#like it feels so nice to have friends that make you feel appreciated and loved

[softtdaisy]

it takes what it takes / Charles Leclerc

summary. When you heard Charles was bringing his new girl to you and your friends' annual winter holiday, you decided to bring someone too. That isn’t your boyfriend. But it takes what it takes to make your ex jealous, right? Well, that was something Charles had in mind too.

words count. 1,854

a/n. it feels so good to write for Charles again?? This was supposed to be a mix of Is It Over Now? and Last Christmas but I wanted to do something sweet and fun and I really love it??? So I hope you will too 🤍

F1 masterlist | general masterlist

“It’s a bad idea.”

You had been thinking that for the whole ride, that’s for sure. But you didn’t realize you were thinking this loud that even your friend could read your mind and say the same thing. You turned to look at Andrew, your ‘date’ for the holiday. A date that was clearly more stressed than you were about the situation.

“It will be fine.” you replied, focused on the road. “You don’t have to do much except being nice and pretend to love me.” you heard him laugh softly to which you replied with a smack on his thigh. “Two hard things to do, I know.”

“You’re not hard to love honey, you’re just not my type.” 

You rolled your eyes. One thing was true, the other was harder to believe. You knew that asking Andrew to come would be easy, you were offering him a free snow holiday with one of his best friends: you. And you knew things couldn’t be awkward between you since there were more chances for him to fall for your ex than for you.

On the other hand, the first part is harder to believe. Especially when your ex broke up with you to “focus on his career” and was now dating someone else. As if his career was to be a serial dater and not a Formula One driver.

When your friends told you Charles would bring his new girl, you couldn’t accept being there by yourself. It would be hard enough to pretend to not be jealous, you couldn’t do that alone. 

So there you were, finally parking in front of the luxurious cabin you all rented with your fake boyfriend.

Andrew was the first to leave the car so he could take your baggage off the boot. When you finally stood next to him, he took your hand in his and kissed it. “Let’s get in here, my sweet jellybean.”

You laughed so loud you probably woke up the neighbourhood. “Ugh, don’t call me that idiot.”

Your exchange was heard by your friend who rushed outside to greet you. It was nice to see them all again. You had some doubt after your breakup with Charles that maybe they would all choose him and forget about you. But there you were with them, feeling loved and appreciated like nothing ever happened. 

Andrew was introduced and played his boyfriend role so perfectly that even you believed it for a minute. 

But just for one single minute. Until Charles came outside too.

It wasn’t like you could have escaped him this year. You saw interviews of him, you were in Monaco when he won. It was hard to see your ex boyfriend everywhere yet you couldn’t contain the pride of seeing succeed.

You didn’t rush to hug him like he didn’t move from the door. You just both acknowledged each other’s presence. You noticed the small smile on his face when he looked at you and for a few seconds, it was enough.

Enough to think you could handle the whole holiday with him.

Enough to forget all the bad things you thought and said about him these past months.

Enough to consider being friends or, maybe more if things came to an end with his girlfriend.

Said girlfriend that ruined everything you had in mind the second she stepped outside.

Not that she did anything bad. She stayed quiet, almost hiding behind him. You were even sure she nodded towards you to say hello. You couldn’t blame her for being arrogant, possessive or mean to you. She didn't do anything wrong.

Charles did.

By simply picking someone that looked exactly like you.

You gave a short look at Andrew that looked as surprised and confused as you were. At least you had the decency to not choose a fake boyfriend that looked like your ex boyfriend.

“We are all finally together!” one of your friends said, putting his arms around you and Andrew’s shoulder.

“For better and for worse.” Andrew whispered to you, to which you replied again with a smack on his back.

__

If Andrew played his role to perfection, by always staying by your side and having a hand on you because he knew how much you crave physical affection, you were far from being the best actress in this play.

You spend the first evening noticing every single thing that reminded you of yourself on Charles’ girlfriend. From her hair colour, the way she styled it to her sweater that was the same as one of yours -like did he seriously look at your closet to offer the same? You were convinced Charles did all of that on purpose. Or he really had a type and it was you.

Still, you tried to be nice to her. Because she was a nice girl. But anytime you started a conversation, you just kept noticing more and more things in common with her. And it was driving you mad that Charles not only broke up with you for stupid reasons but was now dating some kind of clone of yourself. 

You tried to analyze their relationship without being creepy but it was harder than you thought.

And being curious doesn’t always bring good things. 

Not when you were so focused on the way Charles and her were acting during the afternoon outside that you didn’t notice the rock under the snow and fell on your knees. Of course, Andrew was living his best life as a passionate skier and wasn’t close enough to help you.

Compared to Charles that saw your fall.

“Are you ok?” he said once he was close enough to help you back on your feet.

You gave him a bad look, do you seriously think I need your help? You thought so loud that you hoped he would hear.

But that would have been terribly ironic considering you almost fell in his arms once you were standing again. “I might have hurt my knee.” you admitted.

You looked down at your legs, reprimanding them for letting you down literally in front of him. “Go meet the others.” you heard him say. You thought he talked to you until you looked up and saw his girlfriend leaving you. Of course, skiing perfectly compared to you. At least that made a difference between you two. “I’m bringing you back to the cabin.” he added

“I can do that by myself.” 

“No, you can’t.” you opened your mouth to reply but he stopped you. “But we can try and see how many times you fall without me. I’ll bet on three before your call for my arms again.” 

These types of squabbles were typical of your relationship. You kept doing that when you were together for every little unserious thing. Mostly because it always ended up with kisses and laughs. Nothing was ever serious with Charles and that’s what you loved the most in your couple. Nothing except your breakup.

“Fine.” you mumbled. When you looked at him, you noticed a little amused smile on his face. You weren’t the only one remembering the good days.

Once inside, Charles helped you sit on the sofa and stretched your leg. But he didn’t seem to leave. Instead, he took off his coat and made himself another coffee. “What are you doing?” you asked, confused.

“Making myself a coffee.”

“No shit Charles, I never would have guessed.” 

“Another stupid question?” he said with a big smile while coming closer to you. The thing is, your “yes” came out of your mouth faster than you thought. And you found yourself trapped in a conversation that you had multiple times in your head since you arrived yesterday. “I’m waiting.” he added when you tried to avoid his eyes.

“Why did you find someone that looks like me?” you finally asked. 

Charles laughed on his coffee, putting some on his sweater. That was far from the question he imagined hearing. But it wasn’t a big surprise either. “She doesn’t even look like you,” he replied. He hid his smile behind his cup. Which wouldn’t have worked if you weren’t that concentrated on your conversation.

“Are you kidding me Charles? This is some kind of Ross and Russ situation in Friends!” but you didn’t get any answer to that except for another laugh from him. So that was it? You were just a joke for him? Someone he wanted to make fun of? You felt your joy and curiosity fall immediately at that revelation. “Why do you do that? Why are you dating someone that looks like me?” you asked in a lower voice.

Charles had left for the kitchen so you missed his expression when he heard you. A strange mix of happiness that you were jealous and sadness that he hurt you, which wasn’t the plan. “I wanted to make you jealous.” 

You turned your head, which caused an immediate neckache. “What the hell are you talking about?” you sighed with your eyes closed. Did it make the pain go away? No.

But it made Charles sit next to you.

“You told everyone how you hated me this year.” He said, looking you right in the eyes.

“You broke up with me.”

“You said so many bad things I thought you wanted me dead.” he laughed.

“Well, you broke up with me.”

“You ignored me the whole year. And don’t say it’s because I broke up with you! Because I know, ok? And I regretted it the moment you left my place.”

Confusion wasn’t strong enough to explain how you felt at that moment. Not when on top of what he said, Charles took your hand in his and started gently rubbing your skin with his thumb. “I was an idiot, ok? I still am for what I know. And I didn’t know what to do to make you realize that maybe you still love me.”

