#fixed gear style

[thisisfreakscene]

No fixed no party

[jessicaavon]

Please tell me that there are people who are still alive in this fandom who can encourage me to write this novel length fanfiction through nursing school???? Is it hubris to want to write a story that takes place 18 months after GoW 3 because I didn’t like how the lore was continued?

[alexvalder]

People who complain about games being ""literally unplayable"" because of fixed camera, are cowards and weaklings. You literally get used to this in several minutes.

[solradguy]

I need to stop having like 900 tasks on my to-do list or I am going to make regrettable purchases to compensate. Until then, I will now go sleep for 500 years. good night

[freebooter4ever]

proportions are all off, but bits and pieces are slowly starting to come together. this one has been so damn technical that whatever i do next is gonna have to be blobby and organic lol

[kimmie2me]

Dynamite and His Player 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Twitch Gamer!Bakugou x AFAB!Reader

.....

Bakugou glances over at the camera, brows furrowed as he adjusts his headset. "Alright, you extras, get ready to shut the hell up," he growls, his voice laced with annoyance. "She’s real. I’ve got her right here, and she’s playing with me tonight."

You laugh off-screen, causing his chat to explode with reactions. Up until now, they didn't believe a word Bakugou said when he claimed he had a girlfriend. After all, this is the guy known for his explosive reactions when things go slightly wrong. He grumbles, trying to keep his cool, but the slight blush on his cheeks gives him away.

The game loads up, some horror-puzzle co-op that requires a ton of coordination. But while Bakugou’s all business—focused on solving puzzles and surviving—you have other ideas. You’re busy teasing him, wandering off to explore the map, or purposely messing up just to get a rise out of him.

"Can you just—dammit! Will you STOP wandering off?" Bakugou snaps as he watches your character take another detour. "We’re supposed to be working together!"

You grin at the screen, purposely moving your character in circles. "Aw, come on, Suki~ We’re just having fun, right?"

His jaw clenches, and he mutters something under his breath about "not having fun if you keep screwing around." But his viewers are eating it up, laughing at his frustration and flooding the chat with comments like "She's brave for messing with him, LMAO😭😭" and "Bros .4 seconds away from exploding his monitor for the 10 millionth time🪦"

Eventually, he just huffs, slouching in his chair and mumbling, "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I’ll just wait here." His expression says he's beyond annoyed, but the hint of a smile peeking through his scowl gives away that maybe, just maybe, he's actually having a little fun too.

Grumpy Twitch Gamer Bakugou Headcanons

...

— Every time he messes up, he narrows his eyes at the camera with that “are you stupid?” glare. Chat spams "IT’S NOT OUR FAULT!” and "WHY R U LOOKING AT US LIKE WE DID THAT??" but he just huffs, “If you idiots weren’t DISTRACTING me…”

— Bakugou’s streaming style is brutally honest—constantly throwing out curses like it’s second nature. If he dies in-game, his go-to is, “How the hell am I supposed to win with this garbage game?!” and he never blames himself, ever.

— He has zero chill. Every so often, he’ll pound the desk so hard that the camera shakes, and one time he punched his mic so fiercely that it cut out, leaving chat in hysterics as he tries to fix it, muttering about “this piece of crap gear.”

— After every gaming session, he gives a review of the game he’s playing—most of which devolve into full-on rants about terrible controls, stupid enemies, and “whoever the hell designed these levels.” At this point, it's an entire essay by the time he's done.

— There are moments when he hits the mute button just to scream or cuss off-mic. Chat sees him red-faced and mouthing words, knowing he’s losing it, which makes them spam laugh emotes to annoy him further.

— Sometimes, when things get really bad, he just simply says "Okay." and goes quiet, leaning in close to the screen with this intense focus. Chat knows that if he’s silent, it’s only because he’s plotting to obliterate whatever got him killed.

— It’s become a running joke with his followers—every time he streams, they place bets on which piece of his equipment he’ll break. He’s replaced his keyboard three times already and had to upgrade his camera stand because he broke the last one during a particularly heated rage quit.

— When he finally beats a level, he acts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “See? Wasn’t even hard, you just have to not be a dumbass.” Cue the smug smirk.

— Occasionally, in his absolute rage, he’ll end the stream immediately after a loss. One second he’s there, screaming at the game, and then—stream offline.

— Despite all the rage, he’s actually insanely good at gaming. When he goes on a winning streak, chat blows up with admiration, but he barely acknowledges it. “’Course I won—who the hell do you think I am?”

— He has zero patience for backseat gamers. “Oh, you think you could do better? Why don’t you go start your own damn channel, then!” The mods know by now to instantly time out anyone who even hints at suggesting how he should play, and the ban count is astronomical by the end of each stream.

— Occasionally, Bakugou gets so into the game that he goes almost silent, and chat jokes it’s an ASMR session because all they can hear is his intense breathing and muttered curses. “Oi, STOP saying it’s ASMR, it’s not ASMR, you freaks!”

— Loading screens are his worst enemy. Every single time, he glares directly into the camera, arms crossed and seething, ranting about the “stupid long loading times” and how he could’ve “beat the damn game twice by now.” and how "a whole child could've been born by now." Chat watches in suspense because they know the rage is simmering, just waiting to explode.

— If he’s playing a console game, the controller does not have a safe future. He’s thrown it across the room, slammed it on his knee or desk, and even threatened it like, “You’re next, you little piece of shit, keep messing up on me.” He’s gone through so many controllers that his sponsor had to send him extras.

— When he loses in a PvP game, he has 1,001 excuses. “Lag. Dumb luck. Exploiter. The devs nerfed my character, obviously.” If chat calls him out, he just scoffs, “You think that was my fault? Keep dreaming.” And the mods instantly clear out any “L” spam from chat because he’s already dangerously close to slamming his keyboard.

— His channel has special emotes for when he loses his temper—explosion icons, angry Bakugou faces, and even one of his own “ARE YOU FUCKIN’ KIDDING ME?!” face. Chat spams these whenever he starts heating up, which only fuels his fire.

— His viewers love to try and provoke him. Someone will innocently say, “Hey Dynamight, I think you missed something back there,” and he’ll instantly pause, glare at the screen, and say, “I DIDN’T MISS ANYTHING, DUMBASS, WE'RE MOVING ON.” It’s like a game within the game for his followers. (He goes back to check right after.)

— “Easy mode?” he scoffs at the suggestion. “I’d rather throw myself into a fire than play on easy mode.” Even if he’s dying over and over, he’ll never, ever change the difficulty. Chat has tried for months to get him to switch, but he’s stubbornly loyal to “the only real mode” (aka Hard Mode, Nightmare mode or above).

— If he actually wins a match, he’s unbearable. He’ll sit there, grinning and basking in his victory, smirking at the camera with a smug, “And that, extras, is why I’m better than every single one of you.” Cue chat sarcastically clapping.

— He once had a bet with his mods that he’d try to do a stream without cursing or raging. He lasted five minutes before he exploded, screaming, “THIS GAME IS FUCKING RIGGED!” after an unexpected jump-scare. The mods were dying, and he banned half of them out of spite (they were unbanned five minutes later, but still).

— Every time he’s about to start a new game, he’s got this exaggerated, dramatic intro: “ALRIGHT, EXTRAS, prepare yourselves ‘cause we’re about to dominate the shit outta this game. And if I see anyone backseat gaming, you’re banned. Don’t even THINK about telling me what to do.”

— Every now and then, when he dies for the tenth time in a row, he just deadpans to the camera, “I swear to God, I’m deleting my channel after this.” Chat knows he’s bluffing, but they still spam crying emojis like “NOOO PLEASE DON’T” just to mess with him.

— Every so often, when he’s focused on a tough level, he’ll mutter something like, “Okay, maybe you’re not so bad, chat. Don’t tell anyone I said that,” and the comments absolutely blow up with hearts and “WE LOVE YOU, DYNAMIGHT.” He immediately goes red and yells, “Didn’t mean it, idiots!” but it’s too late.

— Once, he rage-quit a game so hard that his entire setup fell silent. He’d punched the desk, and the screen went black. Chat watched in shock as the stream just… cut off. The clip went viral, with an entire 30-minute compilation titled “Every time Dynamight destroyed his setup” He came back the next day, reacted to it, and you already know he gave the video a thumbs down and left a long hate comment.

— His mods convinced him to play a “relaxing, casual game” that was secretly full of jump scares. The first time it happened, he almost flipped his entire desk. He immediately banned half of his mods and told the rest they were “on thin ice.” Chat still laughs about it every time he plays a “cute” game.

[pumpkinbxtch]

— 𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗮?｡⁠:ﾟ headcanons

are the HoO boys afraid of falling in love with you? (ft. apollo)

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☆ radiostar is playing… warrior by aurora!

who's here: percy jackson, leo valdez, frank zhang, jason grace & apollo. warnings: none, philophobia is the fear of falling in love. a/n: This is super based on their profiles according to the books, because well, let's talk honestly to others, I decided to do this, it's interesting.

percy jackson;

Percy isn’t afraid of loving or being loved. His mom raised him with a lot of affection. But, he does get scared of not being loved back or not being good enough for you. This is because of his obvious self-esteem issues. Doubting love is the only thing that makes him rethink and overthink things. So, sometimes you have to talk to him when you see he's down about something he doesn’t want to tell you. But he never hesitated when he fell for you and wanted you to know as soon as he realized it.

leo valdez;

Yes. The answer is yes, he is scared of falling in love. But he doesn’t realize it until he’s totally in love with you, and it’s too late for those feelings to stop growing. Leo isn’t fully aware of it because he likes having girls around, but it never goes beyond the surface until it did with you. He realized that imagining a future with someone isn’t something to take lightly. Is there something he can’t fix with his magical pockets?

