#or i can say to him ''i'm gonna lose it!'' in a half joking tone and he immediately knows exactly what kind of assistance i need

[borgeslabyrinth]

My thing is on really bad work days, writing upset texts to my direct manager about something that happens when he's not there. Not wanting to bother him on his day off, so scheduling the text for the next time he works. Sometimes scheduling multiple texts if I'm really upset. And then getting off shift and deleting them. Microdosing on complaining.

[starlightvld]

Up in Smoke

(Also on AO3)

The first time Ghost rips the cigarette from Soap's mouth, drops it on the ground, and stomps on it as he passes by, Soap is too stunned to say anything for a full ten seconds. They've only been working together consistently for a couple of missions, and even as his superior officer, the audacity of the action floors him.

By the time his brain restarts, Ghost is long gone.

--

The second time Ghost steals Soap's cigarette, he bursts out in a string of Scottish curses and tackles Ghost from behind before the wanker can drop it on the ground. An impromptu sparring match ensues, fists and curses flying. 

Afterward, he doesn't feel much like a cigarette anymore — not with the split lip, anyway. Besides, the buzzing under his skin that usually drives him to smoke is just... gone.

Price catches wind of the incident, of course, and calls them into his office a few hours later. By that time Soap has calmed down enough to be... maybe not okay with it, but at least able to see the humor. 

"What's this about you muppets scuffling by the smoking area?"

"Just a little sparring to blow off steam," Soap says.

"Ghost?"

"Nothin' to worry about, Captain."

"No? I've got one soldier who looks like he just got back from a bar fight, and the other..." He squints at Ghost. "He get a hit in on you, too?"

"Yeah," Ghost replies in that deadpan tone of his. "Coupla black eyes."

It's a joke. 

Ghost is telling a joke. And it's objectively not funny. It's not. But Soap bursts into hysterical laughter all the same. 

The corners of Ghost's blacked-out eyes crinkle. 

Price rubs his temples before dropping his hand on his desk. Soap presses his lips together to contain his laughter.

"Sparring happens in the gym. I'm sure you know the place. It's where we have things like mats and gloves. I catch you two bare-knuckle fighting again, and you will regret it."

And it's enough to sober Soap up. He avoids Ghost as he ducks away to catch dinner.

--

The third time... well, no. He supposes that's really the fourth time. 

Because the actual third time, Soap had come back from a shit mission where everything went wrong. Intel was faulty, exfil was delayed, and people under his command died. It didn't happen as often in SAS as it had in the regulars — the soldiers here were well-trained and hard to kill — but that made it all the worse. 

When Ghost tried to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, Soap growled. 

"Back the fuck up, Lt. Or Price is gonna be disappointed in both of us."

Ghost paused, and their eyes met. Slowly, Ghost lowered his hand. 

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no."

"Thank God."

Soap didn't have it in him to even huff a laugh. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Ghost as a peace offering.

To his surprise, Ghost didn't leave. He spun around and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood there together, utterly silent, as Soap let the heat and sting in his lungs soothe the beast inside that wanted to rip the world apart.

When he was done, though, he was surprised to find he didn't want another. Usually after shit missions, he'd stand there and smoke half a pack before his hands would stop shaking.

He finally met Ghost's eyes. The man quirked a barely visible brow.

"S'pose we should take it to the mats this time?"

Ghost pushed off the building and started walking. Soap followed like a lost child looking for a way home. 

--

The fourth time is in Chicago. His hands are shaking not from losing soldiers but from almost losing his own life. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he stands outside the bar, the biting wind turning his fingers and probably his lips blue. He lifts it to his mouth, inhaling deep—

And then it's gone.

The whine that bubbles up from his gut and bursts from his throat is nothing short of humiliating. But God. God. He needs it.

"Not now. Please, Ghost."

"Why?"

