs. 

His nose kisses the skin of your stomach, and he blushes, making it even more difficult for him to breathe. But he’s keeping himself there, unmoving. Though you do see him chewing around the plastic to alleviate the burn of his throat. 

After a few more seconds, Mark moves a few inches down the cock, landing halfway. He swallows, or– tries to swallow. His throat fucking burns. 

He continues to suck and chew around the cock, getting lost in the warm feeling of his mouth filled. 

You tap his cheek a few times. He opens his eyes to look at you through his lashes. He hadn’t even noticed he’d closed them. 

You're beginning to feel a little more impatient.

“Mark…” You move your feet airily, then slightly drag it across his dick, barely touching. He instantly grips your thighs again and chokes around the dildo. His neglected dick twitches at the simple contact, and he closes his eyes as he tries to even his breath again. 

“You want to be filled up?” He moans around the cock at your filthy words, “Wanna be mine?” 

Slowly, he moves his lips across the dick and out, leaving it with a lewd pop! Fucking hot. 

He heaves when he’s finally met with air. His face is sweaty and debauched, eyes glazed over like he had just gotten fucked. He’s a complete slut. “I’m already yours, I don't have to work for it.” He says throatily, vocal cords basically compressed off. 

You hum, just trying to keep him quiet. He can get pretty mouthy, and you can’t bother to hear bitching when you’re so horny right now. 

He’s feeling extra touch starved after barely being offered any stimulation before it’s taken away, so he stands up quickly. You lay down on the sheets, and before you can even bother to start to get comfortable, he’s already clambering onto your lap. 

You raise an eyebrow, like you’re not just as turned on, “Someone’s eager.” 

He lines his hole with the bright pink plastic cock, dripping of his drool and spit, pressing his hands to your stomach for support. 

The tip breaches his hole, slicked up and ready for his awaiting hole. You’re so fucking jealous. You can’t imagine how warm and silky he feels…

He moans, tipping his head back, but doesn’t dare stop at just there, continuing to slowly descend down the pretty dick, his hole fluttering around it. 

When he reaches the hilt of it with ease, he shifts, trying to relax himself onto it slowly.

But you know better. You know that he wants to be treated like the cumtoy that he is. 

You tap his hips, then squish the flesh. He moans in response. “Come on, baby. Move.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Im calling this work: "Do you think you peg me in every universe?"

"Duh."

Thanks for the request, meow meow meow

♡

[angelyuji]

platonic yandere cecil headcanons

heyyy @alito234 i have made this specifically for u babes <3

tw // yandere behavior, gaslighting, manipulation, truman show vibes, mention of torture/noncon/murder

platonic yandere!cecil x gn!reader

PAPA CECIL!!!!

kinda similar to romantic headcanons except he views you as his child to be protected

cecil doesn’t have kids, he always wanted them, but with the gda and all these heroes… no luck lol

he’s overprotective, secretive, and treats you like you’re 5

he acts like he doesn’t care for u, but like… everybody knows he does

i think the only way for cecil to meet you and see you as his friend/kid is through work

so… for the sake of these headcanons, you work for the gda :)

at first you were just some intern doing coffee runs and helping with small tasks

i feel like the first time you’d ever meet cecil, it’d be something small

“um- sir?” cecil glances over to you, trembling with a notepad in hand.

“what.” cecil tries to be firm, but watching the way you squeak out words, he couldn’t help but smile.

“d-donald asked me to ask you for your coffee order, h-he said that you get something new every day.” you try to maintain eye contact with your boss, but his firm gaze made your hands tremble.

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “just pick something for me kid, i don’t like anything too sweet… can you do that?” he looks over with an eyebrow raised, slightly amused at how you jump and nod vigorously.

“o-of course, sir! i won’t disappoint you!” cecil watches you leave, a small smile settling on his face

in his head, you’re the cutest thing ever like a puppy <3333

everything you do makes his heart go “ASDOSADJASPDIJCUTIEPIEEEMYCHILDMYKID”

he acts like the missions he sends you on are really important and special, but in reality, he’s only sending you on stuff that doesn’t put you in danger and/or takes you away from the real crises

you’re pretty oblivious to it till you meet mark

cecil tried his best to keep you from meeting omni-man, but even that was hard

and now with superheros being murdered and a new superhero popping up, he’s had no choice but to send you on a “top secret mission” soo sooooo sooo classified… now its similar to the romantic headcanons except when cecil visits, its like ur dad’s coming over to see you and help fix stuff, and not hey my boyfriends coming over to ***** you into the mattress. sorry

like i said before very Truman-show/big brother coded

he’s always watching you

everyone in town is always watching you

you are surrounded by people that cecil pay to be there. you have no real allies if shit goes south

i think the hardest part of looking after you is that you’re so invested into the gda, you want to meet omni-man, you want to meet invincible, you want to help cecil in protecting the people

but cecil literally wants you to be as far away from that shit as possible (that’s why he sends you to middle of nowhere for a “special mission”

“again?” cecil watches your face fall as he hands you the file. you found out about the viltrumite issue before he could stop the information from spreading, so the best he could do was send you away from it as soon as possible.

“it’s important, (y/n).” cecil tries to pretend he was busy searching on his computer, his heart breaking at your voice.

“but you said that last time and there wasn’t really anything to do during that mission. i just… sat around.” you frown, gripping the file tight.

“we had good intel that something was going to go down-”

“what. what was “going to go down”?” you imitate him and cecil huffs a laugh.

“sweetheart, this is important and you’re the only one i can send.” cecil leans back on his chair, folding his arms. he knew you would fold, hearing how important you are. cecil watches you hesitate, your mouth opening and closing.

“cecil- i-” you stop and take a breath. “i just want to actually help with-” a knock at the door stops you. before cecil could tell you to leave, mark walks in.

“cecil. we need to talk. now.” mark ignores you as he speaks through gritted teeth. relief floods him at the opportunity to avoid your questions.

cecil sighs, pretending to be annoyed at the interruption, “(y/n), go. i need you on that plane tonight.” you open your mouth to speak up, but seeing mark’s glare, you resign yourself to your mission.

i think the only way you end up being more aware of cecil’s… protectiveness of you is if you befriend mark

he’ll tell you about everything happening and you start to connect the dots

extra thoughts (SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3)

i think during the whole cecil vs mark thing, you’re going to choose cecil (whether you’re marks friend or s/o, you’ll choose your papa!!!) (if you didn’t tho for some reason, cecil would probs go nuclear on mark and everyone who choose marks side)

during the invincible war situation, if any of the marks had beef with cecil for some reason, they would’ve gone to find you to either kill or torture (or something worse) you

if you survived, it would’ve completely soured your’s and cecil’s relationship with mark

if you didn’t survive, cecil would’ve done anything he could’ve to turn the world against mark and put him prison or smth :)

anyway not an extra thought, but i love papa cecil and i want him carnally but that’s just MY thought teehee

[rafescherie]

Hii, I absolutely loved salt in the sugar bowl, I was wondering if you make a part 2 can it be like reader gets w Jj (or another pogue) and everyone’s like kinda fine with it and think they’re cute tg, and Rafe is just kinda sitting there watching like damn I really missed out..

idk but yeah I think it’d be interesting to see 🤍🤍

SALT IN THE SUGAR BOWL — RAFE CAMERON

only weeks after your break-up, you show up to pogue!rafe's automobile shop seeking his help — and old wounds, and old feelings are reignited.

salt in the sugar bowl miniseries | part one - you are currently on part two - part three |

cherie's note — thank u for the request, anon<3! already had the foundation for the follow-up, decided to throw in mentions of jj, hopefully you like it! thank you guys for all the support! will be writing a third part most likely. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

rafe hated the pogues.

it wasn't about where they came from, or how they lived like life had already beaten them down. it was the way they wore it — like being at the bottom was something to be proud of. like struggling to make ends meet, living pay cheque to pay cheque, made them better than the ones who had never known hunger, or desperation, or what it felt like to have nothing left to lose.

they threw around words like family and loyalty, like it meant anything. like it would keep them from turning on each other the second shit hit the fan. it was a lie — a comforting facade they told themselves to make up for everything they'd never have.

but most of all, he hated that he was one of them now. fighting to survive, and wondering when he'd finally have his cut of fresh life.

it didn't matter that he hadn't changed — not really. he was still rafe cameron, still the same guy who had once walked through figure eight with his head high, his last name like a golden ticket. but none of that mattered anymore. not on this side of the island.

not since ward cut him off — when his entire world came crashing down, leaving him stranded on the cut with the same people he used to look down on. he'd lost the money, the power, the respect that came with being a cameron. and no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, it ate him alive. every single day.

and the worst part? the pogues saw it too.

they didn't say anything, but he could feel it in the way they looked at him — like he was some washed-up prince, stripped of his crown, reduced to nothing more than a lost cause. it made him sick.

nothing feels like rock bottom like being looked down on by the ones at the lowest — the same ones you had once looked over, never casted more than a bat of the eye towards. that, truly felt like rock fucking bottom for rafe, and there was no coming back from that.

he wasn't one of them, he never would be.

and yet, there he was, sitting on the back deck of a bar that reeked of beer and sea salt, nursing a drink he could barely afford, surrounded by the very people he despised.

rafe let his head fall back against the chair, exhaling slowly as he tried to drown out the noise around him — the sound of waves crashing in the distance, the low hum of conversation, and the occasional burst of drunken laughter. it all felt suffocating, especially when he had crashed from so high at the top.

then, he heard her laugh.

at first, he thought he imagined it. he wouldn't put it past himself — if his mind was idle, chances are, she suffocated every crevice of his brain. but when he turned his head, there she was.

and she wasn't alone.

the glass in his hand stilled as his fingers tightened around it. across the dock, against the illuminated ocean water, she stood with jj maybank, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

rafe felt his stomach twist.

it had only been a few weeks. a few fucking weeks. and yet, there she was — smiling, laughing, leaning into him like rafe had never even mattered.

like he hadn't shattered her heart, torturing his own in the process.

like he wasn't sitting there, watching it all unfold, feeling like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him.

the worst part wasn't that she was with someone else. it wasn't even that she was with jj — a pogue, and the last person rafe would ever want to see touching her.

no, the worst part was that she looked happy.

and rafe hated that almost as much as he hated the pogues.