Leo spent most of his life running away and being from nowhere, so he ends up with an avoidant attachment style. He’s working on this now to open up more with you because at the beginning of the relationship, it seemed like he was running away from you. In reality, he’s full of love to give and wants to receive it too.

frank zhang;

He’s never scared of falling in love or feeling something as genuine as that. He’s a son of Mars, who’s associated with passion, so Frank has never had to face love head-on. The only problem might be feeling like he’s too much or too annoying because he would die for you and kill an entire nation to be with you. Frank is careful when he realizes he likes you or is falling in love because he knows some things just can’t be, but he never hides his feelings. He’ll tell you he loves you and respects if it’s not mutual. He almost explodes with happiness knowing it’s mutual.

jason grace;

Jason isn’t great at showing his feelings. It constantly overwhelms him and keeps him up at night, trying to solve it like a math equation when it’s the complete opposite. He’s supposed to be the voice of reason, or at least that’s what he’s thought all this time. But when you get close to him, his gears go crazy, spark, and break down. Is he scared of falling in love? Not exactly, but he’s afraid of not expressing it properly because he knows how important communication is. After getting to know you better, he realizes it’s better to go with the flow, which isn’t easy for him, but he finally has an answer. He was born to love and wants to be loved.

apollo;

Yes, yes, yes, yes. All his exes ended up as plants or dead. How could he not develop a fear related to love after that keeps happening? So it’s a nightmare when you come into his life because, unfortunately for him, he’s a hopeless romantic. There’s nothing more ironic than that. He tries to avoid it at all costs, but in the blink of an eye, he’s holding you tight and kissing you with a goofy expression on his face. Even though he’s so scared, his longing to find the one outweighs it...

[rizsu]

professional guide on how to boyfriend jujutsu kaisen ( men ).

⤹ list ﹢ gojō satoru, sukuna ryōmen, chōsō.

﹙ syn ﹚ having near-to-zero experience with serious romantic relationships, it's time to teach them how to romance. the journey won't be easy, but the results will hopefully be fruitful.

extra. songs: betcha (bbh), seven (jk), very nice (svt).

week one : how to flirt as if you were shakespeare. note. refrain from using big words because they sound ‘cool’.

GOJO SATORU — "you're hating on my vocabulary?"

slowly, but very surely, you can feel your stress-meter rise to its peak. if someone were to animate your current expression, there will be three veins protruding out on your forehead to show your stress. it's almost as if it's second-nature for satoru to be annoying. he isn't doing it on purpose, unfortunately, it's just the way he is.

i should've ignored his call, a voice in your head speaks, i really should've. you were enjoying your own presence, simply lazing around during your off-day when three rings disrupted the peace. groaning, you reluctantly picked it up.

"hello—"

"come to enha's bakery, PLEASE," satoru's rushed voice spoke, immediately ending the call after his request-demand.

annoyance dawned and slowly transitioned into confusion. first, he needs to fix his habit of cutting you off. second, with the tone of his voice, maybe you should go.

big mistake.

not only was he chewing your ears off with talking, he also ate half of your pastry. you weren't able to get a full sentence in, he just kept going. dressed in suit and tie, hair styled and gelled up, satoru looked handsomely professional. according to what you've gathered from his rambling, he's been set up with one of the higher ups' daughter for business purposes. he needs to woo her or he's gonna lose a significant amount of pay. the problem? well, his flirting skills aren't all that. his confidence can help him, but it'll only help for a fraction of the date.

"what's the issue? you're handsome," you started, sliding your pastry back to you. "you should be able to woo her with your face alone."

"you are not wrong—"

"i'm never wrong," you cut him off.

"let me speak. anyway, i was informed that she isn't one for looks alone. i don't care about her, but she's the daughter of some high fucker," his voice reeked of defeat.

you weren't well-knowledged in satoru's field of work, but you knew he had it against the "higher ups." well, you had no choice but to know. satoru often thought of you as someone he can be free with — so, in conclusion, you were the victim of his word-vomit moments.

the two of you fell silent, thinking about solutions to save satoru. eyeing the pastry, you pondered your brain. there has to be a way to help satoru. perhaps some walkie-talkies? no, those are too loud. follow him into the restaurant and monitor his behaviour? no, that's too much work. crash his date and ask him why he's cheating on you? no, that'll probably end in your death.

satoru himself is deep in thought, already annoyed at the date that's going to become the bane of his existence in eight hours from now. should he bring you with him? maybe, but you'll deny his offer. should he ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend? no, he'd rather ask without the "pretend."

oh he's fucked.

i'm so fucked.

"wait," you leaned into the table, sporting an expression that says 'i have an idea'.

"yes?" satoru mirrors you, eyes speaking 'tell me'.

"what if i teach you how to flirt? we should have enough time to teach you how to boyfriend, right?" your idea was good. it turned the gears in both minds.

satoru opens his mouth but presses it into a thin line. there's an obstacle in the way of making this idea perfect.

"sounds good but.. the date's... tonight."

"you are fucked."

he nods at your response, feeling the salt rubbing in his wound. i guess i should just—

"but, if we go now we'll have enough time. it's 11AM, we can do it," you tapped your index finger twice on your phone's screen, showing satoru the time. if you move now, success is evident.

"let's go then," agreeing, he stands up, stuffing his car keys into his pocket and opening his wallet.

—

you've run out of pillows and whiteboard markers. the last two hours were spent either scribbling nonsense on a mini-whiteboard or throwing objects at satoru. the teaching isn't working. every lesson you've gone through ended in satoru's failure. is it on purpose? you hope it isn't.

"satoru, for the last time, that does not sound like a real word!" your hand slapped the table, physically showing your frustration.

groaning, satoru throws his head back, "you said use poetic words!"

"what part of scrumdiddlyumptious sounds poetic to you?!" you deadpanned at him.

he slouches further down the couch, grabbing his phone to search the word on google. it took him only one minute to find the word and its definition. raising up from slouching, he leans over the coffee table, stretching an arm out to show you the word.

"scrumdiddlyumptious — adjective · informal 1. (of food) extremely tasty; delicious. 2. (of a person) very attractive."

reluctant to admit defeat, you weaponized the word being informal against him, "it's not formal! you will not use it."

satoru's high of being right dies down immediately. his mouth twitches, eyes looking at you with disbelief.

"babe, you cannot be serious right now."

"babe, i am so serious right now," you mocked him, not thinking too deep into his nickname. there's no meaning behind it anyway. you, too, use babe as platonic name.

eventually, satoru tuned out your voice. he returned back to his previous slouching position, staring at you blankly as your words go in one ear and out the other.

it didn't take long for you to notice his dejected aura. does he hate it that much? you wondered, feeling a slight pity for him.

"don't worry, satoru. it's just one date."

"i will be worrying," satoru counters you, already sour at the date-to-come.

if he were to be honest, the date isn't the problem, nor is the flirting. he believes his flirting skills to be at a decent level. he also doesn't mind spending money on others. it's just that he doesn't want to entertain her. maybe, just maybe, if it were you, he'd be more excited.

you didn't say anything after him, only shooting him an annoying smile. seriously, you don't know what's worrying him. he's basically every girl's eye candy — not to mention, he looks so much like a boyfriend right now. that doesn't make a lot of sense, but if others can see what you're seeing, they'll understand. his white fitted tee accentuates his upper body's muscles, the black sweatpants do its job, his hair that's still styled, and the silver wristwatch on his hand. simple, yet sexy.

SUKUNA RYOMEN — "i'm too old for this shit."

sukuna, your sweet sukuna. your sukuna who's most likely weighing out which option is the better one to shut you up. he doesn't know why he agreed to listen to your rambles at midnight, but he's too far in to call it quitsies.

according to what you told him, you gained the idea of teaching him how to update his romance. it all came crashing to you when you were in the third-quarter of an episode of some random dating show. you blanked out most of the episode, not paying attention as the main objective of watching it was to not stare into nothing while eating.

the show itself didn't interest you, but the concept did. the participants were blindfolded, being told to use their judgement of character to choose their date. they'd have to rely on their personalities and voices to attract someone — a pretty neat idea. looks aren't everything. unfortunately, they might just be for sukuna if he doesn't work on his attitude.

often does sukuna act like he's a fifty-five-years-old office worker named penelope in the management department: old, easily annoyed, and always has something to complain about. you're probably the only human on earth who can handle sukuna for more than a day. of course, this is due to you being similar to him — if not then exactly like him. your attitudes fit together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.

sukuna's hands are clasped together behind his head, one leg raised on the bed, and torso out in the open for everyone to view. he's actively listening to you, giving his judgement here and there.

you're sitting with your legs criss-crossed, a pillow in the middle of your thighs, and hands speaking their own language. the habit of using your hands expressively when talking will never leave you.

"...so, if you were to find a girl, you neeed to be kind! no one likes a man with a stick up his ass," you warned sukuna, moving your index finger side-to-side.

"you do," sukuna says, raising an eyebrow at you.

unfortunately, he left you speechless — but not for long! you soon regained your speaking skills after realizing you don't have a good comeback.

coughing two times, you started your lesson again, "anyyyway, always tell her she's beautiful, gorgeous, breathless, or whatever. everyone loves a little compliment about their appearance!"

almost as if it's an automatic setting, sukuna replies, "what if she's facially challenged?"

"OH—" your jaw dropped. "sukuna, you can't just say that!"

he re-positions himself, this time laying on his side with his arm supporting his head.

"if someone's visually impaired i'm telling them."

you sighed, feeling disappointed at his brutual honesty, "what do you even mean by visually impaired?"

"they're ugly," he shrugs.

his tone isn't serious, implying that he's joking but you know he isn't. sukuna's a man of his word; the truth is what leaves his mouth every time. you shouldn't worry — you really, really shouldn't, but what if that's what he thinks about you? are you facially challenged in his eyes? you've gone silent, allowing yourself to drown in the thoughts.

sukuna notices your silence, sighs, and jabs your side with his foot.

"if you're thinking that i believe you're ugly, then stop," he begins, continuing the foot-jabbing-at-your-side-movement when you don't respond. "you're beautiful, believe me. you know i don't lie."

that catches your attention. you feel a sudden heat creeping up the back of your neck. keeping your voice low, you questioned him, still unsure of whether he's being truthful or not, "are you lying?"

"i swear," his voice is firm, reaching his free hand out to your thigh. physical contact to him is very important!

you return to the silence, only this time you lock your eyes in sukuna's. it's up to you to believe whether he's lying or not, and honestly, you don't care. you know he never lies, and you rather enjoy your fantasy instead of the harsh reality ( if he's truly lying ).

CHOSO — "man, fuck all that."

throughout your entire life you never expected to meet someone like choso. he is, in your words, a bitch boy. acts like a bitch, very expressive with his facial expressions, sarcastic, a male, and the worst of all, a little thief.

you humbly thought baking with choso would've been a good idea for celebrating the end of your finals. oh you were so wrong. he's messy, ate half the chocolate chips, and has been stealing spoons of cookie batter. when you confronted him, he simply said, "we can always make more," and shrugged. the audacity!

there's only so much choso someone can handle before they explode.

