#i'm writing one rn

[ddejavvu]

I just wanted to say that I said to myself just now “I feel like reading tyler owens fanfic rn” and then immediately afterwards I scrolled two posts down my feed as saw your last reblog of exactly that so I’ll take that as the universe telling me I definitely should lol

i'm on such a tyler kick right now i'm fiending for requests EVERYBODY SEND ME MORE

[peachylynnie]

sylus: check it out! i got us matching bracelets!

mc: are those handcuffs?!

sylus: never leave me.

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[fandomsfordays21]

I'm a sucker for the thing with "Rivals" and/or "Enemies" that actually have such a complex dynamic that you can't put a label on it. Where they hate each other. and yet will sit next to each other and share tender words of reassurance. Where they love each other, and yet beat each other to the brink of death. Where they are opposites while also being mirrors. Two sides of the same coin except the coin is made of two different metals. Yin and Yang but you don't know which one takes what role. Forged with the same materials but with different tools. The type of relationship where you can watch hours of analyzation videos, or read dozens of essays about it, but you can never get a definitive answer on what they are to each other. They need each other, and yet would benefit from the destruction of the opposing party. Where they kick and bite and punch and say hateful words, but would be the first to defend the other in times of desperation.

Enemies to Friends to Lovers except they were never really any of those things separately and fill all three roles at the same time. They are soulmates, bound by destiny, and yet never following a strict set of rules.

[infernal-lamb]

Draw Neves at the bar , trauma dumping to heket (she's the bartender)

HFSLKJGKDGJLJKLDS pls this is so funny to me. Neves is a mess when she's drunk. she is now Heket's burden....here she is telling a very silly story

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[pernesophe]

Coffee Shop Girl x Hoshina Soshiro

Synopsis: You’re well known around the third division base as the barista who works at the coffee shop, and after working (and living) on base for some time you’ve developed feelings for the Vice-Captain. What does he do when your feelings are revealed? WC: 3203 MDNI. TW: smut- f reader, (f)masturbation, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration

Hoshina’s Scent is based on Carbonara by Lorenzo Pazzaglia Reader’s Scent is based on Chestnut Cream and Vanilla Cream by Jousset Parfums

The hour had grown late as moonlight filtered through the tall windows of the main corridor on the JAKDF 3rd Division base while Vice-Captain Hoshina made his way from the training room towards his quarters. Along the way, he cut down a side hall lined with rooms belonging to the ‘regular personnel’ and interns who lived on base. Passing the last door on the right, one violet iris clocked that it was slightly ajar, and then he heard the faintest whine that halted him in his steps.

“Soshiro…” the sound of his name slipped through the crack between the door and the jam to where he stood inches away. Silently he crept closer, pressing his fingertips to the smooth wood to push it open slightly. First he was hit with hints of fresh roasted coffee swirled with chestnut cream, and then he saw you. The beloved barista of the 3rd Division, laid out on your bed under a thin blanket with parted thighs, small movements fluttering the blanket covering your core. Just as he was about to slink away with the memory stored away, your head canted back into the pillows as you released another breathy moan, “fuck Soshiro…”

Hoshina felt his eye twitch slightly at your desperate sounds. Maybe it was weeks of nonstop Kaiju attacks, or the utter lack of sleep, or the endless meetings with the higher ups… Whatever it was - your honeyed whimper shoved all rational thinking from his mind. Stepping into the room fully before he shut the door completely with a muted click. Wordlessly he strode to the end of your bed without making a sound.

“Usually I prefer to be addressed as Vice-Captain Hoshina, but I’ll make an exception just this once.” Chiding you playfully as he knelt on the edge of the bed. Shooting up with a surprised squeak, brows raised in shock, as you went to wipe your juices on the blanket, but Hoshina caught your wrist and quickly took your fingers into his mouth. Gliding his wet muscle over your digits as his plum-colored eyes studied your utterly stunned expression, a satisfied groan emitted from deep in his chest while he licked you clean of your sweet, musky arousal. After releasing them from his mouth with a pop, he shot you an approving smirk.

”You taste so good,” Hoshina murmured against the pads of your fingertips, breathing out notes of smoked pink pepper and bourbon sandalwood that fanned over your cheek. Slowly you began to scoot away, but as you did his grip tightened on your wrist, “Where are you going y/n? Weren’t you just moaning my name? And now you’re trying to run away?” He whispered the string of questions, faux hurt tinging his tone as his vibrant irises pinned you in place. He knows my name?! Heat rushed to your face from embarrassment, swiftly averting your gaze to the fuzzy, rust colored blanket covering your lap.

”Oh? Too shy now? I can just leave and let you finish all by yourself.” Hoshina brought his lips to the center of your hand before uttering the words into your palm - violet eyes cut to meet your shocked glance - hints of your balsam, sweet-almond fragrance lifted off your supple skin to stain his. Again, you were too embarrassed to muster any words, and after a drawn out staring contest the indigo haired man shrugged and simply said, “okay, then.” Sighing in disappointment as he released your wrist and began to climb off the bed, taking with him that black pepper infused oriental rhum redolence that was reminiscent of an indulgent meal.

”Wait!” Crying out as you sprung forward, catching the sleeve of his coat between your fingertips. Hoshina faced you again - arching his brow incredulously, but the gleam in his eye was playful.

”You just had to say so - no need to cry about it,” Hoshina chuckled low as he crawled up the bed to be sitting on his knees between your thighs. Slowly, he brought his face close enough to hover his lips over yours, but didn't close the distance. Tenderly, he tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear with his fingertips. Gazing into his amethyst irises you could see he was studying your face closely. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, warm spiced air fanning your lips, but still he didn't move any closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just being sentimental, but the way his lips quirked up at the corners indicated that he was teasing. 

“Soshiro…” you pleaded quietly - not entirely certain what for, and still unconvinced that this wasn’t some super realistic dream.

”Yes? Is something wrong?” Hoshina feigned genuine concern as he leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of your head - caging you in. Still, he made no move to kiss you. Your breath hitched in your throat from the rising tension as you tried to focus on the purple irises that have been studying you this whole time. At some point the playfulness morphed into pure hunting instinct. It felt like you were trapped in the jaws of a fanged beast, and for some reason that excited you. “Talk to me Y/N,” Hoshina urged you in a gentle, yet commanding tone.