────── ֺ ᪄ 𖹭 ၃ ִ ──────

you hadn't set foot in this shop since everything fell apart. the last time you had been here, your face was stained in salty tear streaks. the last time you were here, things were different — easier. back when rafe still looked at you like you were his, back when his touch was something warm instead of a ghost you tried not to miss. but that was months ago. now, the only thing left between you was silence.

and maybe, that was for the best.

you could have taken your car anywhere else — you probably should have. there were automobile shops scattered around the island, but deep down, you knew no one worked like rafe. he had a way with car, the same way he used to have a way with you — knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to keep things running smooth. until, suddenly, he didn't.

a part of you wondered if he ever felt the same hollow ache you did. if the silence was as loud for him as it was for you.

the thought lingers as you pull open the heavy shop door, the bell above it jingling a little too loud in the still air. the scent of oil, grease and gasoline wraps around you like something familiar, something that used to feel like home.

and then, you see him.

he's under the hood of a car, forearms tense as he works, grease smudged across his fingers and forearms. the sight of him knocks the breath from your lungs — not because he looks different, but because he looks the same. same sharp jaw, same furrowed brow, shame effortless pull he's always had on you.

you hear it before you see it — the slight hitch in his breath, the way his movements falter for half a second before he straightens. his eyes find yours through the dim light of the garage, and something flickers there. surprise. hesitation. maybe even something softer, something you shouldn't hope for.

you swallowed hard. yeah, this was a mistake.

but it was too late to turn back now.

"hi," you greet softly, timid. you throw your arms behind your back, a nervous gesture as you walk a few feet towards him. despite all the noise in the shop; the noise of the ceiling fans, the faint rock music on the stereo, everything zeroes in on him, like the world stopped for this moment alone. "sorry to bother... do you mind looking at my car quickly? my boyfriend's not answering his phone... so he's out of the picture when it comes to help."

of course, jj. as much as you had grown to like jj, his presence was fleeting — always in and out, never staying long enough to settle. everyone knew this wasn’t the right time for him to commit to a relationship, and deep down, you did too. but still, you had jumped in headfirst, ignoring the warning signs. you needed a distraction, and so did he.

his body automatically tensed at the sound of your voice. it was as soft as he remembered, though you sounded almost shy now. he could see the way you shifted on your feet, fidgeting with your fingers behind your back, the way you couldn't hold his gaze for long, and he hated it. h hated how nervous you seemed now that you were near him again. he hated that he was the cause of the change.

he cleared his throat, nodding as he took another step forward.

"sure... sure. let me have a look at it."

he knew he was a goner. the worst thing he could have done in this moment, was accept, but he couldn't help it. not after he'd realized how sad life gotten since he forced you out of his.

rafe walks over to the hood, lifting it open as the smoke puffs out once more. he coughs lightly, waving the grey tendrils away as he looks down at the engine before him. he sighs, his brows furrowing at the sight as his eyes rake over the mess of steam and metal.

"you're engine's overheating." he mutters, his eyes flickering towards you for a brief moment.

he notices the way you keep your eyes glued to the engine, finding any excuse not to meet his eyes.

it made sense — outerbanks had been under heatwave warning for the last week, reaching its peak a few days before the issue had first presented itself.

he nodded, his gaze returning to the engine. "when did it start overheating?" he asks, his voice a little gruff as he wipes his sleeve across his face, wiping the sweat away.

you hated to admit it, feeling the lecture come on before you had even spoken a word, "few days ago, figured it would go away on its own."

he hummed in response, his eyes rolling at your answer. of course, you would've fixed on it's own. he huffed, a chuckle escaping him as he shook his head.

"yeah, that's not how it works." he replies, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest at the sound of your voice once more. he tried to sound disinterested and nonchalant, but there was a part of him that was happy to hear you speak again.

after a moment of his examination, he finally spoke again. "seems like your radiator is leaking." he explained, leaning down towards the engine. "probably has a busted hose or something."

you groan — something of the sort sounded expensive. it wasn't that you couldn't afford it, all you had to do was ask your father for some cash, and he'd gladly give it your way.

he let out another sigh, glancing over at you. "it won't take me too long to fix..."

"oh," you reply, doe eye accentuated by your lashes, "it's alright. i can get somebody else to fix it, i just needed to know what the issue was, really. thank you, rafe."

his jaw clenched at your words, feeling the ache in his chest growing stronger. he didn't want you to go to another mechanic, or relying on your 'boyfriend' for such a simple fix. in actuality, the thought of you leaving the shop, and potentially never coming back hurt the most.

he was silent for a moment, his mind racing for something to say to keep you here for a little longer, until the words fell out of his mouth.

"why don't you just let me fix it?"

"i mean..." you start, looking back at the shop over your shoulder before meeting his blue eyes once more. "i don't want to bother... i know you're super busy in there so..."

he scoffed at that, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at you. busy? yeah, he was swamped with jobs, but he could never be too busy for you.

"it's fine," he replied gruffly, trying not to sound eager, "it won't take me long anyways. just let me fix it."

with a shaky sigh, you nod and accept the offer. you knew rafe would take good care of your vehicle — but the idea of being stuck here with him alone until he was finished made you nervous.

he nodded in response, trying to hide the excitement that surged within him. he wasn't going t let you just walk out his door, not today. not yet.

"perfect," he said briskly, running his hand over his buzzcut. "come back inside. it'll only be a few minutes."

you follow behind rafe, like he had expected. it was cute, he thought, one of the first things he had noticed about you. you followed him around like a damn puppy, so eager to spend time with him that it didn't matter what you both were doing, as long as you were by his side.

he gestures for you to follow him to your vehicle, now parked inside as the large garage doors closing behind you both. he could feel your presence behind him, and could practically sense the tension radiating off of you.

for a moment, there was a silence as he began to work, his hands fiddling with different tools and parts. but then, he spoke, his gruff voice cutting through the air.

"so..." he began, his eyes never leaving the engine in front of him. "how've you been."

you weren't expecting conversation — not normal conversation, anyways. like nothing had happened between you two, like he hadn't been the one to break your heart only a couple of weeks ago.

"i've been... good." you reply, shoving your hands in your pockets. it wasn't the truth, yet wasn't entirely a lie either. things had been going good for you, but when the house fell silent, and the night took over, all the happiness seemed to dissipate once again.

he hummed in response, his eyes flickering to you for a moment. even he could hear how forced your answer sounded.

"saw you the other day," he said, closing the hood of your vehicle with a thud.

you frown, "yeah? where?"

"by the docks. with him."

your silence speaks volumes to the man. the girl who once spent hours perched on his workbench, yapping his ear off, now sat quiet. the shy demeanor felt odd. you should've known rafe wouldn’t bite his tongue — he never did. he was blunt, everyone knew that. and the moment you showed up here, you should’ve been ready for him to bring it up.

you blinked, trying to keep your expression neutral, "him?"

rafe let out a dry chuckle, wiping the grease onto an already dirty rag. he threw the cloth onto the hood of your car, "come on, don't do that. you know who i'm talking about."

looking down at the floor, you're suddenly aware of just how much coming here was a mistake.

"you don't get to do this, rafe."

"do what?" his tone is deceptively calm.

"this," you motion between you two, "you broke up with me, remember?"

his jaw tightened, "i know."

"so why does it matter?"

rafe was silent for a beat his tongue poking the soft skin of his cheek, like he was trying to find the right words. finally, he exhaled, shaking his head.

"it doesn't," he muttered. "forget i said anything."

and then he turns his back towards you, just like he had all those weeks ago. returning to his workbench, putting down the wrench within his palms down harshly. the frustration is clear, roaming through the air you share.

and he doesn't turn around until he hears you open your vehicle door, ready to find your leave without even saying goodbye, not that he was going to bother anyways.

"you still wear it," he said, voice quieter now.

your breath caught in your throat.

it took you a second to realize what he meant — until you followed his gaze, landing right where his eyes had lingered.

the bracelet.

worn. faded from the sun. still tied around your wrist.

the one he gave you. the one you never took off.

rafe's gaze flicked back to yours, something unreadable in his expression. something dangerous.

something hopeful. for the first time in weeks.

but before you could say anything, before you could defend yourself or rip the damn thing off your wrist, he shook his head, scoffing under his breath.

"see you around, then."

and with that, he slid back under the vehicle, ready to busy his mind with more work — a desperate attempt at a distraction after all of this.

leaving you standing there — heart pounding, mind spinning — knowing damn well this wasn't over.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: A New World {3}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: just a short smut scene to keep you fed while I’m away 😊 Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, p in v & a, cumplay WC: 800~ F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four

The alarm to get ready for media day was promptly ignored and for the first time in his life Lando was the first one awake. You were semi-conscious, half asleep and caught in the peripherals of a dream that left you hot and needy. Your body sought out the source of hardness behind you and Lando kissed your shoulder as his morning wood pressed to your ass.

“Seven days, baby,” he murmured in your ear. The relevance was lost on you in your state as his hand lifted your leg up so his cock could tease your entrance. You were in a trance as his tip penetrated you and your eyes burst open as you felt the warmth of his cock for the first time and Charles grinned at the sight.

“Seven days,” you breathed unevenly as you realised the significance and Lando echoed the sound as his cock was coated in your wetness.

“Fuck, Charles,” Lando moaned in your ear. “She feels like heaven.”

Without the latex barrier it was like you could feel every ridge and every vein on his shaft as it dragged along your walls. With nothing coming between you, you felt everything.

You whimpered at the loss as Lando pulled out but it was momentary as Charles replaced him. You could feel his heart beating rapidly against your chest as he grabbed your knee and pulled it over his hip, deepening the angle of his lazy thrusts as he sealed his lips over yours. Charles stole the moan that would have filled the hotel room as Lando’s finger teased your ass, using your own arousal to prep it for him.

“Putain, you’re so tight, chérie,” Charles gasped as your walls clenched around his cock and he rolled onto his back, keeping your bodies joined as you settled on top.

“Relax, baby,” Lando cooed as he knelt behind you, spreading your cheeks as he watched you ride Charles for a moment. He was almost undone by the sight of his boyfriend’s cock, bare and glistening with your juices, pumping in and out of your pretty pussy. Sense came back to him when your head fell back with a cry and your body shuddered with your orgasm and the urge to feel that for himself spurred him forward.

Light danced around your vision as Lando inched himself into you, the fullness seeming to chase the very air from your lungs as your body stretched to fit them both. Lando stilled behind you as his chest pressed to your back and he breathed with the counted marks of a man barely holding on to his sanity.

“Best decision ever,” you purred as you tortured them, slowly fucking yourself against them to see who would lose patience first.

“Agreed,” Lando chuckled in your ear. “I can feel Charles inside you, love.”

“Moi aussi,” Charles groaned, snapping his hips up and leaving you breathless.

You could feel another orgasm approaching, the feeling of weightlessness and tightening causing a short circuit in your brain.

“Holy shit,” Lando moaned as he felt your body clench around him. “Gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill you up so good.”

“Je vais te remplir la chatte.”

Your cunt clenched at the dirty words and you lost yourself to the feeling of their cocks filling your holes and the heat that flooded you as they came inside you.

You collapsed into a sweaty pile of tangled limbs, but Charles was strong enough to handle the added weight as his arms encompassed both you and Lando.