"you dumb fuck, how can you get a wife with this behaviour?!" you scolded, slapping his hand away from the freshly baked batch of cookies with a whisk.

he immediately retreats his hand, looking at you with an expression that says 'have you gone insane?'

"don't look at me like that," you warned, raising an eyebrow at his very well-hidden annoyance at you.

choso rolls his eyes, this time reaching the uninjured hand for the sprinkles. he sneakily slides the packet to him, intensely watching you to make sure you don't happen to see him committing such a crime. mouthing a little "yes!" at his victory, he empties half the sprinkles in his hand and throws it into his mouth.

"an’ wha’ if i ‘on't care about a wife," his words are muffled due to his mouth being filled with the sprinkles. he tries his best to hide the crunch sound, lowering his head each time he needs to crunch on some.

your back's still turned to him, simply too busy with monitoring sugar-soon-to-be-caramel on the stove.

"you're gonna have to care soon. you don't wanna die alone!" you nagged, making a point to him.

his right eyebrow raises at your words, lips ready to move at your hypocrisy, "you yourself said you don't want a partner!"

"at this point," you stopped, turning around to face choso. "i'm gonna have to teach you how to be a romantic young man."

"what are you implying...?"

"it's time for dating lessons."

"no, thank you."

unfortunately, choso has no say in this household. he had to listen. you sat him down on the chair, making sure he focuses with all his attention and doesn't steal any of the desserts. believe choso when he said he tried to take you seriously. he really did, but your messy apron along with vigorously hand-mixing batter with a serious expression as you talked his ear off caught him off-guard.

"sometimes you even have to get on your knees, choso! i'm telling you."

"i'm not doing all of that," he disagrees.

"oh, trust me. when you're in love you will," you spoke, resting the hand-mixer down to draw an invisible heart in the air.

he doesn't give you a verbal response. instead, he squints his eyes at you. when one's gone, another is born. when one stress is gone, another is born ( your nagging ). he doesn't like it one bit, but at least it's coming from you. he'd rather have you down his ears — whether it's by using your vocals or channeling your inner mother and scolding him.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

(This might be a bit dark, feel free to ignore)

In my head this is spoken by reader to AK!Jason:

"Then go ahead. End it. I don't want to live in a world where I failed you like this."

~800 words (someone sedate me)

You had been a vigilante, a good vigilante. Sharp, quick, and resilient. But good wasn't enough when Jason Todd had disappeared. With all your skills, all your desperation, and pleas to the universe, you still didn't save him.

The video tape of his death destroyed you. How could you be a hero to anyone if you couldn't save the one person who mattered? So you hung up your cape, retreated into yourself, and tried to find a way to keep going.

You find solace in the little things, the quiet evenings, the brisk Gotham air, and the city lights that shine so brightly. It's the night wrapped up in blankets with a thermos of tea on the roof of your apartment that eases your heart the most.

You've been out of the game for months now. It's why you're not expecting an unfamiliar figure to stalk towards you. It's certainly why you're not expecting him to attack you.

It's on instinct, that you manage to avoid the hand that juts towards your throat. You stumble to your feet, only driven by the primal fear to protect yourself from this stranger.

But your best never seems to be good enough. Even if you weren't rusty and out of practice, he's better, stronger, more cutthroat than you'd ever be.

He has a gun pointed to your head before you've even managed to get a hit in.

So, you're going to die. It's the only thing that makes sense. Strangest in tactile gear don't attack civilians on roofs for no reason. He has to know who you are– who you used to be.

You're not sure if it's a will to live or simply out of curiosity that you start to talk, "Who are you?"

He scoffs, cocking the safety back, "Don't tell me you haven't recognized me? I knew you had gotten weak," he spits out, stepping forward to punctuate his words, "But I didn't think you'd gotten stupid, too."

"We've never met," you protest, but he sounds so sure, so venomous, that doubt creeps into your voice.

"We've done more than that, doll," he snaps, and your face drops. The nickname, his fighting style, his instance that you know each other– it can't be possible.

He laughs at you, and raises his free hand to press a latch on his helmet. The eyes that greet you are angry, dark, and oh, so familiar.

"Jason," you breathe out.

He scowls at you, and jerks forward to press the barrel of the gun against your forehead, "So, you do remember me."

"Remember– of course I remember you," you choke out, eyes darting frantically over his face. The cold metal of the gun proves that he's real, that this is real, but you really wish you tough him instead, ground yourself with his warmth as you've done so many times before.

"I've never forgotten you, Jason," you finish weakly.

"You did," he snarls, "all of you did, when you left me rotting in that cell with him! You. Abandoned. Me."

"I tried–" You start desperately, then stop. It's not enough. What you did wasn't enough. His anger towards you is justified. What protest could you offer? What could you say to make up for your weakness?

There are none. So you lean into the muzzle of his gun, "Then go ahead. End it. I don't want to live in a world where I failed you like this."

Your words make him stiffen and narrow his eyes untrustingly, "You're just saying that. Trying to play mind games."

You memorize his face for a moment, then close your eyes. It wouldn't be so bad, if he was the last thing you saw, "I'm not. You can do it, Jason. If it would help. If it would fix something. It would be okay."

He sucks in a breath, and the pressure against your head vanishes. You wait, and wait some more. You half expect him to be gone when you open your eyes.

But he's not, he's still there in front of you, staring like you're crazy. Maybe you are. You find that you don't quite care as long as it keeps him looking at you.

"I should hate you," he mutters, dropping the gun to his side.

"You can," you whisper, afraid to break the moment.

That makes him glare at you, "What is wrong with you? You're not– supposed to act like this," he finishes lamely.

"I don't know," you admit and shift your weight, "I'm just glad you're here."

His face curls with disdain, "Just out of my way." He steps back, fingers lifting to the latch that will cover his face again.

"Wait," You gasp out, practically falling forward, "I want to see you again."

He laughs, it's empty of humor, "You know what? You can see me as much as you'd like if you manage to find me."

It's a challenge. You can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. All you can do is nod as he shoots his grappling hook into the shadows of the night.

You don't intend to fail him again. No, you won't fail him again.

[thisisfreakscene]

[comfys]

fave cc creators.. with notes!

this is a list of my frequently used cc creators and some of my thoughts on them. this list will be updated sporadically.

build/buy

felixandre + harrie (house of harlix) - best maxis match build creators hands down. well made, consistent, always versatile. changed the sims 4 cc game in my opinion. could write a book about why they're great.

pierisim - also extremely consistent, really well thought out sets that are essential to me.

the clutter cat - super cute items that will make your build complete. continuously improving in quality.

syboulette - extremely versatile. has build items that i use across all categories, does both alpha and mm.

peacemaker - og creator. great sets in many different styles. quality of items still improving after years in the game.

myshunosun - really cute mm stuff. always free

awingedllama - nice, down to earth sets

sixam - versatile, very cute, well made mm items across design styles.

charly pancakes - cute and dependable mm

tuds - super classy items that will elevate your build

rustic sims - unique and bold style mm items that will stand out

aira - adorable clutter stuff. really cute for kids

max20 - good stuff that blends very well with maxis

kkb - very underrated. maxis match and really useful

pinkbox-anye (aka plushpixels for mm content) - the best alpha build buy creator in my opinion. really classy and useful items

aggressivekitty - amazingly detailed items. creates large sets will tons of clutter items

novvvas - good alpha stuff

cowbuild - alpha creator

leosims - really cute items in lots of different styles

little dica - i only have few items from them because they're not really my style. but you should check them out for appliances

around the sims 4 - really useful clutter items that will bring your build to life

s-imagination - good quality mm sets

lory sims - alpha car cc

lilli's palace - traditional/historical european build items

ledger atelier/modern sims - nice alpha furniture

platinum luxe sims - luxe decor

wondymoon - alpha-ish build stuff. usually modern style

hel-studio (1, 2) - great alpha content. *warning: they are retired therefore there is a small risk their cc could break and they may not be able to fix it. i have no issues though*

clothing/cas

rimings - well made alpha clothing mostly for female sims

belaoallure - trendy, sexy alpha clothing for female sims

babyetears - cute

serenity - well made maxis match

gorilla x3 - great for male sims. well made alpha style

sentate - well made pieces for female sims

kk's creation - great for men's clothes. alpha style but looks sorta mm

joan campbell beauty - nice clothes for female sims

greenllamas - cute and fun clothes and hairs, mm

caio - good mm

woosteru - really cute mm clothes for male sims

rusty's - really nice well made mm clothes

elliesimple - classy and trendy. alpha

charlonlee - ultra hip and trendy. alpha

jius - great shoes for both genders and all ages

madlen - nice mm clothing and shoes

backtrack - fun female clothes, alpha

christopher067 - great accesories

darte77 - high quality alpha men's clothes

aretha - cute mm items geared toward younger female sims

b0t0xbrat - alpha clothes for young female sims

tommeraas - really cute stuff for infant-child sims

sifix - classy alpha clothes

simpliciaty - maxis mixy clothes, high quality alpha hairs

hair

daylife sims - elevated maxis match. bold styles

simstrouble - maxis match but detailed and high quality

dogsill - cute female hairs

shea buttyr - necessarry for black hair

imvikai - great quality mm female hairs

gegesims - really cute styles for black hair

johnnysims - great hair for guys

aharris00britney - good mm hair for female sims

simcelebrity - great mm hair for female sims

qicc - great for curly and textured hair

sleepingsims - really cute black hairstyles

aladdin the simmer - cute and detailed mm hair

khadijah551 - nice afro textured styles

ceeproductions - good quality mm hair, textured styles

ebonix - gorgeous alpha hairs for black sims

okruee - cute distinct hairs

genetics, etc.

luumia - creator of height slider and other sliders, male body hair, vanilla skin default

kijiko - creator of EA eyelash remover + 3d eyelashes

nesurii - great mm skin overlays/genetics

mclaynesims - Great tattoos for male sims!

northernsiberiawinds - both alpha and mm skin overlays and other details. very well made

twistedcat - gorgeous skin overlays and cute makeup

obscurus - great for all kinds of overlays and genetics

golyhawhaw - great body presets, skins, and other genetic items for male sims

praline sims - great for makeup, beards, accessories and more

[barbieaemond]

Iron on Silk

Pairings: Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: mild angst at the beginning, definitely angst at the end, smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), choking, fingering, p in v, war dirtytalk.