“So you brought your girlfriend here?” you asked in a whisper, like it was some kind of secret nobody had to know about. 

Charles moved his face closer to yours so he could whisper back. “I’m not dating her. And I know you’re not dating Andrew either.”

You felt ridiculous keeping this position to whisper in an empty place like that. But the feeling of finding that you love again was stronger than everything. “What would you have done if I wasn’t jealous?”

“I would have played pretend until I left and accepted that I was the biggest idiot for letting the woman I love go.”  Then a smile grew on his lips. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh I’m not done with you Charles Marc Hervé…” you started. But you never finished this sentence. Because Charles was quicker to put his lips on yours and kissed you like he always loved to. Softly, with so much love that you could feel it right in your heart. 

That was how you realized that maybe your heart had been switched off this whole year. Because for the first time in months, you felt lighter. Happier. Loved.

And in love, again. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: this is intended as a one shot but you also know I'm easy to influence.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

“Happy birthday!” Vivica shoves the plastic teeth of the dollar store tiara into your hair. 

You try not to glower as the rest of the table roars with laughter. It’s a happy night. You can’t spoil it just because you hate gimmicks. They mean well, you’re just a downer. Like always. 

You force a smile, “thanks, guys.” 

“Don’t thank us, it’s your night,” Jerrod chirps. “Which means you drink for free!” 

Big whoop. You barely drink. You’ll have one or two for the occasion but you don’t like the way it makes your stomach feel. Ugh, stop being such a tight ass. It’s about you but it isn’t. They went to all this trouble planning the night. For you. Your friends. You can at least be thankful for them. 

Yeah, you have friends but how much do they really know you? For as long as you’ve known them, they should know that this isn’t you. They are the ones that want to go out, that want to drink, that want to wade into the unpredictability of the general public. That’s not you. 

“So, what are we having?” Mila asks. 

“Hm, I don’t know. You know I’m not picky.” It all just tastes like alcohol. 

“Ooh, cucumber gimlet. That sounds nice,” Jerrod says. 

“Oh, it really does,” Vivica agrees. 

“I’m going to try the gummy bear. I’m in the mood for something sweet,” Mila says. 

“Sure, I’ll try that,” you shrug. 

Jerrod flags down a server and puts in the order. As he does, Vivica stirs around under the table. Mila claps as she reveals the gift bag from beneath. 

“My favourite part,” Mila wiggles with excitement. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to--” 

“It’s only one part of our gift,” Jerrod laughs knowingly. 

You give him a wary look. You don’t like his tone. You accept the gift bag and look inside. You can’t tell what it is. You pull out the tissue paper and a small box wiggles inside. Slowly, you slip it out and just as quickly shove it back in. 

“That’s it. You wanna do it just like that,” Jerrod guffaws. 

Your mouth drops open as you look around the table. The bright pink dildo has your cheeks on fire. You can’t believe they’d bring that out in public. 

“What is wrong with you guys?” 

“Oh, come on, everyone can use a good six inches or so,” Jerrod snickers. “That’s our backup gift. Our real gift is somewhere around here.” 

“Huh?” You peek around the bar. “Like a scavenger hunt?” 

“Oh, it’s a hunt,” Vivica juts out her chin. “You set the target and we’ll take him down for you.” 

“What?” You scoff. 

“Come on, honey, you’re thirty. You need to get one last hurrah in,” Jerrod insists. “When it’s my turn, I want three beefy boys. One in each flavour, blond, brunette, and even a redhead.” 

“I’ll have the same,” Mila smirks. 

You’re embarrassed. Uncertain two. You can’t tell if they’re mocking you. Out of the four of you, you’ve always been the boring one. The sober one. All these years, and you were the one saving them from regrettable drunken mistakes and making sure they don’t leave the bar with creeps. It wouldn’t be hard for them to guess, would it? 

“Don’t worry, we’ll be your wingmen. Wingwomen. Wingfriends!” Vivica says. “How about him?” She points as the server lays out the drinks. “He’s cute. Oh, look at his eyes.” 

“Wow,” Mila preens. “A bad boy. That would be adorable.” 

You want to disappear. You want to dissolve into the cushioned bench. Become a part of it. Life as a piece of a furniture must surely be nicer. 

“And his friends, not bad, huh?” 

You’re speechless. It’s a joke. Even if they don’t mean it as one, it is. All these years and you’ve never been the one approached first. You’re the straggler. You get the odd one out and they get stuck with you. Maybe, all this time, your friends had been too self-absorbed or too drunk to notice that. 

You don’t mean to be bitter. You shouldn’t be. It isn’t their fault you’re so lame. That you’ve gone another year without a single thing to be proud of. Without any change. 

“Right, well, they look busy.” 

“Booooo,” Vivica hovers her glass in front of her mouth. “Who wants to break the ice?” 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Mila stands. 

“Wait.” You blurt out but she ignores you. 

Some birthday. You get to spend it awkwardly making small talk with another disinterested stranger. You try not to show your discomfort. You grab the skewer with gummy bears impaled on it and stir the vibrant red drink. You sip through the thin straw. It makes your cheek pinch painfully. The sugar will do worse to your stomach than the vodka. 

You keep your head down as Mila’s fluttery giggle wafts over. Vivica giggles as she watches and Jerrod cranes to see. You stare at the table and distance yourself from the moment, detaching from your body as the bar hazes around you. 

“Hey, you guys, come on,” Mila calls over, “lots of room.” 

Her waving hand brings you back to the present. Vivica nudges you with her elbow as Jerrod jumps up. He grabs Mila’s drink and you shuffle along behind them. The group of men sit at one of the tall tables. They rearrange themselves and you stand back as the others claim their seats. 

You climb up on the last, balancing your drink and the gift bag, unable to bring yourself to look at the men on either side of you. You fixate on your drink and taste it again, even as the sickly flavour curdles in your mouth. Your friends introduce themselves and you choke on your name before Mila says it for you. 

The men take their turns. Your eyes dart around evasively. A sweltering heat forms a sheen across your face. The one with the frosted tips and glasses is Jensen, the broader brunette in the button-up and blazer is Nick, the biggest with his bushy beard is Sy, and the last one, beside you, with the buzz cut, is Curtis. 

“Nice crown,” Jensen says. “Happy birthday.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you reach up and take of the tiara. “Thanks.” 

“You from here or visiting?” Jerrod asks the men. 

“We work at Stacks.” 

“Programmers?” Vivica snorts. “You might know my ex. Two of them actually.” 

They laugh. You don’t know what’s funny. This is weird. You hate that invisible barrier between you and them, that makes you feel like you’re on a completely different planet. You don’t get this part of the script. The prologue is as far as you ever get. 

“How old are you?” Curtis’ deep timbre startles you as it rolls beneath the chatter of the others. You shift in your seat and twist the glass around. 

“Thirty,” you pick up the Tiara, the 3 and 0 nearly hidden by the feathers. 

“Ah, the big one,” he comments. 

“Yeah, just another year,” you put the plastic crown down. 

“What do you do?” 

You sniff and tap your fingers on the cup. You lift it and drain the last of the fruity juice and stringent vodka. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“Do what?” He asks. 

“My friends are just being goofy. You don’t have to act like you’re into me.” 

“Well, I’m not much of an actor. Never was into theatre,” he says. “I wouldn’t know, would I? Just trying to get to know you, figure that out.” 

“Really,” you give him a sideways look. “Ah,” you hiss in false disappointment, “hate to break the seal but I gotta go the ladies. Excuse me.” 

“Right,” he accepts dully. “How about I get you a refill, for your birthday?” 

“You don’t have to but if you really want to, I could use a ginger ale. Thanks.” You accept as you climb off the stool. 

You cross the bar and stop just at the threshold of the hallway that reads Girls and Boys above. You glance back. Mila has her charming smile on, Vivica is leaning into Sy, and Jerrod and Nick are watching something on his phone. Why can’t you be normal, like them? 