“Hmm,” he hummed happily behind you as he pulled out and watched his cum leak from your ass. You peeked over your shoulder to see the possessive look in his eyes before yours fluttered shut as he pushed it back in with his finger. “Pretty.”

You were happy to take the fine for being late to the media pit, nothing could bring you down from the high you were on.

Click here for the next part.

[hunnylagoon]

Take Me to War

PT2 Metaphor

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

Where do I pour my love if you take away my pen and paper?

Premise: You are starting to like your annoyingly loud neighbour more than you want to admit.

PT1 Here!

Warnings: Raunchy humour

The gym was busy on this particular day, I absentmindedly judged others for being at the gym at noon on a Saturday like they should have been doing something more interesting with their time until I realized I was at the gym at noon on a Saturday with no other plans for the rest of the day "And she's hot?" Abby asks me while she effortlessly benches something around 170 and I do nothing more than lean on the wall behind her.  

"She's hot," I answer, scrolling through her feed on Instagram like the weird little stalker I was. I hadn't gone full FBI, just looked her up and possibly watched some of her videos "It's kind of cool that I have an internet celebrity living next to me."

"Define cool," Abby props the bar back onto the saddles of the machine and sits up, taking a chug from her water bottle.

"She is cool," I defend "It's not that weird Minecraft roleplay that your grimy cousins watch, it's just like video games and vlogs, that kind of stuff."

Abby looks back at me, sweat drips from her blonde hairline and rests above her brow "How is that even a career?"

I shrug in response "Sponsorships and donations and shit." 

"Why do people throw so much money at streamers?"

"Parasocial relationships, I wrote an article about it last year which you said you read."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "You were writing a lot of articles, hard to keep up with."

"Define a lot," I mock Abby's words. I glance at a guy in between the rows of gleaming machines, their metallic frames reflecting the obnoxious glow overhead. He had been using the leg press upside down, his neck hunched over into an almost horrifying posture, his shoulders pressing against the top plate. It might've been the most normal thing I've seen in New York.

"So are you going to ask her out?"

I wrinkle my nose, thinking about it "I met her last week, I just don't think I know her that well." Within the past week that I've met her, I've been crawling out to the fire escape every morning just so her drowsy eyes could peer into my vacant skull and in recent months I had given up on dating, like a spider, I devoured my own heart.

"That's kind of the point of dating," She lays back down on the bench press "Getting to know each other."

"I think I'm too busy to date," I tuck my phone into my pocket, crossing my arms while I watch Abby. I wasn't entirely sure that I was too busy to date but I tended to consume myself entirely and make everything far more complicated than it needed to be. I still perform autopsies on conversations I've had years ago, clinging to every word like I need them to survive.

"Why don't you wanna be happy?" She asks, furrowing her eyebrows "You're always getting in your own way, is it a tortured poet type of thing?"

My breath hitches in my throat. How I hate when she's right. The last serious relationship I had was in college and even then I had sabotaged myself, I didn't know where it came from other than a nagging feeling that I wasn't deserving of the love that had been offered up to me on a shining silver platter. "I do I'm-

"Just not ready?" Abby cuts me off, finishing my sentence so perfectly as if it had been words on a script for some boring play about a woman who hates her life and won't do anything about it.

"Yeah," I say, my voice is quiet, she's got me in a box here.

"If you're not ready to date, you might as well be friends with her," She puts the bar back onto the saddles but this time, stands up after completing her reps. "You need to get out and it seems like you get along well."

"I guess," I say and Abby raises an eyebrow "No, you're right, I need to dig myself out of the grave I've dug for myself." What added to my overly apathetic mood was the season, I was so sick of February. It felt like winter had forced mold to grow on my bones to way me down onto the dirty city pavement where careless New Yorkers would gladly stomp over my body.

"How's it going with the family?" Abby is writing something down in her notes which I assume is her number of sets and reps.

"Nothing new," I answer.

She peers at me over her phone, digging for a more solid answer "Are you still sending your parents money?"

"Yes-

"Why?" Her arms dropped to her side, her phone still in one hand "You shouldn't have to play caretaker for two people who don't care about you," As true as it was, it didn't hurt any less to hear it out of my best friend's mouth. 

"It's easier said than done, those are my parents," I'm almost overtaken by a delicate drowsiness from the thoughts of leaving behind the one connection I had to my small-town life. My parents were so careless that I would run around barefoot on the road with the neighbour's kids for hours, narrowly dodging cars that flew past us like it had been a game; everything was a game back then, when I came home to my father's drunkenness, I could hide away in the treehouse and read Harry Potter until the screaming came to a stop.

I was bonded to them like I was to the stray cats who raised me. There was no getting rid of them, we ricocheted between hatred and love like the game of catch I never got to play.  

"I'm sorry," She says though I know it is ingenuine "I shouldn't get in between your family."

Abby didn't know them the same way I did. All she knew was the bloodiness of the relationship that I had cried into her arms, she didn't know how kind the wolves were after they tore me apart. The way my father would cheer for me the loudest at my soccer games and how my mother baked for me after a fight, wasn't the apology that I yearned for but the one that was shoved down my throat.

I dug through my brain to search for a way to change the topic "I saw Owen at the market yesterday and he said he wanted you to call him."

"You're fucking kidding."

My deadline had passed with no issue and I was finally blessing myself with a day where I wasn't chained to my desk. I could finally let my poor bloodshot eyes rest and for once I didn't have to drown them in eyedrops.

I was freshly out of the shower when I heard a knock at my door, Margot yelling at me to answer it. I slipped into a matching pyjama set that Abby gave me on my birthday, hurrying as fast as I could to the door. Margot's consistent screaming did nothing to aid this. 

Ellie was the last person I expected to see on the other side of the door but there she was. I couldn't help the smile that cracked onto my face "Am I the one being loud now?"

She grins at me "No-it's just that my chat has been begging for you to come back all week and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do a stream with me?"

I looked down at what I was wearing and suddenly felt like the scrouge, all I was missing was a nightcap and a taper candle. "Can I change first?"

"Go ahead but I think this is one of your best looks."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow "You have poor judgement since you've never seen me in anything other than pyjamas."

"We should probably fix that then."

"I guess we should." I smile. I decided against changing, it wasn't like I was going out, just heading to my friend's apartment that was three feet away.

"Say as much or as little as you want," She opens the door to let me in "I owe you big time," Ellie says this like I don't want excuses to spend time for her. Like I haven't been freezing my ass off every day just to talk to her when she watches the city wake up as she prepares to rest her head. 

Ellie's apartment is more lively than the last time I visited, she's adapted some plants that are already beginning to wilt "Have these been getting any sunlight?" 

She furrows her eyebrows "No? They're fake."

"Ellie," I stifle a laugh "I'm like ninety percent sure that fake plants don't wilt."

"Nuh-uh," She walks toward one just rubs its wilting leaf between her thumb and index, it begins to crumble in her hand and she sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "I guess they are real," Ellie pokes a finger into the bone dry soil and wipes the dirt onto her pants "How much do you know about plants?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess more than you."

 She nods "Sounds about right," Ellie walks over to her sink to fill a Game of Thrones mug with water before circling back to water her plants "Drink up little buddies."

"looks like you need some sunlight too," I watch her attempt to revive the dying plants and 

"Yeah," She keeps hyper-focused on the plants but she cracks a small grin, I could've sworn her smile burnt down the library of Alexandria "I think I'm turning into a vampire."

"The sparkly kind?"

Ellie shakes her head as she stands back up to put the mug on the kitchen island "Like the guy from Sesame Street."

I wrinkle my nose "Yeah, you're looking kind of purple."

"Damn, I was worried you would notice," She smiles again as she opens the door to her office, the purple LED lights are still running but the overhead light is turned on and washes away the colour.

The second I step into the room, Ellie rushes ahead of me and almost jumps to grab the folding chair. She sits herself down and pats her fancy gaming chair for me to sit in it. "Guys, she came!" 

I stare at her, eyes wide, jaw slack. "Ellie."

"What?"

"Do you hear yourself?"

She takes a minute to think about it before nodding her head, I could see the exact moment it clicked "No, I hear it," She addresses the camera "Not like that guys but I don't know what she did with her day, not our business though."

Ellie looks at me like she's waiting for approval of her chosen words. After a moment's reflection, I answer dryly "Thanks." 

"Sorry for taking so long, I had to water some plants," She watches the chat bar scroll by, squinting before she leans back in her chair, hand running through her hair "No, that's not code for sex."

"Could be," I shrug.

"They wanna know what your name is."

"Top secret."

"Okay," She reads some more comments from the chat "Can you tell them what you do for work?"

"I'm a ghostwriter," I say, giving a little thumbs up. I saw myself in the monitor and wanted to throw my hands at myself for being so awkward.

"Spooky," Ellie smiles "She writes about people instead of interacting with them, that's why she's socially inept." She reaches for her soundboard and presses a button, sounding a prerecorded effect of a crowd cheering and laughing.

"She's never had a girl in her apartment, that's why she can't flirt." I counter as she throws her hands up, I can tell she's about to retort with something before I cut her off "So what were you doing before you kidnapped me?"

"Guys, I didn't kidnap her, she willingly walked in here without the use of excessive force and I have had many a girl in this apartment," Ellie tells the chat before clicking something on her screen "So, they send in videos and we have to not laugh, which isn't hard because they aren't very funny." 

"You're not funny either but they watch you," I tease, Ellie fights a smile trying to uphold our image of back and-forth pocking and prodding at one another.

"Laugh three times and you're out."

"Of the apartment?"

"No, you just laugh three times and you lose."

"What do I get if I don't lose?"

"Fuck, I dunno," She furrows her eyebrows, searching the room for something. Her eyes land on a small silver tin, she snatches it up into the palm of her pale hand and sits back down "You get my dill dough."

"I'm sorry!?" My head snaps to look at her "Are you sure you aren't a cam girl?"

"No," She pauses "No, I mean no it's not what you think, yes," Ellie backtracks again "I mean I am sure I'm not a cam girl, not that that I'm not sure I'm not a cam girl, because I'm not," She looks like she's sure of what she said like it made perfect sense "Not a cam girl."

"You're not-not a cam girl?" I ask, pointing out the double negative "So you are a cam girl?"

"No," Ellie runs a hand down her face "Can you guys please tell her that I'm not a cam girl?"

Dcknb4llz:She's a cam girl

Nataliadepressed:I just subbed to her only fans!

Mclovin_fury26:She just wants to show you her dill dough 😕

Yayayalorde:I wish she was a cam girl 

The3nd_isn3ar:Ellie pls stop joking about it and become a cam girl already 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Ewmarryme:hahaha Ellie ur so funny now get serious and make an onlyfans

"Anyways," Ellie ignores the chat as they clearly aren't helping her case "This is my dill dough," She shows me the small tin she picked up, there's a picture of a pickle on the front. Over the translucent lid, it surely enough says 'Dill Dough! pickle scented'. It was just green silly putty with an oddly incredulous name.