”Y-you’re teasing me…” mumbling as you tried to lean back a little, but he followed you fluidly. 

”You don’t like it when I tease you? Cause you seem pretty excited…” Continuing with taunts as his lips came so close to touching yours that you could taste the sugar-spiced coconut clinging to his breath, spurring you to whine involuntarily. He chuckled before adding, “See? But, anyway, tell me what you do want.”

”M-more…” murmuring in a hushed tone, as you averted your gaze to the white wall to your right.

”More… teasing? But you just said-” Hoshina started again, but you had finally had enough - facing him, you cupped his cheeks before pressing your lips firmly to his. Hoshina tittered against your mouth, obviously enjoying this, but not ready to give up the game just yet. Parting for air, he smirked down at you arrogantly while noting, “You can’t answer my question if you’re kissing me.” Punctuating his statement with a gentle nip to your bottom lip.

“Soshiro.” You groaned faintly, “Please just kiss me more!” your exasperated whisper bounced off the walls, making Hoshina laugh outright - revealing his sharp canines in all their predatory glory.

”Okay, okay - I will…” He dipped his mouth closer to yours again, halting a breath away to pose one last query with a knowing grin, “and where do you want me to kiss you?”

”On my lips Soshiro, please!” You cry once more - anticipation coursing through your veins from the prolonged teasing. Soshiro’s grin spread wide across his face while he leaned back on his heels, and then hooked his arms under your knees.

”Okay. I understand,” he assured you before swiftly lifting you from under your knees and dragging your bare cunt to his mouth. Leaving you half folded on the bed while your other half was pressed to Hoshina’s torso, held within his strong arms. Shooting you a look of pure victory before pressing his lips to your drooling pussy, followed by a swipe of his tongue through your folds. What started out as an exasperated sigh quickly became you throwing your head back as a lewd moan escaped you. 

“Shhshhshh… We don’t want anyone coming to check on us.” Hoshina barely separated from your core to susurrate the words in a low, gravelly timbre before diving back into your messy heat. Vigorously drinking every drop of the irresistibly rich musk that you had to offer until he felt delirious.

Dragging the tip of his tongue between your glistening folds, up to your sensitive bundle where he swirled around it until your hands were fisted in the sheets. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to contain the lewd sounds bubbling out of your chest. A pair of vibrant, indigo irises observed your expression intently, tittering from your attempts at restraint. Gripping your thighs bruisingly, he brought his tongue down to your entrance before languidly pressing through that ring of muscle that gave way to your velvety walls. A shocked gasp was torn from your throat, finally parting your lips, the second the vice-captain began plunging his lithe muscle in and out of your fluttering hole. Hoshina groaned directly into you as your creamy arousal burst over his taste buds, all the while teasing you closer to the edge. 

From your vantage point - folded on the bed - you could see his expression becoming downright hedonistic as his eyes rolled back while his ministrations turned voracious. Pressing his nose to your clit, Hoshina bobbed his head feverishly between your thighs, alternating between plunging his tongue fully into you and dragging the tip through your folds up to your sensitive bundle of nerves. Repeating his flurry of movements, over and over, until the taut feeling in your abdomen snapped - spurring another gush of your decadent arousal to flood his taste buds. 

With a whimpered moan your body sagged in his hold, leaving you panting as you threw one arm over your face in an attempt to avoid Hoshina’s triumphant look. Ever so gently, he laid you flat on the bed with your legs spread on either side of him before bending over you, bringing his lips to your jaw. First he littered chaste kisses along your jawline, over your cheek, to the corner of your mouth, and then he gingerly pulled your arm away from your face so you would meet his gaze. Cracking open one eye, you saw Hoshina’s satisfied face peering back at you, a cheshire grin tugging at his lips and leaving his sharp canines on full display. 

“Vice-Captain…” Mumbling shyly, your cheeks sporting a vibrant shade of red, to which Hoshina just tittered at you.

“We’re not finished, so don’t stop calling me ‘Soshiro’ just yet,” he chided you endearingly as he sat back to remove his coat, swiftly followed by his black compression shirt. 

As his garments fell to the floor they wafted notes of jasmine and spicy pink pepper into your vicinity as you drank in the Vice-Captain in all his glory. Everything about him was seamless - hardened planes of muscle that flexed under smooth skin when he moved to undo and remove the rest of his uniform. 

Once settled between your legs again, completely nude, Hoshina grabbed the backs of your thighs and laid them over his own while stroking and squeezing their satiny plushness. Curiosity got the better of you as you shamelessly sat up on your elbows and raked your eyes over all of him. You almost shot him a glare for snickering at your shocked expression, but you were too focused on the sheer length and girth of him - thick veins running from the base to the bulbous, mushroom tip. A subtle twitch of his length brought your gaze from the glistening tip back to his shit eating grin. 

“Not what you were imagining?” He inquired, arching his brow arrogantly as if to punctuate his question. 

Then, in one swift movement, he gripped the backs of your thighs roughly before dragging you closer until his cock was wedged between your folds - the underside of his tip pressed firmly to your clit. A gasping yelp fell from your lips while you stared up at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Hoshina had to stifle a laugh at how your hands had landed on either side of your head - palms up and splayed - accentuating your big moon eyes that gazed up at him in anticipation. 

“No it wasn’t,” your calm, hushed voice caught him off guard, brows raised at you in surprise. Then, even more shockingly, you slowly began grinding on him - spreading your arousal up and down his length as he gripped your thighs harder just to retain some control. Though, what you said next almost had him tossing all restraint out the window. Your eyes became half-lidded as your pace picked up marginally, flashing him a hot-sweet smile while you whispered up at him, “this is better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

For a moment Hoshina looked utterly stunned by your change in demeanor, and then he wordlessly canted his hips back, and then forth - matching your pace - muted groans mixed with satisfied sighs as they tumbled out of him. His tip dragged deliciously through your folds until it caught at your entrance, and then with a silent look shared between you, he pressed forward until his tip stretched through that ring of muscle. Strained breaths mingled in the space you shared as hints of spiced nuts, sugared almonds and oriental sandalwood permeated the air. 

Reaching up, you grasped onto his toned biceps as he started thrusting lightly - eyes falling shut as he sheathed himself bit by bit until he bottomed out completely with a long, drawn out groan. Cracking his eyes so they were only half-lidded, he moved to hook his arms under your knees, nestling even deeper into your gummy walls while pulling you impossibly close - eliciting a breathy whine from you.