You flinch as you catch Curtis’ eye. His eyes flick to you as he talks to the server. You quickly spin away. You’ll wait until the third round when they’re too tipsy to care. Then you’ll make your exit. 

🍹

The hotel clerk hands you the key card. You don’t make eye contact. If you do, she might see right through you. You shove it in your pocket before the tremour is noticeable. You hurry away to the elevator and tap the button three times. 

You’re not impatient because your eager. You just want to get this over with. Finally. It only took you thirty years. 

The doors open and you step in, relieved that no one else gets on with you. When you’re shut in, you shudder. You’re disgusted. With this. With yourself. But you’re tired. You just want to pull of the bandage. You want to know what all the fuss is about so you can say you’re not missing out on anything. 

Ever since your birthday, since that pathetic deja vu of going home alone, of your friends stealing the attention on what the claim was your night, you haven’t been able to stop those thought. You’re pathetic. A loser. No wonder it’s hasn’t happened yet. Who would want to touch you? They barely want to talk to you. They wouldn’t if you weren’t a leech on your friends’ ankles. 

The doors open and jar you. You stagger then march out. You slide the card out and check the room number again. Your hands shake so bad it takes you five tries to get the green light. 

Inside the room, the nausea swells in your stomach. Your teeth chatter. You go into the bathroom and put the bag on the counter. You dig out the anti-nausea medicine and read the insert; take one or two. Do not take with alcohol. 

You pop the pink pill in your mouth and swallow. You look at your reflection. You look as scared as you feel. No time to waste, you’ve done enough of that. 

You start with the shower. You wash every crook and crevice. You check your legs and under your arms. You only shaved yesterday night but you don’t need any pricklies. And your pelvis. You did a decent enough job trimming that down. 

You get out and moisturise. You don’t want to smell. For once in your life, you don’t want to feel repugnant. You’re not some romantic. You thought of buying lingerie but that only seemed sadder. So you put on a pair of grey jersey pajamas, just a tank top and shorts. 

You don’t want to look like this is a big deal. That you tried too hard. You do your hair and a little bit of makeup. Too much would just get messy anyway. Deodorant, perfume, and mouthwash. You’re as fresh as can be. 

And anxious! 

You take out the box of condoms. You don’t think the pills are working. You want to vomit, even though you haven’t eaten. You grab your phone and check the messages. Shoot, it’s a lot later than you thought. 

‘Cashapp?’ 

Fuck, you forgot. You quickly flip over to your menu and sign in. You send the money and your chest drops. This is it. That’s a hefty wad of cash. You hope it’s worth it. 

You reply to the text; ‘sent’ then the room number. There. Done deal. It’s going to happen. Then you can say, yeah, did it, no big deal. 

You go into the suite and put your phone on the night table. You sit on the bed for a whole second before you bounce off. No, you can’t stay there. No, no, no. You pace and wring your hands as you wait. 

The knock trips you up. You turn to stare at the door and like a horror movie, your eyes widen and your ears ring. He’s here. 

You near the door and stop to look through the key hole. There’s a trickle of relief. He looks like the pictures her sent. That’s good. 

You open the door a crack and look out. He looks annoyed as he checks his watch then tugs on the lapels of his jacket. It looks like a designer; the lining has little emblems on it. He says your name, “that’s you, right?” 

“Hugh? Right?” You blink and he nods as he cheek ticks, “er, come in.” 

You pull back the door and press yourself to the wall. He struts in and clicks his tongue in his cheek. He examines the room as he shrugs out of his jacket and slings it over the small bench against the wall. You close the door and he whistles. You face him as he tilts his head, looking you up and down. 

“Smells good in here,” he grins and smooths his tidy hair. 

Despite who and what he is, he’s handsome. Well, that probably helps. It’s why you paid half your savings for one night. You sway slightly then swallow down the despair. You’re doing it. You’re really going to do it. 

A fucking prostitute. That’s as good as you can do. 

“How about some music,” he approaches the speaker under the television, “think these things have bluetooth now.” 

“Sure,” you croak, watching him as you cross your arms. It’s not too late. No, you don’t think you’ll get a refund now. 

He takes out his phone and swipes around. He holds a button on the sound bar and it chimes. Soft R&B drawls from the speaker. You bite your thumb as you stare at him. 

“So...” he looks at you. 

You nod and clear your throat. You don’t know what to do. You don’t think the whole foreplay thing is going to happen. 

He drags his hands down his cream sweater. He doesn’t really dress like an escort. Or maybe you just put too much trust in movies. He lifts the hem as you stay as you are. Your feet are glued to the floor. 

He strips off the sweater and reveals a muscled torso and a thicket of dark hair across his chest. You don’t expect it as he sports a clean shave on his jaw. You clamp down on your arms as you keep them folded across your chest. 

“Like what you see?” He winks and bites his lips. 

He’s good. You almost believe him. If you weren’t missing a chunk from your bank account, you might. 

“Come on, baby, why don’t you get some wine going,” he purrs. 

A distraction. Thank god. You go to the bar fridge and take out one of the mini bottles of white wine. You peel off the foil over the cap but can’t break the seal. You struggle, trying to hide your effort, but sense him coming close. 

“I just need to find some glass,” you say. 

He chuckles and takes the bottle. His blue eyes devour you as he cracks the seal and flicks the cap away. He drinks directly from the bottle and smirks. 

“No need. Go on,” he offers it up. 

Your lips twitch and you take the bottle. You drink, nearly gagging. You swallow and hand it back. He swigs as he watches you. 

He is so good looking. You wonder how he even got into this. He’s built like a god. No, a gladiator. You’re such a frigging dweeb. 

“Hey, you don’t gotta be uptight,” he gives the wine back to you, “relax, enjoy the wine. You paid for the night. No hurry.” 

You nod and drink again. It goes down easier. You return the bottle to him and he strides to the bed. He sits and pats the other side of the mattress.  

“Come here, sweetheart.” 

You quiver and lock your arms straight. You are conscious of every single part of you as you near him. You sit stiffly and stare ahead. The music drones as he gulps again. He bends forward to set the empty bottle on the floor. 

You wince as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. He traces the strap of your tank top and pulls you against him. You shiver as he brushes up your neck. 

“This your first time?” 

You twitch then make yourself nod. You wait for him to laugh. He doesn’t. 

“Well, let’s go slow, then.” 

“No,” you erupt. “I mean--” you grip your knees and steady yourself. “I want to just do it. Get it over with.” You grit your teeth and force a breath out your nose. “There’s condoms in the bathroom.” 

Now he laughs. “Huh, you know what you want.” 

You don’t reply. You can’t. That was the last of your courage or whatever you want to call it. 

He goes into the bathroom and you list as he opens the box. He emerges and examines the square wrapper. It looks even smaller in his large hand. He rests his other on the top of his pants. 

“How do you want it?” He asks. 

You stare at him. How do you want it? You don’t know. You raise your brows helplessly. 

“Wanna get naked?” He suggests. 

You look at the bed. You blink long and hard. Your head feels fuzzy. Must be the wine. 

“Right,” he sighs and undoes his zipper. You peek up long enough to see the top of his boxers. You back away and crawl up the bed. 

You face away from him as you strip off your shirt, then your shorts. You jitter as you lay down flat like a plank. You stare at the ceiling as the wrapper crinkles. He groans as he comes closer to the bed. 

“I like these ones,” he puts a knee on the bed. 

Your breath is like thunder. You feel like your suffocating. He touches your leg and you squeak. 

“Gonna have to open up, baby,” he pets your knee. 

You let him drag your legs apart. You can’t do it yourself. You wipe your face with a shaky hand. 

“Don’t worry, I got you.” 

Your eyes snap to him as something clicks. He holds a small bottle with a black label. He squirts the clear oil onto his fingers then reaches between your legs. You return your gaze to the ceiling before he makes contact. 