Word count: 3.2k

Author's note: This was my little gift to you for the Aemondsversary. And it's still a gift now, for thanking you for 500 followers in such a short time since I remade my blog. There's a filthy extra in this filthy piece. Enjoy! :)

MASTERLIST

He wears it proudly. He wears it cruelly. It falls on his head like a halo, holy and dark. Black iron on white silk, and little stars of blood.

The crown is heavy with conquest, with tyranny, with the fire that forged it and the blood shed in its name.

"It looks better on me than it ever did on him."

It is true enough, but it does not make it any less heavy. He hides it well, but you can see it, as if looking down at a thick layer of ice, still and cold, and seeing the raging abyss underneath.

You can hear it in his deep sigh, even more in his short ones, when blinding rage is gaping its jaws to swallow reason.

You can feel it in the way he fucks you every night. Relentless. Ruthless. Merciless.

Hopeless.

Desperate to shake it off, to shake off the burden—the crown's burden, the death's burden. The one he lashed out on his family, the one who took Jaehaerys’ life, and Helaena’s. For Helaena is good as dead.

You tend to her every morning, at least you try. You try to get her to take a bath, to hold Maelor. Maelor, who cries and looks for his mother. Maelor who laughs and looks for his mother. You look at her and see her ghost while she still breathes. You look at the Queen Mother and see a shadow of flesh.

You look at him sitting in the Small Council, wearing iron on silk, and see a crown of thorns piercing through the skull.

“Does it hurt, my love?” you ask in the empty room while he strokes the skin around the sapphire. He mumbles something in return, and you walk to his seat at the end of the table, leaning your low back against it.

“No.” you say quietly “I meant the crown.”

He looks up and just stares at you, jaw clenched to trap words, the storm in his eye bubbling up from the depths.

“I have a war to plot.” He says, and that’s all he’s been saying for days.

“You have done nothing else. You look at your Lords and wait for a stab at your back. You look at our bed and see a battlefield. You lay with me holding a knife to my throat.”

He rests his lean shoulders against the seat and the wrinkles on his forehead unfold. "Tis' the first time I hear you complain about my marital duties." he says tilting his head with a cruel grin "It didn't seem much of a burden when you begged for more right after I spilled in your mouth last night." 

"Must it always come back to duty? If I wanted to spread my legs for a cock to warm me every night, I would've thrived in any brothel of Flee Bottom."

He laughs at this, but it comes out wrong, like a rusted gear, oiled too little. "Such lewd words for a Queen."

“Is that what I am?” You ask with a half-teasing smile “I thought you chose not to style yourself as King.”

“Hmm.” he muses, taking hold of your waist with his long fingers, to pull you to him. “I am wearing the Crown, am I not?”

You lean over him, placing your hands on his shoulders, looking at the sharp black edges cutting the soft white silk, wondering how it could have fallen on his head by mistake when it seems that the Gods have always meant to place it there.

Your back collides against the table and you slowly hop on it, your gaze fixed on him, whose eye widens slightly, mesmerized and thrilled. A rustling of paper fills the room, and he looks at the table and then back at you, lips curling up.

“Those are my war plans.”

“It seems my husband is not capable of talking about anything else these days. Fine, then.” You incline your head, mirroring his smile “Tell me about your war.”

He remains still and quiet for so long, looking at you with that glint you know so well, so much that your chest goes up and down fast, and his hands are not anywhere near you.

But then he stands up, forcing you to raise your chin, and leans over you, slowly, silky hair tickling your chest. “It seems my wife is in need of some warfare lessons.” he whispers, ghosting his lips against yours, and you eagerly part them to kiss him.

“Ah.” he counters, pulling his head back with a sly grin “First, we need to ensure our armies are ready.” his deft and long fingers climb on your corset and he starts to pull harshly at the laces, making you jump twice.

“What if someone enters?” you ask, as shivers run down your back like ice drops.

“Indeed, what if someone enters?” he turns your question around and stops his unlacing, challenge and hunger dance on his lips.

“Then you tell them you are the King and the King can fuck his Queen wherever he wishes to.”

His eye blazes under the candles, and after a moment of trepid silence, he brings both his hands to your corset, and with a swift and strong move he rips it apart.

You fall with your back on the table, your breasts are out, nipples hardening for the cold air and the arousal slowly coiling in your belly. He grabs your ankles and pulls you close to him, making you slide on the table to tie your legs around his waist.

You pull yourself up, holding onto your elbows and frantically reach for his belt but he stops your wrists. “Alreay eager to surrender?” he hums with amusement, eye roaming on your exposed body and the hold on your wrists grows impossibly tight, hurting. “If you were in charge, we would lose the war within a day.”

“Or win it.” you suggest, tightening your legs around him until you feel his hardening crotch, winning a quiet whimper from his throat. “Women could end any kind of war, my King. We own the most powerful weapon.”

“Say it again.” he orders, hands hiking up your skirt until it’s nothing more than a heap of fabric around your waist.

“My King.” You say, shuddering as his long fingers hover on your thighs, almost tickling—a gentle touch born out of so much violence.

“Again.”

“My—King.” The words come out wrong, broken by a soft gasp as his fingers unexpectedly breach your walls. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him go deep inside, deeper than ever, and your mouth falls open.

“You are not so bold about your weapon now, are you?” he asks with a tone ridden with cruel enjoyment.

“Tis’ unfair.” You mumble, resting your head on the table.

“There is no fairness in war, my love.” he says, looking down at your damp flesh and how it clenches endlessly on his hand, and he watches and watches, wetting his lips as if pondering which move to strike on a war map. “It’s best not to be caught…unprepared when you expect an assault from your enemy. Do you know why?”

You whine quietly, biting your lip as he pumps his fingers deeper and deeper and his thumb draws circles on your apex. He does not accept that as an answer, so he slides out, and his large hand grabs your core, fully and almost painfully. “I said, do you know why?”

His tone is demanding, words laced with thunder as he does when commanding the Lords. “Why?”

“Because” he says lessening the grip on you “you give open field for what comes next.”

Air feels scorching in your throat as you look at him, black and silver and blue.

“What comes next?”

He grins like the most ruthless general at the front, the one who takes no prisoners and wipes the bloodied sword on his green cloak. “Siege.”

In a blink, your legs go up on his shoulders, a frame of flesh around iron, silk and sapphire.

He takes his seat again as if sitting down to feast, and you lift your head, breathing hard with anticipation, meeting his eye as his face hovers over your center, feeling his scorching breath lighting a fuse that quickly burns away every rational thought left in your head, if there ever was one since he touched you.

“Aemond, please…” you beg shamelessly, hands flying down to touch him, to bring his head closer and closer.

But he grabs your wrists and holds them still on your stomach. “Call me properly.”

“Please…” you say with your voice cracking, like the nerves in your neck because you can't stop looking at him “Please, my King.”

“Do you know how to conduct a siege?” he is speaking so close to your apex that you can feel his voice reverberating through your skin long before hearing it. “You strike first, hard. And then you wait, watching your enemy starve to death, until they surrender.”

He puts his words into practice by running his tongue flat on your folds and then he is sucking, hard, so hard you fear he is about to devour you.

He moans contentedly, closing his eye for a moment as his jaw moves nimbly and his tongue pierces inside. Your head falls back and you cry so loud you are sure the guards outside are aware of what's happening in the Small Council room.

Just when your hips are beginning to rock on their own against his face, feeling the bone of his long nose, he licks a long stripe and then pulls back.

You raise your head with a sound of protest, but his hands are still pinning your wrists like iron chains, and he is looking at you with a victorious smile, face all wet. And he licks his lips, thoroughly. "If only my enemies tasted half as sweet as your cunt."

With cruel delight, he watches you writhe beneath his hands, breathing hard and unconsciously rocking your hips on nothing to soothe the painful ache between your legs.

“Perhaps I should say mine by now.” he ponders, roaming his gaze on your whole body “This siege seems to be surprisingly short. Do you wish to surrender, my Queen?”

“Yes. Yes, I surrender.” And you press your ankles on his shoulders, hands desperate to free from his hold and seize him, to force him to seize you.

He finally releases your hands and stands up, your legs sliding down and your hands going to his breeches. You pull two laces, but then your right hand locks on his wrist as you see him about to take the crown off his head.

"No, keep it."

His eye turns pitch black, making a deadly contrast with the sparkling blue of the sapphire, and your hands go back to the laces, pulling quickly until you have just enough room to slip your hand in and grab his hard cock.

His lips twitch as pleasure makes his head numb, makes his limbs heavy and his blood boiling and falling down, right where you can feel it, harder than the iron resting on silk. You feel his breath changing with every stroke of your palm, his waist moving almost imperceptibly as he chases your skin, like falling into the warm embrace of a siren’s chant.

The sight only makes you smile, though it stokes your ache for him so much that you mirror his heavy and slow breaths. “Who’s besieging who now?” you point out, almost regretting it when he grabs your neck, squeezing lightly with a dark promise curling his smirk.

“This is your lesson, not mine.” He declares, despite the labored breathing.

You swallow, quietly gasping for air as you look at him.

“Who told you to stop?” he asks, with the same cold purpose he questions the up-and-coming Lords who seek council in that very room, tightening the grip on your throat, almost relishing in the choked sound that escapes your lips.

“Did you forget, sweet girl? You surrendered.” His eye lingers on every detail on your face, and his free hand flies through your hair, tucking a lock behind your ear. The gesture is gentle, almost delicate, the opposite of the hold of steel around your throat. Hostility and devotion doomed to a ceaseless chase to purge one another.

“Siege is over.” He says, sliding his hand up your chin “Now it’s time to claim.” two of his long fingers breach into your mouth, grazing your tongue, and you sense the faint taste of yourself. “There will be some fool who will rebel against the new order. But the rest? They will kneel before their new King.” he leaves your mouth only to grab you by your cheeks, angling your head so he’s whispering to your ear “And who will you be, my dear wife? A fool on a spike or a dutiful subject?”

You recognize that tone, playful but dangerous—the one that will make you wonder if the next grip will be hostile devotion or the opposite. “What if I’m both?” you whisper, moving your head so you can look at him once more. “What if I want to serve you and die by your hand?”

“Then kneel.” He orders, but in your ears is the sweetest death sentence.

