#hot girl shit to have a mohawk

[andi-o-geyser]

What an absolute power move to give her a mohawk. The design team can do no wrong in my eyes, may whatever eldritch god Zahra has as a warlock patron bless them with eldritch blasts for all their enemies because holy shit I’m in love

[bunnys-kisses]

some women don't want the bear

john 'soap' mactavish

cw: smut/pwp, predator/prey, cnc, roleplay/fantasy, forest sex, messy sex, unprotected sex, after care, gunplay, degrading language, dirty talk, (partially) clothed sex, pussy slapping, filth (!!!)

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you never really thought about scotland having forests. you always imagined the rolling plains and large cows. not dense forests as you hastily ran pass trees and tried not to trip over roots.

your heart was racing, your breathing ragged. you needed to get away from the man in the woods. he had found you cabin for the week and had tried to get his way inside. the only way for you was out the door and into the forests before he could harm you.

"shit, shit, shit." you panted as you tried to get further into the forest, only getting more lost. you felt panic all of as you ended up in a clearing.

you wanted to scream for help, but no one would hear you. you were a lost little thing, all alone in the woods with a big scary man. a man who wanted to take you apart.

your knees felt weak as you looked around, the afternoon light shined through the thick foliage of the trees. you eventually crumbled to your knees like a dying deer when you heard the snap of a twig nearby. you quivered and whimpered when the heavy footsteps came closer.

you felt yourself be yanked by the hair and forced to look up at the man in front of you. you bottom lip wobbled, "please don't kill me, sir."

he chuckled and tapped his pistol to your nose, "cute. i don't like 'em dead, bonnie. i like 'em when they struggle." then pressed the gun to your lips, "c'mon. be a good little whore and suck. or i'll find another way to get this thing wet." his eyes cast down to your lap.

you carefully licked the gun and the intruders eyes were on you. his blue eyes gleamed like sapphires, full of danger. you never got his name as you continued to suck off his gun.

you prayed it wasn't loaded.

"pretty girl for me." he said, "bet you're popular with the boys at uni." he laughed before he used his other hand to comb his fingers through your hair, "don't worry about that. once i get my seed planted in ya, you'll be too tired to think about other boys while you're chasin' my boys around." he pinched your cheek, "hard to finish school when you're nursing one babe and pregnant with another." he chuckled.

you hated how hot it felt. it flooded your core and made your face hot all over. your heart raced as you continued to lick the weapon.

his words kept coming, "you, me and our little mission to repopulate that big cabin you were staying in. you were tempting me with that, one woman doesn't need that many rooms. you were hoping i'd come and give you an excuse to fill 'em up. better i come and seed that little cunt of yours before a big bear or something comes and does it instead.' he laughed at the improbability of that.

you looked up at him, your eyes gleamed in the afternoon light and it made the intruder's cock twitch in his pants. he patted your cheek a little harder than you liked before he wanted you to have the real thing.

he tossed the weapon to the side and pushed you down onto your back. he got on top of you and he could feel the heat of your core through those thin tights. he didn't give it much time before he ripped the cheap fabric at the crotch, followed by your panties ending up in tatters too at the seam.

"good hold you got there, bonnie." he purred, "a nice tight little cunt that i'm gonna enjoy ruining." he chuckled as he sank two thick fingers into your sweet puffy hole. he sank in like a hot knife cut butter, "oh, someone's a little whore, huh? do you let all the big scary men of the forest fuck you? or am i just special." he smiled with all teeth and you felt wetness grow between your legs.

he crowded your space, his weight on top of you kept your pinned. you weren't as strong or as big as him. he was muscular with a mohawk and a tattoo. you could already feel his length pressing against you through his jeans.

he was going to split you in half with that thing!

"ya want it, bonnie? do you want me to fuck you raw. ruin you for any other man so much so that another man could even breed you. get that pretty cunt addicted to my cum." he patted your pussy before he sank his fingers back into you, now using his thumb to play with your clit.

you sent electricity through you, you tried to find some support from the forest floor to get yourself out from under him. but there was no escaping him. you were going to be bred by this monster.

you wanted to hit him, but he was a bulk of solid muscle. you would break your hands before you made any dent in him. you laid there and kicked out your legs but you were pinned under him.

he took his fingers out of your slick pussy and licked your wetness off of them letting out a soft moan, you tasted so good. he said, "a wife's gotta taste good, even when heavy with bairn." then placed a broad hand on your stomach as he got his cock out of his blue jeans.

the birds chirped and the sun beamed down on you as you laid in the mess of leaves and twigs. you could feel the man's heavy gaze on you. you swallowed at the sight of his cock, it was thick. you swore his balls were heavy, ready for breeding.

he kept his hand on you as he guided his cock into your sweet, slick pussy. he groaned a little bit as he pushed into you. your pussy felt so good enough his cock.

he chuckled, "where have you been all my life?" his pace skipped pleasantries and soon he was bullying it deep into your womb, "a pretty little thing to breed and keep. you, me and a bunch of babies." he was so large compared to you, you couldn't fight him off. he looked like a military man, even if you could get out from under him, he would stalk you through the forest. he groaned, "you're so good for me, lettin' me use that sweet cunt of yours. i'll keep this little cunt." he patted it before he gave it a firm slap.

you panted and squirmed under him, a fruitless attempt as he fucked you with a fury that you couldn't find words for. his cock felt like it was in the back of your throat.

the harshness of his thrusts made your head spin as you gripped onto him and tried to get him off of you. but he wasn't going anywhere, he was too busy having his cock into you. he wasn't going anywhere until he was finished with you.

you were his now.

regardless the pleasure coursed through you and the pace made you hot all over. the feeling was overwhelming and you knew you wouldn't last long. you panted and moaned, your entire body was burning from the intense pleasure.

"please." you whimpered.

"what?" he asked, curious what you had to say.

"please don't kill me." you whimpered.

"no, no.. shh, shh. no way." he said, his voice overly sweet, "i would never. now c'mon, bonnie. cum for your husband." as he continued to thrust up against you cunt.

you then gripped onto the forest floor as best as you could and arched your back. you then climaxed. you felt your body betray you as your pussy clenched around him as you it all became too much. you felt like an animal being bred in the forest. "fuck." you gasped.

"so good. fuck, i'm gonna ruin that little pussy. don't worry, bonnie.

he spurted inside of you with a heavy grunt before he slowed to a stop. his heart hammered in his chest as he admired the sight of you. he gave you pussy a firm slap before he pulled out.

"good girl." and after that, the little roleplay ended. and the man you loved came back. he got you in his arms as he kissed at your face, you were still in a state of bliss as your orgasm still came through you.

johnny then picked the twigs out of your hair, he got his jacket around your shoulders. he may have gone a little over kill with ripping your leggings and panties. but you were safe with him now.

"did you like that?" he asked as he rubbed your shoulders before he helped you onto your shaky legs. he'd carry you if he had to, that what was what a husband did for his wife.

even if she wanted to have crazy, kinky forest sex during their honeymoon. but he'd have to admit, it did excite him too. using those skills of his to good use. so before he picked you up and brought you back to the cabin for some nice tea and food, he waited to give him a response.

you looked up at him, as if your cheek was scraped from the debris on the forest floor. your eyes gleamed, almost excitingly as you said, "can we do that again sometime?" <3

[barrackspredator]

sugar service

cw: didn’t proof read this, cussing, writing practice. best of luck.

“Hot damn!”

“Smash, smash, smash, uh… yeah, him too. Smash.”

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as the other waitresses eyed your table. The three of you were waiting at the hostess post on a particularly slow day. The only customers was your table of four. Some older guys your friends just couldn’t seem to get enough of.

“Please,” you mumbled. “They’re old enough to be our dads.” Your eyes flicked up from the magazine in your hands to your coworkers. The three girls were giggling and occasionally glancing over their shoulders.

“Yeah, that's the best part!” Your coworker, Rona replied before glancing back again. “Older guys are experienced and typically have pretty big… savings.” She grinned at you, her eyes narrowing coyly.

“God-!” you scoffed, choking down your surprised guffaw. “You guys are unbelievable.”

Ignoring their giggles and teasing, you push yourself off of the wall you were leaning against to approach your table. Your eyes roamed over the four men, taking in how their shirts clung perfectly to their muscles. A few gray hairs here and there, but their physiques certainly made up for their age.

Caught up in your ogling, you slammed your hip into the corner of their table. The oldest of the men quickly grabbed the edge of the table to steady it.

“Fuck…” Your hand immediately slapped over your mouth in shock, remembering that you were in front of customers. The men chuckled, eyeing each other before turning back to look at you.

“Careful there, sweetheart. Can’t ’ave a pretty little thing like you bruising up,” one of the men, a particularly dashing man with a mohawk, chastised you. His eyes scanned yours before slowly raking down your form.

Letting out a shaky sigh of relief that they were cool and not some uptight old asses, you smiled. A genuine smile, not the customer service lip curl you were so used to doing. “I would like to apologize for that, gentlemen.” After a few seconds, you quickly added, “Please don’t tell my manager.”

With languid waves and laughs, they shook their heads and sipped their beverages in amusement. “There ain’t anything to tell.” A man with a scarred face stared, boring his eyes into you. He seemed to be deep in thought before giving his head a slight nod—something the other men quickly noted.

“Thank you.” You took a deep breath now that the anxiety of possibly losing this shitty job passed. “Is there anything I can get you, gentlemen? Drinks, dessert?”

“Your number?” He looked at you expectantly, a handsome man. The youngest of the bunch, no doubt.

Dealing with flirty old customers was a piece of cake. It’s what got the tips going. But typically they were vile old men you would never touch with a 10-foot pole. These guys were quite palatable. Very palatable.

“Well,” you laughed nervously. Perhaps Rona had a point. These men had a way of making a girl’s tummy flutter like it never has before. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you that, sir.”

“Kyle.”

“Pardon?” You blinked at him, furrowing your brows.

“Call me Kyle.” Another dashing smile sent butterflies thrashing in your belly.

“None of that sir shit. Makes us feel too damn old.” The men grumbled with bitter chuckles. “Johnny.” The man with the mohawk dismissively pat your hip, gripping the tender flesh of your forming bruise. “That old sap is John. And the brooding fella is Simon.”

“Piss off,” Simon grumbled, certainly living up to the broody title.

An amused giggle shook her shoulders, your hand subconsciously resting over Johnny’s. “It’s lovely meeting you all. So how about that dessert?” You inquired, grabbing the paper centerfold that listed off the desserts of the weeks. “The chocolate chunk brownies are pretty good and the cheesecake here is lovely paired with...”

The men rose from their table, completely ignoring your rambles. “That won’t be needed, love.” John’s hand rested on your shoulder, perhaps a bit too close to your chest.

“You give us a call when you’re ready.” Johnny stood beside you, his breath flicking against the shell of your ear. His hot, tipsy breath made you shiver and recoil.

Kyle only chuckled, gracefully slipping a business card into your pocket. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be working.” There it was again. That dashing smile that turned your knees into jelly.

“Give us a call.” Simon grumbled from the table. Glancing at him, you noticed the thick wad of cash he was leaving behind on the table.

“Sir, that’s too much.”

“Enjoy your tip.” Johnny pat your hip dismissively, sauntering away shortly after. John and Kyle followed behind him.

In complete disbelief, you nervously laughed. “Holy shit…” You shakily picked up the wad of cash left behind on the table. Simon quietly stood behind you, casting his shadow over your body. His eyes slowly raked down your back.

“See you ‘round,” he mumbled, not surprised as you jumped out of your skin in shock at his presence. Moments later, he was out of the place, nothing left but an empty establishment.

With shaky fingers, you plucked the business card out of your pocket.

Sugar Service Call (555)141-6157

[jolalibrary]

trouble keepin' my eyes off you

john 'soap' mactavish x f!reader wc: 4k | warnings: angst, jealous!soap, pining summary: soap has been aware of it for longer than he’d like to admit. each time his eyes land on your mid-smile, each sound of your laughter—all he thinks is, I want this, I want it all with you.  an: prequel to yours to keep and a thousand — and dedicated to @guyfieriii who i adore, and dedicate all my soap too. teehee.

soap masterlist

It’s uncomfortable, the heat. It clings, wraps and drapes over everything, smothering any breeze or fresh air.

The sweat builds on his brow, dripping down the back of his neck, leaving puddles at the base of his spine. Worst of all, beads drop from his hairline, sliding down his cheeks, dropping from his jawline as he runs his hand through his hair.

His hair has grown—the shorter sides having gained some length, beginning to conceal his very deliberate mohawk he had going. Which is another string to the bow of annoyance. It tells the tale of how long they've all been here, sweating, not sleeping, watching and waiting.

But the bow, the real thing which has been grating him is that you’re on the other side of a slightly ajar door, sparring—and it isn’t with him. 