He rubs the cool lube between your folds. Your thighs quake as he glides up and down. Over and over until the moisture is more than just from the bottle. 

He tickles your entrance and you tense. He rasps as he circles around, “relax.” He pokes a finger into you and you clench. He wiggles it and hushes you as you whimper. “Look, you’re not gonna like it if you don’t chill.” 

He sinks his finger further in then pulls it out again. You blow your breath out and suck it back in as he dips inside once more. You clasp the duvet beneath you as he fingers you rhythmically. Your pussy trembles around him. 

“That’s it, baby,” he pushes a second finger into you. “You wanna be ready, huh? I mean... it’s your first time, you gotta be ready.” 

The comment is like a slap across the face. Still, you can’t focus on his words. Your eyes feel fuzzy and your body is alight with a spectrum of tingles. 

He rocks his hand and you lift your pelvis slightly. He presses his thumb against your clit and you gasp. The mix of pressure and motion is intense. You’re not completely clueless. That toy your friends gave you isn’t the only one you have, you just never used one inside of you. 

You push your head down into the pillows and moan. He hums in approval and brushes his other hand up your stomach. He rolls his thumb around your nipple. 

“Yeah, like that, relax,” he pushes deeper and you whine, little pouts coming as you dig your heels into the mattress. “Oh, my god, baby, you’re going to cum, aren’t you?” 

You squeal as you spasm. It’s not your first orgasm but it’s the best one you’ve ever had. It’s wild how different it is with someone, anyone, else. You shake as your voice unfurl and your cunt squelches around his fingers. He cooes at you as he eases you through your climax. 

“Was that so bad?” He wiggles his fingers before he pulls them free. “Huh? Think you liked that.” He gets up on his knees and moves between your legs. He strokes his dick, swollen inside the rubber sheath. “Think you’ll like this a whole lot better.” 

You lift your head dozily and stare at him. He’s big. Long and thick. That dildo was probably smaller than him and you left it in the package. 

He moves closer and you let out a surprised chitter. He caresses your thigh and hushes you as he grips your hip. He pumps himself with his other hand and angles his tip along your lips. 

“You said you wanted to get it done,” he pushes his blunt tip along your entrance. “Don’t hold your breath, baby.” 

He pushes into you and you cry put. Oh. That’s not good. The blinding pain ripples through you. This is different too. Not like his fingers. He’s... 

“Too big,” you rasp. “Please-- ah, ah, ah.” 

“Come on, baby, you can take it,” he growls as he inches into you. “Once it’s in, it’ll feel better.” He impales you down to his base and snarls as he leans his head back. He rolls his shoulders and shudders. “Fuck, it’s been a while since I had a virgin cunt.” 

Flames of humiliation lick at you. This man who fucks for a living is taking your virginity like it’s a prize. Another deposit in the bank. Why did you do this? 

“Hugh,” you eke out his name and reach down, pressing your fingertips to his stomach. “I don’t want--” 

He thrusts and you shriek. Your lips form and O as your head falls back down. You whimper as your body shakes uncontrollably. Your fingers furl into fists and your toes curl. 

“Baby, you said you wanted this. You paid for it,” he grabs your wrists and moves your hands above your head, locking them there as he holds himself above you. “Ah, fuck.” He rams into you again and your tears spill over. “Ah, ah, ah,” he continues to thrust, “you are fucking tight. Ah.” 

He closes his eyes as his nostrils flair and he groans, “the way you’re squeezing me--” 

“Please,” you snivel and he snaps his pelvis into yours. You push your legs wider, trying to ease the pressure. “Ow. You’re hurt—ing me.” 

“Argh, yes, oh,” he ruts into you harder and harder. 

The springs of the bed bounce you against him as his pace turns furious. He puffs like an animal as his eyes blare down at you. You writhe and sob, your face wet with horror and humiliation. Your flesh claps together slickly as he raises himself only to drop down with all his weight. Again and again and again. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Baby, you hear that. Your first time and you got about to blow,” he sneers. “Tell me you want me to cum.” 

You gurgle helplessly and he slams into you, “tell me.” 

“Please--” You squeal. “Please just cum. Just...” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grunts as he batters you. 

“Please cum--” 

He bucks wildly and lets out a bellowing roar. He pushes his head up and drones through his climax as he fucks you into the bed. You close your eyes and turn your head away. He slows as your heart pounds in your temples and your skin scalds. What did you do? 

He lets go of your wrists and pulls out of you all at once. He leaves you splayed on the bed. His footfalls slap away to the bathroom and the faucet runs. You don’t dare move, hoping that if you don’t, this will all just turn out to be a nightmare. 

🛏️

You touch your wrist and rip your hand away as if you’ve been burned. The bruises are tender. All of you is, but especially... that part of you. 

You have a pillow under you as you sit on your couch. You can barely put your weight on your pelvis. Each time a pang strikes, you remember that horrible mistake. Now you can really say that it isn’t all it’s made out to be. It’s not worth it. 

You lean on the armrest and stare at the television. You don’t see the faces or hear the words. Like the rest of the world, it’s now a fog. Like that night. The box for the pills said not to mix with alcohol. 

You lean your head in your hand. You don’t want to think about it. That’s worse than what happened. The memory. That never ends. 

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it. Vivica called several times. Jerrod once, and all Mila sent was some Tiktok you don’t care about. 

The table continues to vibrate. It agitates you. You get up and stumble. You cup between your legs. You wear only a sleep shirt. You don’t want anything to chafe. You grab your phone and check the ID. Who the heck? 

You answer, “hello?” 

“Hi, is this...” the timbre asks. Do you know them. 

“Uh, yeah, is this the pharmacy?” 

There’s a silence, “uh, no, it’s Curtis.” 

“Curtis,” you repeat. 

“From the bar?” He says uncertainly. 

You already know that. You just don’t believe it. You frown. 

“How did you get my number?” 

“Your friend. Viv. Sorry, I... I guess I shoulda asked you but you left so early.” 

“Why?” You ask then cringe at your own stupidity. 

“Why... because... I want to ask you out. I’m not good at beating around the bush, you know, but you don’t really give a guy a chance.” 

“Asking me out?” 

“Trying.” 

You’re quiet again. It’s like sledge hammer shattering your reality. A couple days ago, you’d be giddy. Not it’s ironic. After what you did. Another laugh in the face. 

“So, did I... just embarrass myself here or...” he huffs. You feel bad. 

You never gave him a chance. You never gave yourself a chance. And now you spoiled it all. You can’t bring yourself to take out your self-hatred on him again. You can humour him for one date. Then you can say, at least, that you’ve done that too. 

“Um, alright,” you agree, wishing it was happier, wishing that it could be different. You’ll have to figure out how to let him down easy. Although Mila says ghosting is even easier. “Sure.” 

“Sure,” he echoes you. “Don’t sound so excited.” 

“Ha, sorry,” you turn and rub your neck. “Yes. Let me know what works for you.” 

“I can do that,” he sounds relieved. “I’ll text you in a minute.” 

“Alright,” you hold back a scoff. “Thanks for calling, Curtis.” 

“No, thank you.” 

He hangs up and you turn the phone to silent. Your eyes sting as you lay it face down on the table and walk away. Things could have been so much different if you weren’t so damn stupid. He’ll figure that out and maybe you won’t have to be the one to break it off. 

[thethronezone]

The primarch dad tread is a delight to read and I would like to had a milestone of my own :) How will the dad host / celebrate their child birthday? Thinking a birthday for then they turn 10 or so, but you decide. Just wanna hear how they would handel a birthday party.

Mortarion doesn't know how to do it. His adoptive father on Barbarus was cruel and Mortarion's own birthdays had been filled with mockery, faux affection and him being treated like a prized pet at best. But Mortarion is not him and despite how foreign it all is to him, he does his best to celebrate his child. It's a small celebration, just him and his kid. Mortarion takes them somewhere, a nice little area that's quiet and private, where there's some food and a few gifts waiting. It's a brief celebration, just a couple of hours, but his child looks happy, smiling at him as if he placed the stars in the sky.