His eye glints as soon as your knees hit the ground; it thrills him, it always does, to have you like this and he’s not shy about showing it, for how his chest heaves more and more rapidly as you part your lips to pledge to him.

“No.” he croaks, almost sneeringly given the trepidation pulling his bones so taut, so close to snap. “Look at me and speak the words.”  

“I pledge my allegiance to you, your Grace. I vow to honor and serve you until the last of my days." you swear and there's no acting in it. "Long may he reign.”

Your mouth closes around him and he gasps deeply, jaw falling slack as he looks down, at your lips so perfectly laced around the tip, at your eyes looking up with devotion, no hostility. Never. “Gods, you are so beautiful like this.” He pants, pulling your hair away from your forehead and immediately thrusting his hips so you can take all of it, up to the base.

It's a matter of moments before his hand tangles in your hair, pulling and pushing slightly to give you a steady pace that leaves you breathless and gasping for air. It doesn’t matter though, not when his eye almost rolls back for the pleasure you’re giving him, not when he’s so lost for words that he has not even breath for his snarky remarks. He just moans and groans like a primitive beast, thrusting his cock as deep as he can, growling when you hollow your cheeks around his wet and hard flesh.

Suddenly he tugs at your hair harshly, pulling away as you recline your head to look at him, mouth open to catch your breath. “Why?” you whisper, panting “Did I not serve you well, my King?”

He helps you get up only to make you sit on the Small Council table once again. “You served me exceptionally well, my love. But you will serve me even better by taking my seed into your sweet cunt.”

He hikes up your skirts and revels in the way you spread your legs for him. “Do you wish for a King to fuck you?”

“Not a king, no. My King.”

“I shall do more than that.” He says, panting slowly, eye all foggy but urgent with pleasure, and he takes your face, cradling it between his hands. “I shall put a child inside of you, to strengthen the Crown and see you swell with my offspring.”

“Here?” You tease “On your war maps?”

“Fuck the war.” His delicate hold turns to iron, and then he’s kissing you, as he always does, harshly, smothering, slumping his tongue into your throat.

His hand moves yours away, and your jaw falls slack as he thrusts into you, sliding easily all the way in. You fasten an arm around his shoulders, your parted lips brushing against his, struggling to breathe. He ties your legs around his slender waist and climbs halfway up the table, leaning over you.

Papers rustle and fall to the floor, a sound soon covered by your flesh clashing hard against each other as he ruts into you, and you are utterly besieged. The air fills with moans and growls, and you are not sure whether it is him or you as you climb together toward the final peak.

"Look at me." He laces his fingers around your neck, squeezing lightly. "Look at your King."

You do as he asks, straining to keep your eyes open, frowning with painful pleasure. "Yes, like this, my good girl." He praises, panting loudly, "My Queen."

He thrusts even harder, sweat dampening your skin and his forehead, and he is the most beautiful and dreadful sight you have ever seen. Black iron and white silk, blue sapphire and fire, fire and fire.

"I want you to come with me." He whispers, grabbing your chin with his fingertips, his hand still clutching your throat. "Can you do that for me?"

"Y-yes." You manage to choke out, "Anything."

"My beautiful wife. So dutiful." he says laying wet kisses on your chest "So perfect for me."

His words, uttered so gently compared to the violence of his sieging thrusts, only pushes you up and up, staggering to not fall. "Aemond, I can't—" you whine, digging your nail into his shoulders "I can't last for long."

Your legs are trembling helplessly around his waist, but he fastens the grip on your throat, hard, making you gasp for air. “Hold it.” he orders, groaning because he’s close too, “Just a little more, my darling. I know you can take it.”

It is true, but it does not make the coiling pressure between your legs any less painful, beautiful and painful. He turns sloppy, panting and cursing each time more loudly while you whine, pleading under your breath for him to let you fall into a depth of bliss.

And finally, when your muscles were starting to ache for how much you were holding it back, you hear his breath change, slow and labored, and you know the end is near.

At last, he comes with a choked groan, making sure that not a drop of his seed goes to waste. And you are falling with him, spasming all around his waist, shoulders and cock.

His head falls on your chest, covered by silk and iron, and perhaps the crown has never been less of a burden as it is in this moment, while he rests against your collarbones, as a place where he can lie, or even die.

When sunbeams filter through the bars of your cell, you look through them, though no heat is able to warm you anymore. Except for the life growing inside you.

From a distance, you hear a clamor of men in the courtyard, guards getting ready to carry out the sentence.

If you stand up on your toes, you can even catch a glimpse of the pike on which your head will be mounted in a few days, or perhaps a few moments.

It doesn't really matter.

You look at the puddle of mud on the ground and think of the lake.

You wonder if, at least under the Gods' Eye, the raging abyss beneath the ice has gone quiet, or if the waters have simply swallowed him.

[buckysdolls]

Please Don't Be In Love With Somone Else

Damian Priest x You Oneshot

TW: Swearing, loss of a loved one

Summary: One gesture from Priest finally pushes you to make your move.

“That bastard!” You huffed out quietly as you lifted your ring gear out of your bag. You didn’t know whether to scream or cry. You ex had left you one last parting gift. You’d been apart for eight months now but he finally finished collecting your stuff at the weekend, you’d let him into the house and gone out with your girls for the day. You didn’t expect him to rummage through the wrestling stuff you’d packed away ready for the week ahead. You knew it was Rhea from her voice as she approached you asking what was wrong. You held out your gear in front of you and looked over your shoulder as you watched Rhea’s mouth form an ‘o’ shape. You brought your closed fist to your mouth to help control the anger that wanted to burst out of you. 

“The piece of shit” Rhea breathed out shaking her head. It was ruined. There was no way it was going to be fixable. 

“Can you believe he did this?” You sat down on the bench deflated and clutching onto your ruined gear. He had taken scissors and cut holes into it. 

“Rhea, this was the last set she made before she passed.” Your words trembled out of your mouth, the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks hugging the gear close to you as you thought about your sister. 

“Why would he do this?” You sobbed as Rhea pulled you into her embrace, she soothed your back and allowed you to cry. Rhea was the complete opposite of her on screen character, in reality she was humble, caring and nurturing. 

“He’s a jealous selfish prick, that’s why!” Rhea carefully peeled you off her, wiping away your tears then placing her hands on your shoulders for reassurance. 

“Hey, we will figure this out okay. Right now we need to find you some gear otherwise you're gonna be a naked girly.” You half heartedly smiled and giggled at Rhea’s attempt to cheer you up. 

“Hah you laughed, that means we can do this!” She squeezed you tightly before holding your hands and helping you up and heading out of the locker room. 

You were sitting in the styling chair, your hair being put into space buns when his soothingly low pitched voice came from behind you.

“Do you mind giving us a minute?” Priest was now standing in front of you; his usually cheeky smile was this time full of sympathy. 

“I told you I should have stayed at the house” He approached you in an intimate proxemics as the palm of his hand rested on your cheek. He tenderly manoeuvred your face side to side and up and down scanning your face. His eyes eventually settled on yours and you too looked up at him. Your heart always did this when he looked at you, touched you,it would rapidly beat and then hurt as if it had burst into a million tiny little hearts that floated in your insides. His hand fell from your cheek and you felt instant withdrawal symptoms.

“He didn’t hurt me. I went out with the girls” You spoke trying to start a conversation. 

“Good. Rhea told me what he did to your gear, I’m sorry Y/N” “It’s not your fault. Besides, there's no point getting upset about it anymore, I can’t fix it.”

“Well I do believe I have the perfect solution.” He wiggled his eyebrows and held a smirk as he pulled out a shirt from his back pocket and threw it at you. It was one of his merch t-shirts, it was cut and shaped to fit like ring gear. He could always put a smile on your face. 

“You want me to wear this?” You raised your eyebrows and smiled widely as you held it out.

“Me? Personally, I'd prefer it if you wore nothing. “ Damian whispered into your ear as he pulled you off the chair and into him. He carrassed his fingertips along your arms until he reached the straps of your tank top and gently tugged them down revealing your collarbone. He then traced his fingers across your chest slowly as he made his way up your neck and then onto your lips where his thumb parted them as he pushed your bottom lip down finally resting his tips on your chin. You wanted it badly, to feel his lips on yours.

Damian had always been a good friend to you, you were the last two people at the bar chatting the night away. He was the one who stood by you and held your hand tightly as you mourned your sister at her funeral. He was the one who lifted you up and spun you around in celebration as you won your first championship. Things had changed between you one evening after the third and final time you and Bron had broken up. Damian had escorted you back to your hotel room, the two of you just stood in front of the door in silence staring into each other. You didn’t want him to leave, his presence was comforting. You had one hand on the door handle but refused to open it until Damian had closed the gap between you and placed his hand on top of yours, twisting the handle and opening the door. He was so close to kissing you every part of him wanted to do it for years. He could see the breathing in your chest rise and fall as he stood this close to you.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” He asked and you nodded in return. He had never forgotten watching you dress down to your bra and pants as you climbed into the bed. Damian had never said anything about how he had felt all these years, cause you’d always been in love with someone else.

“You’re a tease Priest” You hushed and smiled pushing off of him.

“No, what will be teasing is you performing in my shirt.” He leaned beside you grabbing the shirt off the chair and holding it to your chest.

“So I won't wear it then..” You pushed his hand away and sat back down in the chair as Lydia started on your hair again. “You will wear it, trust me.” He placed the shirt on the table beside you and walked away.

“I hate it when you’re right!” You shouted out, he responded by throwing up a love heart. 

A few days later

There was a present on your locker room bench. You picked up the card to read the message. 

I will always be there to help you fix problems.

D.P. x

Placing the card down you unwrapped the present. Gently unfolding the outfit you realised it was a version of your ring gear. As you began to observe it you realised that the gear your sister had made you was used to help make this one. You brought it close to you and hugged it as if it was the most important thing to you. You had assumed someone had thrown it out when it had gone missing. It wasn't until you read back over the card it registered in your brain who had this made for you. Grabbing your phone from your back pocket, you open your messages.

Y/N: Where are you?

Instantly you had your reply.

DP: Been waiting outside the women’s locker room since Rhea told me you were there. 

You dropped your phone and made your way over to the door. After one big release of breath you opened the door to see him standing on your left, leaning against the wall wearing the most attractive and warm smile. It felt as if this moment as you stood in front of him were happening in slow motion, it felt like this moment was what would happen in a film, one grand gesture and all the palpable tension between two people would finally unavoidably explode.