Ghost hasn't thrown the cigarette down. Yet. He cocks his head to the side and gives Soap a long look. Soap can only tremble from the cold and a need that goes deeper than a simple hit of nicotine.

"I just... I need it."

The cigarette drops to the ground, but Soap doesn't have time to lament the loss before that same hand is curling around Soap's neck and pulling him into a fucking massive chest. The other arm comes around Soap's shoulders and...

Ghost just stands there, holding him. And Soap can't help melting into the warmth and solidity of the man who saved his life just hours ago. He dares to curl in deeper. To raise his hands and clutch at Ghost's jacket. To let a few, silent tears escape his tight control.

Finally, his muscles relax. Ghost must feel it, because he turns and leads Soap back toward the bar.

"Why do ye even care?" Soap mumbles from his spot tucked into Ghost's side.

"Because those things'll kill ya."

Soap supposes the "I like you alive" is implied at this point.

--

Soap loses count after Chicago. He gets stretches of days when Ghost is on a solo op or out with one of the other operators when he can smoke in peace. So he does.

At first.

He's been hooked since he was a rebellious teen trying to make his mark on the world. He's tried to quit multiple times, but it never seems to stick. The first bad mission or adrenaline-filled near miss and he's back at whatever smoking spot he can find, puffing away.

He finds himself trying to cut back, though, even when Ghost is away.

Any time Ghost is on base, all bets are off. In addition to darting by and making a grab for it or sneaking up behind him and flicking it out of his hands, Ghost has gotten more creative. Sometimes Soap will pull out a cigarette only to find he's "lost" his lighter. Sometimes the cigarettes themselves go missing — he clutches his chest and mourns all that wasted money whenever a whole pack disappears. 

He supposes it's all just going up in smoke anyway, though.

He should be angry. But in truth, it's almost a relief to hand over the reins to Ghost. To let the man help him by annoying the shit out of him until he wants to give up on it entirely.

Which is definitely the point. Ghost has made that perfectly clear.

So, whenever he gets the urge to calm his racing thoughts or overactive mind with a cigarette, he finds Ghost and annoys him instead. They talk, or spar, or simply sit in silence together, doing their own thing. Ghost doesn't often touch him — their moment in Chicago is still the closest Soap's ever gotten to the elusive Ghost — but he also doesn't push Soap away when he slumps into Ghost's side after a hard day or leans over his back when he's sitting at the table in the 141's common area on base.

The urge doesn't go away, of course. And sometimes, when things get really bad, Ghost will just sit or stand with him like he did the third time. Still, he finds himself smoking less and hanging out with Ghost more.

--

The last time Ghost steals a cigarette from Soap, he simply stands beside Soap and holds out his hand. Soap immediately knows something has gone terribly wrong. Still, he's too invested in the game now to not hand the cigarette over.

He nearly keels over when Ghost pulls up his mask and takes a long, hard drag. Soap watches in fascination as his cheeks hollow, his neck muscles strain, his lips curve around the paper. It's erotic in a way he really shouldn't be thinking about in regards to his emotionally unavailable superior officer, but the knowledge hasn't stopped him yet. Since that day in Chicago — probably before if he's honest — he's only ever wanted to be closer.

Ghost coughs a little and hands the cigarette back.

"Fuck. Just as disgusting as I remember."

"Ye used to smoke, then?"

"Before I joined up, yeah. Hated it, though."

"The smell? Or—"

"Everything. The taste, the smell, the heat..." Ghost trails off, his hand rubbing over his bicep in a strangely specific way. He shakes his head and looks back at Soap. "Not your problem, Johnny. Forget about it."

Soap's hand is darting out, fingers curling into Ghost's jacket, before he's properly thought through the action. Ghost pauses before turning back. They stare in silence for a moment until—

Soap stubs out the half-burned cigarette and drops the butt in the trash. He licks his lips. Glances up at Ghost. The mask is still sitting on his nose, and Soap stares at his lips for longer than he should before pulling the pack out of his pocket and throwing it in the trash, too.