When his child's tenth birthday approaches, Fulgrim feels the need to go all out, he has to show everyone in the galaxy just how special they are, how much he adores them. His intentions are pure but the end result are... a lot. There are a lot of guests, politicians, generals, anyone Fulgrim has deemed important enough to attend. His child doesn't even recognize a hundredth of them. There's a mountain of gifts but they hadn't wished for any of it. Such lavish meals, all their favorites, but it tastes like gruel to them. Fulgrim is so busy dazzling the guests he doesn't notice that, despite being surrounded by people, his child has never looked so lonely.

Angron never got to celebrate his birthday. As a slave, that was never really on the table and as a Primarch, he considered the practice useless drivel. But he's a father now and his kid... his kid deserves something nice. First, he makes sure they celebrate the day with their friends. He's not there personally, he knows he would just ruin it somehow, but the astartes later tell him it was a huge success, that his child had fun the whole time. Good. And when that is over, when the guests all leave, that's when Angron approaches them. He places a hand on their head, roughly ruffles their hair, before he drops a gift in their arms and leaves without looking back. He doesn't say why, doesn't even congratulate them, but they know. Angron just hopes that's enough.

Magnus loves watching his child grown up, it fills him with pride every time he sees them discover a new aspect of life and discover who they are as a person. For him, their birthday is an opportunity to celebrate all they have accomplished and everything that awaits for them in the future. And through the celebration, Magnus keeps an eye on his child, making sure they are having fun. Their friends are here, most of them from school, but there are plenty of other guests as well, people that Magnus wants to witness just how much his child has grown, how great they have become.

Most of Perturabo's memories regarding birthdays were negative. There were a few exceptions, like when him and his sister had snuck away from the main party to enjoy a piece of cake together, but overall the negative experiences overwhelmed the positive ones. So, Perturabo tries to make sure his child doesn't experience that. This is THEIR day, they need to feel special and appreciated. Sadly, Perturabo can't let go of his need for control and somewhere along the way, the celebration turns into a task. A duty he has to perform. He forgets to celebrate and in turn, his child ends up feeling like they have done something wrong, because why else would their father look so unhappy?

The way Alpharius and Omegon celebrate their child's birthdays have always been different. To them, it's not just a day of celebration, but to test and see how far their child have come compared to last year. This time, on their tenth birthday, it starts with them finding a coded message in their room, which they much decode to find the next clue, which they need to solve, find more clues and so on. The Alpha Legion Primarchs observe from a distance as their child make their way forward, feeling a great sense of pride over the fact that their child is so clever. Only by gathering all the clues will the child find the location to their birthday party. A reward for a job well done.

Before the feast prepared in their honor, Lorgar holds his own little celebration with his child, just the two of them. He's always been proud of them, always felt such joy watching them grow up, but now it almost feels like they are growing up too quickly. Lorgar is aware that his child does not belong solely to him, they are a part of something much grander, but just for a short moment, he wants to be selfish. He gives them a gift, one straight from the heart, and remind them that he will always love them, that he's so proud of them and that nor a single day passes where he does not thank the divine for gifting him the miracle that is them. Holding their hand, they both leave for the feast and the guests waiting for them.

Horus' child is his pride and joy and he loves showing them off. For their tenth birthday, he holds a grand party in the Imperial Palace, in one of the many ballrooms that's connected to one of the gardens. There are so many guests, including the Mournival, all of them here because Horus wants them to see his child. Truly see them. Make no mistake, they might be here, enjoying the food and wine, but this is all about his kid and Horus expects them to congratulate them at least once. He frequently checks up on his child throughout the party, making sure they are having fun and enjoying themself. Each time he sees them, he ends up with a beaming smile.

When Konrad celebrates his kid's birthday, it's a very small, quiet, private occasion. Just him, his kid and their pet rat who they had refused to celebrate without. He's got a cake, decorated with ten candles, and a couple of gifts. It's a very peaceful moment and as his kid blows out the candles on the cake, Konrad feels a rare sort of peace. He has foreseen his own death and knows that the time he has with his child is limited. Normally, this fills him with bitterness and resentment, sorrow and melancholy. But right now? With his child right in front of him, feeding cake to their pet rat, he feels none of that. No, Konrad only feels content.

Sanguinius does not want to turn his child's birthday into a public spectacle so he keeps the celebration more private, with the guests being family and close friends. There's soft, happy music playing, a table filled with delicious food and plenty of spots where guests can sit down and socialize. Sanguinius stays close to his child though. Not hovering, but close by. He treasures every smile, every laughter and sears it into his memory so he'll never forget them. Even as he remembers that the birthdays they have left to share are limited, Sanguinius never stops smiling. He can't, not on their birthday, not in front of his child who is unaware that there's something wrong. For now, he's happy to pretend.

In a way, Corvus feels like it isn't fair. His child is growing up too fast, how much longer until they are no longer just his? It's a bittersweet feeling, a mixture of pride and guilt, as he watches them celebrate their tenth birthday. A private occasion, not a lot of people, but they are all earnest in their congratulations. His child looks happy and when he hands them the gift he made for them, large cloak they will grow into as they get older, they hug him so tightly that it almost hurts. And Corvus hugs them back, wishing that for just a moment, he could stop time.

When it came to his child's birthdays, Ferrus have always requested the help of Fulgrim to arrange the celebration. Nothing big, or needlessly grand, but something. It always ends up being a smaller event, less celebratory and more congratulatory. Some food, gifts, a pat on the back and a half-smile. And Ferrus feels like a terrible father each time because while his child looks satisfied, they don't look happy. He wants them to smile, to laugh and feel like, for just a moment, they can be the child they are. Ferrus feels like he is stealing their childhood from them and that's something he can never give back.

Every year, Rogal does the same thing for his kid's birthday. There's a small ceremony, with only him, his child and a few Imperial Fists present, where he expresses his pride for them and reminds them of the importance of duty and honor. It's a very serious moment. This is then followed by a slightly larger, more public, celebration. Still not very big, not a lot of guests, but personal. Genuine. The guests are there because they want to be, because they care. Rogal stays close to his child's side during most of the event, a comforting hand on their shoulder, and a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

Vulkan holds a grand celebration, a great feast for his child on their tenth birthday. Of course the Salamanders partake, having been integral to his child's life from the start, along with various other acquaintances. There's a lot of guests but all of these people are friends, people who they know well and like having around. Plenty of children who run around, playing with his little one. Vulkan even loses track of his kid for a short while, but when he does find them, he hoists them up on his shoulders with a booming laugh. His child laughs back, arms raised in the air, and the guests cheer.

The celebration of Lion's child is a very formal event. There's no children running around playing, no birthday cakes or songs. It looks less like a birthday and more like a military awards ceremony. It's not about celebration but acknowledgement. Lion's child may still be just that, a child, but they are steadily growing up, and this is an important milestone. And if Lion's child is a boy, then there's a big chance that this is the day they truly begin their astartes training. After this, they become a space marine aspirant. In a way, this is their last day of childhood.

While Fulgrim's celebration is lavish, Leman's is LOUD. Jovial and full of life. The whole legion is celebrating the first decade of life in his lil pup's life. Leman carries his kid on his shoulder the entire day except for when it's time for the grand feast. That's when he places his kid on his throne, in front of all the Space Wolves who holler and cheer. And Leman cheers louder than everyone, a wide smile on his face and a look of sincere pride in his eyes. For the rest of the day, his kid is treated like a king, with the Space Wolves acting as their court, humoring their every whim.