With a quiet volume and shaky tone you asked him “did you do this?” holding up the gear in your left hand. 

“I mean unless you know another DP?” He shrugged his shoulders. You leapt, physically leapt into Damian’s arm as you pulled him down into your frame and kissed him. He kissed you with passion as he needily roamed his hands down your back, along your thighs, gripping onto your neck before finally settling on the apples of your cheeks. Pulling away he leaned his forehead on yours.

“That was a nice thank you.”

“Thank you Damian. This is the most thoughtful gift ever. Really.” 

His hand settled on your lower back as yours clasped around his neck.

“As much as I love how happy this has made you, I’m kinda mad I don't get to see you wear my shirt in the ring again. I look good on you” You rolled your eyes playfully to which Damian responded by planting kisses along your neck.

“Just for you I’ll wear it tonight... In and out of the ring.” You flirtatiously bit your lip.

With a growl of temptation Damian kissed you. After a few delicate kisses Damian stopped and looked at you seriously.

“Y/N, on a serious note I’m so glad it's finally me.” “What do you mean?” “You’ve always been in love with someone else.” After a brief moment of silence Priest pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear to capture a full picture of you up close in this vulnerable state.

“I won't be like him Y/N. I hope you know that.” You nod your head in acknowledgement.

“Please don’t be in love with someone else again.” You intently gazed into his eyes letting the biggest smile spread across your full lips.

“Never.”

Damian lifted you up to wrap yourself around him, his hands tangled in your hair as he fervently kissed you again. 

[personwhowrites]

Diner Adventures

Task Force 141 x gn!reader. (Platonic or romantic?)

Having to work at a small diner basically in the middle of nowhere wasn’t easy. It wasn’t even worth the pay, nor the customers. It was always some sort of ghost diner, cars passed it thinking it’s abandoned. You did tell the manager to fix the sign so maybe more people would come in.

Since, you being the only waitress, you never stressed out. Restocking was barely a thing needed, most of the time you spent it talking to a cook or down on your phone. Hoping that maybe one or two customers would come in into the diner.

Finally, one night looking down at your phone you hear it.

*ding*

Four men walk in, looking around before finally spotting you. You froze, it wasn’t just any average customers you would get late a night.

“Miss?” A Scottish accent spoke up breaking you out of your trance. “You open?”

You blinked a couple times before opening your mouth to speak. “Uh.. yes, sorry uh.. how many..?” You uttered out knowing it was just four of them. “Oh.. uh you guys want the bar or booth?”

“Booth.” A stronger voice spoke up and pointed to a booth. “That one will do for us.”

You grabbed the menus and walked over to the booth. You couldn’t help but side glance at them multiple times. They were freaking you out, it was obvious to them as well.

One of them placed a pistol on the table. The other two set their gear down on their laps, rolling their shoulders back before picking up the menu. The last one, that seemed to be the leader of the group took his hat off, ruffling his own hair as he stare at the window.

“Smoking allowed here?” He asked glancing at you now. “Don’t worry, they aren’t loaded.” He gestured to the guns. “I believe.”

“I..uh yeah smoke zone of the diner is the one you’re sitting at..” you spoke out, your eyes glued down to your notepad now. “What can I get you all to drink?”

“Coffee for me” the same man speaks up. “For those two muppets some sugary drink.”

You glanced up to see him pointing to a mohawk man, and another male wearing a baseball cap with the UK flag. Nodding you wrote down their drinks, then turned to the scary skull mask looking your way.

“Tea.” The masked man utter out. “Three sugar, packets on the side.”

You awkwardly nodded and backed away quickly as they turned their attention to the menus.

“Talk about freaks..” The cook said as you grabbed the drinks. “Who comes into a diner dressed like that.”

“Watch the tone.. At least we finally have someone in this dump.” You reply and look at the cook. “You can finally prove that you can cook.”

The cook rolled his eyes before glancing at the four men sitting in the booth.

“They don’t look American to me..” The cook points out. “That one guy with that cap, had a uk flag on it didn’t it?”

“They did sound… off, but who are we to judge?” You reply with a small smile. “I mean we are just three, counting the manager in the back working at some rundown diner.”

“Point taken, that Mohawk dude is looking over at you.” The cook says turning to the mild hot stove. “Think he’s into you?”

“Or probably trying to get my attention to order.” You say grabbing the tea. “Toss me some sugar packets.”

The cook shrugs and throws you some sugar packets. You mostly catch some of them, the cook chuckles as your clumsy hands. Setting the hot coffee on a tray with the two other sugary drinks felt odd. Something was odd about those four men. Their accents, their.. clothing style, I mean it wasn’t often you seen men like these in the diner.

Picking up the the tray that held the drinks you walked over. Setting it down in a booth behind them, you grabbed the drinks handing them each to them. You took out your notepad and smile, a fake smile they saw right through.

“So you fellas ready to order?” you asked holding the pen. “Or do we need more time.”

“We never been to a place like this before.” One perks up looking at you. “So, what would you rec—-“

“Ky—Gaz.” Another spoke putting his hand on the table. “What did we say in the car?”

“Sorry, Price.” Gaz says looks up from the menu. “Just, what.. on earth is a Nashville chicken on a waffle?”

“Oh, uh.. it’s some chicken tenders covered in a spicy tangy sauce.” You say before pressing your lips into a thin line. “..on.. top of a waffle..”

“You Americans eat that shit?” The mowhak man says before being elbow by his masked friend. “What! I mean it sounds disgusting.”

“Johnny.” The man spoke side eyeing him.

“It’s true aint it! Look at the photo doesn’t even look appealing!” The guy blurted out again. “Also Johnny? What happened to soap huh? Has our lieutenant Ghost finally losen up?”

Lieutenant? Wait.. are these men in the army? Your mind rushed to thoughts finally connecting the dots. That explains the gear, and possibly loaded guns on their laps and table.

“Ignore them..” Price says grabbing your attention again. “I’ll take some normal pancakes.”

“..normal how?” You say looking at him. “Like.. you want plain butter milk pancakes or uh.. something on them? Like berries or some kind of sweet?”

“What pancakes do you have?” Price breath out while looking at the menu. “..Christ..you have a lot.. uh..” he paused for a moment and pointed to some fruity strawberry pancakes. “Just bring me these.”

“Okay..” you mumbled out writing down strawberry pancakes. “For the rest?”

“You sell burgers?” Soap hummed while skimming through the menu. “Like ones that aren’t pure American grease?”

“Mactavish.” Ghost warns looking at soap.

“What, listen I’m on a diet.” Soap says looking at Ghost. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Or you’re just some picky eater.” Gaz charms in and looks at you. “I’ll the blueberry pancakes.”

“I’m not picky! Just.. look at all of this… on the menu..” Soap says and sighs looking at you. “Do you even know how much calories this all is?”

“On the bottom of the dish it lists the calories and what’s on the dish.” You reply now annoyed by soap. “I can just get you some salad.”

“Offend.” Soap scoffs and stares down at the menu. “Just get me something that doesn’t have a lot of calories.”

“So a salad.” You noted and looked at him.

“No something with just low calories.” Soap replies and slid the menu down.

“..a salad is the lowest calories we have.” You hiss now irritated by his actions.

“Or maybe a burger.” Soap grin noticing your irritation.

“Which one?” You asked in the most fake voice. “Because we have several.”

“One with the lowest calories.” Soap says and looks at his friend Price. “..actually just some pancakes…”

“..just get him a the highest calorie shit on the menu.” Price spoke out glaring down at soap. “Add everything on that burger.”

“I’ll take some pancakes too.” Ghost mumbles out to you. “Just plain ones.”

You nod, grabbing their menus and walking away. You can hear Price whisper yelling at soap. A small smile creeped on your face hearing at least he has friend or teammates that set him straight.

“What do they want to eat?” The cook asked as you approached him with the menus. “Well?”

“Pancakes and a burger with… everything..” you say and sit down in the high chair connected to the bar. “Well technically one stack of plain pancakes, a stack of strawberry pancakes and a blueberry stack pancakes.”

“Pancakes..” the cook mumbled out annoyed. “Did you even find out why they’re dressed like that?”

“From what I heard, something with the military.” You reply getting out the chair to help the cook set the batter of pancakes out onto the stove. “I know their names are Soap, Gaz, Price and Ghost.”

“What type of fucking names are that?” The cook uttered out before glancing at you. “You sure that’s their names?”

“Don’t know, but they call each other that.” You shrug and go to the nearby fridge. “Gaz let it slip that they aren’t from here tho.”

“Really? Where do you think they’re from?” The cook replies and presses down on the patty. “They look like those tea drinking Brit’s.”

“Now that you mention it..” you mumble looking at the four men who are all talking within themselves. “Their accents do sound British except for that soap guy.”

“Still can’t believe that’s their names.” The cook chuckles and looks at you. “What are you thinking?”

“..could be code names? You know like those cheesy movies?” You snickered with a grin. “Like I never thought that shit is real.”

The cook just shrugged and turned to focus on the food. Meanwhile, Gaz got up from the booth and wondered close to the open kitchen. Hearing you and the cook talk about them, their accents and names. His eyes narrowing as he heard you laugh about such an important thing to him.

“You think those guns are loaded?” The cook asked. “I mean, hey at least they would have the American sprit.”

“They are.” Gaz spoke up crossing his arms. “Where’s the bathroom?”

You immediately jumped and looked at Gaz before pointing to the bathroom. Gaz just walked away shaking his head, before you looked at the cook. He stare back at you before bursting out laughing with you.

When the food was finally done, the cook helped you take it to their table. They all gave you some glares, no words were exchanged in the process. You awkwardly took their drinks and refilled them, walking back you paused to hear them talking.

“Just drop it Gaz.” Price says shaking his head. “We just eat, pay and continue with our mission.”

“How can I? They’re speaking shit literally right in front of us.” Gaz hisses as Ghost rolled his eyes. “Is this how everyone is at America?“

“Hey at least we know that it’s not only graves.” Soap jokes and bites his burger. “On the other hand this burger is good.”

“Pancakes aren’t bad ether..” Ghost admitted while pouring more syrup on the pancakes. “Just enjoy the food.”