“Place your hands flat on the wall,” he instructed in that same cadence you’ve heard him use on the training field, his violet irises flicked to the space above your head. A plotting smirk pulled at his mouth.

Swallowing thickly, you release his arms and reach above your head, doing as you're told by placing your palms flat to the cool, white wall - in this position, your arms were fully stretched and locked at the elbows. Peering back up at Hoshina for an explanation, but all you were met with was a ravenous look as he drew his hips back - making sure you felt every inch of his veined length dragging through your core. Then, he thrusted his hips forward with all the strength you thought he possessed.

Immediately he set a brutal pace which had you jolting up the bed. If Hoshina didn’t have you in such a tight grip along with instructing you to brace yourself against the wall, you feared you would’ve toppled off the bed completely. Plum colored eyes observed your expression as you bit down on your lip in an attempt to quiet your salacious sounds, but with each powerful thrust your lips parted to emit a pleasurable whine. Soon the room filled with your satisfied ah ah ah’s that were accompanied by the resounding plat plat plat of Hoshina’s pelvis repeatedly meeting yours.

It wasn’t long until your arousal was wetting your and his thighs as a creamy ring formed at the base of his cock. That taut feeling deep in your core returned tenfold as your velvety walls clenched around him sporadically. Other than a strained gasp and blown wide pupils, Hoshina’s expression remained unchanging as he studied your’s becoming steadily more and more fucked out. His eyes fell from your face to your plush breasts bouncing in sync with each of his thrusts, down to where the two of you joined, and then back up to your lips parted in a perfect ‘o��. 

“You’re getting close,” he remarked breathily with a lustful glint in his eye as he felt your warm, plush walls becoming puffy as your climax swiftly approached. Bringing your fucked out gaze to his, trying to focus, but all you could was whine pathetically as you clenched around him again. Somehow, Hoshina’s pace grew more intense as the strength of his thrust increased - almost sending you over the edge. Just before you lost it, he commanded in a calm, authoritative tone, “say my name when you cum.”

That’s all it took to send you teetering off the edge into that euphoric abyss that swallowed you whole. Clamping down around him, your gummy walls pulsing as your back arched into the waves of pleasure coursing through you. With one slight change in angle, his bulbous tip began hitting that spongy spot that made your vision go white and sent shivers through your limbs as a desperate cry was ripped from you. 

And then, keening your head back into the pillows, his name came tumbling out of you in a wanton moan, “Soshiro!” Then you threw him a pleading look just before you begged, “Cum for me Soshiro, please!”

Between your puffy walls trying to milk him for all he’s worth and those compelling words, Hoshina’s eyes fell shut while his hips stuttered until they halted flush against yours just as his climax crashed over him. Twitching in tandem with your pulsing cunt, his release coated your walls mixing with your own as it filled you completely. A long moment passed with nothing but the sounds of the two of you catching your breaths; until he finally cracked his violet eyes to peer down at your disheveled form before slipping out of you. Whining softly at the sudden emptiness, you watched him with rapt interest as to what he would do next.

“Thank you, this is exactly what I needed. I haven’t been able to sleep for a week,” he said followed by a satisfied sigh, like he just finished a good training session, while laying down next to you. 

Silently you observed him making himself comfortable, wondering if he was really planning to stay the night. But then he wrapped an arm around you, drawing you flush to his chest which elicited a surprised squeak from you. Beyond a smug smile, he didn’t mention your shock. Peering up at his relaxed expression - eyes shut, satisfied simper, both accentuated by his other arm lazily tucked behind his head - gradually you relaxed into him, laying your head on his chest.

“Well, maybe if you cut down on the coffee…” you murmured quietly, shooting him an admonishing look when he peeked at you out of the corner of his eye. And when he arched a defensive brow, you added in a chastising tone, “you get like six a day.”

“Yes, but I only drink three of them ever since you started making the other three decaf without telling me” he replied nonchalantly through a yawn, though an amused smirk turned the corner of his mouth. Settling back into the pillows, he tucked you tighter into his side.

“If you knew, then why would you keep getting all six??” You couldn’t hide the exasperation leaching from your question, followed by an incredulous giggle as you wrapped an arm around his torso as well.

“Because I like coming to see you,” he whispered sleepily, pressing his nose to the top of your head. Inhaling deeply, Hoshina breathed in the roasted coffee and toffee nut fragrance that clung to you, and would certainly permeate his dreams tonight. Blinking rapidly as his words sunk in, sending your mind spinning - did he really just say that?

“What…?” Mumbling in shock, but he didn't respond. Instead, all you heard was his faint snoring accompanied by warm breaths of air puffed into your hair. With a small, relenting sigh you tucked into his warm, comforting embrace. There, you sunk deeper into his pepper-jasmine and vanilla-sandalwood aroma until sweet slumber claimed you as well.

Master List (I have no rights to these characters, the works they come from, or the art/screenshots/manga panels used in this post. Screenshots taken from pinterest, so if you know the creator please lmk! Divider is from @sweetmelodygraphics)

[novasintheroom]

123. Desire

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.4k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash slowly realizes that he wants to be yours.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3 (will post there and add link once AO3 is back up)

It comes up first one hot day in the town of Gargantan.

The bag of doughnuts crinkles in your grip as you weave through the morning bustle, heading toward the column of red at the end of the street. Vash knows he’s in trouble as soon as he smells it. You walk up to him, already giving a strange look. “What’s did you get?” You ask.

Vash laughs nervously. He keeps the two bags of doughnuts he already bought behind his back. “Just some bullets!”

You sniff the air. Lean forward and brush his cheeks with your fingertips. It comes away with powdered sugar. “Vash, did you get more doughnuts?”

He feels his stomach clench with guilt and hunger. Looking down, he gives a sheepish smile. “I just…wanted to try that other shop too.”

“Vash,” your mouth works, words forming and dissolving as you think of what to say. You’re fighting a smile. “We agreed we only had enough fun money for one bag of doughnuts.”

“I know.”

“We have three bags of doughnuts now, birdie.”

“I know,” he says again. He pouts, wondering what got into him. He’s usually much better about his money, but, lately, being with you…he feels…he doesn’t know. Like it’s okay to get food again. Even if it hurts the wallet a bit. “Hey, we don’t have to split a doughnut now, though! Look,” he pulls out a chocolate glazed doughnut, then another. “Two for one! BOGO!”