Soap has been trying not to listen. 

But, they’re loud—you are loud. 

Even his attempts of burying it have been futile. He's attempted to recall songs from home. Ones where there’s a scotch or beer in hand, swishing from side to side as his voice cracks as he screams the words—arms around a friend or two. The words which he knows are embedded into his soul—into the very fibre of his being—and yet, you’re making it hard for him to finish a verse, never mind a song. 

He’s tried to focus on the quieter noises. The ones he wouldn't usually pay any fucking attention to—like Gaz tapping the keys of the laptop in the kitchen and the hot breeze trying to brush through the open window. The background noise, never loud enough to cause any impact—but he needs them to. He clings to hope that they will. He practically claws out for them, grabbing them with metaphorical hands—anything to drive the much louder noises away. 

The ones coming from the door he’s forbidden from entering all because of stern words from even sterner eyes behind a balaclava. 

On some level, he understands. 

The whole place is small. Privacy is not something any of you are granted. But, he knows Ghost is trying to provide that for you in this case. Because you, little Squid, rarely ever ask for help—especially from him. 

Gaz, yes. Price, maybe. Even him, occasionally. 

Ghost—never.

But, he’s softened. He has jokes with you, purposefully having chosen to spend time with you on watch. Something rare, and very out of character for a man who initially didn't even show any of them his bloody face.

Soap knows you've done it again. Seeped under his layers, like you did with all of them, weaving your way, making it hard not to instantly take a shine to you.

He doesn't blame Ghost, he understands why. He can see that time was taken making you, carving each element of your personality, creating someone that is both good, clever and funny. You're strong-willed, giving-a-shit attitude is most likely the reason Ghost is helping you—training with you, offering guidance and support.

Handing you fucking praise.

Because he too has caught on to what they’ve all seen. He’s taken notice of how fucking splendid you are, how you’re capable and fucking gorgeous all rolled into one. 

That’s it, Squidlet. Use your—perfect, that’s it, you got it. Atta girl. 

He’s sure he’ll need bleach to burn Ghost’s words from his brain. 

Even if it’s his fault—because he knows he shouldn’t be listening. 

Having created his own personal torture chamber that he’s taken the time to design, construct, and build. Because there wasn’t a table and chairs here before—he moved them here. Choosing this spot so he could be close, just in case. Of what? He's not sure. But he needs to be here, something within him compelling him to be.

Under his jealousy, he doesn’t blame you, and he doesn’t blame Lt either. He knows the two of you can hardly be expected to spar outside, where every pair of eyes could be the enemy. Out there, the air isn't just thick with heat, but tension too.

Apprehension simmers as they come closer and closer to completing the very thing they are here for. 

So, he's sat outside the room. Pretending to be interested in the latest report. Not wanting to move. Twisting and turning his emotions like playing cards, wondering why didn’t you ask him? 

He bristles, chewing the inside of his mouth, breathing heavy, hating it—hating it all. His cheeks burning, coated in sweat as he stares at the words on the page, unsure why none of them are soaking in.

Why wouldn't you choose your lieutenant? That's the thought that gnaws, that sinks its pointy teeth into him. And it makes his bones ache. 

Because he's so close, and yet so far. He almost has you, but not entirely. And it pecks at him, weaves into his insecurities, his need to prove himself—so much so he can’t rid the image of his lieutenant looming his big fucking frame over you. You under him, eyes staring up, lips parted, shredding your clothing for the man who rarely shows his face—

Your groan punches the air. 

A sound he knows is from you being knocked on your arse, but it makes his fingers turn white. The sound so painted with frustration, and tiredness. He can tell—christ, he can even imagine the look on your face that accompanies it. Yet his brain twists it, morphs it, transforms it into something so ugly it almost breaks his heart.

It makes him want to claw at his brain, scratch out the images the tortured parts of himself keeps creating.

Because he knows you’re both sparring, that Lt is likely knocking you down, over and over again—not knowing that you’re stubborn, not knowing he should stop, that you’re running on nothing. 

He’s your lieutenant, yes, but he doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know that you push yourself until you snap and shatter, leaving fragments of yourself in your hands. Pieces he’s tried to help guide back into place when he’s found you, lost and broken in such a way he’s not sure how to glue you back.

But, you didn’t choose him. 

You chose Ghost. 

Asked, practically pleaded with him. 

So, he had to listen—even if he really fucking didn’t want to. He had to take the few sightings of you through the cracked door—the proof that you’re not on the floor, broken, breathing hard with sweat blending with tears. 

Which means he also sees your body sheened with sweat, hair sticking to your face, neck and shoulders, and your tiny, tight shorts. It means he's seeing you looking ethereal, almost too good for this goddamn place.

And it nips at him—fueling his jealousy. It peels at his skin that Ghost is seeing you like this without a filter, without anything getting in the way.

All of it whisking against the vexation of the heat, the fear of failure and the growing tiredness. It makes his knuckles almost crack, his skin almost translucent as his wrists ache from the way he continually clenches his fist. 

He’s down bad. He knows that. 

Soap has been aware of it for longer than he’d like to admit. Each time his eyes land on your mid-smile, each sound of your laughter—all he thinks is, I want this, I want it all with you. 

Not that he says those words. He just thinks them. Lets them swirl around his godforsaken mind until they try to drag him under. 

Sometimes, he can’t even think because of it. The depths of his own thoughts like water, drowning him from the inside, made so much worse by the simple fact—he’s not the one pinning you to the floorboards. That he has barely seen you, spoken to you, been around you since they all landed here.

But Ghost has. His lieutenant has. The same Lt who is funny, witty, and even has his own nickname for you. The one who has height even on him, who is broader, and who your eyes land on immediately when briefs are given out. 

Not his. 

Each time he almost wants to exit the room, his teeth cutting the inside of his cheeks. Instead, he sits and silently stews. Bubbling away like a broth his mum used to make—hoping, waiting to get back to base where things feel easier.

And then, your squeal pinches the air, Soap unaware he's even standing until he blinks.

Then he hears the unmistakable gruff, Manchester twang of “Y’alright, Squidie?”

His heart pounds, attempting to crack his ribs and fly out of his chest. More so as each millisecond ticks on, as they add up into seconds and your voice hasn’t cut through the air—

“Not broken. Winded. But—“ 

You cough. Heavy. Chesty. 

Soap’s mind fighting, urging him to push the door open more and visibly check you over himself. But, he hears movements, feet—boots. 

“And. Stop callin’ me, Squidie.”

“Prefer Squidlet?"

"Fuck no."

"Get up.” 

“Alright, alright,” you hiss, and the floorboard creaks again as you do. “Anyone tell you that you're the worst sometimes, Ghostling.”

Each night, he hopes the air will be easier to swallow. But, each night he wishes, it brings a new fresh hell he feels ill-prepared for.

Tonight, it’s sticky—the air clogged with thick, stubborn heat. There’s moisture, but it’s wrong. It smothers, makes his clothes chafe against his muscles. 

All of it is made worse by you being difficult. You're kind, warm-hearted, and beautiful—but fucking difficult too. Especially on low sleep. Especially when you're woven so tightly, you're going to snap.

He’s heard Price order you to get some fuckin’ sleep—your back against the dingy wall, his palm flat against the wall, eyes close to yours. Soap watched as you lifted your chin defiantly, muttering back, I’ll sleep when you do, Captain. 

Anyone else, he suspects they’d have their neck wrung. Sharing a look with Ghost—one he wasn’t able to translate—as you spit that you'll do the next watch, climbing the stone staircase and the ladder at the top before anyone can argue.  

It reminds him of months ago, when you’d driven yourself to near exhaustion then. Your stubborn, difficultness being the backbone for you not to sleep, something always needing to be done—as if you’re the sole person who can stop all of this and put the world to rights. 

You’ve always taken on so much.

The fire in your chest is both a blessing and a curse. He’s heard Price chew you out for the same reason. You try to do it all, not because you don’t rely on them or because you don’t trust them, but because:

“I care about you, all of you.” 

Soap had been lingering, hanging outside the door of Price’s office when he heard his response. 

“What makes you think you’re alone in that, hmm? You’re one of us, Squid. So, be one of us.” 

When you’d emerged—tail between your legs—it didn’t take a genius to see you’d taken it hard. Not the berating, but the statement; the fact you fit in, that you were cared for.

And, even then you’d tried to shift the emotions dancing in your eyes from him. The mask not slipping down quickly enough, and the smile was not being presented fast. 

“Y’alright?”

He always wondered if you’d have lied if he’d found you one minute later. If you’d have done so because you’d have known he hadn’t seen you undone, exposed—walls at your feet. 

“No. Not… not really.”  “C’mon, lass.” 

It wasn’t the first time, but it was one of his favourites.

He’d held you against him, his sheets over both of your bodies, comfortable silence surrounding the two of you, clothes a welcomed barrier to anything else—as you held him like he was your rock in a storm.

Just like the two of them did on that first mission together. 

I trust you. You know that, don’t you? Course, lass. Be bit awkward if y’didn’t? I mean, I don't do this with anyone else. Sleep with them... like this. I hope fuckin' not. You're special, Johnny. That's all I mean.

Sleep took you seconds later. Gently stealing you from him, breaths turning heavier and body relaxing and moulding around him. 

Soap had found, in that space between reality and sleep, that’s when you were the most free. When your tongue is loosened and your heart is without chains. A side of you he sees in fleeting moments when he’s alone with you, but in a greater capacity like this—when you’re about to leave him for your dreams. 

Now, though, it’s different.

You're weighed down by more than stress and pride, but rocks and fucking anchors. Whether because of the growing casualties or because you missed your bed, because it brought up memories you only ever half told him about.

He knows this because he's overheard Gaz ask you if you’re okay—Soap watching from the sidelines as you lie through your teeth. Something you’re getting better at, somewhat able to control your features, almost a poker face. 

He knows you hate lying, to them at least. Each lie you spit opens a sore inside of you. It’s why he’s not asked himself. Not wanting to give you something else to churn and worry over, knowing it knots your insides and makes you spiral. 

It’s not his turn to keep watch, but he follows you up the ladder all the same. He leans, the air coating his skin, making him already dream about the dribble they call a shower. Because even the rooftop wall is boiling, almost cooking him through his vest and clothes. 

“Talk to me, lass. What’s keepin’ y’up?” 

You don’t look at him, continuing your pacing, eyes trained in the distance. But your breath audibly catches, clearly startled, clearly rattled by his question—his presence. 

“I hate losing.” 

“We ain’t gonna lose, Mari.” 

Your chin lifts, tongue swiping across dry, cracked lips. “I know… we’re the best of the fucking best. But…” 

He knows. 

He’s been feeling it too. 

That thing. Unexplainable. The shadow in the corner, the one which has been haunting and hunting them since the wheels touched down. Sometimes, it’s easy, and sometimes it’s methodical—it’s torturous observing until the perfect moment. And when it’s the latter, it has a way of scratching at sensibility. 

They all have a past. A failed mission that stands out from the rest—one that reminds each of them not to relax, to not let their guard down—what a single mistake can cause. 

Your head turns, the moon casting a shadow across your features, and the hold you have on his heart tightens—nails digging in deep as the muscle tries to thump. 

“Johnny, I’m just so t—“

But it’s stolen, your explanation. 

Heavy boots and a masked face cut off whatever you were about to say. Eyes sitting around darkness, staring from him to you, bouncing, before frowning. 

“It's not your watch, Johnny—"

"—I know—"

"You should get some sleep."

He wants to argue. Almost bloody does, too. 

Wants to dig his heels in, and get you to continue, but he’s tired—his shoulders aching, his eyes stinging.

But, it's your words from another mission that come to mind. The ones from when you’d emerged like a phoenix—fire and smoke behind you as you stumbled into his arms— 

Dunna do that, lass. Scare me. Need to stop worrying, Soapie. I always find my way back. I promise.

So he nods. He leaves. His palms descend down the ladder, half-stopping when he realises he left the window opening pausing.

He's not sure what he’s expecting—if anything at all. A confirmation, maybe? That the girl who drives him mad, has feelings for the more obvious choice. The brooding, big lieutenant who spits army jokes like he has an arsenal of them; the one you spend more time under, even if it’s sparring, than any of the others.

He’s about to move, shaking his nonsensical thoughts when he hears Ghost.

“Y’gotta stop fighting us all, Squidlet.”

“I’m not.”

“You fuckin’ are, and you know it.” 

Silence. Horrid, fucking silence. So much so, his mind begins to fill with images of your bodies moving together, arms pulling the other close, ripping, shredding—

“You’ll be a piss poor shot if y’don’t sleep. Plus, you’re wearing Johnny out.” 

His face flushes, bloody burns in the space between the second floor and the roof.