"I weirdly want that," I answer.

"If you win, it's yours." She tucks it away into the pocket of her sweatpants "Mods, let's get this moving."

We sit through about fifteen minutes of videos; mainly people getting hurt, occasionally one of some type of animal. Nothing funny enough to make either of us laugh except for one of a man falling through a glass table which gets a little chuckle out of Ellie who denies it. 

Another video began playing, it was Ellie in this exact spot, screaming during a game of Fortnite. It looks like it's from the first time she showed me her odd job choice. In the distance, you can hear a knock on the door and this is when I'm sure it's from the day I had been thinking of. Ellie pulls her headphones off and looks at her camera "Shit, I think that's my hot neighbour again."

I slap a hand over my mouth and turn to see Ellie who's looking disappointed at her chat, shaking her head at the camera. "Whoever sent that is fake as fuck."

"So you think I'm hot?"

"Pfft, no, dude, you're ugly as fuck," Ellie makes an overexaggerated confused face like she has no idea what I'm talking about "I was talking about my other neighbour."

Kaylnncourting:Ellie y r u fumbling so bad???????

Overdam00n:You guys were right for saying she doesn't get 🐱🐱🐱🐱

Sestwouth:bruh she's ruining it for herself

Connerstollit:WHY DID SHE SAY THAT 

Cruel_summer:What is wrong with Ellie? Genuinely

F0gg4t:If El doesn't want her, I do

Aliinnnnnaaaaa:First girl she's ever met and she's ruining it

Randelwthehandle:Ugly as fuck??????? who says that 😭😭

Dcknb4llz:wow nice cover up Ellie

Marie_739:Bro Im gonna start calling the girls I like ugly as fuck

"Mr. Quigley?" I ask to which Ellie nods immediately "You think the eighty-seven-year-old veteran who is missing a foot and has swallowed four of his teeth is hot?"

"Yeah," She says, immediately regretting the hole she was digging herself into "I have a thing for older men."

"I don't think you have a thing for men at all, actually."

Her eyes go wide, Ellie opens her mouth to say something and she leans forward in her chair so fast that she falls out and smacks her head on the desk, folding over and onto the ground. I have the biggest smile on my face as I reach for her soundboard and press the cheering crowd effect.  I'm laughing too hard to offer her help, clutching my stomach and keeling over so my head is out of frame. Ellie gets up, and puts herself back in the folding chair pointing at the camera "Do not clip that."

Almost seconds after she says that a video gets sent in of her smacking her head on the desk in slow motion while I burst out laughing and now I'm cackling even harder. You can even hear her yelp in slow motion and she sounds like the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park "You guys are way funnier than Ellie," I say, addressing whoever was watching the stream. 

Another video pops on the screen right after the last one ends, it's Ellie again. She screams at something on her computer and you can hear me bang on the wall on the other side. Ellie goes quiet immediately going back to her game and muttering "She's so hot guys."

"I think my mods hate me," Ellie shakes her head.

"Thank you mods!" I smile at the camera.

A little clip of Ellie back at her desk pops up, she's wearing a Garfield shirt. This time she isn't playing anything, she just sits in front of the camera with that familiar lopsided smile "Guys, how do I trick my neighbour into going out with me?"

There's another video, it's a longer one with the caption 'Ellie Williams calling her neighbour hot compilation' Ellie's eyes go wide and she clicks off the video immediately, the camera goes to us full screen. "That's enough of that."

I pull my phone out and type in the caption of the unfinished video into YouTube, it comes up right away and I click on it. Ellie clicks around on her computer, unaware of my viewing until she hears her voice, echoing in low quality from my phone. She reaches for my phone but I pull it closer to myself. 

I'm dead set on finishing the video until something on the other side of the door, catches my eye. It rushes past the small crack in the slightly ajar door and instinctively, I drop my phone with a slight jolt "What the fuck is that?"

Ellie takes this opportunity to snatch my phone and place it face down on the desk, out of my reach. "That's just Kitty." She pushes herself out of the folding chair and steps out of the room. She walks back in carrying what looks to be a mound of cotton balls, looking a little closer, I realize it's a rabbit. He looks more fluff than flesh.

"What the fuck," My mouth falls open in awe "Can I hold it?" She places him in my lap "He just walks around your apartment?"

She nods "He's litter trained so he just kinda hangs out." 

I pet him, he's soft as a million feathers, and he looks like a mascot for a paper towel company "You are the only person I know that would name their bunny Kitty."

Ellie tries to wipe off the mass amounts of rabbit fur on her, it seems the more she tries to get it off, the more firmly it refuses to budge. "This is a good time to show you guys this new shirt that Dina ordered for me," Ellie stands up walking off camera. She has a couple of Amazon boxes stacked on her couch, she reaches into one of them and pulls out a T-shirt. Ellie turns towards the wall so her back is facing me, she pulls her hoodie off over her head.

All I can see is the back of her sports bra but I force my eyes to go wide "Guys, Ellie Williams has a tramp stamp that says cum dumpster," I lie and the chat goes wild and I grab my phone off her desk as she turns around in her Five Nights at Freddie's tee with a 'Seriously?' face. I take a picture of her with the flash on "I'll sell this rare image of Ellie for six hundred dollars on eBay."

Ellie walks back over to the desk with a stack of Amazon boxes "Every donation goes toward my tattoo removal," She jokes, digging around in the boxes. "I'm a little over your videos, you bunch of snitches so I think it's about time I finally open these up." 

I look in the boxes too, leaning over slightly, being very careful of Kitty where he sits in my lap. I see something and pull it out to hand to Ellie "You should try this one."

"World's hottest gummy bear," She reads the package "Why is there only one? What if I want another?" Ellie yanks the gummy bear, squishing it between her fingers. It looks like Red-40 personified. 

Melanie_felony:She's setting her up lmao

Dcknb4llz:Nobody say anything pls I rlly wanna see this

Elliewsidechick:YALL SHES TOO WHITE FOR THIS STOP

She eats the gummy bear in one bite. As she begins to chew it, she seems absolutely unfazed and partially confused about why it was labelled 'World's Hottest Gummy Bear' A moment later she begins to cough, balling her hand up into a fist and pounding on her chest. Ellie's little cough quickly turns into a deep wheeze.

Ellie lets out a scream, her face going red as she slams her hand onto her desk with watering eyes. I could see visible sweat on her face as she dry heaved, it only took thirty seconds until she sprinted out of the room.

"Oh my god," I watch her run out of the room while I give Kitty a little pet between his ears, he's so still I almost think he's taxidermy. "Guys, I think we killed her." You can hear her vaguely screaming and gagging from the kitchen "So what did everyone do today?"

Thelastgreatamericandynasty:wrote a fanfic about you and Ellie

Dcknb4llz:I got jumped at waffle house 

"Yikes, sorry to hear that." I suck a breath through my teeth "Tell me what I should know about Ellie." Her name feels so right on my tongue.

Jesse_chang:She's a virgin

D4aughter_:OMG HI JESSE

A_birthday_card:The only s3x she's ever had was in Minecraft

Whathasshegot:She has a crush on you 

Touching_theyouth:She's lactose intolerant 

Dcknb4llz:She sold me ketamine in an ally 

Gusty_queefqueen:She homophonic 

Torxhmydreams2:Pretty sure that’s two words that have the same pronunciation but different meaning

Gusty_queefqueen:Bruh it means she doesn’t like gay people

Heytheredelilah7:She has a boyfriend

When Ellie comes back she's filled her Game of Thrones mug with milk and has a bag of shredded mozzarella cheese. She reads the chat "Can you guys be cool for once?"

"They're cooler than you."

"Very funny," Ellie eats a handful of mozzarella before she digs back in the boxes "What's next?" There's one box huge envelope that looks like it has a slip of cardboard in it. Ellie tears the corner open with her teeth and rips the rest of the top off with her hands. She pulls the content out of it, throwing the envelope over the computer for it to land on the ground. Just as suspected there was cardboard in it, not just a slip but it unfolded into a cardboard cut out of Ellie, she looked to be a younger teenager in it, giving an awkward little peace sign and showing her green braces off with a huge smile.

"Aww, you actually look cute in that."

She disregards me "Chat, interrogate Dina about this and report back."

"Dina?" I ask "Is that your girlfriend?"

"Nah," Ellie props up the cardboard cut-out and places it behind us, right in the middle to watch over us "She's my enemy as of right now."

"What did she do?"

"Send this shit," She eats some more mozzarella, holding the bag out to offer me some, to which I decline. Ellie shrugs it off and eats another handful, washing it down with a long chug of milk and putting it on the desk. She grabs a t-shirt, he eyes go wide and she pushes it against her chest so I can't see. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," I watch a smile spread across her face as she turns the shirt around to show me a graphic of her on it. In the picture, her face is close up to the camera covered in a white powder (presumably flour). "Oh, wow!" I feign shock.

"I know!" She holds it out toward me "It's yours, you deserve it."

"Wow," I draw the word out, taking the shirt from Ellie "This is really great, I was always hoping I would get a shirt of you covered in flour." Sarcasm drips from tone but I accept the gift regardless.

"I know!" Ellie grins brightly "You should put it on now."

"That's fine, I think I'll save it for our date," I tease.

She perks up just the slightest "Ooo, when's that?"

"The second this stream ends."

"On that note," Ellie looks at the camera "Thank you guys for hopping on tonight and thank you to my neighbour who came here without putting up a fuss," Ellie clicks around on the screen a little bit before addressing them again "Alright, go bug Dina now."

With that the stream comes to a close, the blinking light on the camera turns off, and Ellie and I are left alone with ourselves and Kitty.

“So,” Ellie thumps her foot up and down repeatedly like those anxious kids in high school. “Do you maybe wanna get coffee tomorrow?”

“I don’t drink coffee but I’ll pretend to so I have an excuse to hangout with you.”

A smile splits onto Ellie’s face “Phew, I hate coffee I just thought it was an adult way to ask you out.”

A/N: This is super short but I’ll make up for it in the next part, thanks for reading! We got some angst on the way 👀

Perm tag-list: @veeveeisgay @whenlostinthedarkness @gold-dustwomxn @ellslvr

Series tag-list: @diddiqueen @camillecrellin @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @lmaoo-spiderman @camicocom1a @elliessweetheart @melanie-watermelon @lanafresitas

[thegnomelord]

CH 1: With a Spark It Starts Just Like It Ended

CW: NSFW Blood, gore, cannon typical violence, M reader but can be read as GN, Mage reader, Monster 141 AU, reader is described as having thick fucked up arms.

AO3 3.7k words, more of an intro to what's to come lol.

Old man Abdul had lived a good life. A harsh one. But a good one.