“You’re such a problem,” you groan.

He knows you’re joking. He knows. But something inside him shudders, and he wants to fix it. Make you feel better after his mistake. “Well, I’m your problem.” He says it as a joke. Tests the waters. See if there’s blood in them.

Your smile is genuine as you punch him in the shoulder, hitting the plating of his arm. “Yeah, you are. Heaven help me, but you are. Now give me a doughnut.”

The stirring of crickets in his stomach is the only warning he has of what’s to come. Your problem, he smiles, handing you a jelly-filled doughnut and eating his second with you. He likes the sound of that.

--

He toys with the idea. Handles it around and around in his head like a child with a very delicate antique, so clumsy with his hands but knowing how special it is.

It comes up again.

Nothing goes right all day, and by the end of it, you’re both tired and in a bad mood. Camping out in a buried, derelict ship is the last thing either of you want right now, but the ghost stories will keep the locals away. You set up your sleeping gear nearby. No fire tonight; there’s too many eyes searching for you two.

Vash can feel the breeze blowing through the holes of the ship. Cool, cool air that will turn to ice once the suns fully set. He looks over at you and sees the goosebumps rising on your arms, eyes picking out each individual hair standing on end. Vash chews the inside of his cheek. “Wanna sleep closer?”

It takes a moment for you to register he’s talking. Blinking, you look up. “Hm? What?”

 “Do you want to sleep closer tonight? For warmth, I mean.”

Your eyes flit across his face. You’ve always been a fan of your personal space. Vash isn’t sure you’ll accept. Then, you shrug. “Sure. Why not.”

The day must have really taken it out of you for you to say ‘yes,’ but Vash isn’t complaining. You drag your stuff over to his and set up sluggishly. “I’m mad about what that mayor said to you on the way out,” you say, baring your feelings like you do, always an open book. “He shouldn’t have called you that. Especially after we saved his daughter.”

He doesn’t feel like talking about it, a fresh wound on his heart that will heal anyway. So he hums and lays down. “I’m just glad we got away before they pulled out the whips. That was…weird.”

You laugh and scoot over to his side, and Vash can feel your warmth. “You think they’re into the freaky stuff?”

He laughs with you and shakes his head. He’s about to respond when you curl up next to him and place your head on his shoulder. Mouth drying out, a strange feeling in the back of his throat forms. You press your side shyly closer into his.

“You don’t mind being my pillow for tonight, right?” You mumble it, and he can hear the embarrassment in your tone. This is hard for you.

He clears his throat and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I’m all yours.”

It goes quiet, and Vash wonders if he said the wrong thing. But then your breathing evens out, and he realizes you’re asleep. The day really took it out of you, then. Carefully, he brings his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. He doesn’t want you getting cold. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “all yours.”

--

What exactly is it that he wants?

You ask him this on the road. The suns are cresting some cliffs to the side, fall season turning the temperatures just a bit cooler – only just. And he says, “For love and peace to rule.” Typical.

“But what do you want? When love and peace is achieved and everyone’s happy?” You walk ahead of him, minding your steps, toeing an invisible line, kicking pebbles off to the side. “What do you want to be?”

He watches. Your figure curves as you bend over to pick up a white rock, throwing it up in the air and catching it again. You handle it, looking at the tiny crystals within that make it sparkle in the light. A habit of yours, he’s noticed – how you handle everything and everyone carefully, twisting them this way and that to find their hidden facets. You do it with him all the time. You’re doing it now, digging into his psyche, making him wonder about his own desires and wants. His eyes trace the shape of your lips as they purse.

Vash shakes out of his stupor when you glance at him, waiting for an answer. “I’ll probably be some kind of Plant engineer. Keep my sisters safe and healthy.” After all, what else is there for someone like him?

“Do you want to be an artist? An historian? You can’t just be an engineer all the time. What else do you want to be?”

His lips curve up. “I’ll still be with you, right? You’ve got the historian and artist bit down for the both of us.”

You groan and throw the rock away. The sands eat it up instantly, lost once again to the dunes of time. “Without leaning on me, Vash.” You look at him, eyes roving over his face for something he isn’t sure of. “When everything else is stripped away and accomplished, what do you want to be?”

Something in his chest erupts into butterflies. He knows the answer, cheesy as it is. Yours, yours, yours, his heart murmurs. I want to be yours.

--

It comes out in the quiet hours of the night, between dusk and midnight.

Your kisses are slow, sensual. He can’t get enough. The soft sand underneath, the cave overhead, the glow of worms in the distant sky through the mouth. You’re safe. He’s safe. His hands rove your sides, traveling under your shirt to massage the tender skin at your ribs. Your own hands travel from his neck to his stomach, back to his hair, feeling, feeling.

In a pause, a way to catch your breath, you look up at him in the blue gloom and grin. Your eyes are so full of love, twinkling like close stars. “Vash,” you murmur, petting your hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, his growing undercut. Your chests heave together, touching then retracting. Your nails scratch gently behind his ear, and goosebumps hike up his neck. “My Vash.”

It sends a shiver up and down his spine. Yes, this is what it is; this is what he has been searching for. And he should say something like ‘my mayfly,’ but what tumbles out of his kiss-swollen lips is, “Your Vash. Yours.”

Your laugh is deep and happy. He surges forward to catch it, feel it in his mouth as he kisses you again and again. “Yours,” he keeps murmuring, settling it in his own head, his own heart. “All yours. I’m yours.”

This is what he wants to be.

A place to belong. A place in your arms.

Yours.

[pettyprocrastination]

I'm sorry to the gang but I think initially Aemond is a bad lover.

Like, to actually think about it.

His first ever sexual interaction is with a prostitute twice his age that he was coerced into by his older brother, and it seems like he's never seen that woman again until season one when he returned to the brothel in search of aegon hence her speaking on how much he's grown since she last saw him which he seemed visibly uncomfortable within.

It's likely that his interaction with Sylvie was his first and only sexual interaction.

Which means that when he married you and it comes time to consummate your marriage and try for an heir. The sex is...less than ideal.

It's methodical and routine. Your husband above you rutting into you until he cums and then some because the maestro said his seed must "settle" for a child to take hold.