He doesn't miss you mumble that you’re not. All dismissive. Making his hands grip the spindle of the ladder, releasing a puff of air. 

“If I sleep—“

“The world will keep turnin', trust me.” 

“You almost sound like you care.” 

His heart sinks, drops—and fucking plummets. Because you’re right. It does. It sounds exactly like that. The nickname. The way he’s come up when it’s not even his watch. All of it screaming that it’s something—all flashing lights and loud music accompanying it. 

“Go to sleep, Squidie.” 

“It’s my—“

“Go.” 

He has to move. 

He needs to move. 

Even if he wants to pull you close to him. Even if it feels like you’re slipping through his fingers.

Just like he had done when he first realised how he felt, how he’d been feeling. When he’d almost told you. Rain hammering down, drowning you both to the bone. The two of you sent east, the rest west. Splitting a building each, finding his empty, and telling you as much. Your radio silence still haunted him. His blood thumping in his ears, ripping through each room, doing what he does best—cleaning fucking house. Finding you, bruised, bleeding, your knife in hand trembling under a dead body. The sound of boots drawing nearer to the opening they’d made—

“Thanks, Simon.” 

He blinks in the present. The memory faded into nothing, vanishing like smoke—like it was never even there. Whatever held the last parts of him, snapped. His eyes staring up, pricking with the heat and the moment—stinging, aching. 

You called him his name.

It left your tongue wrapped in intimacy, in care.

He’s unsure how he reaches the bottom of the ladder, his palms closed, fists clenched, nothing else in his head except getting to his room. Crossing the landing, passing the room with the others, only focusing on reaching his own room. The small thing—the cupboard with a single bed he’d managed to cop. 

Everything he's squashed down, rises. They all begin to angrily fuse, mixing with the heat and his pent up frustration that he’s still here—so much so he almost slams the door. Almost.  

His fingers instead press the thin wood into its frame. The click blessing the air like the first strum of a guitar, his heart beating like a drum—and then a knock, one belonging to a smaller hand, calloused, but still soft, the bass that sets the mood. All of it blending, creating a song he's not sure if he'll love or hate.

He knows it’s you. Knows it as he opens the door, watching you stare up at him, sliding your vest from your body, all defeated and knackered beyond belief. 

Deep down, no matter what his brain says—what he hears, what he sees—he at least knows it’s him you choose to curl up to. That when you really need comfort, it’s him you look for. It’s him you pull close until your bodies almost merge into one. 

“Hi.”

“Lass...” 

You look troubled, more weighed down than he really noticed. Not even bothering to hide it, to plaster a smile over the cracks. 

“Can I… Soap, I can’t…” you chew the inside of your cheek, avoiding his eyes as you sigh. 

He tugs on your wrist, pulling you to him. Your body falling into him like it’s weightless, like you’re all attitude and feathers. Bringing you close, holding your head to his chest—almost swaying with you. 

It always starts like this. 

One, long hug. Rooted to the spot. Nothing—not a single thing able to penetrate the two of you. Frozen in a moment no one can ever take. And then, he’ll turn, finding shorts and a different t-shirt, hearing you undress before finding something more comfortable. Sometimes it’s your own, sometimes it’s his. 

And fuck, when it’s his. 

Your wicked, but sleepy smile is a picture for sore eyes and one he wishes he could take a photo of when you wait for his invite, as if you ever need one to climb into his bed.

Your bodies slide against the mattress. Usually, the springs protest, but the cot you’re sharing just groans in frustration as both of your sets of limbs find their place. 

It should feel awkward, but it never does. He shouldn’t crave this, should be able to sleep solidly without a person on his chest. But, he finds he sleeps better with you. Finds that dreams are easier, that there’s more sunshine, more hope and fucking rainbows in the world when you’re on top of him, softly breathing. 

“Night, Mari.” 

He waits. 

Your usual sleepy ‘Soapie’ or ‘Johnny’ blessing his ears. But none come, none. And he almost tenses, almost moves you to see your face. 

“You… you don’t mind that we do this, do you?” 

His hand tilts your chin up, staring into those eyes, begging them to give him a reason—either to close the gap or begin the process of getting over you. Something. Anything. 

Because how could he mind this, when he wants something more? 

He’d ask for it too. If he weren’t afraid. The big demolition man scared of losing you, of losing this, by being greedy and wanting more. 

“Neve’, lass. I like being the person y’come t’when you need somethin’.”

He doesn’t miss the smile. The soft one. The one which you rarely show, but is bloody beaming for him now. 

“It’s only you, Soapie,” you say, curling tighter into him, leaving no space. 

And it takes all of his control. 

Thoughts of his great-aunt with her harsh accent and wiry moustache to be able to pull you closer. Your head on his chest, fingers dancing up and down your arm as he feels you relax, muscle by muscle. 

“Only me, y’say?” 

You let out a soft breath, one that dances warmth over his t-shirt—almost over the hair on his chest. “You’re an idiot, Johnny. Course it is, who else?” 

And he smiles. 

Not at his name, not at the insult, but the fact you’re falling asleep—something you’ve not done for two full days. And it’s on him. 

Only him. 

He buries the rest of your words. The ‘who else’ and the instant answer that appeared on the tip of his tongue. He can unpack it another time. 

There’s something about waking on top of him. Clothes are a horrid, but necessary barrier between the two of you. 

You don’t want things to change, for them to spoil, to wilt and fade from grasp. So, you’ll put up with only having this, having him in this way. At least then, you'll always have arms around you that you know won’t hurt you. You’ll accept the hugs, and long for the cuddles; you’ll settle for sleeping alongside him, rather than with him. 

And, you won't tell MacTavish that you think he’s handsome, no matter how much he dares you to drink. That even asleep he is beautiful, even minus the evidence of his smile, and the dimples you wish to trace with your fingers. He’s still everything, without being anything. 

He’s your best friend, your safety, your person. 

He feels like home, a soul that grounds you and keeps you rooted. He makes you better, helps you grow and—

Your fingers draw a circle on his chest. Watching his lashes flutter, his eyes slowly opening, and your throat going dry—like it does each time he looks at you with so much softness. 

I think I’m in love with you, Johnny. 

That’s what you should say. 

Instead, you say, “Morning, Soapie.” 

READ NEXT PART

[daffy-20]

Bounty on the girl

Chapter 1 - 5 is enough

(Please all minors get off of this page, I beg of you.)

!Warning! - Not COD original plot, NSFW in some chapters, mentions of abuse, violence, trauma and r@pe.

Kyle(Gaz) Garrick x Johnny(Soap) MacTavish x Simon(Ghost) Riley x John(Price) x König x Fem!Reader

(That was a shit ton;-;)

Summary - You are an extremely popular idol and you tend to travel a lot, your father owns a very high class company but never really dug too deep into since you turned 21 but all of a sudden you have been receiving constant death threats and you have a feeling your father has something to do about it. Once you confront him about it he denies everything and hires a total of 5 trusted bodyguards to keep you safer when performing or going out.

I was on stage performing and everything was so lively, the crowd’s happy cheers, the sweat on my body.

“We love you!” A group of teenage girls yelled.

I reach out the grab their hand and right as I was about the touch them I hear screams but not the joyful ones I love, I hear screams of complete terror.

I hear gun shots as my manager Neil pulls be backstage.

“Wait! I have to help them get out!” I yell trying to get out of Neil’s grasp.

“You have to worry about yourself right now-” Just then Neil got shot in the head mid-sentence.

I panicked and I ran, I had no idea where I was going but I ran and I couldn't stop.

A few months after the shooting I've been receiving death threats, my Dad has been off and on the phone with me because he is worried but I can't help but feel like he had something to do with the shooting. He has never seemed to keep secrets from me but I know that he has been arrested a few times for selling drugs and illegal substances.

I was getting out of bed and I decided to call my Dad.

“Hey, baby girl! How are you this morning?” my Dad says enthusiastically.

“Hey Dad, can I ask you something..it’s about the shooting.” I say starting to regret my decision on asking. I could feel every drop of sweat run down my forehead as my mouth began to water.

“Yes? What is it baby girl?” he asks.

“Did you happen to have anything to do with the shooting that happened at my performance a few months ago?” I ask as my voice begins to crack a bit.

“My sweet baby girl, why would I ever be a part of something like that? Y’know what I think you need better assistance because it is clear that you need it! Now I'll need you to come by my workplace and we will have you some new bodyguards faster than you can say-” The line then got cut off.

I sigh deeply, that isn’t what I wanted. I wanted him to actually act like a father and discuss it with me, not get me a new bodyguard but not much I can do now.

I throw on a hoodie, some cargo pants, and some sunglasses so I can blend in with the crowd as I take a taxi to Dad’s company building.

As I ride the elevator up to my Dad’s office I feel almost nervous, I was never a non-social person but the way people have seen me since the shooting has been a lot different, I guess I just don't want to make a bad impression.

I knock on the door out side the office and when the door opens I see my Dad’s wide smile.

“Aww! There is my baby girl!” He said bringing me into a tight hug.

“Hey..Dad!” I say trying to sound enthusiastic.

“Come on in and take a seat!” He said closing the door behind me.

I then notice 5 very large men standing behind my Dad’s desk. I took a seat and for some reason, I started getting all hot and sweaty.

“Dad, I thought you were getting me one new bodyguard,” I say with a confused tone.

“Well, I feel like it would be better if you have 5! A lot safer, don't you think?” He pats my shoulder.

“Right. So what are their names?” I ask.

“This guy is Soap, then we got Gaz.” He says pointing out the two shorter ones but the two were still taller than me. One had a mohawk which normally not many people could pull off but it looked good on him, the other had lovely eyes and a hat on his head with darker skin.

“Hello, we will take good care of ye’” Soap said reassuring me.

Gaz just sat there as a kind smile grew on his face.

“And this is Price, he will be leading them in the best way possible to guarantee your safety.”

Price and I lock eyes for a moment, his eyes felt like pools that I could swim in for hours, something about his vibe makes me feel safe.

“This is Ghost, and this big guy is König!”

The last two intimidated me the most, Ghost just had a skull mask over his face and König didn't even look at me, he had his face covered too but it was almost as if he was nervous but he was absolutely humongous.

“Dad I appreciate the favor but I don't-”

“It's settled then! I'll have you boys moved in with her as soon as possible and I'll send your belongings over with her!” My Dad says cutting me off.

“Moving in with me? Dad you can’t possibly be serious!” I say protesting.

“Sweetheart it will be better for your safety, now you all go on now!” My Dad says almost as if he as pushing me out th door with his words.

Once all 6 of us leave the building a large sigh leaves my mouth.

“Well, I have an interview tomorrow and I have some work to do back at home so I guess we can start from

There?” I say turning around and looking up at them all.

I couldn't help but heat up, my cheeks were hot and I couldn't stop fiddling with my fingers, I'd never been around so many taller people before all at once.

“That sounds fine, whatever you need,” Gaz said.

“Price will drive us to ye’ home, would you like a ride?” Soap said looking into my eyes.

“Um..sure!”

On the way to my house, I am completely crushed in between König and Ghost, clearly, The two don't know how to give a girl some space.

“Could you please move your leg please?” I say looking over at König.

“Oh, y-yes sorry.” He said as he moved his leg over a bit, his tone had a gruffness to it and his accent made it a bit hard to understand what he said but I understood.

I was already fed up with this, I understand these men are just doing their job but my Dad couldn’t take two seconds of his time to listen to me. It’s like he was trying to hide something.

I just want this day to be over.

———————————————

I hope yall enjoyed the first chapter<3

[writeforfandoms]

Follow My Lead

Find my CoD Masterlist

Johnny is scheduled to be home for the weekend, but biology betrays you. Aka the period comfort piece we all deserve.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Warnings: Mentions of period, swearing, Johnny is a flirt, reader gets emotional, skin time. 

Word count: 2k

The front door opening roused you from a little nap, and you blinked blearily as you groped for your phone to check the time. You’d only meant to take a twenty minute nap so you’d still have time to cook, not doze off entirely. 

“Sweets?” Johnny called, followed by the thump of his boots. 

“You’re early,” you called back, voice still a little raspy from your nap. You stood and stretched, putting a hand on your lower back to try and relieve some of the cramping ache. 

“Couldn’t wait.” Johnny was quick to wrap you up in his arms, grinning broadly and peppering your face with kisses until you were laughing. “How’s my favorite girl?” 

“You say like you have more than one girl,” you teased, lifting one hand to tug teasingly at his mohawk. 

Johnny laughed, giving you a quick squeeze. “Oh, ‘s that why you were so surprised?” he murmured, nudging his nose against yours in affection. 

You chuckled, scratching your nails through his hair and watching as his eyes went half-lidded. “I was hoping to make dinner for you,” you admitted softly. “Kinda ran out of time. And energy.” 