He was amongst the first to grab a gun and raise the fight against the Russians, risking life and limb for the freedom of Urzikstan even as members of his pack bled and died to artillery fire and noxious gas. And he alone had survived to see his country set free of tyranny and chose to stay in the military long after his hair had greyed.

And how was he rewarded for his service?

With a 'promotion' to guard the basement of a conference hall. They even called it the 'Peace House' as if that made his position grander, though in his humble opinion the only peaceful thing happening within the halls above was the lack of physical violence.

"Hey, did you fall asleep on me old man?" Taim, a bright eyed and gap-toothed human private so young he could've been one of his grandsons, asks as he throws down five playing cards on the floor between them. Royal flush, again.

Old man Abdul's eyes are soft with a glare and he throws down his own cards, already knowing he'd lost. "Go fish." He huffs, leaning back into the chair they'd been able to squirrel away.

It was embarrassing to think that boredom could torture him more than the Russians did, but they were only a few hours into their shift and he was already thinking of biting a bullet. Chances were they'd stay down here long after the diplomats up top finished bickering about who knows what...

"Hey," Taim perks up, and from the few weeks he's known him, Abdul knows the glint in his brown eyes heralds something stupid. "How about whoever loses this round takes a shot from your leg?"

He is proven correct.

"How about I throw you into a minefield so we can match?" Old man Abdul responds, his tail wagging from side to side. His tail looks more at home on a rat than any werewolf, the fur there an accidental casualty of a Russian fire mage's spell that had taken his leg off. The prosthetic leg only fitting on his human body isn't nearly as insulting as the warding totem they'd given him to protect against lethal magic after his leg had gone flying.

Taim gulps and holds his hands up. "There's no need for that sir." He quickly adds, clearing his throat and reaching to the floor to pick up their cards and shuffle them.

Taim's warding totem slips out from beneath his jacket, but it's different from old man Abdul's. Not in appearance, with the same materials every mage will make theirs differently, but in feel. It feels different...wrong.

Eyes narrowing he reaches out and holds the piece of faintly glowing rock between his claws. Heat radiates into his fingers, the magic inside pulsing in a steady even thrum like a machine instead of beating like a heartbeat; like something not quite alive.

Abdul had been in combat long enough to know how good a warding totem is with how his body reacts to it.

The shit one he'd been given barely gets the remaining fur on his tail to bristle.

Taim's makes his skin want to melt off.

"Where did you get this?" Abdul asks, tail curling up as he lets go of the totem with disgust clear on his face. "That rock could probably protect you from L3 mage without cracking, maybe even L4." Call him paranoid, but a private getting a totem to protect him from mages rarer than unicorns doesn't make any sense.

"Oh, that-" The young man clears his throat, the totem laying flat against his chest like an insult to life. "Came from up top a few days ago, guess all those terror attacks spooked command and they want to keep us normal people safe." He realizes his words and quickly adds. "-not that I'm calling you not normal or anything sir, it's just that-"

"-You're squishier than me, yes, I know." Old man Abdul rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair with a huff.

Taim gives a nervous little giggle, scratching at his curly dark hair. "No offence sir. It's just...you know."

"We all look out for our kinfolk first." Old man Abdul sighs, going to wave him off.

His pointy ear twitches and immediately he's jumping to his feet when his sensitive hearing picks up the sound of the elevator mechanism running. No one is supposed to come down at this time, and Abdul already has his rifle raised to point at the elevator doors by the time Taim is able to get to his own feet. The old werewolf doesn't even need to say anything for the young man to stand on opposite side of him, they work together well, both guns aimed at the person revealed by the opening elevator doors.

It's just the janitor.

Taim lets out a small breath and lowers his gun, relaxing as the janitor gives them a small greeting both of them have to strain their ears to hear as a face mask muffles their words.

"That was a bit embarrassing." Taim chuckles weakly, nodding his own greeting and taking a step back so the janitor can push the heavy cart past them. Abdul notes the janitor's hands are thick and large, the veins poking out beneath latex gloves. Murky water sloshes inside the mop bucket, the trash bag filled to the brim and budging.

It's just a janitor.

But like an annoying tick on his ass, something doesn't let old man Abdul relax.

There's a buzz in the back of his mind like the one he'd get when he was being watched, and when he catches sight of the janitor's eyes beneath the wide-brimmed cap that buzzing stops; Instead replaced with a flash sense of wrongness in his bones and the feeling of tar inside his heart and an indescribable scent — like stale beer and burnt grass and deep dark rot — it has his fingers moving to the trigger before the sight of magic melting through latex can make the short trip from his eyes to his brain—

Glowing lines spring into thin air to form magic circles before their eyes.

The warding totems shatter.

'Pop' goes a head.

Both bodies drop to the ground.

"Could have told me there was a dog." Your words scrape against your throat like shards of glass from the disuse, melted latex stretching into long strands as you take off the cleaner gloves and throw them away, your fingers steaming and glowing hot with mana before you hide them away in tactical gloves.

"I-" Taim tries to say but his voice fails him, eyes and mind still blinded by the harsh glare of magical fire.

"Save it." You cut him off, pulling open the lip of the trash bag to dig out your facemask helmet. It's both a full face helmet and a gasmask, scratched up from years of use but still able to protect your head while keeping you anonymous. A shame it can't filter out the stench of burnt flesh, but you've gotten used to it.

Taim's vision clears and the moment his eyes settle on the charred remains of Abdul's head— the hollowed out skull where concentrated flame had burned a hole straight through everything in it's path, the flesh and bone charred black —he's scrambling away as fast as his feet can push him, the shattered remains of your warding totem crumbling beneath his fingers. Bile rises in his throat and he coughs when he breaths in, but his stomach is thankfully empty so he ends up dry heaving.

"On your feet." Your words are hard to understand under your gasmask, but you don't need to raise your voice. The tone you use has him scrambling to his feet in seconds.

"I- I- yes sir!" Taim manages to stutter out, doesn't even have to fake his fear as he stands at attention. He watches you reach into the dirty water to pull out a Handheld Personal Computer and shake off the residual droplets to ensure it still works before putting it in your pocket.

"When is the next check in?" You ask, reaching further into the trash bag to grasp the handhold on the heavy gas canister hidden beneath office trash. You pull it out without much effort, setting it carefully on the ground so you can recheck that the release valve is intact.

"20 minutes sir." Taim responds and he doesn't need to know Arabic to know what's inside the canister when a grinning skull is printed on the metal.

You let out a low sound, and Taim tries not to peer too closely at you. Sometimes he wonders what face a person who burns people alive without a single second of hesitation could have, but then you look at him and he sees that unnatural glow of mana in your eyes behind the darkened lenses of the helmet and he's glad he's met with the emotionless visage of the mask rather than the one beneath it.

"You have 10 to get out before Hell opens up." You say, standing back up and picking up the canister without complaint. "Use the emergency tunnels, don't spook the VIPs."

Taim is human, not sensitive to magic like the monsters are, but even he can feel the latent mana in your veins that strengthens your body. Like maggots at the back of his skull. It makes a second round of bile rise to his throat. "Yes sir."

You pay close attention to him until he disappears down the corridor before going the opposite way. Alone, it is easier to calm the lingering heat in your veins until the eternal engine of mana in your chest fizzles down to embers like a sleeping beast. Can't have your mana mess with sensitive electronics, even if that does leave you exposed on the cams (as if there's anyone alive to watch them)

"Ifrit, status?" The small radio in your ear crackles.

"Moving to the target, encountered and neutralized a wolf." You answer, taking sharp turns as you follow a path you'd memorized beforehand. "No other monsters to report."

You were lucky to run into one down in the bowels of the conference hall instead of at the front gate. Otherwise your espionage mission would have turned into a frontal assault. Not that Khaled would have minded, you were getting paid to send a loud statement after all.

"Good." You don't need to see his face to know he's smirking, your employer wasn't a huge fan of subhumans. "Continue to the objective."

You respond in affirmative, coming to a heavy metal door, locked with a passcode and even a palm scanner; It's all a valiant effort to keep sensitive data safe, but it may as well be cardboard to you. You summon another circle, this time right on the door, biting your tongue. You're not good with 'subtle' but you haven't forgotten what Taurus or Sierra had taught you; first pushing a bit of loose ash magic between the large atoms making up the metal to disrupt the bonds, then a single pulse of fire ignites the volatile ash and has the entire bottom half crumbling into red hot shards.

Molten slag drips down to the floor when you duck down under the remaining half of the door to find yourself in the server room. Steam rises when the cold air meets your hot skin, but you hardly notice as you first head to the ventilation system at the back of the room. It's dark, but you don't bother turning on the lights, the subtle mana in your eyes enough to give you primitive night vision.

"Ifrit to Alpha-Actual, connecting the payload right now." You say, setting the canister down. The ventilation collects the air from the server room to push it through the entire building and then outside, so all you have to do is melt a hole through the exit pipe until it's big enough for the hose on the canister to fit snugly inside.

"And the files?" Khaled's voice sounds in your ear once you're finished.

"Going now." Standing back up you head to the central server. Taking out the HPC you hook it up to the mainframe, watching the screen until it shows 'connection secure'. "I'm connected."

"Copy that." Your eyes scan the cracked screen (which you broke less than a week after getting it), seeing the file transfer start before Khaled even finishes speaking and trying to read and memorize the names of dozens the files but they change too quickly. "File transfer ETA 5 minutes. Sit tight."

Giving confirmation you keep an eye on the doorway. Though you are positioned in such a way that you'd see the shadow of someone coming in before they see you, years of being behind enemy lines and acting as a friendly to your foes has taught you to be careful. Especially when you can't use more than a smidgeon of mana without frying the entire server system.

You are lucky that no-one comes, the remaining guards too busy guarding the diplomats above you to check what's beneath their noses. While waiting you access the public stream to watch the peace talks, setting the sound to the lowest possible setting so you can keep an eye on the diplomats in case you need a change of plan.

"Got the files, you're clear to finish." You're moving before Khaled can finish speaking, leaving the HPC to hang by the cord from the server. "Oh, and remember: Loud."

"You get what you pay for sir." Kneeling down next to the gas canister you check to ensure your gas mask is firmly on and breathing in deeply; It restricts your breathing and makes muscles work harder, but your body is so used to it that it feels like coming back home.

"Letting the gas out now." Even with the gas mask you still hold your breath when you open the valve, the gas hissing as it escapes the canister, the fan right next to you helping push it through the system. You know there's not enough gas to reach the diplomats on the top floor, it's part of the plan, so when the gas pitters out you cast another circle inside the pipe.

The servers around you flicker meekly and crackle with electricity when you use your mana fully; Something intense and suffocating burns behind your sternum for just a second before liquid mana is rushing down your veins into your hands and coming out through the magic circle as copious amounts of ash.