In his mind, sex is done out of obligation and dedication. It's an expectation for a man of a noble house to sire a son to continue the name. And what does he know of pleasure? The vile whispers his brother croons with no intention other than to see his younger brother uncomfortable? The prostitute he laid with before he was even a man himself? Those situations did nothing but make his skin crawl- it's no wonder that his sex is nothing further than noble obligation to his wife and his lineage.

It's less than an issue in your eyes until a knight tasked with standing guard by your door each night speaks I'll of the prince to his brothers in arms.

It spreads like wildfire before the day is even finished. What was once gentle ribbing between men in arms became vile wishes towards you- the dragon prince's wife. Conversation of how it's "a damn shame to let a pretty little thing like her go to waste" and how if they had their chance they'd show you how a proper man lays with a woman.

And maybe one idiotic son of a lord brought into the kingsguard, egged on by too much wine and the racacous laughter of his brethren jests that perhaps one night he'll slip into your room and show you how a proper man fucks when your husband is a way.

"Let the cyclops ride his dragon if it means the princess will ride mine."

Unfortunate for him that our husband happened to be entering the training yard just in time to hear his promise to his brothers in arms.

Now the thing with Aemond is that he's deeply prideful, but also so, so, so desperate for approval. He's spent his entire life chasing it and getting so little in return. His mother was insistent on what makes a good husband- loyalty, dedication, listening to ones wife unlike the way he watched his father wave away her concerns all throughout his childhood. He was adamant about being the proper husband in every strict tradition and stiff display of affection he offered you-

but nobody helped him with sex. So to learn through the vile words of some idiotic guards that he has left his wife wanting becomes the only thought in his mind and must be rectified.

You've only just begun your day when your husband slips into your room, telling whoever is stationed by your door to leave as he locks it behind him before standing before you, hands twitching and eye looking anywhere in the room but you.

So nervous, like a little boy all over again.

When you ask him gently what's wrong he does not hide it from you.

"I have left you wanting, haven't I?"

You let out an incredulous laugh, so taken aback by the blunt question you don't know what would be an appropriate response.

To say he hasn't would be a lie.

To say he has could harm his ego, further spurring his rage.

Instead, you gently cup his face where a pale hand envelopes your own.

"Most men do not concern themselves with the comfort of their wife."

Your blaise response hurts more than saying yes.

"I am not most men."

Your husband, the crown prince and rider of a generations old war hardened beast, looks at you with eager eyes and tells you- asks you to show him how you wish to be touched.

How to fuck you.

You spend the night In his arms, gentle guiding him on where you wish to be kissed, bitten, and licked. How to hold you, where to touch and how hard. Your husband is a receptive one, content to go for hours upon hours until your legs are trembling and there are tears in your eyes because once he learned the utter euphoria of seeing your sing his name in the breathy moan there was nothing he desired more in this wretched world to hear it again and again and again.

When you do finally rest, bodies slick with sweat and exhaustion creeping through your veins, you find yourself wrapped in his arms and his head tucked into the crook of your shoulder. He says nothing about siring a child, or the maestros advice, but simply kisses the spot just beneath your ear before letting himself slowly drift into a deep sleep, the first moment within your marriage that he is truly relaxed in your presence.

The next morning his family is kind enough to say nothing of the bite marks lining your neck as you eat breakfast, just as they are mindful to not ask of the head that once belonged to a member of the kings guard that now belonged on a spike before the castle walls.

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

Lord give me restraint because if he gave me strength I'd have Arthur Lester on his knees whimpering for an entirely different reason

[little-pondhead]

Danny moved to Gotham.

Freakshow is touring in Gotham.

Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.

Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.

Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.

Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.

Danny turns to the Joker for help.

The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.

Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.

Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.

[becca-e-barnes]

Sub Bucky and a breeding kink 💀 dead unlived it's one of my favourite things 😌

This is pretty high up there on my list of dream fantasies 🥵 these are two of my biggest weaknesses, don't even look at me rn

One of life's greatest joys is cuddling with the other person's head resting on your chest so you can play with their hair and rub their shoulders. I love that shit, having someone else's body weight on you is so comforting.

I imagine that's something Bucky would really enjoy too. It's so soft and sweet and tender and getting to feel cared for would really appeal to him.

But that's up until his hands work their way under your top, up over your bare skin so he's able to cup your breasts and bury his face between them while he's getting his hair played with. Life's pleasures don't get much simpler than that.

After a few moments he shifts slightly, tugging the neckline of your shirt out of the way to give himself space to kiss and nip your skin. All of a sudden he's desperate and it's beautiful to watch.

"Please." He whispers between frantic kisses, flicking his tongue over the stiff peak of your nipple before engulfing it with his warm, eager mouth.

"Please, what?" You tease, tugging on his hair just a little for emphasis.

He groans, frustrated by his own lack of coherence, pulling his mouth from your nipple. "Please let me put a baby in you."

That's not what you were expecting but fuck, he makes it sound pretty appealing.

"Bucky-" You begin but he cuts you off, giving your other nipple the same attention as he gave the first. God, that's distracting.

"You'd make. Such. A pretty. Mommy." He whispers, kissing his way down your body until he reaches the bottom seam of your top. From there, he pulls it off, letting it fall to the floor before removing the rest of your clothes.

"You'd look so pretty with a little baby bump." His huge hand rests on your bare tummy, imaging how your body would change.

"I want it, Buck." You mean it too. It doesn't sound like such a bad idea when he's taking his clothes off.

"I know you want it." He groans, rubbing the tip of his dick against your soaked core. "Y-you're so wet."

He presses his hips forward, sliding inside you and you can't explain it but you swear it feels different this time.

"Don't even think about pulling out." You cup his face in your hands, keeping his eyes on you and you almost worry he's going to fuck himself senseless into you. "I want you to make me a mommy. You're going to give me every single drop of cum and when it starts to drip out of me, you're going to fuck it back in."

His head falls onto your shoulder, sobbing a pathetic moan against your already hot skin. The pace of his thrusts matches his need, his hips slamming into yours and when he finally gives in, he cums inside you with your legs clamped around his waist, making sure he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to.

[plusultraetc]

I'm so sorry but ever since that teen Hawks page was translated on twitter I can't stop thinking about it. like. Mera treated him like a person. he was assigned to Hawks when he was already a teenager. did no one treat him like a person before then? was it such an uncommon occurrence that it seemed special when someone did? I mean, they didn't even let him have a person's name. they gave him a hero name, and to the HPSC, that was the name of a tool. of a product. they basically bought a child and treated him so coldly that Mera stood out to him because he treated him like a person. the bars of my enclosure.