Most people celebrate their child's birthday with parties and banquets. Jaghatai is not most people. Instead, he takes his kid on a trip. Just the two of them, traveling on his jetbike across the great planes of Chogoris. He shows them the hidden paths, the secret sighs, the best views, only stopping every so briefly to take in the scenery. For lunch, they eat a prepared meal on top of a rock formation and his kid kicks their legs as they listen to their father telling them an old story. For dinner, Jaghatai hunts, and this year, his child hunts with him. They cook their meal over open fire and at this point, the sun's set. Jaghatai points out the stars to his child, a tale for each of them and it's only when the sun has risen that they venture back home.

Roboute prepares for the birthday like he has all the previous ones but this time, as he goes through the celebration plans one last time, he's struck by a sudden sense of melancholy. Because was it not just yesterday that he held them for the first time? Has it been ten years already? And during the celebration, a fairly big banquet with lots of guests, he can't help the sad smile that escapes him when he looks at his child, surrounded by the friends they made all on their own. He knows that one day, he's got to let them go, set them free into the world. All he can do is treasure the time they have and promise to be there for them, no matter what.

[facefullofsadness]

now i need yandere!yunjin😞

OMLLLL 🫠 idk if u wanted me to write to this but I'm gonna! bayonetta yunjin as pics bc same-ish vibes!

also cw for non-con

AHAKDHKDJFKG YESSSSS!!! dyk how much I love a yandere concept... it's actually a little concerning but I digress! yandere!jen who's been your bestie for a while. she became friends with you solely to get closer to you, learn every little thing there is to know about you, know your exact routine, understand the relationship dynamics you have, and eliminate possible threats. simply put, she needs to know what to do to make sure you are hers.

you run into her room absolutely sobbing, collapsing into her arms as she asks what's wrong even though she already knew. your best friend had been brutally murdered last night and you were in total shock. she held you in her arms and comforted you as she felt you melt into the hug, seeking solace and warmth in her embrace. she comforts you with a sinister smile uncontrollably emerging on her lips, holding you tight as your face is buried in her chest, unbeknownst to you her creepy expression. she softly calls out comforting words to make sure you know you're not alone and that she'll always be there for you, that she'll do anything to make you feel better.

explaining that you might need time alone for a few months because of how heartbroken you were and her expression turning bitter, not appreciating or liking the idea of you being anywhere else other than with her. she tries talking you out of it, suggesting you stay with her instead, that there's a killer on the loose and you need protection, but you'd rather die to their hands than live with this pain of your friend dead. that sets her off, she's angry you don't wanna stay with her despite everything she's done for you, how nice of a friend she's being, it's so unfair of you to treat her this way after what she's done! you'd rather die than stay with her? then she'll be the one to do it... not until she's had her fill.

flipping you over and pinning you down, resisting because what the fuck is actually happening right now, panicking and fighting against her, thrashing around to get away from the aggressive yunjin with a fiery look in her eye, screaming horrifyingly as she has you completely overpowered, way stronger and more calculated as she manages to tie your limbs down and all apart from each other. you can't move and you're terrified as her eyes burn through your clothing and tears of sadness and grief turn to ones of fear and confusion, yunjin burning with desire as she watches your pretty face distraught and betrayed, blazing with emotion.

after everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me? if I can't have you, no one can... but this is just the start. her words send chills throughout your entire body as she absolutely ravishes you, a feral animal tearing open your clothes and consuming you whole. her possessive hands dragging all over your body, claiming each and every inch for herself, her mouth littering your frozen-in-place state, heating you up despite your mind screaming for her to stop. her hands are greedy, groping and digging her fingers into your skin, her mouth is desperate as her tongue leaves trails of wet desire across your heaving chest, your body covered in red marks, hickeys, and bites. you moan as her mouth trails lower, her fingers pushing forcefully into your wet virgin hole, screaming as she rips you open while wrapping her lips around your throbbing clit.

the pain and heartbreak makes you continue to sob, but the pleasurable heat emanating from your core is undeniable as your body ignites into seething lust, whole body ruined emotionally and physically as yunjin forces orgasm after orgasm from you, squirt and cum covering the insane maniac in between your legs. after everything she's done for you, the audacity for a stupid little girl like you not to fall in love with her gave her no other choice than to make you hers.

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - Jschlatt

Part 2

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

Part 1

Part 3

Schlatt remembers the day he met you like it was yesterday. He started at a middle school away from most of the friends he had in elementary school. This meant that he didn’t have any friends, but he did his best to not let it affect him. One day at lunch time, he sat by himself as he had for the past two weeks. Then out of nowhere, this kid came and sat by him. “Hi I’m (Y/N), you’re Jonathon right?” You had asked.

He just nods. He had seen you in class before. He was really curious as to why you were sitting by him while everyone else had left him alone.

“Cool. Nice shirt,” you tell him. He looks down at the Mario Kart shirt his mom had bought him from Target.

“Thanks,” he said. “Do you play?”

“Yeah, I play on the Wii and my DSi. I play as Peach. Not because she’s a girl, but because she’s cool. Also my little brother has taken over Yoshi.”

From that moment, you and Schlatt became best friends. You were even the one who came up with the nickname, Schlatt. His nicknames for you changed over the years but it ultimately landed on Bub/Bubba and Toots. The latter started as a joke but it stuck.

Schlatt has been with you for every phase of your teenage life: the one direction phase that he thinks never went away, your “emo” phase, your trying to fit in phase, and your party college phase. While many people found you to be completely ridiculous and sometimes over the top, Schlatt stuck by your side. He knew they didn’t get to see the real you. The one who likes playing video games and watching shitty musicals.

You were also with him through everything. You were there when he started making videos and you became his first subscriber. Neither of you imagined that he would blow up the way he did. When he started streaming on Twitch, the both of you knew something big was about to happen especially after SMPlive. He always talked to you first to flesh out ideas on the Dream SMP during his presidential reign.

Schlatt was always appreciative of how supportive you were with everything he did. He loved having someone who wasn’t attached to anything online. Someone who didn’t care how much money he made or how famous he got. Maybe that’s why he started developing feelings for you.

It wasn't always a thing. Perhaps the feelings were always there, but he hadn’t really noticed them until a few years ago. Back in High School, when you complained about being single, he had wondered why no one wanted to be with you. You were real, funny, and attractive. But he always made sure to assure you that everyone you went to school with sucked and were all fucking stupid anyways.

The feelings really started making themself evident when he moved to Austin. He had surrounded himself with just content creators and was working all the time. When he was extra stressed, Schlatt would call you on Discord. No matter what you were doing, you stopped everything to simply talk and play games with him.

“Don’t you have midterms?” he would ask while you created a house on Minecraft.

“Yeah, but they can wait. I feel confident that I’ll pass them. If I don’t, I’ll just sell pictures of my feet until I can afford to start again,” you tell him.

He smiles to himself. Something about how normal you are makes his heart skip a beat. You could have brought up the money he makes but no you resorted to talking about selling pictures of your feet. “Your feet are ugly. Don’t think they would make you much profit.”

Conversations like these made him realize that he had to leave the hell hole of Austin and move back to New York. Back to you. Now he felt happy again getting to spend as much time with you as possible.

His crush was so embarrassing that all his online friends know about you. They also make a point to bring it up when he’s not filming. “How’s your partner, Schlatt?” Astro asks, before they start filing for Sleep Deprived.

“They aren’t my partner,” Schlatt says.

“Not yet,” Mika adds.

Schlatt sighs. He knows you’ll never feel the same way about him that he feels for you. He’s not the Jonathan you want. He’s not Jonathan Groff or Jonathan Bailey. He’s just Schlatt, your best friend, nothing else.

Schlatt decides to ignore his feelings and just play Stardew Valley. While playing, he sees that you sent him a snap. It’s just a picture of you holding a Rammie plushie with the caption, “my new best friend because mine is busy working like a loser.”

He smiles like a loser at his phone and takes a screenshot. It takes everything in him to not tell you how cute you are. Instead he sends a photo of his forehead with a simple, “fuck you”.