"Cannae have ye thinking I stink, can I?"

"Too late."

But Ghost's throat bobs with a hard swallow. Soap wets his lips, takes a step closer, and uncurls his fingers to slide his hand up Ghost's chest until his fingertips are resting on Ghost's shirt collar.

"I dinnae think it is."

Ghost turns and walks away. Soap closes his eyes and drops his hand, internally cursing his impulsive behavior. The scuffing of boots walking away from him is like nails on a chalk board.

Until they stop, and a gruff voice calls out, "You comin'?"

A slow smile slides across Soap's mouth. "No' yet."

A huff — exasperation? laughter? a bit of both? — before, "Better get movin' then."

And Soap has never been more glad to follow an order.

[blackmoonowl]

Prompt 8 with MacCready

"I miss moments like this more than anything."

Robert Joseph MacCready x reader

Just fluffy lazy morning stuff. A little short because my college started again today and I am already ready for next summer break.

Warning for some big sad.

MacCready's calloused fingers carded through your hair.

The mercenary were just getting used to the sunlight shining through the broken window in the early morning, warming his face. His lips were pressed against your temple, his eyes closed. A soft grunt escaped him as he felt you shift against him. His hand slid down to your side, pressing you closer against his own body.

"Relax, we got time," he grumbled as he held you closer to his side. "We've been on the road for ages." MacCready admired the way your soft skin felt under his rough, calloused palms.

"Not going out for a job?" you teased, patting his stomach which earned a grunt from him. "Where are you gonna get your beloved caps from, then?" MacCready rolled his eyes a bit as he gently smacked your hip.

"Shut up," the mercenary grumbled, burying his face against the side of your face. A snicker left your lips as you placed your arm lazily over his torso. "I can think of somethin' other than caps as well." You felt his lips curl up against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin. "Like the absolute knock-out laying next to me."

"God, could you be any more cheesy?" You let out a half embarrassed laugh, causing his grin to only grow wider.

"What can I say? I'm a charmer." MacCready boasted, his hand caressing your side. "It got you to date me, that should count for something, right?"

"You know, we have to get up eventually," you replied, rubbing at a filthy spot on his skin with your thumb.

"The world won't end if we take a few extra hours off," MacCready insisted, shifting onto his side. His arm went around your waist to pull your chest against his.

"I'm pretty sure we're already there," you solemnly joked, causing him to sigh.

"Way to kill the mood." His eyes trailed over your body and the old sheets loosely tangled around you both. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this relaxed. It reminded him of better days, his eyes flashing with brief sadness as he let a silence fall over the two of you before he spoke in a softer tone.

"I miss moments like this more than anything."

Your gaze turned more sympathetic as you noticed the shift in tone from your lover. One of your hands went to cup his cheek, coaxing him to meet your eyes.

"Laying like this... not a care in the world," he murmured as his thumb stroked your bare hip. There was something behind his gaze, a world of hurt finally coming through as he felt at ease. "I missed it."

"Is everything okay?" Your question caused his expression to become even more sad. His grip on you tightened, as if he were trying to pull you even closer, even with the two of you already closely pressed against each other.

"I just.. I never expected I could have something like this again, I really don't deserve you," his eyes refused to meet yours, looking everywhere but you. "I don't know if it's just your bad decision making or if I'm just lucky, but I'm glad you're here. It feels like everything is going well for me again." MacCready finally gathered himself enough to glance at you.

"I don't think I could handle losing you as well," he softly admitted, his voice cracking.

"How long has this been on your mind?" You questioned, your hand coming to stroke his hair.

"A while, I already failed her, what if I fail you as well?" The mercenary fought back tear as you rubbed his neck, pulling him into a hug.

"You didn't fail anyone, and I'm still here, I always will be," you assured him, causing him to let out a deep, shaky breath.