“I dinnae mind,” he hummed, one hand rubbing up and down your back. “We can eat out.” His eyes flashed as he licked his lips. “After I eat in.” 

“Um.” You bit your lip. Whoops. You really should have been prepared for that. “Not quite possible at the moment, sweetheart.”

“What’s wrong?” His hand stopped and he pulled back a few inches, gaze sweeping over you, obviously looking for something visibly wrong. 

“Nothing,” you said, a little too quick. “Just… stupid timing and biology.” 

He blinked at you, confused. 

Clearly, military training was absolutely useless in some areas. You huffed, gaze drifting down and to the side with the force of your embarrassment. “I’m on my period, sweetheart.” 

“Oh.” He blinked again, and comprehension dawned. “Oh, my poor sweets.” He kissed you, soft and sweet, his hands both settling at your waist. “You have a hot water bottle?”

You puffed out your cheeks briefly. “Heat pack, yeah, it’s in my room. The platypus.”

Johnny nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before jogging back to your room. You watched him go, a little perplexed. 

“How long does it need?” he asked as he jogged past you, fluffy purple platypus in hand. “You had water recently?”

“Minute and a half,” you answered slowly, watching him, blinking. Now you felt clueless, because, what? “Yes I’ve been drinking water.” 

He popped the platypus in the microwave and was back at your side a moment later, wrapping himself around you again. “You hungry?” he asked, one hand once again rubbing up and down your back.

“Not yet?” You frowned a little when the answer came out more question than you wanted. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you.” He smiled at you, sweet and a little hopeful. 

You blinked, somehow completely blindsided. He was… after he’d just gotten home… And you burst into tears, emotional and overwhelmed. 

“Shit,” he whispered, low but with feeling. “What did I do, hen?” 

“No,” you managed, shaking your head, wiping uselessly at your face and hiccuping. “Not–” Your breathing hitched and a keening little noise escaped your throat. 

Johnny tucked you under his chin, rocking you gently back and forth, humming nonsense to you. You calmed quickly, gripping the back of his shirt tightly. 

“I’m sorry,” you croaked. “Fucking hormones.”

“S’alright,” Johnny murmured, tipping his head to rest his cheek on top of your head instead. “What’s goin’ on, sweets?” 

You sighed slowly, twisting your fingers in his shirt. “I just… Nobody’s done this. For me. Before.” 

“Never?” He dug his fingers into the nape of your neck, massaging lightly. 

“Never,” you confirmed, sighing in near-bliss. “Mm. Feels good.” 

He hummed, thumb sliding up to the base of your skull, relaxing you further. “What do you normally do?” He kept his voice quiet, unwilling to break the peaceful little bubble around the two of you. 

You shrugged a little. “Heat pack, painkillers, rest as much as work allows,” you murmured. “Takeout and chocolate, too.”

“We can do that.” Johnny finally moved, kissing your forehead.

Tears prickled your eyes again, but you sniffed and forced them back. “Too sweet to me,” you mumbled, hiding your face against his shoulder. 

“No such thing,” Johnny murmured, giving you one more gentle squeeze before he started herding you back to the couch. “Put on whatever you like, I need to reheat your platypus.”

You nodded, settling on the couch and turning on the TV, flipping over to a comfort show. You eyed a blanket speculatively but dismissed it - Johnny was enough of a space heater on his own. 

Johnny vaulted the back of the couch, dropping down next to you and making you bounce. You laughed, shaking your head at his antics. A moment later, your platypus settled gently over your abdomen, the warmth soothing. 

“Better, sweets?” Johnny brushed his lips over the apple of your cheek. 

“Mm.” You leaned into him, eyes half-closed. “Pretty sure this isn’t what either of us wanted to do this weekend.” You couldn’t keep the apology out of your tone.

“None o’ that, sweets.” Johnny wound his arms around you, pulling you fully into his chest, cuddling you like you were his personal stuffed bear. “Just happy I get to be here.”

And, really, how could you be expected to resist that? You didn’t. You just melted into him, completely relaxed, humming in contentment. Johnny was definitely too good to you. 

One of his hands slipped under your shirt, settling against your bare waist, and you tipped your head back to look at him. He didn’t even look sheepish, just content. So you relaxed into it. The bit of skin contact did feel nice, after all. 

“What sounds good for dinner?” he asked quietly part-way into the second episode. His thumb was stroking a slow, firm rhythm over your skin, careful not to accidentally tickle you. 

“Don’t care.” You shifted a little, turning to rest your cheek against his shoulder. He adjusted his grip on you accordingly. 

“C’mon, sweets. Gotta give me a little more to go off of, aye?” 

You huffed, debating between something easy and something that actually sounded tasty. “The place we went to last time you were ho–were here, remember that one? With the beer you grumbled about?”

Johnny laughed quietly. “Aye, I remember it. No beer for you, though.”

“Doesn’t mix with painkillers,” you agreed lazily, nestling in closer to him. “You can pick for me.” 

“Copy that.” Johnny pulled out his phone, and you closed your eyes. You didn’t need to look - he knew your tastes well enough by now. He barely jostled you when he slid his phone back into his pocket, and one hand poked at your platypus. “Need rewarming yet?” 

You grumbled wordlessly, and Johnny’s shoulders shook with his near-silent laughter. 

“Not an answer, sweets.”

“If you move I’ll have to hit you,” you answered, fingers burrowing under his shirt. 

“Guess that’s a no.” He laughed again, patting your thigh. “Cuddly, sweets?”

“Your fault. You’re too cuddleable.” 

“Is that even a word?”

“It is now.”

Johnny stifled his snickering against your neck. “I’ll take it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the sheer ridiculousness of the pair of you, shaking your head a little. “Seriously. I’m comfy.”

His smile softened. “Good. Glad to be of service.” 

You smiled, relaxing into him again. “You’re sure you don’t mind this?” 

“Mind it? Sweets, if I could stay just like this all the time, I would.” 

“Should start calling you cuddle bear.”

He shook with silent laughter, his fingers briefly digging into your ribs in revenge. You yipped, jerking and nearly elbowing him in the chest entirely on accident. 

“Alright, alright,” you grumbled. “No more tickling.” 

“Only if I get a kiss.” He grinned at you, eyes sparkling with humor. 

You kissed him, soft and sweet. And short. When you pulled back, he pouted, over the top just to make you smile. So you kissed him again. And again. And maybe nibbled his lip, just a little, just to feel him squirm a little… 

The doorbell rang. 

Johnny groaned softly, hands cupping your shoulders. “That’ll be dinner,” he breathed, looking tempted to ignore it. 

“I’ll get it,” you offered, shifting your weight to stand. 

And promptly ending up on your ass on the couch, blinking owlishly up at Johnny. 

“You relax,” he said, tapping the end of your nose. “I’ve got it.” He scooped up the platypus and walked over to the door to get the food. 

“Pushy,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. But you smiled a little. This being taken care of business wasn’t so bad. 

Johnny left one bag on the counter in your tiny kitchen and brought two more over to the coffee table, spreading out food. He refilled your water and brought back your platypus, once again warm. 

“You might’ve gone a bit overboard on the food, sweetheart.” You blinked at the sheer number of boxes Johnny set out.

He just shrugged, unrepentant. “Leftovers are good too,” he teased gently. 

Dinner was good - Johnny let you nibble on some of everything, let you switch over to reruns of an old favorite show. He even brought you painkillers when you discovered you were past time for your next dose. 

It was different, not what you had expected, but no less good. 

Well. Okay. Maybe a little less good, but. Still good. 

It was only after the third time that your eyes started to close without your permission that you had to admit to yourself that you weren’t gonna be awake much longer. 

“Tired, sweets?” Johnny murmured, affectionate smile clear in his voice.

“Hm.” You wrinkled your nose and peeled yourself up from the couch. “Guess so.”

“I’ve got this,” he murmured before you could even try to reach for one of the boxes. “You go get ready for bed, I’ll be right there.”

You dragged yourself to the bathroom first, then to bed. You flopped over in your normal spot, wincing briefly. But the pain subsided, and you sighed as you relaxed. 

True to his word, Johnny joined you shortly, platypus in hand. He stripped down to his boxers and turned off the lights, crawling in bed behind you. “Alright?” he murmured. 

“Getting there.” You hesitated, looking over your shoulder at him. He hadn’t pulled you into him yet, which meant he was waiting for you, to see if this is what you wanted. You chewed on your lower lip, debating. There was a good chance that Johnny would get handsy at some point, but, well… Maybe tomorrow you’d feel like letting him get handsy. 

So you pulled your shirt up over your head, squirming a little until you could toss it somewhere. “No getting too handsy, sweetheart.”

Johnny immediately plastered himself to your back, one arm winding tight around your waist, nuzzling behind your head. “I’ll behave,” he promised. 

You relaxed back into him, the skin contact warm and comforting in a way you couldn’t quite describe. It was intimate without being inherently sexual, something you’d only done with Johnny, something you only did while he was here. 

Something you both loved, possibly even craved. 

“Go to sleep, sweets,” Johnny murmured, settling in behind you. “Ah’ve got ye.”

You always loved how his accent thickened this close to sleep, and you hummed agreeably, eyes slipping closed again, comfort in the warm press of his skin. 

[sensei-venus]

Can you do a hawk where chubby bimbo reader ask him to stop bullying demetri and hawk just stop and make out with you

(Unedited) (Support the Writer🌺)

“Why do they have to do this almost every lunch period…” Reader mumbled out as she watched the two boys. She was hidden away in a far corner of the lunch room. Luckily she was sitting with some of her friends, Moon Yasmine and Sam. Sam was usually sitting with the slightly taller nerd but today she was done with dealing with the boy's petty arguments. Demetri could fight his own battles today in the eyes.

Sam rolled her eyes saying “You should know by now that this is just how they deal with each other. If Hawk would drop that lame ass ego and attitude maybe it would stop. The constant picking at Demetri is getting so boring.” Moon nodded at her statement. Yasmine picked at her food as she watched them go at it.

“I’m not doing that lame ass shit for the project! You do it and leave me out of it! Just give me the fucking A+ so I can be done with dealing with you.”

“Don’t don’t act like that Eli! It’s not like I want to be dealing with your crap attitude but we are partners for this assignment! You have to at least try and chip in.”

The two boys spat back and forth over the lunch table. Everyone near them had taken the chance to back off and away from them. Clearly unknown weather they where in the splash zone of a possible fight. Knowing the mohawk haired boy it was a good possibility. Hawk was known to swing first and take a punishment later for his actions.

Reader felt herself start to boil a little from watching the scene in front of her. Growing tired of their fighting. It was Hawk who always seemed to start the petty arguments in the first place. Reader huffed as she stood up, shaking the old table as she did.

The girls looked up at her in a bit of worry, the frown on her face evident. Sam was quick to try and pull the girl down by the bottom of her shirt. Moon did the same and tried to usher the girl back down.

“Reader please don’t go over there-“

“Their not going to stop until someone actually goes over there and says something! I can’t just let Hawk keep borderline bullying poor Demetri like that. It’s just not right!”

Reader huffed and left her seat, she smoothed out her shirt and fixed her tiny skirt. The clanking of her wedges filled the room as she strutted over to the boys. Her body jiggling just a bit as she walked in a hurry over to them. Their face twisted in an angry frown as she got closer to them.

Demetri was the first to see her coming their way. He stopped in his tracks as he shut his mouth tight. His eyes everted from both Hawk and the chubby girl as she made her way closer to their table.

He wished that she would just stop in her tracks and just turn back around and go back to her table. Hoping she wouldn’t try and get into what ever mess Hawk was trying to make out of a stupid class project. Hawk smirked as Demetri shut up for once. Quick to believe he had won this round.

It was only when he felt a tap on his shoulder did he roll his eyes and turn around. His eyes meet Reader’s, her stance was hard and acted as she looked up at him with an angry expression.

He couldn’t stop himself from looking her over.

He would never deny the fact that the girl was hot, she was a bit dim lit at time but that only made her more attractive. Her slightly dumb nature made her that much cuter in his eyes. She was basically like a chubby little puppy at times. The way she acted around her friends was sweet and kind with a bit of stupid mixed in.

Smirking down at her he said “Sup Reader what brings you all the way over here?  Abandoning your little friends to come over here and see me?~” his voice was laced with sarcasm which made Demetri almost gag.

“No I came over here to tell you to stop being such a jerk to Demetri!”

“Awe you want me to stop messing with the fucking whinny ass nerd? Uh no thanks, and he can fight his own little battles. He just fucking sucks at it because he’s a pussy.” Hawk laughed.

Reader gritted her teeth “I’m asking you very nicely to stop messing with him!” She stomped her foot out of frustration. Clenching her fists by her side, her eyes throwing daggers at him. Hawk scratched the tip of his nose as he crossed his arms.