[forestshadow-wolf]

Happy christmas! @maicandy

This was supposed to be like 1.5k words turned into 3.4k

No warnings. A bit of action, nothing graphic. It should be a fun read (I hope)

Ao3 link

“A���righ’, ya muppet, get up.” Price chuckled, “I signed it fifteen minutes ago, when you handed it to me.”

“Fift- then wha’ th’ fuck am I on th’ floor for!” Soap climbed up on aching knees, Price looked like he was in pain with how ard he was holding in his laugh.

“Wanted to see how far you’d go.” he shrugged.

“Oh, up yer arse wi’ it, ya bloody baw.” Soap scowled, adding, “itsnae funny.” when Price couldn’t contain his boisterous laughter any longer. He slumped into the chair he should have been sitting in, and pointedly did not sulk. It was about as funny as a Scot dating a Brit. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t.

“Oh don’t sulk, Soap, I was never gonna send him to Siberia in December.”

Soap slumped harder in his seat, making it a point to not look at Price. He was mad at him. It was harder to hold his frown when the man was gleefully nudging him with the toe of his boot. Okay it was a little funny. Not that he would ever admit that to the man.

— — —

“How are you gonna jus’ sit there!” soap threw his arms up in exasperation, “he ‘ad me on my knees, an’ you’re laughing!” he was starfished across Ghost’s bed while the man worked on reports at his desk. Laughing at him. Not exactly routinely… okay it was pretty much standard.

“You won’t even tell me what you were there for, why would I help you.” Ghost shoots back at him smoothly. Bastard. 

“Wha! You dinnae need to kno’, yoo’re just supposed to defend my honor.” Soap cried in faux-offense.

“ ‘Defend your honor’.” Ghost parrots as he sits back in his chair, he hums thoughtfully as he turns to look at soap, “for all I know you were getting in trouble for taking Price’s cigars last week. I don’t think that’s an honor even I can defend.” Ghost chuckled, catching the pillow Soap threw at his head. Soap was going to say something else when Ghost’s phone rang. taking it out of his pocket, “it’s Price.” he said before answering.

“Yeah, he’s here.” Price’s voice was loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to make out what he was saying, so Soap was only privy to a one-sided conversation. “No, not terribly. You ask me that after you ask if soap’s here?” Ghost bolstered, “mmmh not likely. And you mettle too much.” there was a pause that Price’s muffled voice filled. “Did you call on business, or just to poke at me?” Soap couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or deflection, but if it was Price on the other end it was all in good nature. “But it’s christmas. Soap has-” price, evidently, cut him off, “Fine.”, Ghost hung up with a sigh. “Price needs us geared up and on the tarmac in fifteen.”

— — —

They were kitted up and waiting on the tarmac faster than you could say ‘Two Clicks and a Cracker’, fortunately Price didn’t make them wait too long. He met them with a cigar, and two folders tucked under an arm.

“New mission.” he holds out the folders for them to take, “and before you start, I did my best, but without either of you putting in leave there’s not much I can do. But,” Price sighed. “I pulled some strings. You two are going to Chile for the next three weeks. We had a team pass through a few months ago, they had to crash at a safehouse for a few days. They sent in a report of broken equipment and utilities. It needs to be cleaned, as well as restocked.” Soap flipped open his folder, the list of broken shit was longer than it reasonably should be, in soap’s opinion. “Now, as your directive is not a highest priority you will have a scheduled exfil for January second at fifteen hundred local time. With what remaining time you have between infil and exfil, you will keep an eye on everything to make sure it’s running smoothly. You’ll have quite a bit of time on your hands, so just chill out and don’t break anything, I don’t want to have to go back to fix anything any time soon. Capisce?”

“Yes sir.” Soap flipped his folder closed, they had a long list to do, but nothing they can’t handle. Ghost was still studying the photos in his folder, as thorough as ever. “When do we-”

“Are these bullet holes?” Ghost cut him off, holding up one of the photos.

“Well it’s a military safehouse, what do you expect?” price said, unworried.

“For them to not break the safehouse.” Ghost deadpanned. Which to his credit, yeah that was usually what was expected. “Was there contact, or were they just dicking around?”

“The reports say there was brief contact, but all hostiles were neutralized.”

“Which could mean exactly nothing in this line of work.”

“It’s been months, Ghost, you’re always so suspicious.”

“It pays to be a skeptic sometimes.”

“Just take the free vacation, Ghost.” Price exasperated.

“Since when do I take vacations?”

“Since now.” Soap jumped in, he wasn’t much one for sand, but he wasn’t complaining as long as they weren’t sent for snow. Plus, a little birdie told him Ghost loved the beach. Ghost whipped his head to him, soap watched his eyes look him up and down.

“Soap hates the beach.” Ghost turned to Price. Soap wasn’t sure when or where he got that information, but it was Ghost, so he probably had a way.

“Nae, the beach is fine, Ghost. When do we leave?”

“Now. Nik is loading up your supplies in hanger two.” Price handed Ghost a card, and an envelope. “Money for anything else you might need.” he paused, “do not spend it on porn.” he said with humor in his eyes.

“What if it’s really important though?”

“If it was, I’d have already bought it myself.” Price walked them over to the hanger where Nikoli was waiting, and saw them off.

— — —

The human body isn’t meant to sit in the back of a cargo plane for twelve hours straight, though he’s had worse on cramped commercial flights, so he’s only allowed to complain a little bit.

Nikoli helped them unload, and then he was back in the air headed for home within an hour and a half.

When they finally shuffled all their things to the door and opened it up. The place was a mess. Soap stepped inside and just dropped his bag on the floor while he took it all in. It was like a frat house hurricane swept in, trashed everything, and left. Ghost pushed in beside him and all but froze.

“Well… looks like we got some work to do.”

“Steamin’ jesus, what did they do?” there was trash and takeout boxes everywhere, cans of beer to go along, and soap kicked probably a dozen shell casings just walking further into the living room. He’d seen the pictures, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad.

“C’mon help me get the rest of the stuff inside. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” Ghost broke from their stupor, turning out the door.

It took a little longer without the help of a third person, but by the time they were finished they had stripped a few layers in the heat, and the sun was just beginning to set. They’d both stripped their kits, Ghost the mask and hoodie as well, Soap himself had stripped his own shirt off as well. 