"Thanks... that means a lot.." he trailed off, closing his eyes again. "Can.. can we stay like this a bit longer? I'm not ready to go out yet."

A small smile played on your lips as you pressed them against his forehead.

"Of course."

[talaok]

Chapter two: Light

Pairing: No-outbreak!Joel x married!reader

Series summary: You moved to Austin Texas with your husband due to his job, but your already troubled marriage is about to get more complicated when the contractor remodeling your home, Joel Miller, will enter both of your lives.

Chapter summary: You meet your new contractor for the first time, and he's not how you had expected

Previous chapter | next chapter

It was only the second day of waking up in this house, but you were already more used to the routine.

Alarm, shower, breakfast, a kiss, a goodbye.

Easy, it was easy.

Today was the kitchen. All the boxes were piled on the white wall next to the entrance. They seemed so many you actually wondered for a moment how you were gonna manage that, but a part of you was actually grateful you had something to do to keep your mind occupied, from what you didn't know, but still.

Before starting to do that, however, you had a more important thing to get to.

"Hi" 

You laughed "Why are you whispering?"

"My boss is in today"

"so?"

"so he can't see that I'm on the phone during company time"

You snorted

"Yeah you laugh, but if he catches me and fires me, you're the one who's gonna have to take me into your home"

"that wouldn't be so bad actually"

"yeah, actually you're right" Claire sighed, "wait a second, I'll just put you on speakerphone so he can hear you"

"perfect" 

You both laughed

"So?" she asked after a moment

"so what?"

"how's it going there? How's Texas, tell me everything!"

A strange smile pulled at your lips "There's really not much to say. It's hotter than hell here, the house is huge, and it's gonna take me an eternity to unpack everything" you summed up

"Richard isn't helping you? What am I saying, of course he isn't"

"He has to work Claire"

"oh right, Richard and his work... wouldn't want to get between that marriage"

"Claire-" you rolled your eyes "let's not do this right now, ok? I want to know about you, about what I missed"

"about me? Well..."

"oh no I know that tone please tell me it's not what I think it is"

"I can lie if you want"

"oh my god, Claire!" you half shouted in the empty kitchen "I'm gone two days and you already go back to him!?"

"calm down alright, it was just a one-time thing, it was late at night and I had just finished watching How to Lose a Guy in ten days, and you know what Matthew McConaughey does to me..."

"ok, gross" You stopped her before she could get any further "Why? Why him, why Dylan, you could do so much better than him"

She huffed, "I know I know, it's the last time I promise"

"you promised the same thing last time too" you reminded her

"I know, but this time I mean it"

"you better," you threatened 

There was a brief pause as you heard her move, probably to get further from her boss.

"God I miss you already y/n, I don't know how I'll survive without you"

"I miss you too" you smiled "But it's not like I'm dead, we can still talk on the phone, and I'll come visit you as soon as I can"

"You promise?" you could feel the pout on her lips

"I promise you and hey if-"

The ding of your doorbell caught you off guard

"what?" Claire asked

"Oh shit, I forgot the contractor was coming" you realized, after your mind finally decided to unblank itself

"See, you're already too busy for me"

"shut up" you laughed "I'll call you back when he leaves. love you"

"fine" she sighed "I love you too"

"bye"

As soon as you hung up and placed your phone on the counter, the doorbell rang once more.

One minute, God! 

You rushed to the front door, not even asking who it was before opening it.

"Sorry for the wait, I was just- I was in the middle of something" you mumbled quickly

"It seems like I always manage to catch you at the wrong time ma'am" The man before you joked as your eyes finally settled on him.

Oh, 

For some reason, from your brief talk on the phone, you had pictured a 50-something-year-old with gray hair and a beer belly, definitely, definitely not this.

He looked as if the world broad had come to life. He was tall, and the navy-blue shirt hugging his body highlighted his muscles, muscles one builds from hours of manual labor, not at the gym.