He chuckled before saying “ Ok say I stop messing with him. What do I get for it?” Reader blinked a few times out of shock. She chewed at her lip as she tried to think of something.

“Well I don’t know-“

“How about a kiss?” Hawk grinned at her clearly flustered expression.

Demetri all but jumped over the table when he blurted out “Reader don’t do it! It’s just a really messed up trick-“

“Ok, if you promise to stop bullying Demetri then I’ll let you kiss me.”

“Ok bet, I’ll stop bullying the ner- I mean Demetri.” He uncrossed his arms as he stared down at her.

She played with her fingers as she waited for him to do something. Demetri went pale as he watched Hawk take advantage of the situation and move closer to the girl.

A split second later Hawk was pulling the girl into his chest and kissing her. Reader didn’t know what to say or do as the boy slowly worked her into the kiss. It wasn’t too rough but it wasn’t gentle it was right in the middle.

It made her eyes flutter close after a moment or two. She thought he would only want a quick kiss, not a full make-out session. His lips were warm and slightly rough against hers.

She expected him to be forceful and hard but he was surprising soft and gentle. His lips moved in a nice rhythm against hers, his tongue gently swiped over her bottom lip asking for entrance. She let out a small moan. Her hands gripped at the back of his shirt as she let him in.

Their tongues meeting in the middle, Reader tried her best to keep up with him. She whimpered out which he swallowed up as he kissed her a bit harder.

It felt like forever before the two where harshly separated by the need to breath. They quickly parted, sucking in much needed air. Reader’s poor lips where already glossy and swollen. Hawk groaned a little as he watched her pant out. Her tits rose and fell in her tight little shirt. His eyes didn’t dare to look away from her.

“D-deals a deal right?”

“You got it babe. What ever you want girl.”

[indecentpause]

The Black & Blues: Musical Inpsiration

this is a little playlist I made of the kinds of music The Black & Blues would play! it's a mix of ska, punk, pop punk, and more! just imagine all of these songs played as ska covers and you'll get the gist of what their music is like. :)

this is a living playlist so music is being added all the time! this is the tracklist at the date of this posting. please accept this as my apology for forgetting to update yesterday. ;-;

bomb the music industry! - side projects are never successful // css - music is my hot, hot sex // trashbag ponchos - you never asked for this // the orion experience, orion, linka xo - the cult of dionysus // dog park dissidents - s*xual // super cassette - be gay, do drugs, hail satan // against me! - i was a teenage anarchist // they might be giants - the communists have the music // cheekface - "listen to your heart." "no." // days n daze - my darling dopamine //

the format - tune out // world / inferno friendship society - only anarchists are pretty // big d and the kids table - doped up on dollies on a one way ticket to blood // the war lovers - steal shit from walmart // pansy division - i'm gonna be a slut // dog park dissidents - rev your motor // the interrupters - title holder // atom and his package - i am downright amazed at what i can destroy with just a hammer //defiance, ohio - i'm against the government //

five iron frenzy - get your riot gear // bis - kill yr boyfriend // fire ant season - steal from walmart // mischief brew - bury me in analog // worriers - yes all cops // bad moves - cool generator // le tigre - punker plus // green day - king for a day // troy's bucket - chad likes goth girls // riley! - fight milk! // rocket surgeons - whistle //

hummusvacuum - steal from corporations // ghost mice - free pizza for life // the garages - we'll suck forever // gender chores - night in the woods // afi - i wanna get a mohawk (but mom won't let me get one) // liam lynch - happy // the interrupters feat. rancid - got each other // the vandals - if the government could read my mind // they might be giants - damn good times // sam stone - call acab //

the northern boys - f the world // skatune network feat. jer - i'm not okay (i promise) // sesamoid - adventricular // john daues - piece of trash // liam lynch- united states of whatever // death - politicians in my eyes // spoonboy - stab yer dad // night gaunts - trippin' in the basement // destructo disk - you're standing on my neck // big d and the kids table - l.a.x // night gaunts - post party depression

escape from the zoo - learnin' curve // kitsch club - 12 foot home depot skeleton // confetti - right now // good charlotte - little things // the npcs - we're all dudes // doug & the beets - bangin' on a trash can // shayfer james - good life // bug hunter - shocking plot twist // five iron frenzy - oh, canada // playboy manbaby - you can be a fascist too // dead kennedys - nazi punks fuck off // mischief brew - thanks, bastards! // good charlotte -lifestyles of the rich and famous // goldfinger - 99 red balloons // the orion experience, orion, linda xo - blood & money // the dollyrots - twist me to the left

cut into smaller chunks to make the titles easier to read :)

listen here on spotify!

read it here on ao3!

Current taglist: @abalonetea @only-book-lovers-left-alive @poore-choice-of-words @leadhelmetcosmonaut @jasperygrace

@drippingmoon @athenswrites @magic-is-something-we-create @idreamonpaper @winterandwords

@revenantlore @mr-orion

Black & Blues taglist: @lynnedwardswrites

let me know if you want to be added or removed on either list!

[pentrologram]

What Normal People Do - 3

You've been, frankly, having a shit day. Your boyfriend (whom you don't even like that much) breaking up with you was your final straw. Then two very attractive young men and their service dog walk into your life and can't seem to leave. bit of a rushed chapter- not as finely tuned as i would like it to be. the reader kinda took me by the ear and wrote this chapter themselves, lol ao3! ghost/soap/gn!reader (established ghoap)

Lately, I've Been Crying Like A Tall Child

You have, frankly, been having a pretty shit day. Firstly you had three difficult patients back to back with varying degrees of Bitching Mothers™️ that insisted on you throwing safety to the wind for a small payout. You heard a lot of:

“No, can we skip that vaccine? I heard from my nail girl that they have red dye 40 in them,” one had said, her springy six-year-old doodling with the crayons and colouring books provided. You feel your jaw tick as you put on your best customer service smile.

“No ma’am, we can’t because the diphtheria vaccine is meant to help her. She’s at risk right now of getting it. She could die, ma'am.” You say. She frowned, a little convinced, but still stubborn.

“I don’t know if I want red dye in her bloodstream-“

“There’s no red dye 40 in any vaccine she'll ever get.” You grit out. “Ma’am.” She sighed as if she was being forced, but she nodded her head anyway.

“Well, I’m trusting you here.” She said, dramatically sighing.

Another was upset you had given her son a purple band-aid after his vaccine. The last openly talked about her tween daughter’s problems- ‘blightin’ useless, she is, scored dead last in her class- surely there’s something you can do to her, lovie?’- she had said while the said tween sat, mortified, on the table after you had told her through gritted teeth that that wasn’t related at all to your job.

After all of that, you were done with your job. Like, ‘I’m going to punch my next patient kind of done’.

You make it through the last bits of your shift with no more rude and/or stupid patients and without assaulting anyone. You make it to your car before texting the one person you trusted to not overwhelm you in your fragile state ; your friend from uni, Emma.

                                                                                                                        Today 2:28 PM

                                                                                                                   - can we hang? please? abt to commit second degree murder

     - always, babes 😘

     - St. James’ Park

                                                                                                                                                       -   give me an hour

And that’s how you found yourself in a strawberry festival with Em, laughing at her as she tried to throw strawberry-shaped bean bags into strawberry-shaped corn holes while wearing a strawberry-shaped hat that was frankly ridiculous. Actually, this entire thing was ridiculous . Perfectly so because you could barely remember why you had been murderous earlier.

When you’ve both got strawberry scones and are walking to your next destination- a strawberry jewellery stall, at her insistence- two very hot, very large men with a dog pass by you. One of them is wearing a black surgical mask that does nothing to hide how pretty his deep brown eyes are, framed with pale blond eyelashes that almost blend into his porcelain-pale skin that’s marred by multiple scars. The other one, who was shorter than the blond but still tall in his own right, had bright blue eyes, a friendly smile and short, spiky brown hair cut in a mohawk. The German shepherd trotting along with them has a harness that reads ‘SERVICE DOG - DO NOT DISTURB’. You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Em whispering in your ear:

“Hunks galore.”

“More like a one-way ticket to pound town.” You whisper back. Em smacks your arm and then you cackle together because the two hunks are surprisingly very fast walkers and have already left you in the dust.

Maybe an hour later, Em gets a text from her girlfriend.

“My maiden!” Em exclaims as she looks down at her phone while chatting with you about nothing over strawberry tea cakes.  “Her car broke down!” Em says. “Oh, I’m sorry babe, I’ve gotta dash. I’ll see you later, mmkay?” She kisses your cheek and then she’s off.

Thinking of Em’s girlfriend reminds you of your significantly worse love life. You have a boyfriend right now, but it isn’t like you’re head over heels or anything. He’s nice but a little boring- admittedly, you’ve dated worse. Maybe that’s why you’ve stayed for half a year.

You decide to wander around the fair for a little longer, needing some extra cheer to make it through the work week and you more or less get pulled into getting your hand read by an elderly woman in a strawberry dress unwittingly. She’s small, definitely shorter than you, but her eyes are wise and her smile is knowing.

“Come, sit,” she frets, pulling out a wooden chair for you. So you do. Then she demands you give her your hands. So you do. She puts on reading glasses while she hunches over your outstretched palm, peering down at the fine lines. She makes a contemplative noise before tracing a wrinkle. “Misery soon,” she observes. “Oh, dear, within the hour.” She stares down some more. “It’ll be repaid tenfold with good karma, don’t worry your pretty heart.” Her face brightens. “Oh-ho, companionship! Soon! Oh- my, very good friends.” She says, gaping for a moment at your hand. “Hmm. Maybe some bumps on the road but that’s to be expected. It’ll be worth it, dear.” She pats your hand with one of her old, withered ones, slipping a strawberry bonbon into your hold with a wink. “Now shoo!” 

You leave feeling a little confused. Just an old lady with a complex, you rationalise. And just as you’re finishing up making your last rounds, passing by stalls, your phone rings with a text. So you pull over and read the text from your boyfriend.

                                                                                                                             Today 6:52 PM

     -  hey

                                                                                                                                                                                                        - hi babe

     - i need 2 tell u smth

                                                                                                                                                                                                        - okay?

     - i wanna break up

     - idk i feel like things hv gotten stale

     - u dont mind right

     -u can come get ur stuff 

So surely it’s no surprise to anyone when you turn into an alleyway, slump against a concrete wall and start ugly crying while staring down at your phone. While admittedly you weren’t that upset about being broken up with, you were upset about so suddenly moving out. Going out onto the housing market, so soon and so late in the day, no less, was sending you down a panic-induced spiral.

Then there is a large, comforting weight on your lap, like someone had covered you with a weighted blanket. You open your eyes a little, tears still falling, and you see a German shepherd on your lap, nudging your elbow with its muzzle. Then you see the service dog harness and remember the dog as the one that had been side by side with the hunks that passed you and Em. You gawk for a moment before determinedly trying to stop your tears; if the dog is here, surely the very hot, otherworldly hot owners are nearby. You’d hate for them to see you snivelling.

You focus on the big, fluffy body on you and, damn, whatever the hell the dog’s doing is working because you no longer feel like the world is ending. You just need a new apartment. Worse has happened.

Once you take some deep breaths, you immediately see one of the hunks standing there. Just… watching. You panic, because you can’t fully read his expression from under his mask, and surely he must be mad that his service dog had pounced on you. You try to convince the dog to move but it’s having none of it.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, your dog sort of- um, trapped me here, I didn’t mean to-“

“No.” The hunk says (he’s hotter up close). He’s gruff and big and truth be told he does not seem like the kind of person you wouldn't want to argue with, so you stay quiet. “She wanted to help you. ‘S fine.” He says.

“Um,” you say. “Okay. Are you sure?”

The hunk merely grunts. “Are you okay?” He asks, and perhaps you’re being persuaded by his sheer mass and your new-found single status, but you swear his voice has softened a little, to not spook you more.

“Oh, um. Yeah.” You say, internally wincing at your overuse of ‘oh’.

The hunk stares down at you for a long while. Did you do something wrong? Shit. Maybe he does really mind. You shift underneath his dog awkwardly and feel the urge to explain yourself.

“I just, um- I have an, um. A thing.” You say quietly. It’s not an entire lie- yeah, you were half-convinced you had a ‘thing’ from Em’s insistence that ‘you’re not okay, babe!’ multiple times over. You can’t help the guilt of telling a lie when you weren’t diagnosed with anything, however.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Again. “Riley doesn’t start DPT on total strangers for no reason.” He sounds dry, but… insistent. Somehow. It leaves you with no way to squeeze out a lie. His pretty eyes stare two dead holes into yours, and you’re sure you’re gonna get vaporized, Terminator style. Unease creeps into your gut.