Schlatt’s attention goes back to the screen. “Who the fuck stole my Persian Rugs?” he asks, when his character wakes up.

After a few hours of recording, he decides to call you on Discord. You answer quickly. “Sup Fucker?” You say over the call. “You done working?”

“Yeah I just finished filming for Sleep Deprived. What are you up to?” Schlatt asks, happy to hear your voice.

“Currently playing Balatro then I’m going to work on crocheting a blanket. I’m also watching New Girl.”

He admired how talented you were. Always working on something new. He loved how creative you were in everything you did. “What watch of New Girl is this now?”

“I think 6, maybe 7. I’ve lost count. With every watch, you can tell how obvious that Jess and Nick are end game. Nick is so in love and Jess is oblivious. It’s hilarious. How could anyone be that stupid?” You laugh.

Schlatt lets out a choked laugh. “Yeah it’s crazy.”

“If I were to fancast Chuckle Sandwich for New Girl. Tucker is Winston because duh, Charlie is Coach since he was there at the beginning and shows up every now and then, Ted is Schidmt, and you’re Nick.”

“Oh is that so? Who’s Jess then?”

“Obviously I’m not a part of the crew, but probably me since she’s my spirit animal,” you tell him.

“That’s interesting,” he says, wondering if you noticed what you said. It’s obvious you didn’t make a connection.

“Oh did you see that Grace is engaged and Molly is pregnant?” You change the subject, not even meaning to.

“No I didn’t. I don’t follow anyone from high school anymore and I couldn’t care less.”

“That’s fair, but how do these bitches find their soulmate and make babies? It’s so ugh!”

“They will probably get a divorce in three years and I doubt the guys they are with are much better than them,” he says. He wishes you wouldn’t worry about people that don’t matter to either of you.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Did I tell you about my new friend, Paige from work?”

“No I don’t think you did. What about her?” He is confused why you are bringing up some random girl. He really hopes she’s not a new crush of yours. He couldn’t handle you crushing on a person you know.

“I think you should get to know her. I think the two of you would really hit it off. She played softball and she is just overall cool. I can give you her number.”

It’s worse than he thought. You weren’t into her, you thought he would be. This was a recurring thing that Schlatt despised every time it happens. He doesn’t want to go on a date with some random girl. He wants you, but he can’t let you know that. “Maybe. I’m still not really wanting to date. I want to focus on my career and the new projects I’m working on,” Schlatt tells you. It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the complete truth either. If he was going on a date with you, it’d be a different story.

“Oh okay. I told her you were a busy guy. She just sounded like someone you’d be into.”

He can tell he made you slightly upset and that’s his least favorite thing to do. “Thank you for thinking of me, Bub,” he tells you. “What are your plans tonight?”

“I’m not sure yet. Just crafting probably. Did you have something in mind?” You ask.

He didn’t have any plans, but he wanted to spend time with you. Being away from you, made him want to hang out with you as much as possible. Even if it was as simple as watching a movie or playing with the cats. He sometimes imagines the two of you living together. Getting to spend as much time as possible doing the most mundane things would make him so happy.

“I can order some sushi and we can do that coloring thing you told me about,” he says, hoping you’d be down to come over.

“Sure. When should I come by? Do I need to bring my pajamas?” You ask.

“Uh sure if you want to stay over. We both know you’ll be in leggings or shorts though, so you might not need them.”

“Good point. If anything I’ll steal some of your clothes,” you tell him, nonchalantly.

Schlatt feels a lump in his throat thinking of how big his clothes would be on you. You’d probably suffocate in them, but he’s sure you’d look damn cute. “Yeah, sure,” He stammers out. “I’m done working so come by whenever.”

“Alright see you soon.” You hang up before he can say anything else.

Schlatt starts feeling giddy like a little girl waiting for your arrival. He starts picking up what he can. He checks himself out in the mirror, fluffing up his hair a bit. He applies a little bit of cologne. When he goes back to the living room, he sees Jambo judging him. “I’m a fucking disaster. Aren’t I?”

Jambo just meows in agreement. Schlatt sighs, he wonders how long he can unrequitely love you. He’s sure it’s going to kill him before he confesses. He knows that it will be best to just wallow in his self pity instead of fucking up your friendship.

A doorbell ringing interrupts him. He trips on his way to opening the door. When he opens it, he expects to see your pretty face, but that’s not who’s on the other side. “Surprise,” Ted says on the other side of the door.

Schlatt just stares at him in disbelief. He sees you walk behind them. “Am I interrupting something?” You ask.

“The infamous (Y/N), I’ve heard so much about you!”

Schlatt knew in that moment that he was royally fucked.

A/N: another late night post! But I can’t stop writing. I’m going to be so sad next week when I have to go back to work. Reader is general neutral, but I may add some fem! stuff. Also the ending just popped in my brain last minute! Hope you all enjoy!! Thanks for reading!!

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

141 Headcanons - The Five Love Languages

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon has been so severely abused for so much of his life that any form of love is just shocking and hard to accept for a long, long time

It takes a lot of time for him to let anyone love him at all. A LOT of time.

Touch would have to be his number one, though. He mostly hates to be touched by people, but once he has a taste of gentle touches, he can’t get enough

For the longest time, the only touch he got was being beaten, shoved, pulled, and manhandled. Enter his military career. Now, any intent to touch is intent to harm

Enter you. Whether it be brushing a hand across his shoulders as you pass, nudging him when something is funny, squeezing his hands or shoulders in reassurance, wrapping yourself in his arms, or wrapping him in yours, your touches have only ever sought to bring comfort to one or both of you

It goes both ways. Once upon a time, his hands were only for hurting other people. But now that he’s been shown physical love, it’s his favorite way to show love, too

Anytime he can, he wants to be touching you, he’ll put his hand on your back, his arm around your shoulders, or his personal favorite: have you curled up in his lap

Just the fact that you WANT to be close to him makes him feel safe and wanted and loved

He even finds himself reaching out to Johnny on occasion now, though he’ll never admit it

It still takes trust and a LOT of time for him to actually let someone close enough to touch him, though 

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny values quality time above all else, though touch is a close, close second

Like Simon, he doesn’t let people too close. He banters and blusters, but few ever make it into the circle he would call his actual “friends”

When he meets you, being around you becomes as important as breathing. Wherever you are is where he wants to be. Whatever you’re doing is what he wants to do

Ghost teases him that he’s like a puppy (he’s not wrong)

You need help moving furniture? He’s there. If something happened? He’s the one you call, and he’s on the phone or on his way until he knows you’re okay. Shopping? Or better yet, cooking? He’ll read the cookbook to you

Speaking of cooking, dinner dates are his forte. He loves taking you somewhere nice to show you that you’re worth his time and money (and to hold your hand). But mostly, he just wants to listen to you and talk with you

Every dinner, while he’s home, is an at-the-table affair so you can both share what’s going on in your lives

And after every dinner is cuddling until bed, unless other activities take priority *wink wink*

You planning time together and asking him about missions makes him feel like the luckiest man alive, because it shows him that you're just as interested in him as he is in you

And of course it doesn’t hurt when you can’t take your hands off him. That’s quality time on a whole new level

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle, soft-spoken man that he is, responds the best to words of affirmation

He’s confident enough, but there’s something about being told when he’s doing things right that really sets his mind and heart at ease

Whether it be on mission or at home, he likes to know he’s not off-base when he thinks he’s done things right

Part of why he and Price are so close is that Price always lets him know how he’s doing

Nothing boosts his confidence like you appreciating him vocally, whether it be for helping you cook or clean or doing the grocery shopping

Obviously, there’s one area of home life that vocal praise means even more

One of his favorite things is coming home to you to hear “I missed you” and “I’m so glad you came back to me”

“I love you” undoes him every time, and it’s his favorite thing to say to you. It isn’t said lightly