His nut-brown hair was what one could describe as an organized mess, like he forgot to brush them this morning but tried to fix them with his fingers as he was making his way here.

His eyes were big, gentle, a pool of hazel one could find themself drowning in easily enough, you included.

And his lips- his lips had twitched into a smile that was more of a grin, as he- oh god- as he watched you study every inch of him.

"Sorry!" you said a bit too loudly "I wasn't checking you out I just- I had pictured you differently" you spat out, immidately regretting it.

Why the fuck did you just say that?

His chest rumbled as he chuckled " Differently how?"

"oh my god," you couldn't help but laugh through the embarrassment "Please forget I ever said anything, could- could we start all over again?"

"gladly" he nodded

"ok, thank you" You took a quick breath of relief and held your hand out to him "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm y/n"

"pleasure 's all mine" he shook your hand as you finally noticed the sweet drawl of his accent "I'm Joel"

"good" you smiled "and before I forget, please don't call me ma'am ever again Joel, it makes me feel like I've aged twenty years in 20 seconds" 

Again, a soft laugh fled his throat "Will do" he nodded obediently.

"ok, then please" You fully opened the door to him "Come on in"

He wiped his shoes on the doormat before obliging, and you closed the door behind him.

"You have a nice house ma'a-" he cleared his throat "y/n, you have a very nice house"

you stifled a laugh at his clear struggle "Thank you. We've only arrived the day before yesterday, so it's still pretty empty"

You explained as you walked towards the staircase.

"Certainly not of books" he stopped in the middle of the living room, "wow" he exhaled "I take it you and your husband read a lot?"

The smile that rose on your lips was more of a reflex, not a voluntary decision.

"Some are his" you said "but they're mostly my doing"

He glanced at you as if you'd just confessed to being a witch before looking back at the wooden shelves filling the entire wall across from the tv, only stopping to make space for the couch.

"well I'll be damned" he chuckled

"I take it you don't read a lot?" you smiled

"I think the last time I read something my daughter was 8 and wanted to hear a bedtime story"

You couldn't hide your stupor "You have a daughter?"

"oh-yeah," he said, finally tearing his gaze off the wall and back to you "Sarah, that's her name"

"It's a pretty name" You nodded, the upward curve of your lips lingering

"Thank you, you should tell her that" he laughed "She's always complaining about how "basic" it is"

"Well she's not exactly wrong," You said before you could stop yourself 

"oh no, not you too, please" he ran a hand through his hair as if exasperated, and you chuckled.

"I'm sorry" You shook your head, amusement still tracing your words "If I ever meet her, I'll be sure to tell her the opposite"

"yes, please" he joked "You'd make my life a hell of a lot easier"

"consider it done then" 

Beat.

Silence fell for a moment, but neither of you ceased looking at the other.

"well" you clapped your hands together "The room I talked to you on the phone about is upstairs"

"right" he cleared his throat "lead the way"

__  __  __

"Can I offer you anything while... you do your thing?"

He smiled "I'm ok, thank you"

"You sure? Not even water? It's like a million degrees out" you continued, as he grabbed something from his tool belt

"Actually you're right, water sounds good"

"great" you beamed "I'll be right back"

It took you a moment to find your feet and will them to move.

You didn't know what was happening.

Maybe you hadn't talked to another human being outside of your bubble for so long that you just weren't used to it anymore, or maybe you had just started to lose your fucking mind, because as you walked downstairs and into the kitchen a weird, weird feeling consumed your entire being.

And what made it weirder was that it wasn't a bad feeling... no, it was like going on a carousel for the first time, like riding a bike without anybody's help and feeling the wind through your hair... you felt light, lighter than a feather. And all of it because you had a conversation with your contractor.

Either you were pathetic or crazy, but something definitely wasn't right.

"here" you hended Joel the glass

"thank you" he nodded politely, before drinking it in one go.