“Go get a shirt.” Ghost instructed, pulling out a face mask from his bag, and slipping the card into his pocket. “We gotta head to the store for dinner.” Soap tugged his shirt on as Ghost spoke.

— — —

The following two weeks were spent sweeping and cleaning, and fixing whatever they could find that was broken. Which included but was jot at all limited to, a broken water heater, A drippy shower, a leaky sink, a toilet that didn't flush all the way, and the team that was here last had left a broken down humvee around that back which Soap had taken to taking apart to fix.

But aside from that Soap didn't think they'd get all the shell casings given a whole season. And in the most random of places too. Obviously the living room, but also under the bottom cabinets In the kitchen along the crown moulding, behind the doors of just about every room, there were a few behind the toilet and in the bathtub, he even found one in the bed that first night.

Price and Laswell kept in communication, calling them every few days just to make sure everything was running smoothly, and to ask if they were in need of any extra parts that hadn’t been sent. As predicted everything was running smooth as butter, they updated them on what they were able to fix, and what was taking a bit more time. Soap had gotten the humvee running before the end of the first week, and road worthy by the second, albeit missing a few parts. The windshield was cracked to shit, and the metal top had been taken off in place of a canvas one, but it was solid. It was smooth until Laswell called one morning without Price.

“Soap. Ghost.” Laswell’s voice came through the phone’s speaker.

“Laswell. Is Price there? This isn’t a scheduled meeting.” Soap answered.

“On his way. Where’s Ghost?”

“In the shower. I assume something’s come up.”

“Local law enforcement tells me you have hostels inbound, but they won’t come near it with a ten foot pole. I’ve sent Price and Gaz your way, but they won’t get to you in time.” Laswell informed. That wasn’t exactly the news he wanted to hear.

“Do we know how many?”

“Last time anyone was at your location, it was a team of five. I’d hazard a guess at two dozen.” seems a bit overkill to him, but who’s he to say.

“How long do we have?”

“Six, maybe eight hours.” okay not as bad as it could be.

“Aye, I’ll let Ghost know. And Laswell?”

“Yeah, Soap?”

“We’re gonna break a lot of shit. And I don’t want to fix it.”

“I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Thanks, Laswell.”

“Merry Christmas. I’ll see you back at base, Sergeant.” she cuts the line. And it was only after a moment of heavy contemplation that Soap realized it was christmas day. And he hadn’t even gotten Ghost anything.

Soap could still hear the shower running, it would likely be another while before Ghost finished. He was tempted to join him, but he knew himself well enough to know that he shouldn’t get distracted.

— — —

It must have been a half hour later when Ghost came and sat on the sand with him, wrapping himself around soap, legs bracketing around him. They’d spent quite a good amount of time on this beach. It was a private spot, the water washed up a dozen feet from the house at high tide, and the treeline began right where the steps met the sand. And he found, he didn’t mind finding sand in all the unholy places quite so much when Ghost was involved.

“Laswell said we have incoming.” soap muttered softly as Ghost kissed up his shoulder to the nape of his neck, he could feel still-damp hair brush over his neck and cheek, but he leaned into it instead of pulling away;  like he probably should have.

“But we have time?” Ghost pressed his face into the back of his neck, hugging soap closer to him.

“Beaches aren’t so bad.” he hums. It’s answer enough.

“When’d you decide that?” Ghost mumbled into his skin.

“Just now.”

“Hmm I like the beach too.” Ghost said after a moment of contemplation. And Soap wanted to stay there for eternity, but they had five hours to prepare and they needed to go to the store. Ghost’s arms wrapped tighter around his middle. Maybe they could say for a few more minutes.

— — —

“You’re flooding the sink?” a quick trip to the store, which consisted mostly of string and snacks, had them back at the house within an hour. This was the last thing in order after setting up the rest of his Home Alone traps. They had probably just under an hour, and now Ghost was questioning his decisions while he was checking and loading their firearms and eating Soap’s gummy peach rings. That he teased Soap about getting.

“Obviously. Nobody wants to see a flooded sink. Whether it’s yours or not.” Soap rolled his eyes, shoving more cloth and sand down the drain. He very specifically kept his eyes away from the cabinet above the microwave, there was no reason for him to look there. truely. “Those are my peach rings, by the way.” he didn’t really care, they were mostly for Ghost anyway.

“Mmh, obviously.” Ghost said around a gummy as though it wasn’t obvious. “What’s that mean for the dumber of us?”

“A flooded sink is never good. Mean’s it’s connected to something, or something’s gone wrong. Plus water on the floor means they can’t sneak, and they leave tracks. If anything it draws their attention for a second, and that’s a second more for us”

“Smart.”

— — —

“Soap two vans just pulled up.” Ghost’s voice came through their comm line,  the flora around the house wasn’t incredibly dense, but it was enough that it made Ghost difficult to spot if you didn’t know to look for the crook of branches twelve feet up. Soap only knew because he helped him up there.

“Think they’ll check the bathroom or the bedroom first?” He was precariously crouched barefoot behind the kitchen wall, just barely out of sight if they peeked in at the sink, water from the sink licked at his toes. Armed only with a knife, a pistol, and an extra magazine. If he played his moves right, they wouldn’t see him until it was, hopefully, too late.

“I reckon they’ll split up, ‘s what I’d do.” soap could hear boots stomping up the two stairs to the front door.

The door slammed open just before Soap could respond. Almost immediately the rope tied to the door handle pulled taut, and the shotgun sprayed buckshot as the trigger compressed. He heard a body hit the ground, followed by shouting and sounds of panic. He heard more soldiers storm up the wooden stairs, whoever stepped through the threshold first pulled the tripwire. It pulled the pin on the grenade.

“Beautiful, Johnny, I count eighteen, down to fifteen. I’m heading to the back, arm the backdoor when you're out, keep it loud.”

The remaining soldiers continued with more caution. There was a pause, then uneasy shuffling. More footsteps entered into the house. Soap could feel the tension as they split up. The water around his feet rippled as one of the soldiers stepped into the water by the sink. There was a nook in the kitchen that created a blindspot from outside of the kitchen, he stepped into view, and sunk his knife into the throat, and gently lowered him to the ground before he even had a chance to react. Four down, fourteen to go.