The rotating fan right next to you spews some of your ash right back at you, flooding the server room in magic that has long since accepted your body enough not to hurt you. But even your seasoned stomach feels tight when you breathe in the mixture of ash and toxic gas, the chemicals turning your magic a nasty shade of green, and you make a mental note to change the filter when you're done with the op otherwise the toxified sediment collecting in there will poison you for months.

You can hear the diplomats begin to cough over the livestream in the HPC, but it all feels so distant when you shift and feel cold dog tags press against your burning chest. They're light like a noose around your neck, yet the absence of weight mocks you in a way their owners no longer can.

There's a familiar sting in your bones when your mana reservoir begins dwindling, but it's easy to push through it until the engine in your chest goes into overdrive from the stress the magic puts on your body. You only stop when the burning mana in your veins starts burning small holes in the sleeves of the janitor jacket, revealing bits of your mage marked skin.

Stopping the flow of ash your hands find themselves in your pocket, taking out a lighter. It's one of those old zippo lighters, the exterior is rusted from years of action and numerous initials are scratched into the metal, but somehow it still functions; It's the strange thing about it— the more you use it, the longer it lasts. Stop, and it dies.

"It's a bit like you, firebug."

Absentmindedly you trace the scratched initials in the metal, trying to ignore the hollowness in your chest when the screams beyond the smokescreen of ash start sounding familiar.

"Going dark." You say to them, flicking it open.

One spark is all it takes.

. . .

With Makarov having gone underground like a wanker after his escape from the gulag, Price and Laswell had been stuck with their heads in mountains of paperwork searching for the bastard. Price had known he'd be in for a headache the moment he agreed to let the boys watch a live football game between England and Scotland, but he reasoned they'd all been working hard enough to earn even a small break.

At the very least it gave them all a moment of reprieve from the stress of a possible world war.

It didn't stop Soap from being a bloody muppet.

"Oh fockin' 'ell!" Soap roars and jumps to his feet, growling at the teli where a ref held a red card above her head. "That should've been a yellow! Fock, one more eye and the ref's a right cyclops." He waves obscenities at the teli as if the ref can see them, his tail hitting Gaz every time it wagged.

"Soap!" Gaz groans and stretches one black wing to smack the werewolf over the head with his long flight feathers to stop him blocking the screen.

Though Gaz's wings are hollow, the smack still hurts. "Ow, what's that for?" Soap groans, rubbing the back of his head.

"At least take your defeat with a wee bit of dignity." Gaz smirks, folding his wings.

"Bold assumption he has any." Ghost mutters next to Price, making him chuckle.

“Oh ho! I’ll get me dignity when the bloody ref gets off 'er knees an’ stops blowing the entire game.” Soap turns to playfully snap his teeth at Gaz. "And what's tha-"

The football match cuts out, replaced with a news segment.

"-Oh, what the fock?" Soap grows quiet when the newscaster begins speaking.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. As we speak, the conference hall in Al Mazra, where diplomats from over 40 countries had come to discuss peace and trade agreements with the newly reinstated Urzikstan government, burns in the flames of another terrorist attack."

The footage shifts to a drone filming a bird's eye view shot of violent flames spewing from every hole and window to engulf the entire three story building in consuming fire, heavy plumes of smoke rising into the sky like a maw of a hungering beast to spew a storm of ash and cinders down to the ground. The clouds of ash have a sick green undertone to them.

"Shit." Gaz sucks in a breath.

"Mokarov's done hiding." Ghost notes, leaning in to look closely at the screen with narrowed eyes.

"How the fock did we miss this?" Soap asks the question in their minds, turning to look at Price. "This popped up like bloody whack-a-mole."

At that same time Price's phone rings. The dragon quickly fishes it out of his pocket, seeing Laswell's name as the caller ID before he picks it up while the reporter drawls on.

"Price, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm watching the teli." He cuts her off, knowing what she's going to say. Distantly he can hear the same news report sounding on her end.

"Authorities warn citizens to vacate the immediate area as toxic gas has been detected in the air. Military forces are already enroute, but the prospects for the diplomats survival are nonexistent."

Price's draconic eyes focus on the screen when the footage shifts to that inside the conference hall. Two diplomats argue about something Price can't begin to try and untangle, his focus on one man near the back who begins coughing. More follow suit, and even over the screen Price can tell the signs of toxic gas inhalation by the way more diplomats begin wheezing and coughing wetly.

"This isn't the Russians." Kate says after Price has put her on speaker.

"How come? Looks like some terrorist shite Makarov would pull." Johnny says, his tail curled up and the tip wagging occasionally as he pays attention to the screen.

Seconds later plumes of blackish-green smog erupt from the vents above the diplomats, spewing out with such force it knocks the the camera and the man behind it down to the ground. Ash Magic, Price realizes when he sees smoldering cinders drift almost peacefully in the all consuming fog. Seconds later something causes a spark and the volatile ash magic explodes.

"Ash mage." Ghost grunts, "Just great."

"Makarov doesn't use mages." Price says, scratching his beard.

"No, but Al-Asad does." Kate's voice drifts through the silent room as they watch several APC's arrive on the scene, armored soldiers exiting. But without any monsters who can stomach the heat like Price and with the fog of ash so thick it could be cut with a knife, the best they can do is secure the perimeter. "The CIA intercepted his broadcast before it went public, this is just the start."

Gaz hops off the couch, crossing the small distance to tap one claw at the screen. "What is that?" He asks. Seemingly hearing him, the drone camera focuses on where the main entrance of the building had been.

A dark silhouette of a person can be seen in the flames, growing darker and more refined until finally a featureless helmet emerges from the flames, a deep glow emanating from behind the lenses. It's followed by a body, clothes burnt away in some parts but the flesh beneath unharmed. Price can tell immediately it's a mage by the state of the arms — even from far away it's easy to tell the mage marks, the skin turned rough and dark like cooled magma, veins brimming with volatile mana.

Before the soldiers can fire a single bullet you lift one hand up, the dark mage marks turning to bright like fresh lava when mana flows from your chest to your fingers. A magic circle etches itself into the ground in an instant, so large the surrounding buildings fall into it's perimeter.

And with a second motion of your hand everything erupts into an all consuming cloud of ash.

Laswell's voice rings out. "That's Khaled's new attack dog."

Price and Ghost share a look, both know what will happen long before some nervous soldier caught in the ash cloud pulls the trigger. The cloud of ash explodes the second a spark is created in a weapon's chamber, plunging everything into chaos.

Great, a new wanker to worry about.

Price sighs, brows furrowing. "That's trouble all right."

Tag list: @resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten @lieutnt

Masterlist <- Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

You can imagine the helmet however you want, but it's in the style of the Devtac Ronin helmet.

[mrmilomoo]

The Evil Ingrained Within the Scars of His Mind

Simon Ghost Riley x Female Reader

18+ MDNI, trigger warnings for angst, dark! Ghost, non-graphic non-con, and brief mentions of PTSD, abuse, and Simon’s traumatic backstory. Dead dove, do not eat.

A/N: Heed the warnings. I am not responsible for the content you consume on the internet. Would love to make this into a series but I’m not sure my ADHD and commitment issues would allow such a thing.

Anyways, my heart longs to write devastating angst, but my mind refuses to create anything but nasty smut.😔

I want to hurt Simon so bad. I want to make this big, scary man break down crying like a little bitch.

I want to write about him suffering from the lasting effects of his trauma.

Horrific nightmares where he’s trapped six feet deep in the coffin with a corpse and forced to dig himself out again.

The irrational paranoia and hyper-vigilance that torments him every waking hour of the day and can only be quelled with violence and hard liquor.

Disturbing intrusive thoughts of hurting the people he cares about in grotesque ways.

I want to write about him seeing a pretty, little bird he fancies in a pub and having to fight the intrusive thought and impulsive urge to bend her over the bar and brutally take her apart on his cock. If his mind stopped there it wouldn’t be so bad. If his psych wasn’t shot to shit from the abuse from his father, the torture he experienced at the hands of Roba, and the atrocities he’s seen and committed in all his years in the special forces his mind probably would stop there.

It never does.

He can’t even have a relatively normal sexual fantasy about a pretty bird. His fucked up mind twists his fantasies and desires into something absolutely vile. A vile manifestation of his trauma that forces his cock to get hard at the thought of forcing his gross cock into a weak, defenseless thing. Leaning down to lick the salty tear off her soft cheek as he ruts his hips into her ass and listens to her cry and beg him to stop. Patrons of the pub watching on in either horror, lust, or a combination of the two as they witness the beast of a man fuck the poor girl senseless into the grimy bar top against her will.

It’s one of the many reasons Simon hates going to public places. Why he hates the forced leaves from duty. At least while he’s on base or the field he can busy his mind. Keep himself distracted and his mind out of the gutters of hell. If he has to go on leave, he prefers to keep himself locked away in his sad excuse of an apartment. Only contacting the outside world to order takeout. Baseline nutrition to sustain him as he spends his days wasting away, numbing his tormented mind with bourbon and seeking out temporary spikes of dopamine by smoking cigs and rubbing his cock raw.

It’s been over a decade since he’s last had a bird on his cock. Not out of choice, but instead a forced chastity born out of his suffering. He can’t stomach it. He’d rather deal with the burning of his throat, lungs, and cock than try to stomach the way the disturbing intrusive thoughts and urges make him feel. They make him feel like a monster.

They make him feel like he truly is his father’s son.

[scoobydoodean]

Could you elaborate on why you want season 8 Sam to die? It's been years since I watched that season ahah. I don't doubt that he deserves to, but I cannot remember why.

He saw Kevin be kidnapped and abandoned him to a life of torture without so much as telling his mother or another hunter or even the angels who would have had a stake in saving him.

His flashbacks are unbelievably awkward and boring. I'm supposed to care about the trash disposal he fixed while Dean is doing sexually charged battle scenes with Cas and Benny in Purgatory.

He gets together with a woman who accuses him of hitting a dog on purpose and implies that he's a white supremacist.

He tells Amelia he wants to fight for their relationship, but as soon as her ex husband suggests they should let her choose between them, he leaves her in the middle of the night, then after she's moved on, he comes back just to be a homewrecker.

He keeps saying he's going to leave the life as soon as the business with Kevin and the tablet is concluded and Dean needs to "let him go" (???) but also doesn't want Dean to have any friends besides him and demands Dean cut ties with Benny or else (while Dean is telling Sam to go back to Amelia if that's what he wants).

The entirety of "Citizen Fang", from sending a hunter he knows is mentally unstable to "keep an eye" on Benny to going along with Martin beating Dean over the head and chaining him to a radiator to keep him from interfering with the Benny witch hunt to pretending afterward like HE was the victim because Dean sent him a fake text from his ex to prevent Sam from MURDERING SOMEONE. To taking zero accountability for Martin or Elizabeth.