You snorted "I guess the weather still affects you even if you've lived here your whole life"

"It sure does, I never got used to it" he shook his head, "it's a miracle I'm still alive really"

You chuckled

"Where are you from? If you don't mind me asking"

"oh" you breathed "New York"

A sly grin tugged at his lips "The big apple... isn't summer there hot as hell too?"

"yeah, but not like this" you gestured vaguely into the air "This is torture"

He laughed "I'd like to say you're wrong but I kinda agree," he said "So what brings you here to this torture chamber?"

"My husband's work. He had to transfer here"

"ah..." he hummed "Of course"

He watched you for a moment, and you felt weirdly self-conscious

"that mustn't been easy... leaving your life like that"

he took you by surprise

"I-"

"Shit, sorry if I made you unco-"

"no,no" you cut him off, biting down a smile as you noticed the worry on his face.

God, he's so...

 "It's totally ok" you paused "and you're right, it wasn't easy, it- it still isn't really... but it just was the sort of thing where I had to, y'know?"

"right" he nodded "And how are you liking it here?"

"It's nice, Austin is a beautiful city"

"it is"

"And you know... I'm gonna sound stupid, but I'm nervous about meeting new people, and making new friends- it's just- it's been so long that I'm afraid I don't even remember how"

He raised an eyebrow as if he didn't believe you, as if you'd just told a joke.

"you?"

"yeah me"

"I don't think you need to worry 'bout that, you..." he paused, as if just remembering where he was and what he was doing "Well for starters, you've already met me, and I like you so..."

If you could, you would have smacked the blush creeping up your cheeks right off.

"Well, I'm flattered" You tried to play it cool, pretending you hadn't suddenly turned 13 all over again.

"Yeah, I think you'll do just fine" he smiled, and that's when you noticed for the first time just how beautiful of a smile he had, so reassuring, so kind, so... light.

This man's wife is a really lucky woman, You found yourself thinking before you could stop yourself.

You bit down what you were sure was gonna be a grin from ear to ear.

"well I'm done here" he looked around the room one final time

"oh, already?"

"I wish I could spend more time here too, you're much more pleasant than most of my clients, but unfortunately, today I just really needed to have a look around"

"right," you nodded "So when can you start?"

"umh" he scratched the back of his neck as he thought, "I think next Monday we should be ready"

__  __  __

"thank you for everything," you said, as you opened the door

"I didn't really do much" he grinned

You shrugged "Yeah, but you were nice to talk to"

"Well for what it's worth, you too y/n"

Your name sounded awfully good on his tongue.

You smiled as he walked out.

"See you Monday, then"

"Umh, wait-"

"yes?" you frowned, watching something like conflict transpire behind his eyes

"This is my number... You can call me if you-" he stopped a moment to clear his throat "if you need anything"

"oh- I already saved the one you called me with yesterday"

"That" he scratched his beard, "That was my work number, this is my private one, I don't always answer on the other one"

"oh" you breathed once again "Oh well, thank you" you smiled, taking the card he was holding out and watching as something that looked like worry melted right off his face.

"no problem" he looked at you one more time "See you Monday then"

"bye"

For some reason, even as you closed the door behind you, the smile on your lips didn't seem to want to go away.

What was happening to you?

…

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[recreationalfanfics]

Hello! :D

You know I've read too much Yandere content when I don't even blink at Yandere!Connor kidnapping his beloved. I just think to myself, "What a nice man."

Thanks for the headcanons! Do you have any ideas for Yandere!Jacob?

GJWJFJWJD, TRUE, YAN! CONNOR WAS HARD TO RIGHT BC HE'S GENUINELY THE MOST KINDEST ASSASSIN. But HELL YEAH, I DO. I MAY BE NATIVE BUT I AM NOT IMMUNE TO JACOB FRYE.