“No, I’m OK. Just… got a little upset.” You say weakly, forcing out your best smile. You’re proud that you don’t grimace instead. He just keeps on staring at you, showing no inclination of answering. Then, just as you’re about to force the dog off, the other hunk- an Amazon gladiator, holy hells- walks in, excitement in his eyes.

“Si, ‘ave found a strawberry sex stall-!“ He says, but then he notices you and his expression goes into something you can’t read.

“Well, hello, there.” He says. You surely must look like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hello,” you squeak out, because not one but two superhumanly hot men are paying you attention. You gently push the dog off of you, mumbling a ‘bye’ before you scurry away and straight to your car. You don’t look back.

——

The next morning, you’ve just packed up your every belonging from your ex-boyfriend’s flat- he didn’t even bother to help- and rented out a storage cube, packed in everything single-handedly, and then got the best sleep of your life in a hotel. You had woken up and then gone to a coffee shop because your entire day would be filled with hunting down an affordable place to rent. You had Em help you fill out a few applications while you were driving from the ex’s flat to the storage cube to the flat and then storage again .

You’re reading through an email one of the landlords of one of the nicer apartments sent you this morning as you walk inside, give the barista your order and pay. Your reading quickly becomes scanning- you got the place!- for payments to make, forms to fill, people to contact, etc. But you’re stoked! This new apartment is better than the ex’s, and the one you had before him, so you really can’t help yourself from smiling like a dork.

“Seems like ye’ve got a love-hate relationship wif’ that thing.” A masculine and not too unfamiliar voice says from your right.

You startle, almost ready to throw hands, and then remember that the voice is familiar. You stare at him- shit, it’s the Amazon from yesterday. Everything had been so chaotic you had forgotten about that embarrassing encounter with the hunks, but you had no such luck. It’s fine. He doesn’t seem too disgusted with you. 

“Oh! No, um. I got broken up with yesterday.” You say, reading his expression to see if there’s any hatred there , that you accidentally made his service dog sniff you out and take him away from his boyfriend. “Had to move out and find a new place on short notice.”

“And ye got the place?” He says, pretty blue eyes soft and inviting. It’s like he cares.

“Yes. It’s really lovely . Rent’s maybe a bit much but I’m sure I can budget it… It’s such a great stroke of luck that I’ve found it under 24 hours.” Ouch. Overshare. You cringe inwardly.

The Amazon nods.

“O’ course. ‘M glad fer ye.” Hot and nice. If he wasn’t a taken man….

“Thank you.” You say, smiling shyly. He smiles- big and bright and genuine.

“Och, no need tae thank me.”

Your brow furrows and you’re about to explain how your thanks are very much deserved- you should be thanking him for breathing the same air as you, much less hold a conversation with you- and then the barista calls out a poor butchering of your name and you leave because you’ve got some new-apartment paperwork to do.

It’s only halfway through scanning PDFs that you realise you hadn’t even gotten his number.

——

You’re going grocery shopping because it’s been three days and you’re frankly getting sick of takeout. You had written a list and you were considering if you needed apples when, for the second time this week, a masculine voice shocks you out of your train of thought.

“Well, lookit tha’!” The Amazon exclaims (you haven’t even gotten his name). You look up from your pondering. He smiles the way he had at the cafe; big and bright, and he claps your shoulder with his big hand.

“How’s the new flat?” He asks.

“Oh, it’s better than the photos,” you say. Just thinking about how pretty the flat was during your tour yesterday was enough to make you smile again.

“‘M glad, bonnie.” He says.

“Bonnie?” You ask, confused. Did he think that was your name?

“Don’t worry about it! How about this weather?” The Amazon says loudly , making you blink.

You chat with Johnny in the produce section about whatever comes to mind, and then at some point the Amazon- Johnny, as he introduces himself- shifts your focus from the groceries and he ushers you to a new cafe right next to the grocery store. You buy your drink and find a booth and you spend at least two hours talking with Johnny. At some point, you had to leave because you truly did have other things to do, no matter how nice the conversation was.

——

The next day, you’ve gotten your keys and are moving your boxes into your new flat. The neighbours seem quiet, you think, as you heft a box of plates into the apartment.

It’s been about half an hour before you get all the boxes inside and start fiddling with some deadbolts you’d bought on Amazon, just in case.

"Need help?" A voice asks, materialising behind you and spooking the living hell out of you. You then recognize him as the blond hunk- Johnny’s boyfriend, Simon. He’s staring- waiting for an answer, shit.

"No, I'm okay. Um, thank you, though." You say, still feeling remnant fear from his sudden appearance.

"Did you just move in?" He asks. Blunt, you think. The dog from earlier is there, too, tail wagging.

“Yes.” You hesitate- no way you have enough luck in this world to bag a beautiful apartment and beautiful neighbours. You decide you just have to know. “Do you… live here?” You ask.

Simon grunts. “We’re the flat over.”

“Oh!” You smile. “Well. Thank you for offering to help, neighbour.” You say, cringing a little- 'neighbour'? really?- but you put on a smile that must coax a smile from Simon from underneath his face mask. Then he says bye and you’re quick to reciprocate while the dog trots over to butt its head against your leg, and then they go into the flat over, just like Simon said.

——

The next morning, Johnny and Simon, your new, beautiful neighbours, are at your door at ten. Thankfully, it’s your day off, otherwise, they’d be knocking in an empty apartment.

When you open your door after the second knock, Johnny is standing in front of Simon outside your front door, holding a platter full of blueberry muffins and a still-tired Simon hovering behind him- almost protectively, you think. You probably don’t look the best as your plans today were to rot in bed.

“Hello, you two.” You say, trying to subtly fix your appearance while smiling .

“Hi! Ae made ye muffins. Tae help settle ‘ta the new flat.” Johnny says proudly.

“Wow, thank you. You didn’t have to. Here, come inside- I’m sorry, it’s a mess,” you apologise, inwardly panicking. After you’d gotten all the boxes in, you hadn’t even considered unpacking anything but the essentials yet. And you’d gone digging for certain things, leaving a few boxes open with stuff falling out.

“You got here last night?” Simon asks gruffly while you direct Johnny to set the muffins on your kitchen island.

“Can I make you some tea?” You ask, scrambling for your manners- God, it’d been a while since you last had new people over. You start looking for your kettle.

They start a conversation with you about the weather as you look for mugs and tea bags.

“Sorry, no sugar. Or creamer.” You apologise, making up for it with more tea than normal in their mugs.

Then you talk about leasing dates, the landlord, the best parking areas, the cheapest takeouts, and things to do around.

They manage to get you in their apartment once you become immersed in the conversation enough, just picking back up where you left off on their rather comfy couch. Johnny is more talkative than Simon is, but that’s not to say that Simon is a hulking statue (though that’d be hot, too). He grunts when appropriate, asks you questions, rags on Johnny and seems genuinely interested in the comings and goings of your life.

By the time you leave, it’s half past five and you have a full feeling from companionship. —— You come to realise that Simon and Johnny are the sort of friends you can rely on. You were putting your brand new bed frame up when you realised you didn't have a single screwdriver, so you had tucked your tail and asked the boys if they had one- and to your surprise (and delight) Simon came right over with a toolbox and made the entire frame without being asked to. He even put the mattress atop your new frame. He was just about to fix the hinges on your door before you had to stop him and make him lunch before he remade the entire flat. "Really, you didn't have to do that, Simon," you fret while putting a sandwich together for him while he stares at you, toolbox sitting on the kitchen island. "Sure I did." He says. It's like in their mind they've made up that they have to take care of you- like earlier this week. You'd just gotten home from work and decided to get groceries while you were out and about- you needed milk, anyways. But between the shopping bags and your work bag, your arms were a little overloaded. You didn't want to go through two trips, either, which resulted in you holding five bags and fumbling around for your keys. It was inevitable, really, that your work bag would slip and fall.  You had groaned and just began to bend your knees before you here an 'och, le'me!' from behind you. Johnny is there, taking your work bag and then three of the remaining bags from your arms. "Johnny, it's-" "Nae, I dinnae hear it. Open your door, bonnie." He seems intent on calling you that, too. Even though he knows your name. You'll have to ask about it soon. You just sigh and unlock your door before putting one of the grocery bags down, Johnny following suit.  "Thank you." "Nae sweat o' ma back." He says with a boyish grin before leaving and closing the door behind you. The attention is nice, really. It feels good to be so close to some people you could trust.

<- back next ->

[black-is-iconic]

Its Okay Not To Be Okay

"There's no need for such hostility ," Tanjiro chides softly stepping in-between you and the pale skinned boy with a short spikey black mohawk and shaved sides, that  you had accidentally bumped into  causing a little scuffle.

Your hands grasped your katana, ready to cut the little boy down to size but then you noticed two twins girls skin pale as snow.

Eyes wide, yet empty like  lifeless dolls as their lips pulled into a quaint smile "welcome back everyone and congratulations" they spoke in unison with a dead pan expression and identical dull voices.

"We're pleased to see your safe" as they continued speaking you found your interesting waning as you took in the state and amount of survivors for this years final selection.

It was just pitiful, out of the twenty candidates who entered the final selection only four came out (not including you).

One yellowed haired coward, dressed in a yellow and orange gradient hoari crying in a corner and rambling about how he's doomed and destined to die.

An arrogant prick who think's he's hot shit, an obnoxious little do-gooder and some basic bitch dressed in in pink watching butterflies.....they all seemed to be pretty ruffed up besides the one in pink but it's clear as day this years final selection has been a fail.

The sound of cawing broke you from your train of thoughts as crows flew crow down and landed on everyone's shoulder, except for the sniffling coward he got a sparrow.

Your crow landed gracefully on your shoulder, looking you directly in the eye with it's beautiful ruby hued pupil. Unlike everyone's else's  crows which boasted blackish purple feathers, yours was stark white with pink talons and a pink beak.

 You stroked its wings gently, as its feathers ruffled and it's head bowed in a polite greeting which you returned.

As you contemplated names for your companion the boy in purple caussed a fuss, shaking away his crow and rambling like a child about receiving his sword.

While stalking over to the twin with white hair and grabbing her by the hair, your brows furrowed in a displeased manner watching him man handle the girl who was only doing her job.

You were slightly off put by her lack of response but before you could move Tanjiro was already on it stalking towards the prick with a soft scowl.

They had a little dispute which ended in Tanjiro causally breaking the pricks arm, without hesitation.

The black haired twin continued to speak, revealing a table or ores and instructing the group to pick one and while everyone else hesitated you and Tanjiro stepped forward observing the table of ore.

Each was a different shape and size, and it really didn't matter to you what ore got so you just picked any random one.

However as you grabbed for an ore, Tanjiro grabbed for the same one and you wound up grasping each others hands, you flinched and pulled your hand away shocked by their calloused nature and how  warm their touch felt.

"S-Sorry you can have that one if you like" he awkwardly laughed, raising his hands in surrender as you glared a him picking up the ore and tossing it to the twin with white hair.

"It'll take about ten to fifteen days for your swords to be made, as of right now your all demons slayers, their are ten ranks, Mizunoto, Mizunoe, Kanoto, Kanoe, Tsuchinoto, Tsuchinoe, Hinoto, Hinoe, Kinoto, and Kinoe. In that order, you will all be starting as Mizunoto this is the lowest rank in the demon slayer corpse- well except for Y/N she will being starting as rank Tschinoto".

The twins spoke softly and everyone's eyes darted to you, "hey why does she get special treatment what makes her so much different than us?"

He growled and your eyes involuntarily rolled "there were one hundred demons in this years final selection" the white haired twin continued and the prick's almost nonexistent eyebrows furrowed  "so?"

He demanded crossing his arms "she killed sixty seven of them"  the twins replied simply,  once again you were the center of attention and it made your skin crawl a little "may I leave now?"

You asked the twins who nodded and bowed in respect which you returned, you completely ignored the ramblings of mister prick only stopping when tanjiro's fingers found themselves wrapped around your wrist.

"U-um I never got your name" he mumbled softly looking at you with a quaint smile, but you yanked your hand free from his grasp continuing your walk.

"That's because I didn't give it, and I don't plan to. Look you seem like a swell guy, but  I'm not interested in making friends with you. I have more important  things to worry about, and every minute I spend mindlessly chatting with you. Is a second another human life is in danger, so if your done wasting my time I'm going to go train".

He frowned slightly and you almost felt bad......almost, mr prick growled "don't think you're better than us just because your a higher rank. "

A heavy sigh falls from your lips as you turned around, rubbing your temples having grown tired of his bullshit. "First and foremost I don't think I'm better than you I am better than you, secondly I saw you in the forest swinging around your sword without any form of control or discipline. I'm surprised your not dead, but I'm sure that won't last long, I  watched you for a minute because I thought you were a helpless  idiot off to a rough start. But then I realized it wasn't the case. Your just awful" you spat venomously.