Price noticed you not far away and clear his throat. You walked over and set down the refilled tea, and two sugary drinks. Gaz just glared at you, before being kicked by soap under the table. Gaz glare now to Soap, as you stare at them.

“..listen, I didn’t mean to offend anyone here.” You mumble in an apologizing tone. “It’s just, we never seen folks like you four.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gaz snaps his head to you again. “Is it before we are different! Because we are ‘tea drinking Brit’s’?”

“Okay, maybe we did judge.. but we just neve—“ you try to speak but Gaz interrupts again.

“Save it, leave us to eat in peace.” Gaz hiss while grabbing his drink. “Go now.”

You stare at Gaz, before shaking your head. Turning away you hear them mumble something to Gaz.

A couple minutes pass and you hear them laugh. Or two or the four men laugh, the smell of cigarette being lit up caught your attention. The cook glanced up from his phone and stare over at the men, before looking at you.

“You need a break?” The cook says in a teasing tone. “Even though you always are on break.”

“Shut up..” you reply with a small smile. “How about you?”

“All good here.” The cook boomed as he looked down at his phone. “I looked up their bandages, I got a close eye to them when I helped you with the food.” He pauses for a moment and grins. “These four men are more important than we think.”

“Really?” You perk up leaning over to see his phone. “How so?”

“Saw a badge that said SAS.. and I googled it.” The cook said pulling up an article. “Special air forces, something from the British army.”

You stare down at the article, reading though it before glancing at the four men.

“..huh..” you mumble and sigh. “Well doesn’t matter now, they hate our guts..” you pause to get out of your seat. “I’ll just hand them the check so they can leave and we can all forget this ever happened.”

The cook just shrugs as you walk away to the front counter. Printing the ticket out, you glance at them as you make your way over.

“Here’s the check.. you guys can pay whenever you’re ready.” You mumble and place the check down. “Again I’m sorry if me and my friend offended the four of you.”

Gaz just scoffs and Price gives you a small apologetic smile himself. He takes out his card to pay, but Ghost beats him to it. Handing his card first and looking at Price with a small prideful stare.

“Don’t sweat it.” Price speaks up and looks at you. “Just.. watch what you say. The smallest things can bring you enemies love.”

You just nod and take Ghost card back to the front counter. You slide his card, paying for the food. You walk back with a copy of the receipt and a pen.

“Sign here, and uh.. you guys can leave at anytime.” You say and walk away quickly to the bathroom.

Ghost just nods and signs the receipt. Gaz takes the pen and starts writing in a napkin, soon soap takes the pen and does the same onto another napkin. When you returned back from the bathroom they were gone. The plates were stacked neatly and there were four napkins with handwriting from each of them. The cook walked over and glances at the napkins and then notice the tip on the receipt.

“Who the fuck just blows over a thousand on a damn diner.” The cook mumbles grabbing the receipt. “Are you seeing this?”

In fact you weren’t, you were too focused on the napkins. Their handwriting was so different from each other, their notes as well.

“Don’t judge too easy.. and tell that cook to mix the pancake batter better next time we come by.” -Gaz

“The food was great, sorry for annoying you. It was funny to see your nose scrunch up when I annoyed you. Hope you don’t mind that when we come back.” -Soap

“Saw you needed a cigarette, sorry I didn’t offer you one. Maybe next time I can.” -Price

“Try to catch the sugar packets better next time. I wanted three not two.” -Ghost

You smiled at the napkins and looked up to see them get in their car. They all glanced at you, before Price patted the car for the men to load up and get ready to leave. You turned your attention back to the napkins, before slowly noticing something in the edge of every napkin. Their numbers…

[lvlyghost]

I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SO MUCH 😩❤️😍 the way you characterize ghost is so good I can't 😭❤️ I wanted to ask if you could maybe write something for me since your writing style is sooo good frfr

How about ghost and reader have an argument that was started by ghost and he goes a bit too far breaking the reader and making them cry and be just a shell of themselves how would he feel when he sees the readers state and how would he fix it with a happy end please

Broken Wings

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: After a night out, things seem to take a turn in your relationship with Ghost.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tw: angst, hurt/comfort, self doubt, jealousy, probably ooc!simon, curse words. lots of grammar mistakes, poorly edited you know the drill🐝

A/N: i loved this request sooo much, though i did have a lot of trouble when writing it since i wasn't feeling too inspired. also had two different stories but ended up deciding to post this one i might post the other one idk, hope you like this anon! I did try my best🫶🏻🤍🩷✨corrections are appreciated; remember english isn't my native language 🐸

Masterlist✨

"I like you." You said with big bright eyes.

"But no one can know about this. Just you and I. That's enough." He answered, hand tracing the side of your face.

You blink rapidly. You have always been daydreamer. It caused you tons of problems although you tried to do your best when you were out on missions. Ghost is walking ahead of you, boots sinking in the sand beneath your feet. The waves crashing on the shore is something you like listening to and seeing too but under different circumstances. Both of your gear clink with every step you take, it's the only sound as well as the sea that swallows the tense silence that falls between the two.

Things have been rather... strange since two days ago and you've tried to talk to him about it. It wasn't weird for Ghost to push you back every now and then, he was a complicated person and you couldn't be more different from one another.

You were the sun and he was the darkness that came at night or so he had said one night at the common room back at the compound. He was stoic, grumpy and hardly found himself enjoying somebody's company. You on the other hand, even though you wouldn't consider yourself the most outgoing person like Johnny, still you liked talking unlike him. You loved going out with the task force. And most importantly you loved when Ghost joined because you loved him, you loved having him around, despite his gruff responses or annoyed looks.

You jog though your legs shake and tiredness sets in your body.

"How much farther until we get there?" You ask, ignoring the fact that his frame goes rigid when you speak . He doesn't acknowledge you at first. All you hear is a small sigh leaving his lips. You kind of wish he wasn't wearing the damn sunglasses so you could see his eyes.

They always said a lot.

"Thirty minutes. Give or take." The answer is short and cold, breaking your heart a little more than before. Still, you decide to try again.

"Sir, is something bothering you?" Before he can stop it he scoffs, shaking his head. "What?" Brows furrowing on your features. "Simon..."

He stops all of the sudden, turning to face you with a tense stance.

"First of all don't bloody use my name out here. Secondly it's your own fault we've been walking for hours. So don't go asking if something's bothering me, Sergeant."

Taking a step back you open your mouth.

"My fault? I was doing my job!"

"Didn't know your job was to get your fucking head blown off!!" He seethes. "Fucking hell you can't be this reckless and expect me to clap at your poor acting on the field." Your heart begins to race, he had never said such things to you. Taking a small step back your grit your teeth, you hated that his words were making your eyes blurry. This was the Simon you never wanted to see. And yet there he was. "Now we lost the damn intel thanks to you." He spits. But something isn't adding up.

"It's not just that. You've been acting strange for a few days now, Ghost. Don't come and tell me it's just because I did what I was supposed to do!" He stiffs yet again. Jaw clenching so hard you fear he might break it. "Not missing the way you avoid me ever since..." you close your mouth shut. "The pub..." he shifts his weight from one foot to another. The waves are increasing and now reach your feet, dampening your boots. And then you remember him storming off the local pub before he even finished his own drink. Everyone had heard the hard slap to John's arm when he had tried to calm him down. God why didn't you pay more attention to that moment? Because you both had agreed to keep your distances? And going after him was out of discussion? Then the next day you'd barely seen him, just for a short moment during debriefs and that was it. The moment you had gotten up from your seat he was gone. And today you were supposed to go to a special op that had soon become a problem that eventually led to the two of you in the middle of a beach, it was a cloudy day and if it weren't for the heavy layers you wore you're certain you'd be shaking. Sometimes –and you were ashamed of it– you were oblivious to many things and it seemed that Ghost's anger toward you was one of them this time. "What happened?"

He inhales deeply.

"It's over. That's what happened."

Your heart sinks and you swallow hard. Your whole body loses color when he mutters those two words. Out of all the things, all the possibilities you thought he'd say to you, he decided to end everything. Shaking your head you try to touch his hand but he doesn't let you.

"Ghost where is all of this coming from I don't understand!" You choke out. "We were fine..."

"No. You were fine. If I wasn't enough you should've just said so."

"Stop... you... what the hell are you talking about???"

"Nothing that matters anymore. Keep walking and don't say another word. That's an order."

He turns and keeps walking as if nothing just happened. As if he didn't just completely broke your heart.

'You were fine'.

What was that supposed to mean? You think, walking a few meters behind him, scared to even say anything else; to even try to grab him by the arm and force him to talk. It would only make things worse right now.

By the time you reach the safe house it's started to rain the silence between the two is deafening and tense. Ghost's cold demeanor and hurtful words have left a scar. Never in a million years would you think you'd be here, with a broken, shattered heart and no explanation from his part.

Words that pierced through your soul.

That day something died inside you. And he was the reason.

-

Two weeks, three days and seven hours.

That's the time that's passed since that day at the beach. Two weeks since Simon broke you and gave you no reasons.

You're a disaster.

You barely eat or get any sleep. There's dark circles under your eyes and you're sure you've lost some weight too. Ghost has been gone on a mission alone with Johnny for a week now, which left you with a lot of spare time to think about the two of you.

More tears stream down your face when you remember that day. Had you missed something important? Was Ghost's mind somewhere dark? Somewhere it shouldn't be? God knows he was... difficult to say the least. But every single time you tried, tried to be there for him. Did those late nights at your home meant nothing? Had he not seen the way you looked at him? Had you not shown him enough of your affection? Everything you'd do for him if he simply asked?

Getting up from your bed you get ready for another day. Not bothering to lace your boots just shoving them inside your shoes you walk down the hallways until you get to the training room. Gaz is talking to John in the far corner, the Captain's arms are crossed over his chest while Kyle frowns and shakes his head. You don't to even go and salute them as you normally would do, instead you put your earphones on and hit the treadmill.

It doesn't last long though; after one minute someone stops it by pressing down the off button. Your brows knitted together as you stop, turning to look up at Gaz who smiles politely.

"Sorry for that, sweetheart. You okay?" You nod, but say nothing more. "Come here." He pats your shoulder and helps you down from the treadmill. If you could smile now you would. But no even the faintest, softest grin leaves your lips. Gaz takes a quick glimpse at your face and rubs the back of his neck. "You know, Soap and Ghost just got back. Heard Lt. was asking about you."