- I HAVE CALLED HIM DELULU AS A YANDERE BEFORE but like, he obviously doesn't start out like that. I think his obsession starts with you and how you seem to be the only pure thing in this corrupt city. Yeah, you may curse a lot even if it isn't "proper" and you aren't afraid to snap at people and call them out on your rotten behavior. AND JACOB EATS IT UP EVERYTIME.

- No because I can imagine you befriending Evie first and whenever you visit her when she's with the rooks, some drunk guy hits on her and Jacob is gonna step in BUT YOU ABSOLUTELY RIP HIM A NEW ONE. YOUR WORDS ARE SO BRUTAL THAT EVERYONE IN THE BAR IS CRACKING UP OR BEING ALL: "Stop! STOP! HE'S ALREADY DEAD!" and the man will lash out and that's when Jacob steps in.

- EITHER WAY, HE PUTS YOU ON A PEDASTAL. He loves hearing you talk, he constantly asks Evie about you, and whenever she walks in; he excitedly pops his head out to see if you're behind her. He becomes visibly dissapointed when you aren't and asks Evie why she didn't invite you. HE ALSO DEF TRIES TO MAKE YOU FEEL AS WELCOMED AS POSSIBLE AT THE ROOK HANG OUTS, aka, HE WANTS YOU TO COME BACK TO HIM.

- If you do, his attention is solely focused on you. He'll talk to you, joke around with you, but he also knows he runs out of time with your attention sadly so he hates it when something or someone takes it, HE ALSO HATES IT WHEN HE HAS TO GIVE HIS ATTENTION TO OTHER THINGS. One of his Rooks are trying to talk to him and its like:

"Jacob! JACOB, We have to tell you something!"

Jacob, very coldly:"I'm sure it can wait."

You: "It sounds important, Jacob."

Jacob, very warmly: "I'm sure its fine, luv!"

- He starts making "jokes" about how he's gonna be your husband and at first you find them funny but then you become increasingly concerned that he's staring to believe it because of the way he gets protective when another man talks to you, the way he feels entitled to drop by your home whenever you want, but when you decide to have romantic interest in someone else; he LOSES IT.

- Like if you tell him you have a crush on a guy, he just stands up and looks at you and is all: "What about me!?" and yoy have too look at him and say: "What about you? Jacob, we're not even dating!" and he tries to insist otherwise (despite the fact he never asked that question, nevermind the fact that you never even ANSWERED IT) and eventually you just tell him to leave you alone.

- This where Evie comes in clutch. Regardless if she's a platonic yandere for you and thinks you're safe with Jacob or if she's a familial yandere and wants to make Jacob happy; when you talk to her about Jacob, she'll trash him a bit with you but then start making you feel guilty, telling you things about Jacob that make you feel for him, only to remind you about all of his good qualities. She is so good at talking to you that you do end up forgiving him.

- HOWEVER even if he tries to tone down his behavior, it doesn't change the fact that he will most definetly still think of you as the love of his life, THE OTHER HALF OF HIS HEART. You just mean so much to him♡

- So he'll still try and woo you the old fashioned way and staying in your good graces but if you remain too stubborn or too resistant to his affection then he will kidnap you. He would hate to do it because he doesn't want to force you to see that you love him but he will if you keep trying to stay in denial for too long.

- Totally the type to break into your house when you're not there too, btw. Not to mention that he also really likes to steal small things you wouldn't notice are gone right away and keep them in his pocket, either as a lucky charm or such.