Almost simultaneously the shotgun in the bathroom went off, and shouting and gunshots came from the bedroom, letting him know they tripped the flare in the closet he’d used as a distraction. That was Soap’s cue. He whipped out of the kitchen, snatching up the shotgun that took out that first soldier. With one more shot in it, he aimed at the second soldier in the bathroom, and shot. He went down like a ton of bricks. Six down, twelve to go. This is where it gets hot. He unholstered his pistol without waiting to watch. Four shots. Two bodies. He ducked behind the couch. They all aimed at him, he was outnumbered, but they didn’t know the space, and he was two steps from the back door.

“Ghost, I need out.”

“Copy.” Half a second later the glass at his back splintered, and one of the soldiers fell over dead. And the rest scattered for cover like cockroaches from a light. Nine down, nine to go.

Soap didn’t wait, he flew out the door, arming it as it closed behind him. Ghost met him as soon as his foot touched sand. And there wasn’t a second to spare when the door flew open behind them. They split and ran down the beach, careful where they stepped.

“Soap,” Ghost called, waiting for a response.

“Ghost.”

“wanna see something sexy.” and of-fucking-course he did.

“You know I do.” And not a moment later did he hear a boom accompanied by the sand under his feet rattling, and he could see sand and bodies flying. Soap let out an overexaggerated moan. Too which he got a chuckle from Ghost that he could hear the eye roll through. He will be salty that Ghost got to set off the first sandy explosive later. Eleven down, seven to go.

Soap could hear the two soldiers behind him, he wide-stepped over a small rock in the sand, and detonated the explosive buried right below in two paces. The shock sent him off balance, but he caught himself before he fell. Thirteen down, five to go. And he was out of tricks. He had three more after him, and lead flying by his head.

Pinwheeling around a bloody large boulder he deaded back the way Ghost was headed, he could see Ghost had been able to do just the same. Trust. Ghost had two on him. He didn’t stop running as he shot.

The first one went wide. The one after had a body falling, and the one after that had the other soldier stumbling. He couldn’t tell which bullets flying by his head were Ghost’s and which were enemies’, but somehow, some miracle, none of them hit him.

— — —

He frowned as he opened the cabinet above the microwave, it had been bullet ridden, but somehow he’d still hoped the little skeleton ghost plush he’s bought would have remained untouched. It wasn’t so. Stuffing fell out before he even opened the cabinet all the way, and what greeted him when he did was a very sad, very stuffingless once-was plush. He pulled it out with a frown anyway.

He turned to toss it in the trash, and promptly had a heart attack when he turned around and Ghost was right there. He clutched the sad bit of fabric to his chest, and panted dramatically.

“Christ, Ghost, scared me half to death.”

“I’d hope not.” Ghost smiled. “What’s that?” soap held out his was-gift.

“Oh. uh merry christmas?” he felt his face pull in disappointment, “I was hoping that it would somehow stay safe, but…”

“Lemme see.” Ghost held out his hand for the thing. “Eh he’s not so bad. Just needs a bit of stitching and stuffing, and he’ll be right as rain.” he smiled at him. Then, impossibly, his face brightened further, “wait right here.” and then Ghost was out of the kitchen.

Soap stayed put like instructed. Christ they’d made a right proper mess of this safe house. Water everywhere, shell casings, damage to everything. Price was going to throw a fit when he saw it.

“Okay close your eyes and hold out your hands.” Ghost said before he walked in. soap did as told. Something was placed in his hands, “okay open.”

It was a leather bound Journal, with his initials engraved into the front. He flipped open the cover to see that ‘SR’ had been scratched into the inner surface, along with a polaroid of Ghost, and a sleeping him in bed.

“I noticed you were getting to the end of yours.”

There were so many things Soap wanted to say. That he loved it, he loved him, that it was the best thing he’s ever been gifted, that it was a privilege to get this, that he was honored that Ghost would put their names together, that Ghost would let him see his face. He settled for kissing him instead.

— — —

There wasn’t much for Price and Gaz to do when they landed, except help pack. And Soap and Ghost left for base with them. There wasn’t much they could salvage without another team and more tools and parts. And what could be done, wasn’t worth the effort after they just fixed it. So home they went.

[wikiangela]

several sentence sunday

tagged by @hippolotamus

sooo bucktommy won me over, i couldn't resist anymore 🙈 so here's a bit of them after their date lol (also, I didn't get the Tommy hype before but after seeing him everywhere for two days... I get it now 🥵)

___

"(...) We should do this again.” Tommy says, turning fully towards Buck, and Buck’s eyes immediately find his lips. He can’t wait to kiss him again, and this would be the time, at the end of the date, wouldn’t it?

“We should.” Buck nods, licks his lips, eyes darting up to Tommy’s eyes. He’s smiling softly, just looking at Buck. “I-” he starts, and then thinks, fuck it, and this time he makes a move, as he leans across the console to grab Tommy’s chin, like he did Buck’s in his kitchen, and bring him in for a kiss. Tommy immediately reciprocates, and Buck melts against him, and then when Tommy’s calloused hand covers his cheek, it just feels so- so different, in the best way possible. This kiss lasts longer than the first one, each of them constantly coming back for more, but it’s as gentle and tender as that one. Buck loves it, and can’t help smiling into it. He wants more. “Hey.” Buck says, finally pulling away, licks his spit-covered lips nervously. “Do you- do you maybe wanna come in for a beer?” he asks shyly, and at Tommy’s surprised expression and raised eyebrow he realizes it might sound like he’s inviting him for more than a beer, and he panics again. “I- I- I mean, just a beer. And maybe- maybe more of this.” he pecks Tommy’s lips again, not able to resist a smile. “But just a beer. I don’t think I’m- But who knows, maybe-” he stumbles over his words, because the truth is, he wants Tommy, he wants… he wants so much, he wants to experience so much for the first time – it’s just that he’s not sure if it’s not too quick for this relationship, and for him.

“Evan.” Tommy interrupts, bringing his other hand up, now cradling Buck’s face in both, thumbs moving soothingly along Buck’s cheeks. “Your pace, remember? No pressure, no rush.”

“You’re really cool, you know that?” Buck whispers.

“So I keep hearing.” Tommy chuckles, and it’s adorable. He kisses Buck again, and the butterflies in Buck’s stomach go crazy. Fuck, he doesn't remember the last time he felt this giddy and excited and just light. “I’d love to come in for a beer.”

___

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