 "No technique, no plan, not even a breathing style your just some average joe with a chip on his shoulder swinging around a sword and hoping it'll do something. Well news flash, it doesn't. This isn't some game it's a way of life, and from what I saw one your not suited for. Quit being a demon slayer before you further embarrass yourself, and someone has to bury you. Go do something a little more on your level, and leave the slaying to those of us who are actually  qualified for the position. "

you hissed glaring at him from over your shoulder before beginning your journey home.

[galactickle]

I Think We're Alone Now

Billy Bennett x reader

Summary: Lex has dibs on Y/N, Kings Dominion's only group floater, but Marcus can't help but notice the lingering feelings between her and someone else.

Masterlist

Marcus sat at the only empty lunch table, situated in the middle of the room. He pulled out his journal and began writing, opting not to trust the cafeteria food in a school for assassins. Suddenly someone jumps over the table, he recognizes the green mohawk as soon as he sees it.

“I think Chico’s got a crush on you,” Billy comments sitting down across from Marcus, “Or he wants to kill you, probably kill.”

“Fuck that dude,” Marcus replied. “What’s his deal anyways?” Billy began explaining the nuances of the clique system within the school. “What about her? I thought you said that groups don’t mix.”

“They don’t, that’s Y/N, she’s special, her dads a hot shot assassin, no one knows exactly who he is, but there’s enough rumors to sink a ship. Plus everyone’s scared of her reputation, so they let her slide with the legacies, even though she doesn’t fit in with any particular group.” Marcus’s eyes lingered on the girl's form for a minute, as she talked with Saya and the Kurokis. “Nonono, you don’t want to do that, plus Lex has dibs on her if she ever dates a rat,” Billy protested.

“How can you have dibs on a person?”

“I don’t know, but he does,” Suddenly Billy straightens up a little bit and squirms in his seat. Marcus follows his gaze to see Y/N approaching them.

“Hey Billy…new kid,” she addressed them each with a smile, not something Marcus was expecting from the apparent most deadly person in the school, “How’s your day been so far?” she asked Marcus, scooching into the seat next to him. “I know how your day’s been,” She gestured to Billy’s arm with a sorry smile.

He laughed lightly shrugging, Y/N turned back to Marcus, “Traumatizing,” Marcus replied.

This earned a laugh from Y/N, “I like this one, can we keep him?” she jokingly asked Billy.

The three of them chatted for a few more minutes, before Y/N announced she had to go, “Do you have any final words of wisdom for Marcus on his first day?” Billy asked before she could leave fully.

“Try to keep your head attached to your body,” she joked (not really) backing away.

Billy watched, love stricken as she left the cafeteria. “Dude,” Marcus interrupted. “I thought you said we don’t want to do that,” he raises an eyebrow at the green haired boy.

“Do what?” Billy snapped out of his daze, “C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

That night, after classes had finished and supper had been eaten, the rats sat up on the roof smoking.

“The Dixie Mob are fucking assholes,” Lex complained.

“Yeah like who really gives a shit about white supremacy nowadays?” Billy went to take a drag of his cigarette but it was pulled from between his fingers. He turned his head, about to curse out the culprit when he came face to face with Y/N, a smirk on her face as she took a drag from his cigarette and placed it back between his fingers. “Y/N, h-hey.”

“Hey,” she smiles, sitting down next to him on the concrete slab. “I see you survived, new kid,” she spoke around Billy to Marcus. Billy had taken a long drag from the cigarette and now offered it to the girl, but Lex was quick to step in.

“Here love, you can have one of mine,” he offers her a fresh cigarette, which she accepts with a soft ‘thank you’ as he lights it for her.

Petra walks over from where she had been standing away from the group, a little gracious for her roommate to be there, and sits next to Y/N.

“I thought you said she mostly hangs with the Legacies?” Marcus whispers in Billy’s ear.

“Yeah, but like I said, she’s also technically a rat, and Petra is her roommate and they're close. So she hangs with us when she can.”

Marcus nods in response.

“Hey, Y/N! Check out this new move I've been working on!” Lex calls from the skateboard ramp. Y/N focuses her attention on the British boy.

When he finishes his trick, Y/N claps politely, “Damn, that was sick!”

Billy flicks his cigarette to the ground, “Oh that was nothin’!”' he challenges. After Billy executes his trick flawlessly, he spreads his arms wide and asks, “How was that?”

“11 out of 10” Y/N replies with a beaming smile.

“Well what would you rate mine, love?” Lex interjects.

Marcus can see the girl's internal struggle to answer correctly. “10.5 out of 10” she finally says with a sweet smile.

Marcus looks to Lex, who seems content with this answer, though not entirely happy.

“Who did you get partnered up with in De Luca’s class today?” Petra asked Y/N, Marcus could see her shoulder’s relax at the change of subject.

“Fucking Brandy Lynn,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

From there on the air seemed lighter and the conversation seemed to flow smoother. Finally, Y/N stood up and stomped out her cigarette, “Alright, it was good hanging, I gotta go,” she waved goodbye and headed to the stairwell, a chorus of byes following her.

“Man, she so obviously has a thing for Billy,” Marcus states, taking a drag.

Billy chokes on air while Lex gets visibly irritated.

Petra elbows Marcus “Dude,” she whispers. Marcus raises his hands in defense.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Over the next week Marcus and the rats grew closer, including Y/N. Marcus had watched as she would sit across from Billy every time she ate a meal with them, or how she would always laugh at his jokes, even when they're not funny (which was a lot of them).

On Friday, Marcus stops Y/N in the deserted hallway, “When are you going to tell Billy you like him?”

“Excuse me?” If looks could kill, Marcus would be dead.

“C’mon, it's obvious you have a thing for him, and him for you, so just tell him,”

Y/N laughs incredulously, “I don't know what youre talking about” She turns to leave.

“Y/N,” Marcus says seriously.

Y/N turns back and looks at Marcus seriously, “Leave it,” and walks off down the hall.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Y/N stands in the kitchen, Shabnams party in full swing, if you could call it that. She nurses a red solo cup of alcohol. Her eyes roamed the patrons of the party but were always drawn back to a green mohawk.

“You should go over there,” Marcus says from beside her, “talk to him.”

Y/N couldn’t seem to shake the curly hair boy recently. “No,” she says simply, taking a small sip.

“C’monnn, just talk to him.” Y/N shoots a glare at Marcus. “Fine, if you won’t tell him, I will.” He cups his hands over his mouth, yelling “Billy!” to get his attention over the music and conversation.

Y/N cocks her head at the curly haired boy, “Seriously?”

On the couch, Billy looks over the top, looking into the kitchen. Marcus waves for him to come over. Y/N tries to slip out with a group of people, but Marcus was quick to grab her arm and place her firmly back in place.

“Hey guys! What's up?” Billy asked in his usual goofy tone, a smile covering his face. His eyes were slightly bloodshot but they still carried the usual kindness.

“Y/N here was just asking me about my favourite punk bands, and I figured you would be a better person to talk to about it,” Marcus shoots the girl a cheesy smile to which Y/N returns a quick sarcastic smile.

“Yeah! man, I love the Adolescent and have you ever heard of….” Billy trails off into a tangent and Y/N can’t help but hang on to every word. Marcus walked away feeling accomplished.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

“WELL, well, well, what do we have here?” Lex yells, making Y/N flinch ever so slightly. Her and Billy had been talking for what feels like forever, gradually moving closer to each other in the small kitchen, “flirting with my best friend, eh?” Lex slings an arm over Y/N’s shoulder, which she is quick to shrug off, but Billy’s look of deflation doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Screw off, Lex,” she replies, pushing him back lightly.

“Oh, cmon, loveeee” he drags out, going to place a hand on her ass, but the second it grazes, his wrist is twisted in an unnatural way.

“I said, fuck. off. Lex,” Y/N states, still holding his wrist and threatening to break it.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Marcus interrupts, making her release Lex’s hand, albeit reluctantly, “let's get you out of here,” he says to Lex, patting him on the chest and shooting the couple an apologetic look.

Y/N turns to Billy, “I need some air,” she brushes past him and out the front door.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Y/N was sitting on the front steps, carving a design into the stairs with a knife, when Billy came up beside her, “want some company?”

She looks up at him, “sure” and waves to the spot beside her.

“I’m sorry about Lex, he's a total asshole when he's drunk… Are you okay?” he asks as he sits down.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she forces a smile, but doesn’t look back up from the design.

“You didn't look fine, and if the stairs are any indication…” he says with a raised eyebrow looking at the design she had carved.

“It's just…” she sighs, getting up and pacing in front of him, “my dad used to yell like that, and accuse me of shit I didn't do… so when people do it now it really pisses me off.”

“Yeah I get that… Believe me, I do,” he nods solemnly, Y/N sits back down. “I’m sure Marcus is giving him an earful and I'm going to tomorrow when he's sober enough to understand.”

“Thank you,” she gives him a tight lipped smile, “thank you for being so kind,” she leans her head on his shoulder for a second, and then removes it.

“You gave me no reason not to be, and I mean, technically you’re one of us,” he laughs.

“I am, aren't I? Maybe I should embrace that more,” Y/N says, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she looks in his eyes.

“Yeah!” Billy says, getting a little excited.

A comfortable silence falls over the two, looking at each other with little smiles growing on their faces.

After a minute, Y/N looks away, “What do you think of Lex's whole ‘dibs’ thing?” she asks, looking out to the street.

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head slightly.

“I mean, do you give a shit about it?” she turns towards him.

“No, it's just some stupid thing he came up with to make himself feel better,” he laughs, turning back to Y/N, “wh--”

Before Billy could finish his question, she does what she’s always wanted to do since she met Billy Bennett, and what Marcus has been pressuring her to do. She grabs the side of Billy's face and leans in and presses her lips to his. The kiss is sweet and gentle and quick. When she pulls back Billy looks at her with stars in his eyes and he lets out a signature little giggle, before leaning back in for another, more heated, kiss.

[soapified]

weirdly specific soap mactavish headcanons!! for sfw for funsies

fem!reader

hehe my first (and probably last post) sorryy if the format is confusing im still learning 💔💔. mb if things don’t make sense or i didn’t say the correct name/spelling im bad at english lol

IM SORRYRYRYRY 😭😭

ugh i want him so bad

——————————————————————————

sfw (wrote too much sorry)

words are his love language so if you play them correctly he WILL melt

loves giving and receiving compliments no matter how big or small

sliding him a few compliments at first will flabbergast this poor guy especially ones about his physique 🤭

his nose would twitch instead of him blushing

uses nicknames like “schnookums” “shmoopy” ironically especially to embarrass you in front of everybody else

sneaks in actual little nicknames for you and tries to be sneaky, ex. “love” “lassie/lass” “sweetheart” “sweet girl”

he thought he was being slick, he wasn’t and doesn’t know that

has earned a few snorts and furrowed eyebrows from the rest of them because of his antics lol

wants you to touch his hair but doesn’t wanna admit it (i am not sure if he has any tbh)

doesn’t have time to go to a barber anymore so he shaves and cuts his own hair

talks about his petite little mohawk and chews your ear off about it

“would you still love me if i shaved it off? not so beautiful anymore? arent i?!” he says, jokingly threatening to shave off the feeble strip of “mohawk” standing up in the middle of his scalp

wears Spider-Man pajamas every time he gets a chance

bought the shirt a smaller size so it’s tighter

enjoys it when you stare at his cute little Spider-Man shirt

listens to old white dad metal music and grossly adores radiohead

doesn’t admit he likes soft voices and black box recorder (our lana del rey coded sad girl king!!1!1)

“actually- i have sort of a kinship to the song creep 🤓” and his voice would thicken saying this

genuinely teared up to ‘high and dry’

his hands are very rough, his palms are slightly softer but it sometimes hurts holding them

has scars inside both of his palms

was weary of holding your hands at first because he knows how rough his hands are

does the thing where he strokes your hand with his thumb

is a bath man

has those bath trays that connect from end to end on the bathtub rim

has an arsenal of axe body spray on the tray

loves the brand philosophy because of the smell of the shower gels so he treats himself with a bottle after a long task

his one and only alternative is the dove cucumber soap bars

despises loofahs

tries to start with a cold bath but it’s too scared and then immediately starts to crank the faucet to the hot one

sings in the shower (..when he actually showers)

starts out quiet and hums but the longer it takes, the more it becomes a mini concert

sounds terrible when he sings radiohead

once tried to sing the last part of creep, his voice cracked, he knocked over a shampoo bottle on his foot, and started coughing and almost punched a hole in the shower because of the pain

tries to take cold showers and endures it unlike the bath

uses head and shoulders because he thinks his oily scalp is dandruff

doesn’t know that’s what makes his tiny mohawk flat

refuses to admit he has a skin care routine

“a what? well i barely use anything. very little.. yous gotta believe me!!1!1!1”

aftershave, retinol serum, tatcha moisturizer (he somehow accidentally bought it and was fuming because his military pension isn’t built for that)

uses the same bar of soap he uses for his body as a cleanser

also secretly has an amethyst roller (it constantly falls apart and cracked)

he has a king size bed all for himself

has a shit ton of pillows like a cocoon

bed smells like his own like scent but also a sickening amount of sauvage

never let go of his paw patrol blanket that he bought as a joke in like 2019 because it’s very warm and fluffy

surprisingly let’s you take up most of the space if you want and gives you the paw patrol blanket

used to be a mouth breather and snores so loud

throat used to be so dry and he was afraid of drinking orange juice because it stung

he thought his hoarse morning voice was hot (probably is)

doesn’t snore anymore because he got those sony headphones

he swears they’re magical (they’re really just expensive

he cherishes them and is very attached to them

once fell asleep to his usual playlist, woke up to lana del rey’s “cola”

has this one fluffy white persian cat plush toy that he named ‘goyangi’ but pronounces it horribly, also doesn’t know that it means ‘cat’

“go-YANG-gEE 🤓” and pronounced the actual G twice

“my cat is a SHE. 🙄🙄 she’s pretty little creature isnt she?”

when he’s too embarrassed to say it out loud his second name for it is “Hubert”

has had that thing since like 2014

okay that’s it byee 🫶🫶

might make a 2nd one with both sfw and nsfw

[iloveslllycatss]

can u maybe do smth for Hawk where he get teased by his friends for liking tuff girl who also does karete

𝙗𝙖𝙙𝙖𝙨𝙨

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 : 𝘦𝘭𝘪 “𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬” 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘬𝘰𝘲𝘪𝘵𝘻 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 : (not rlly) 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘴, rushed the shit out of this so sorry if it’s bad??