Dean tells Sam that he is suicidal and Sam insists on doing The Trials based on Dean's suicidality and says that he will survive The Trials and renew Dean's hope in living, then within two episodes he pretends that conversation never happened and basically tries to gaslight Dean for the rest of the season into thinking it didn't happen while also getting furious at Dean whenever he gets the slightest feeling that maybe Dean doesn't believe in him.

When Sam is sick, Dean takes care of him, bringing him food, getting his fever down, etc, and is treated like this makes him a piece of shit who doesn't "trust" Sam enough (????). Sam repeatedly projects feelings onto Dean that Dean doesn't even have and ridicules him for thought crimes.

While being furious that maybe Dean doesn't trust Sam more generally to have his back, Sam ignores that he has done everything possible to destroy Dean's trust, from abandoning him, Cas, and Kevin to die and presenting a deeply unfeeling exterior about it, to promising to survive The Trials then almost immediately telling Dean he's going to die and to get over it. He acts entitled to Dean's trust and on top of it, the expectations are one-sided. He is allowed to distrust Dean all day every day but Dean isn't allowed to distrust him ever.

All of this culminates in Sam "confronting" Dean for trusting other people besides Sam, having friends besides Sam who showed more loyalty and care to Dean than Sam has, and telling Dean he's jealous of his other relationships and all but flat out blaming him for the fact that Sam now wants to commit suicide.

In the aftermath he gets mad that Dean convinced him not to commit suicide by telling Sam that he loves him and it's all okay and he's there for him when Sam was literally blaming Dean for his impending suicide. He claims Dean "made him" make the wrong choice because he is incapable of ever taking accountability for anything.

Basically it's the worst things Sam's ever done dialed up to 11 and it doesn't stop the whole season and he is so thoroughly miserable to watch that he's almost unrecognizable to the point I joke about him being a podperson. Also see: #season 8 sam.

[cybersugru]

❝ message in a bottle ; 마크이

𖥻 pairing: college!mark lee x female reader

𖥻 contains: college!au, fluff, slight angst, second chance romance

𖥻 warnings: swearing, marijuana & alcohol consumption / english is not my first language and this is my first work ever on tumblr so i am sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspellings

word count — 4.06k

synopsis — you and mark were in a situationship for a few months before things ended poorly when you got too scared of your feelings and he had to leave the country for an exchange program in london. now, six months later, you were at a party with your friends and discovered mark was back in town.

🎀

AND just like that, your whole world stopped spinning for a long and torturous minute. in the blink of an eye, you went from being over-the-moon excited — and slightly intoxicated — with the idea of partying with your friends during the first summer night before heading to your hometown in the next couple of days to being paralyzed, feeling all your blood get drained far away from where it should be in your body. in the blink of an eye, you went from being a happy girl with the arrival of the last member of your friend group to someone terrified with the sight of a ghost from the past. a quick glance, unintended by all means, in mark’s direction was all it took for the memories from that previous year to come flooding back to hit you like a lost train.

“hey, princess,” he said. his cheeks burning in a shade of shameful red, but something stronger than him was preventing his stare from going anywhere else other than your eyes. there was a blunt hanging between his teeth. “how you doing?”

“that’s it, guys; i’m done with this. i’m just gonna change my major or something like that! everything’s going terribly wrong, and i can’t keep torturing myself by studying this shit.”

you dropped your head and rested your forehead on your arm that lay on top of the desk in front of you right as the confession slipped from your lips like a dangerous poison that you should not have taken. it was the first time you’d ever said it out loud to someone else to hear — other than the mischievous voice inside your head — how you truly felt about the english major you were pursuing. the fear of judgment and of being too hasty about this decision was corroding every last bit of your emotional health, and because of it, you could sense that a storm was coming. what if you did change majors and ended up not adapting? how would you find a job, or better yet: how would you support living all by yourself if you couldn’t even pick an undergraduate academic path? time was running out, and the unbearable clock inside your mind wouldn’t give you a break. the tick-tacking of the goddamn thing was going to drive you to insanity at any point soon.

“hey, chill for once, okay? it’s normal to feel like that and to want something new. hell, i know i had to change my major twice before finding out what i actually wanted to do. jae did the same thing. you’re not alone.” jeno offered you a small yet reassuring smile of someone who didn’t quite know what to say but still wanted to see his friend more relaxed.

“exactly! take a deep breath and think things through with an easy heart. if you need help, we’re here to help

you." swallowing the last bite of the sandwich he had bought earlier, renjun tapped the notebook in front of him. “how’s that linguistics project going?”

as you raised your head, you shook your head in a negative sign. “i mean, it’s good. too good, actually… and that’s sort of the problem. like, the dude i’m working with is super sweet and really fucking good at this class and so he’s kind of doing the whole thing by himself and dragging me along with him ever since we started. i feel terrible, even if he says it’s all good and stuff, but it is what it is, i guess.”

before either of the guys could express any opinion about what was just said, a guy with freshly cut black hair — it was even possible to see the drawing of a spiderweb on the left side of his undercut —, earphones in and a large yankees shirt approached the desk, more specifically you, and offered you a genuine smile that wasn’t common to see between two colleagues who were only working on a school project together. the unknown man squatted so he could be at your height and unlocked his ipad’s screen to the word document the two of you were using to write notes together, or at least that was the initial idea because the reality was that mark was doing all of it alone, proudly.

“oh, hi, y/n, you good? just wanted to ask you a quick question… have you taken a look at this topic right here? i know we’re only supposed to work on it in two weeks but i was wondering if maybe you’ve come up with the same conclusion as me.”

feeling a thousand times more embarrassed than if a professor asked you to present a thirty-minute seminar alone in front of the whole class, you felt the tip of your fingers getting cold and a thin droplet of sweat rolling down your temple. “uhm, hey, mark. yeah, about that… look, i didn’t really have a chance to look at that yet, i’m sorry. i can barely manage this week’s assignments, let alone two weeks from now. i- i’ll text you when i read it, okay?”

you didn’t know it at the time — or if you did, you had an enviable ability of discretion — but every single time mark heard his name escape from your heavenly drawn lips, his heart would skip a beat or two and he felt like he was about to combust at any second. it was the first time in his whole life that he had ever felt that way about someone and dealing with feelings of that magnitude was both weird and extraordinary, which meant that the ravenette wasn’t completely aware of how to process them. mark’s solution for his overwhelming thoughts whenever you were around was to take charge of everything he could in that project, to make you feel relaxed about that one particular class. the canadian was terrible at linguistics, for his skills were much more reliable during literature classes: he could interpret and internalize poetry from the eighteenth century like it was nothing, and plays written in latin during the roman empire were of natural understanding for him; and yet, ever since the first day of that semester in which it was requested that both of you joined efforts to build the complicated assignment, it was impossible for mark to not pull all-nighters reading texts and more texts, watching one video class after another that broke down the subject of that class just so he could give his absolute best when the time came to work alongside you and you didn’t find him an idiot, as most people in that university usually did after meeting him for the first time.

mark just wanted to impress you and the last thing he could be worried about was doing all that alone, as long as it meant that he could still have the minimum interaction with you.

“yeah, sure, that’s cool. if you need anything let me know, alright?”

you were still in a state of complete shock. no words would come out of your mouth, making it impossible to answer properly the question directed at you by the boy that a year before was the reason for many sleepless nights and therapy sessions, through no fault of his, which was even worse, because mark was perfect and you hated yourself for how everything ended.

a cold breeze, too cold for a summer night, hit the both of you with enough strength to make you shiver and it was only then that you realized that none of your friends were around anymore. you were alone again with mark for what had felt like a lifetime since he left the country for an exchange program in london and with enough unspoken words to make the whole situation a million times more uncomfortable than it needed to be. what were you supposed to say right now? “oh, hi, mark, long time no see! listen, i’m really sorry for being horrible to you last year, i’ve spent the last six months torturing myself because i only woke up to the fact that i had let the perfect guy for me get away too late to try and fix everything”? you ran your fingers through your hair, knowing that there were no words of your knowledge that could make it easier, that could put together again the pieces of what had once been something magical that the two of them were building.

you couldn’t care less about all those times your therapist tried to be kinder to your heart than you had ever been, or how your friends always tried to distract your mind from the constant haunt of self-collection and, to be honest, didn’t really mind that yes, after all the effort and studying, you had managed to change your major to something you actually enjoyed if the price for it was to drop the perfect crystal piece that was mark’s precious heart. there were no words that could take that back, and going against every piece of advice that was given to you, you had imagined more times than you’d like to admit how this encounter would play out: what you would do, what you would say or not say, how it’d feel… but none of those scenarios inside your mind was anywhere near to the real sensation of being in front of him again.

mark looked taller — or maybe it was just the feeling of missing him crushing your soul and clouding your judgment —, the slim body now gave way to the body of a man who went to the gym and tried to truly take care of his health, his hair that previously used to be as dark as the t-shirts he used to enjoy wearing was now covered in a shade of red so bright that it reminded you of his favorite superhero’s suit. even still, the one thing that caught your attention the most were his eyes. before mark left, before the whole chaos, they were always big and full of life, like those of a curious cub and you could always feel a cozy warmth travel across your body when mark looked at you with such brightness; however, it seemed that ever since the canadian got back in town, they were opaque, closed off to the outer world as if his eyes were now carrying some kind of intense melancholy behind them. the familiar redness in his sclerae, months ago, used to always be accompanied by an excited and smiling version of mark lee, but that night the only thing apparent to you was that lee was holding on to weed like some kind of way to numb the break-up pain.

the redhead had lived a thousand different lives during his exchange: saw and learned things that he knew he would never have achieved if he hadn't accepted the opportunity to go to england and yet, his mind couldn’t recall any of those experiences with the genuine happiness he should’ve felt like any other normal and grateful person would if they were on his shoes; to mark, ever since you left him all alone, he had turned into nothing but an empty shell of what should’ve been the real mark lee. what were his experiences, his learnings, his funny stories if, at any moment, he was allowed to at least call the person he loved and share all of that with her?

“yeah, i guess i’m okay.” you answered, holding back a cry that was stuck in your throat before looking away. “you?”

a shiver went down the english student as he waited for his project partner to arrive at the coffee shop you two had agreed to meet at to finish for good the agonizing linguistics document. it didn’t even seem real that you were finally concluding the most stressful and endless project of your university career until that moment and despite the sweet taste of reaching the finish line, mark had on his lips a bitter one, because he knew that the very instant you pressed “send” on the body of that e-mail to your professor, all of his excuses to talk to you would come to an end. it was only the beginning of november, you should spend at least a few more weeks studying together if said professor were to follow a normal academic calendar like the rest of his fellow colleagues of the department.

mark would only have one last chance of making this work out and that chance was right there and then. anxiety and fear were destroying the boy with more strength than he himself was biting through his nails waiting for you to arrive.