He loves with words of affirmation, too

“This meal is delicious” and “thank you for doing my laundry” and “I’m so grateful to have you in my life” are common phrases in your home

John Price

John is old-fashioned. Acts of service are his favorite way to be loved, and gift-giving is his favorite way to give love

With his team, he always makes sure they have the things they need to be comfortable on mission (tea to calm Ghost’s, earplugs so Gaz can sleep, puzzles or some such to occupy Soap’s idle hands)

With you? Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s? You’ll be getting flowers on every one

You’ll probably get flowers just sending him to the grocery store, too

When he travels, he picks up various little things for you he thinks you’ll like

When you need something done, he does it

He does whatever his team needs, too. On or off mission

When you get gifts for him, he doesn’t much care what they are. It’s the thought that counts

He still uses the wallet you got him when you started dating all those years ago

He feels the most loved and cared for when he comes home after a mission to a hot meal, his favorite sweats laid out, and a nice back rub from you

[radicalrascals]

Nick's smiling brightly, wrestling with his tobacco pouch a little while trying to roll himself a smoke on the way out. "You weren't here, Tishoca," he reminds her with a chuckle, lighting his rollie the secend they're finally outside, "I would've told you. You know, asking for care instructions and all that. We really only met because you two ran away to a whole different country."

He leans against the facade and lets the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling slowly, almost resembling a sigh. "Yup, met the kids. Briefly, that is. But I think Aanya really fell in love with Spellbound." Which still makes him feel strangely proud. "Meeting the parents always makes me nervous though. Lucky you you're probably spared meeting Renato. Not that... He doesn't speak English. Makes things complicated."

Dating only three people though? Nick giggled like a school girl, though as he turns around to catch a glimpse of the cryptid, he immediately chokes on his laughter finding Hari about to leave and his brother in an all too familiar pose; leaning back in his chair, head slightly cocked, eyes narrowed and eerily calm. "Pelo amor de Deus...!"

"That tells me everything I need to know," Rafael retorts, something inherently provocative about his calmness, a misplaced trait usually reserved for those who deserve it. People who no doubt had even worse threats for him. He's heard it all. But points for creativity and the courage to risk a serious criminal charge without an army of lawyers. He might've respected that, if Hari hadn't just failed the last test he's had for him.

"How you're so quick on defending the honour of a woman I couldn't care less about, but feel no indignation towards the implication of breaking my brother's heart. Now I know where your priorities lie."

"Rafa! Que porra é isso?! O que você disse?"

"Você deve procurar alguém que a valorize e a trate com respeito. Não ele."

"Wow... we're gone for five seconds and you both manage to fuck this up this badly. Yes, both of you!" He took a deep drag, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. "You're our older brothers? Really? Because right now you act like bratty children who don't want to share their sand moulds. We don't need your approval. We're grown ups. The only reason we tell you is because you're an important part of our life and we want to share this with you. Don't ruin it!"

"Nico..."

"I'm not done yet. You're gonna aplogise." Rafael huffs and gives Nick an aww, come on, man! look. But Nick's the immovable object to his brother's unstoppable force. "I'm waiting. Or do you want to ruin Christmas for both Tisha and myself."

"I'm sorry I've ruined your day, Nico."

"Not to me. Nice try though."

Rafael clenches his jaw. Every fibre in his being wants to protest, but he can also see the hurt behind Nick's eyes and he knows how close he is to crying. He doesn't even want to imagine how pissed off Tisha is at him right now.

"Desculpa. I'm sorry I dragged your ex-wife into this." Nick made a gesture to keep going, and very begrudgingly Rafael did: "That wasn't fair. I'm still not convinced you appreciate my brother as much as he deserves. But Nico's right. That's none of my business. Never has been. I shouldn't tell you how to love. If you're happy together that's... it's great actually. Keep making my brother happy and never stop. Then we won't have a problem. We don't need to be friends, but I would be okay with a truce."

Tisha barely pauses to light her cigarette before squeezing Nick’s arm, giddy laughter spilling out of her. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this! I mean, I can, because I didn’t tell you, but holy shit! You and Hari?” She takes a drag, but the smoke spills back out with her next laughing fit. “Have you met the kids yet? Oh my God, have you met my parents? Is Christmas going to be the first time? They’re going to love you, don’t even worry about it - you’re like, my mom’s dream.” Well, the werewolf thing isn’t part of the dream, but they don’t need to know that, and she doesn’t need to bring it up, not when everything is starting to go okay. “Sorry, I’m kind of excited. Hari would be super mad at me for saying this, but he’s dated like, three people his entire life, and… I think you’ll be good for him.”

Hari huffs out a soft laugh, turning the pictures over in his hand. “These your kids? Strong genes.” He passes the picture back, and a shadow crosses his face for just a moment. “You know, Rafael… most people would probably say that the friendship Victoria and I have maintained after our divorce is a good thing. I don’t think you understand what it says about you that you don’t.” His voice is just a touch too calm, just a bit too low, and he pours himself another shot.

“It makes you sound like a man who doesn’t see value in someone after your romantic relationship with them ends. I understand being protective. I really do. Ask Tisha about it sometime. Ask her what it was like when she was little. I understand wanting the best for your brother, and being really cautious about who comes into his life. But you have no right to imply what you just implied. And if you ever speak about the mother of my children again in a way that even slightly suggests she would stoop to infidelity, I will not need to lean on words like unspeakable. I can speak it. I won twenty seven of my career fights via knockout. I will punch you in the mouth so fucking hard they’ll still be finding teeth on the day you’re embalmed.” Hari throws back his shot and then stands, setting the glass down firmly. “I hope you grow up before then. Enjoy your night.”

[sweetpaintedladie]

my friend whose in college came to visit me while he’s on thanksgiving break and he found me a copy of playback by tom petty and the heartbreakers on vhs and i literally cannot comprehend how sweet that was 😭<3 it’s in such perfect condition too

[scissorcraft]

i really want to make isat friends…

[monstermoviedean]

if you have a good vibe/kind thought to spare and could send it my way. i'd really appreciate it.

[lemongogo]

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[indigopoptart]

man i love the people im surrounded with. how did this happen. youre all so lovely😭

[sleepyagent]

I want someone to love me quietly and loudly at the same time because Im an idiot

[elegyofthemoon]

In the cool, plush core of the moon sleeps a mouse as we speak, dreaming of a world lush and green, then golden and undulating, then chopping and churning, a world of many surfaces with skies of many moods.

When it awakes, it will poke its tiny head out of a crater and bask in your glow as it does every morning. Here, all is still and silent. On that sparkling planet in the deep black distance, the sun seems capricious. But the mouse lives in the abyss of the body and therefore with a unique perspective on its essence. The mouse sees what other life does not see.

One needn't worry about unbecoming for the sake of containing a sun. Clouds may blanket the atmosphere of a planet, but still there burns a sun. The spots on the sun's surface may grow and shrink and shift, but still there it burns. And if one decides to cool it down like a waning flame or expand it in a cataclysmic supernova, still there it burns, and one has the right to revoke the state of their existence and become new.

Because perhaps the truth is you are not the sun--not alone--but it is rather a part of you. Your body is the solar system, each planet a world within the body, and each knows this glow in different ways. Some are nurtured by its warmth, others by its distance. Regardless of the sun's changes, they stay the course encircling it.

The universe cannot be held back, harnessed, fully comprehended. It pulls at the seams of solar systems as it pulls on its own seams. In that unstoppable shifting, we stumble. Sometimes it feels like our love and light slips from our fingers, shattering irrevocably in our falls. But what makes us cannot be seperated from us, even in times where our essence is obscured.

There is always another life to appreciate your life, no matter what happens. And in the least, there is always a little mouse in you that understands you in telescopic clarity and offers forgiveness for every change--no matter what, right into the end of time.

❤

[sunni-stuff]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.