“don’t give me that bullshit. bitch.”you were tough. and i don’t mean tough like ‘bitch i’ll fight you even if i can’t fight😈😈😈’ tough, but like ‘bitch say that shit one more time.’ tough. and yk who ur biggest influence was? tory. need i explain more?

as of right now, you were confronting a girl who had called u ‘bulked up female hulk’, you didn’t really care she did that, you were just pissed she was lying to you about it, and you weren’t about to take no bs from anyone. what you didn’t know, was about the boys who were watching you, what they were saying.“eli. no way that’s the girl you like……….” demetri says, feeling like he’s got ants in his pants. he was HELLA intimidated by you, for good reason too. “yup, that’s her. isn’t she hot.” hawk was smirking. i’m talking full on DEBBY RYAN. (joking) , demetri SIDE EYES this dude so hard. “you wish that was you getting ur ass kicked huh?” rolling his eyes demetri looks at hawk, expecting a reaction, but no. hawk was too busy checking you out to do that 😭. “shut up demetri” was all he was able to put out, not taking his eyes off you (not in a perverted way 😭

after your little… problem with the girl. hawk walks up to you, trying to see if he can rizz u up. “hey” he says and you turn your gaze to look at him, “uh hi?” .. eyebrows = furrowed. you were HELLA confused on why this random ass dude with a mohawk was talking to you “can i help u???” you finally said, already bored with the conversation until he spoke up.“can i get ur snap?” “my snap???? why???”“bc you’re hot and a badass, do i need to explain myself any more?”you rolled your eyes, but you were kinda amused so u gave it to him anyways.over the course of the next couple days, you and hawk have been talking more, demetri can’t stop side eyeing him but other than that it’s all good. anyways……. idk how to end this 😭 but uh yeah 😞  

this is the worst thing i’ve ever written

@/ilovesillycats

plz don’t copy my work 😞

[nami-lvr]

Correct OP: Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Ft: Shanks, Law, Ace, Sabo, Marco, Smoker, and princess Vivi

A/N: I love everyone on this list like for real come kiss me Vivi 🙁🙁 SHANKS TOO. HE IS SO FINE. SO IS ACE. LIKE GYYYYYAT!! Next part is Enel, Katakuri, Big Mom, Kidd, Arlong, and Yamato (last part)

Shanks

Loud ass snoring

Does not care

Aaabsolutley pulls bitches

Marines or not marines

Paints his nails the brightest most noticeable colors

Bright yellow

Hot pink

Neon green

Absolutely outstanding father

10/10 dad

The one you call to get drunk or high or cross faded with

Would deal his kids weed to make sure they stay safe

Would also give alcohol recommendations

all when they’re legally allowed ofc

Law

Definitely

A lil fruitcake

Sorry to all Law simps but he is AroAce and atp it’s cannon

Would not be into romance at all

Ever

He would definitely read gay dirty books though

“I WAS JUST CURIOUS-“

Boooo lame excuse

Like

Ok gay ass 🥸

Would dress like a teen boy trying to be cool

Would be an outstanding father if he ever had kids

Would be so into Star Trek not even joking

Speaking Klingon and allat

Stoner

WEED SMOKER

Is a Math/Science kinda smart guy

Ace

I do not give a single shit what this GIF looks like

Ace has a hooked nose

And crooked teeth

And heterochromia

One green eye one brown eye type shit

Is color blind

The green and red kind

Can not drive

Do not let him behind the wheel

Please

Got that greasy hair

That unwashed stench

Overgrown armpit hair

Has a forest under there

A REALLY GOOD LOOKING HAPPY TRAIL ☹️☹️

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GOOD HIS HAPPY TRAIL LOOKS I SWEAR TO YOU

Sabo

This motherfucker is inSANE

Bro needs to go back to the mental health institution

Has a gold tooth

Has cologne on always

And it smells so good

Doesn’t brush his hair

But its fine bc he really pulls off the messy look

Tried to grow a beard and it did not look good

Is very organized

Is insecure about his scars

(Secretly) looks at guys

Not so secretly looks at girls

Is definitely bisexual

TRANSGENDER

Choked on the devil fruit when he ate it

Messy eater

CROOKED NOSE

It’s basically facts that the ASL brothers have crooked noses

Except for Ace with his hooked nose

Can speak Spanish but not Portuguese

Loser can’t speak the language he grew up around 💀💀

Marco

Just GET A DIFFERENT BARBER GYAT DAMN 😭😭

At least get a fade

Has male pattern baldness

Knows his hair is bad (doesn’t care)

Has cavities

Doesn’t floss

Does not wear deodorant

would definitely dress grungy

And or punk

And have a mohawk sometimes ;p

And think he’s the shit

When he needs to fix that GODDAMN HAIR

He would be gay

Oh my god how gay he would be

Has SEX

This guy FUCKS

Idk how but I feel like he pulls some major bitches

Smoker

TBH I would fuck him and I’m literally asexual

So yk this dude is getting it on

Has tried to smoke 20 cigars at once

Succeeded somehow

Type of guy to say “I bet five dollars that___” and always lose

But does it anyways

GOD at rock paper scissors

You may win the first time you play him, but that’s because he’s watching your tactics

Sneaky little bastard

Straight and Cis but fully supports the LGBTQIA+

“They don’t bother me, and even if a queer person did bother me, it would only be that specific one. Not all of them.”

It makes no sense how people get bullied for things they can’t control

Very stand up kinda guy

Beats up bullies type of fella

Princess Vivi

She is so fine istg

She would for sure pull

Would have an unbelievably dark past by age 30

God of never have I ever

Would just own everyone in it

The coolest backstory

Paints her nails to match her hair

Looks really good in modest dresses

Uh

She’s Hispanic

Not sorry

For real she is

I think she would really like cats

Keeps in contact with the strawhats

Buys them things and all that

Gives them supply crates like food and fresh ingredients

Really likes working with kids

Would be an amazing and patient teacher

Would have a really good singing voice

Looks absolutely amazing in white

[gemini-sensei]

You know what I think is one of the most stupid things in early Cobra Kai was?

The whole thing with Hawk’s lip.

I find his scar to be extremely attractive, like a lot. Like scars in general are pretty attractive, but lip scars are so cute and hot, even sexy.

It was just stupid that that was the only thing they could do to make Eli “less attractive” and use as a joke to “not get girls”.

I would have licked that shit so much while kissing him-

-Sensei-Venus

@sensei-venus

I agree, it's stupid, like most bullying is. But I also understand from a visual media standpoint why they chose to go with it.

Giving Eli a visual reason to get bullied was the easiest way to explain why he was being bullied instead of giving us more background information on his character given the runtime of each episode. Using a visual is more effective in that regard, as in other shows have had to use flashbacks to show an embarrassing event or younger version of the character to explain the reason for bullying. Think Hanna from Pretty Little Liars except that's a terrible example because to show she was "fat" before, they stuffed her clothes and made her eat all the time and didn't treat her ED seriously.

However, Eli's scar proves more visual aid throughout the show. In season 1 it's very obvious and catches the audience's eye without it being pointed out. It serves to show how shitty characters like Yasmine and Kyler are and that they are going to be our main characters' antagonists this season. Ofc we know that Yasmine is Aisha's main bully and Kyler is Miguel, Eli, and Demetri's. Making this line clear is important lays out the stakes for not only Miguel, but Eli as well, since it's Miguel that shows Eli he can be strong too.

(This is getting so much longer than I thought it would be lol)

Following season 1, Eli's scar becomes less obvious and this isn't just because of the mohawk and such. This is an intentional makeup choice made so that our eyes are drawn to the mohawk just like Johnny said. His scar is more subtle as his confidence grows, especially in the red Hawk era.

These two pictures illustrate it pretty well. Never mind the fact that one is an extreme close up, it's still obvious that the scar has been changed so that our eyes become drawn to what's most obvious (also notice how basically the same colors are used for this, Eli's scar is almost red in contrast with his skin tone while his mohawk is bright red in contrast with his natural hair color).

In closeups and scenes with bright lighting, it's still obviously there, I think because they're moments where he's talking and it's important to remind the audience that the scar is still there, but it's not at the forefront of your mind because of the action or conversation taking place. This is important because after the forced shave, his scar is used to bully him once again. The contrast comes back as Eli's confidence plummets.

I'm not a film studies student, so maybe I'm reading too much into this. Also I know this had almost nothing to do with anything you said Venus but lol this has been on my mind since day one and I saw my moment to talk about it.

And I know that this had to be intentional because all the way back in S1 for the halloween dance, they still put the scar makeup on Jacob even though he was going to be wearing the mask to hide it the whole time! Whether this was just leftover from filming a previous scene, it still feels very intentional!

All this to say, yes, getting bullied for a scar is stupid and it didn't have to be that for Eli to get bullied. Kids and teenagers, however, can be very cruel. I know; as early as 2nd grade I was bullied for being fat - how original. I was tubby and kids always poked me and laughed at me because I was the only fat kid in class (as well as the new kid). Being different from everyone else is unfortunately one of the big things that gets kids bullied.

Bullies suck, bottom line.

And I agree, that scar is so hot. Honestly anything about the lip area of the face that is different is immediately attractive to me, even just a smile can be so attractive to me. This is probably why the only part of myself I like is my lips because I actually have a freckle on my upper lip, not that anyone else has cared to notice.

Idk what the point of this was. I'm not a film studies student, but I am getting my AA degree 🤷‍♀️ so whatever that counts for ig. Did any of this even make sense? jfc I could write a book about all the ways I could pick apart this show and how much it's actually affected my life in the best way possible.

Starting with sexy lip scars!

[haunt-i-ng]

list of thignds i like abt it:

the singer w the uneven haircut looks kind of adorable when hes nodding his head at the start... like if a 3 year old got put into an adult body

the fucking kid in the face mask thats dancing that they keep cutting back to. and everyone is just behind him watching. and the clips go on for fucking ever like the editor must really fuck w this kid

all the people hanging out on the roof.everything is so 2000s

no one in the background is really giving it their all. theyre kinda just standing there lol

the 3 little asian girls they got just cause everyone loved asian people in the 2000s for some fucking reason

the fat dude with the goatee truly giving it his all

the hot babe in the werewolf mask. honestly what were they even trying to achieve with this video they just keep putting shit in

king of the hill style line up of old white dudes in lawn chairs just having a kiki

little baby chimp in a diaper

WHYYY isnt he backing up hes literally headbutting the camera

an insane editing choice of leaving a little cut out of their guitarists eyes on the screen.

lowkey a very ejaculatory vibe

very cute lighting up of thr mailbox. like hes very shy to be pressing a button

this guy is so awful at dancing it loops back around to being cool

guy with lizard eyes and a spoon mohawk ending fairy

ive watched rthe music video for smooth criminal by alien ant farm maybe 20 times in the last week because theres something very charming and also dogshit about it. its endearingly awful. i need someone to talk to about this but literally no one would care