"Oh." You murmur. "Okay." You don't move nor dare to meet his eyes. "I'll just head back to my room."

"Uhmm. I- what I meant is he's looking for you..." Shaking your head you walk away, not having the energy to face Simon right now. And why did he need to see you? Made pretty clear that you two were done, therefore was no need to see each other unless it was work related.

-

"You really do like it here don't you." Your body goes rigid. This was supposed to be your safe place. The roof of the armory was rarely visited by anyone at this hour. Simon's voice seems softer than ever before but you don't answer. Not even turn to acknowledge him. You hear muttered words and then he crouches down to your level. "Price said you're not eating. Do we have to send you to the military counselor now?" How dare he? After all he caused this. You know he doesn't mean it in bad way, somehow he cares for you deep down. Your hands ball into fists, fighting the urge to snap at him, to push him down and just break him the way he broke you. But you don't because you still love him, and could never bring yourself to hurt him. Simon is staring intently at you, waiting, hoping for any sign. He knows he shouldn't be here. Bloody hell he knows you shouldn't even look his way never again. He deserves it. Every bit of it. "Talk to me, love. Please." It's a low whisper. A plea.

"What do you want Ghost?" You ask softly. Simon leans closer, sitting down with his legs propped up against his chest and arms resting on his knees. It's a funny look for someone his size.

"Jus' wanted to see you." You scoff playing with your hands, refusing to lock eyes with him because if you did you'd be done. "Wanted to explain..."

"Then just do it!" You sob. Your lower lip trembles. "And then leave."

"Fine." He agrees. "But I'm not leaving. I- I made a mistake, and took it out on you okay? I was scared."

"Scared?" Your head snaps to where he is sitting. It's painful just to look at him. "Why would you be scared Ghost?" You retaliate

He grumbles, never fancied when you called him that when you were alone. Quite the contradiction given the fact that he told you not to call him his name that day at the beach.

"Because I saw you." He points out. "That night. Everything you're missing for being with someone like me. Can't even show proper affection because it's not me... and you deserve more than that. More than me."

"Ghost..."

"No. Lemme finish, love." He swallows. It's always amusing how controlled he seems. "I lost it, yeah? You looked so happy. How on earth do I deserve you, on what universe do I deserve ya'?"

Sucking in a sharp breath you recall the moments that preceded the events. The sound of music blasting through the speakers, when you joined the rest of the soldiers on the other side of the pub. Private Miller had slung his arm over your shoulders in a friendly manner. You laughed and drank too much that night, it was joyful. Everyone was there, your team. You never thought he felt that way about it.

"Oh my... Simon." You cover your mouth and cry silently. He hesitated for a moment before pulling you close and into his lap. "Should've known something was wrong. Forgive me... I should've stayed with you, follow you after you left." You cry out.

You were scared too, for very different reasons. That he'd get tired of you eventually, that if you weren't cautious enough your secret would be known. Both would get suspended thus separated and discharged.

"No, love. You shouldn't have to go running after me. I should be running after you. Now forgive me, say you will. Or else I might just lose myself for good." You cradle his face in your hands lifting the balaclava just above the bridge of his nose. Thumb tracing his lower lip. Your tears have dried.

"I've missed you so much, Simon. All you gotta do is talk to me, always." He tightens his grip around you. "You think Price would let us go home tonight and not ask questions?"

His chuckle is short and soft.

"Yeah. I think he's known for a while now."

[blouisparadise]

Today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Louis and/or Harry have popular jobs such as firefighter, flight attendance, florist, and mechanic. Since we get requests for rec lists with these particular jobs often, we decided to compile them into one list. We're marked each fic according to which job it features. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog the post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) December | Not Rated | 1,924 words | 💐

Magic happens here, in December.

2) Pilot | Teen & Up | 5,279 words | ✈️

“We have fifteen minutes.” Harry glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “How fast do you think my tongue can make you come?” Still against the wall, Louis felt a shiver run from the back of his neck down his spine. In three years walking on moving planes, he’d never had such zero control over his legs. At least not until now.

3) Your Apathy’s Like A Wound In Salt | Explicit | 5,312 words | 🛠️

“What a fucking ass!” Louis shifts his body so he’s completely facing away from the scene. “I asked him last night to fix my car and he said he would accept a payment in the form of me sucking his dick. I guess he’s really desperate, I can’t believe him.” Louis rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink in one go. Niall shakes his head and shrugs, “I told you to ask any other mechanic in town but you didn’t listen to me.” “Well, I didn’t think he would fucking say that now did I, Niall?��� “Louis,” Paige rests a manicured hand on his shoulder, “So, you’re saying you still wouldn’t hit it?” “My ex?” She nods. “Yeah, I’d still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or a baseball bat.” Suddenly, Niall spits out his beer all over the table as Paige bursts out laughing. “Fucking ruthless, you are.” Niall runs a hand through his styled hair.

4) Oil and Lube | Explicit | 5,552 words | 🛠️

The one where Harry's a car mechanic and Louis' engine can't seem to stop revving around him.

5) A Place To Call Home | Mature | 8,113 words | 💐

The thing is, he’s pretty sure he’s found home in a person in his life, someone who’s been essential in everything he’s done since he was seven years old. Through every broken bone, through every breakup, through every failure; through every triumph, personal and professional, and every goal he has scored in his time in Man U, there’s been someone there for it all.  That’s his best mate. Harry. A twenty-two year old with the kindest heart known to man, a slow drawl that is entirely too endearing, with the dreams to open up his own flower shop. A quiet and earnest boy with those he doesn’t know, and open and honest and absolutely lovely with those he loves.  It all hits him, really, the night of their final game of the Premier League. Again, timing is not his forté. They’re gearing up, ready to hit the field for the second half against Liverpool that determines their ranking in the League, when his brain decides to come online (after seventeen years, apparently), and conveniently supply him with the revelation that oh yeah, you’re kind of in love with your best friend.

6) If This Room Was Burning | Explicit | 8,629 words | 🔥

Where Louis’ cat gets stuck on the roof and Harry is the firefighter who ends up saving her.

7) Decorated Emergency | Not Rated | 10,359 words | 🔥

So what if they kissed once. It was the end of a shift that had seemed to drag on for twelve days instead of twelve hours. Their doctor was slow and felt the need to transfer every single patient, putting more work on every member of staff. Harry was stressed. Louis was the one who crowded him up against the door in the break room. It was Louis' fault, he was always pulling shit.

8) Taking The Long Way Home | Mature | 12,499 words | 🛠️

Coming home from the beach, Louis' car breaks down and he has to call mechanic Harry.

9) Bloom | Explicit | 24,887 words | 💐

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry tucks the flower into the top pocket of Louis’ jacket, patting over his heart just once. “What is it?” Louis asks, eyeing the sunny little yellow flower, a bit like a buttercup, “It’s lovely.” Harry pushes a piece of hair behind his ear and smiles, “It’s a primrose. I got them in this morning, reminded me of you.”

10) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27,083 words | 🛠️

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

11) A Hungry Heart | Explicit | 27,601 words | 💐

Harry Styles, florist and Great British Bake Off contestant, loves many things. He loves his flower shop, he loves baking, and there’s also that little crush he has on pop star Louis Tomlinson. But when Louis arrives on set as the surprise guest judge, Harry’s worlds collide. Throw in a cup of cuteness, a teaspoon of teasing, and a pinch of pining, and there’s all the ingredients for an epic love story, or absolute chaos.

12) Tangled Up And Blue | Explicit | 30,159 words | 🛠️

Kai just shakes his head, making his way down the small batch of stairs with a hop in his step. “Have fun on your weird adult date.” Harry sighs. “It’s not a date.” “Dad, you already have him in your bed most nights,” Kai sings, walking backwards towards Louis’ car with an insufferable smirk on his face. “It’s not looking too good for you,” he shrugs, hands curled around the straps of his backpack.

13) You Wish I Was Yours And I Hope That You’re Mine | Not Rated | 31,259 words | 💐

“What did you wish for?” Harry blushes, “If I tell you it won’t come true…” Louis sits straight again, a cute little determined look forming on his face, “I wished that a certain curly ‘aired boy would take me on more dates because I ‘ad such a good time on this one. And that’s going to come true, isn’t it?” “Of course,” Harry nearly splutters. “Yeah, yeah definitely.” “See?” Louis grins smugly. “Now I told you mine and it’s still going to come true, so will you tell me yours?” Their wishes were different though, because whereas Louis’ wish was cute and endearing, Harry found his own wish rather embarrassing. But he can’t lie to Louis, nor can he say no to Louis, so he sucks in a shaky breath of air before he speaks softly, “I wished that I was brave enough to kiss you…”

14) Stay Until Tomorrow | Explicit | 36,766 words | 🛠️

There’s a dull ache seeping through Louis’ body as he wakes up; a mild headache from last night’s alcohol intake, a cramp in his right arm from sleeping on it weird and a familiar soreness between his arse cheeks that Louis fully blames on his lousy one night stand.

15) One Heart Broke, Four Hands Bloody | Explicit | 47,429 words | 💐

Louis’ life is really fucking dull until one day he happens upon the scene of a crime, as said crime is happening. A murderer with big hands and a charming smile somehow manages to change his life for the better.

16) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words | 🔥

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who’s never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves. Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

17) No Going Back | Explicit | 56,102 words | 🛠️

Sales reps Harry and Louis are bored with their jobs and their lives. After meeting at a conference in Cardiff they hook up, have a few too many drinks, and jokingly apply to become remote lighthouse keepers. Six months, just the two of them, looking after the southernmost lighthouse off the bottom of Australia. It’s not like their applications will be accepted. Right? This is the story of how one choice - a left instead of a right, a go instead of a stop, a yes instead of a no - can change the future forever and that sometimes, taking that leap of faith, is worth the risk.

18) Between The Sand and Stars | Explicit | 63,128 words | ✈️

When an earthquake strands flight attendant Louis Tomlinson on a tropical island, he’s got paradise at his fingertips - miles of sunny beaches, immersion in vibrant culture, and a beautiful seaside mansion to enjoy. Unfortunately, it belongs to the egotistical musician Harry Styles, whose incorrigible management can do little to hinder his playboy complex. Despite Louis and Harry’s abhorrent first impression, contrasting backgrounds, and tendency to bicker every time they speak, who says opposites can’t attract? Them, of course, because they hate each other … right?

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