“gosh, mark, i’m so sorry!” you said in a panting tone when you finally managed to get to the coffee shop and met the guy that, by that point, had already become your friend. “the bus took forever to get to the stop i needed and then the subway was also chaotic… anyways, i’m sorry that i’m late.”

the both of you stayed a long time in that coffee shop, not only finishing the assignment but also laughing together and watching a few episodes of modern family on his computer as a way to relax after all the constant flow of negative emotions the both of you were facing during that semester due to not only that particular class but also all the other ones with their enormous reading load. by the time you had indeed finished what you were supposed to do, you were feeling so comfortable in mark’s presence that you didn’t even notice when you heart started to race faster and faster before the mundane things the lee did: the way he smiled from ear to ear, or how kind he was to everyone around him. you were starting to fall in love with how mark explained all the different concepts he used to build his arguments across the paper like someone would explain the most basic things to a child, and you thought it was sweet the way he would say “dude” and “no way” every couple of sentences that fell from his lips. but, above all, unconsciously, the way mark seemed to glow every time he looked at you was ethereal to your eyes.

as soon as you sent the hated file, it started to rain on the outside of the coffee shop, but contrary to the ideal scenario, you couldn’t stay in there just waiting until the climate conditions became more favorable because the two of you had places to be at, on opposite directions. there would be no other alternative but to run to the nearest subway station, or in the brunette’s case, the bus stop.

mark immediately took off his hoodie to shield you as best as he could from the rain, in exchange for you protecting his backpack that contained his computer as if your life depended on it, the moment you two stepped outside the establishment and something of a thunderstorm was taking over the avenue. mark couldn’t help it and ended up laughing at the situation you two had found yourselves in, thinking about how he wished he was a little less broke and had a car to take the girl of his dreams back to her place without having to worry about the rain, or how he wished he was stronger to pick you up and carry you to the subway station and, with that, spare your shoes from coming in contact with the soaked surface of the sidewalk. before you could notice, you were right in front of the stairs that led to the station.

“bye, i think.” you said, giggling along with him while you tried to fix your hair that, despite mark’s hoodie’s protection, still got wet from the rain.

the lee was going to answer you like a decent and proper person, he really was, but in that very moment, a raindrop fell from the marquee above you and somehow managed to hit you right on the forehead, which made you close your eyes, but mark kept his wide open. with an automatic reaction of his body, almost like an involuntary movement that he was incapable of controlling — such as the beats of his accelerated heart — his left hand traveled to your neck while his right thumb was busy drying the solitary raindrop slowly, to give his mind time to analyze every little inch of your face so close to his. mark tried to respond with words to your farewell, but his impulse to kiss you was far stronger than any cohesive phrase that his brain could formulate in that moment.

the literature student, now in his final semester, nodded as he bit his lower lip and those opaque eyes fell to the floor beneath his feet after stepping on the remaining of his blunt. mark didn’t even know why he started that conversation in the first place, it was obvious that it was impossible for him to stand close to you without it affecting some part of him — whether for good or for bad — and even still, there he was, not managing to say a single word to you, nor being able to get closer, just feeding that giant gray and terrifying cloud that grew over both of your heads due to the impasse of what this was and what it should have been.

unlike his mind, that was only able to repeat tirelessly the day he finally built the confidence to kiss you, yours was in a hurricane of terrible memories that involved the brief, yet intense, relationship you two shared — or whatever the hell one could call it. how was it even possible that something that lasted only four months could leave such deep scars?

if mark was trying to hold back a smile remembering how it felt to have your lips on top of his, you were only torturing yourself with the replayed image of mark being crushed in front of you, by no fault other than your own. it was your fault that fear was allowed to consume every single good thing that the lee had ever given you; it was your fault that you’d thought that whole thing was a sick and sadistic joke from the universe and that, in reality, there was no way someone like him could've ever fallen in love with you. in the deepest, darkest, cruelest part of your soul, you were convinced that everything was your fault and not your mind trying to destroy you before something so pure and happy.

you were a sinking ship, navigating towards a port with not a single sight of a lighthouse’s spark to help you, not knowing how to reach the treasure that awaited your arrival because other people had already destroyed the lighthouse. the ability to grope around, trying to find yourself in the darkness you’d placed yourself, was stripped away from you the second you gave in to the bruises that were caused by third parties, and mark knew it wasn't your fault, although it was still difficult to try and be the guide to someone that wouldn't allow them to have access to the heat and light from the fire he tried to offer.

without even realizing it, the silenced cry stuck in your throat for months on end started to escape, not giving you any power to control it. you felt anger, sadness, frustration and you were missing mark… all at the very same time, in an endless swirl triggered by the mere vision of having mark back into your reality.

just like the first time you kissed, the unconscious answer of mark lee’s body to the sound of you crying after such a long time being away from you was to wrap his arms around your body without allowing himself to give too much thought to the action that just took place. if it was even possible, noticing you needing him in any way, shape or form was a true calling for him and it didn't matter how much time could've gone by, the lee couldn't ignore it. to love you and protect you was just as natural as breathing.

between the supplications for your tears to stop and hair strokes, mark then began to feel something that he thought was dead coming back to life inside the hollow box that was his chest. for months now, the redhead just knew that his heart was no longer there. instead, it must've been put inside a bottle and thrown away into the ocean that separated his emotions from his rational mind, as if he wasn't even the owner of his own feelings.

“please, princess, don't cry. i’m begging you.”

the cruelty of your mind wouldn't give you a break for not even a single second ever since the last time you've heart mark’s melodious voice so close to your ear, and the fact that it carried the same heavy tone of request didn't help with your genuine desire to stop your sobbings as your face was pressed against his chest. in that moment, the last thing on your mind were the looks that other people could be directing at the two of you; you could only see the desperation all over the face of the only man you've ever truly loved. he was in such pain that day — the day you told him you didn't want to see him anymore. soon, though, that image was replaced with the memory of the gut-wrenching feeling of chronic emptiness that filled your chest the following week and you came to your senses that you had make a mistake, but that it was also too late: mark was in another country, it was far too late to ask for forgiveness.

“i know you probably hate me right now. i shouldn't have done that, i shouldn't have said that, i was such an idiot, stupid… i'm sorry, mark, i don't know what was going on in my mind to treat like that, i-”

that sobbing wouldn't allow you to form coherent sentences properly and the way you were crying so helplessly was becoming melancholic instead of just sad to the man holding you. if only mark could get into your merciless head just how he would never be able to hate you, not in a million years, not when there was so much love, desire and adoration intrinsic to the image he had of you, then maybe that big gray cloud would disappear forever and the two of you could just live like he hoped for. all mark wanted was to have the privilege of loving you again.

“y/n, look at me” mark held the red and tear wet face of his beloved girl with kindness while his tone of voice was filled with all the firmness the moment could ask for. “for christ’s sake, y/n, i love you. i could never hate you. dude, really, for once just keep your head out of this and focus on what i’m telling you right now. i love you and this whole time i was thinking of you. only you.”

even if he knew you wouldn't answer anything for a few seconds, or maybe even minutes, mark just allowed a sweet smile to appear on his lips while he delighted himself with the feeling of being allowed to hold your face once again, to stroke your cheeks and to place small, delicate kisses all over your beautiful face — which he knew would force your breathing to slow down, giving you the chance to calm down again. the canadian was smelling like the combination of weed and beer, but somehow, your body knew how to identify the familiar and characteristic smell of his cologne; the same smell your searched for and ached for during the coldest nights, when missing him was too overwhelming it almost felt like a hole was being digged up in your chest. that familiarity was the reason for the shy smile that took over your lips, that opened a breach for light and happiness after all those tears while mark traced your lips with his thumb, admiring you like you were some kind of artwork created just for him.

“i was made to stay just like this with you, princess. and i’m not leaving this time.”

[earthmixsclowderofcats]

Okay but imagine being in ZeeNuNew’s shoes - you’re queer, confirmed dating but haters still pair you with women you interact with or just meet (business or not), tell you that you’re not ‘queer enough’ and your relationship that you confirmed years ago must be fanservice and if you tell something like ‘NuNew likes cold showers, I prefer warm/hot ones and it’s torturous for me’ (Zee has said it recently by the way, like days ago) people still act surprised:/ but I hope it’ll be better for them

It's definitely an interesting situation. Because like, coming at it from an outside perspective as I was, I was confused for a while. Over the top fan service is a staple of the genre tbh. But I think maybe people get stuck on the black and white and forget the nuance.

Like yeah, it can be fan service and they can also actually care for each other. Which is where I ended up. Because they were definitely playing it up, especially at the beginning of the relationship, but you can also see the genuine affection and emotional honesty, and you can see how it shifts over time.

Again, so wild to me that it's like living your own fake dating au. Committing to the bit to the point where it's no longer a bit. It sounds like a bl plot. (I mean DMD is literally doing a bl with that plot right now lol) That's so meta.

I think people are naturally skeptical, and I think that's probably for a good reason, as it's always best to keep yourself self aware when it comes to celebrities. But what's weird is the intensity with which people are either "pro" or "anti."

As if it's a matter that affects them personally. Like, if they are "pro" and proven wrong true love doesn't exist and they were fools all along and if they are "anti" and they're wrong they were hateful homophobic crones. When like. We are not part of the equation. But people are dedicating themselves to their stance so fully. Which is why I think I was going back and forth for a while before just being like ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

They are or are not whatever they are. They're cute as hell and act like a couple so that's the assumption I'm gonna live under.

You know the whole "if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's probably a duck" thing?

I don't shower with my bros.

But instead of being like "hey, I change my mind once I've encountered new information" people double down in weird and frankly, queer phobic ways.

I can understand the confusion about their label because I understand it's a bit different culturally. Like, in a western sense most people would not consider it a confirmation because it was more of a "make your own assumptions" kind of thing. Which was what tripped me up for a while.

Tbh that would be the best possible response if it were secretly all fan service all along somehow. Because then that would give people the feeling of confirmation they want while still having the deniability of "I never actually said that."

But also, given the untraditional nature of their relationship, labels like that, especially at the time, may have just not been something they were worrying about. Like, I don't think there's a guidebook for this whole situation.

Sidenote: I am so charmed by the epic saga that is them vs showers.

Especially how Nunew likes to tease about Zee's snoring vs Zee teasing Nunew about his bad habit of not showering before bed. (But it's ok if Nunew does it because Nunew is always the exception it seems. Something the besties have in common. Nat is always the exception for Max.)

The shower ghost, etc. it's peak old married couple bickering.

Kind of like for whatever reason what convinced me about earthmix (on top of everything else) was that Mix pops Earth's zits. Like. That's a level of intimacy that simple costars do not have lmao.

When it's not just the cute shit, but also the gross stuff and the every day bickering that makes it feel genuine.