[deathonthe]

ferrari parked outside | 1633

pairing: charles/max

rating: explicit

word count: ~5000

tags: established relationship, slightly non-linear narrative, under-negotiated kink, somnophilia, riding

summary:

Max is an embarrassing amount of gin and tonics into the night when Lando shouts very loudly into his ear. “Does Charles pay for everything for you?” “What?” Max shouts back. “I mean like– Seems like he’s always paying for you, mate,” Lando says. Holds both hands up in the air and dubiously glances to the side. “Not that I’m judging or anything.” “He doesn’t pay for everything,” Max lamely insists.

director's cut:

the following are my notes and thoughts during the writing of this fic. they should in no way influence the way you've interpreted it! but feel free to read it to gain some extra insight into my pea-sized brain

ok. one thing u should know about me is that i will constantly push the max verstappen babygirl agenda no matter what. sugar baby max is pretty adjacent to that

i spent an awful about of time deciding the opening scene, between first scene (B) and the following directly after (A), idk how many times i swapped the two. i was afraid if i started off with B, it would kinda give a tacky record scratch effect when u reach A. but starting with A made the progression into B seem unnatural and too abrupt so. in the end i went with B, then A because the fic gradually loses its seriousness and matches the kinda light humour it progresses into

the line "I want chocolates and those bread rolls they bake fresh." took me a god awful amount of time to write. at first i wanted max to specify a monte carlo cafe to make it seem more genuine but all the reviews for cafes in monaco were in french! which i suppose i should've expected. in the end i went with that even though i'm not completely happy with it

another thing u should know about it is that i care about character voice and characterisation above all else. i try my best to emulate how these people sound. i always sift through so much interview material while writing a fic to try and get the drivers' voice tones and linguistic quirks and body language as accurately and naturally as possible. and too be honest, i don't think i did that very well in this fic. i think i could have imitated it better

a little bit of french, of course. they live in monaco, charles speaks french. max doesn't speak enough, so not quite as much french as other fics (for example, for esteban and lance, i would generally write about half of their dialogue in french if they were only speaking to each other in a scene. it feels more authentic as esteban and lance communicate in french when they are talking to each other in real life)

i designated charles three terms of endearment: baby, cheri and mon cher

nothing made me happier than when it became canon that max calls charles 'charlie' in real life, because i was gonna scrap it from the fic because i thought it sounded ooc

to be clear, i never intended to give charles a daddy kink in this fic. you can assume he doesn't have one. neither does max

the running joke is that this is actually a proposal fic and not a sugar baby one

in the lando scene, when max cuts him off before he can finish his sentence, lando is about to say: "and charles also paid for martjin to dj at this red bull party for u." i wasn't sure if the implication was very strong, though

in actuality, max cuts off lando with a "fuck off" and lando says later "why the fuck would i be, charles isn't my fucking boyfriend" but i thought that was too many fucks and ended up taking all but one of them out

i know charles doesn't drive a red laferrari

the other running joke in this fic is obviously charles is not ever watching the whale documentary seriously. he was instead always thinking or focused on something else in his head

the ice cream scene came to me in a fever dream

charles can't actually procure the cheesecake factory, he's about $125 million in net worth. the cheesecake factory is over $1 billion

i am not a fan (i.e., i am actually just a hater) of when max is depicted like an aggressive, overly possessive, hyper-masculine suave, dom caricature from an e l james erotica novel and when charles is just delegated the softer, more feminine counterpart automatically. so. u see me subverting that expectation a lot

i had a lot of fun writing victoria's part where she cooks both charles and max within 100 words

did you know this fic is exactly 14 pages on google docs? i thought that was pretty cool

if i had to sum up this fic in three words: chekov's schrodinger's proposal

thanks for staying 'til the end!

[bangtan-in-black]

Fruits of my labour // chapter 3

“Eomma, you're squeezing too tight.” Douhyun moans, trying to release himself desperately from his mothers grasp.

“I am sorry baby but eomma needs to protect you.” You can't help yourself but to squeeze him tighter.

“It’s too tight, just a little looser please” Douhyun asks.

“Ok baby, I am sorry.” you let him go slightly but keep him close to you.

“Can you please be quiet? I'm trying to sleep.” Yerum moans grumpily.

“Do you miss him hyung?” Douhyun whispers, looking at his brother's back moving along with his breathing.

“Of course I do. Douhyun, what kind of question is that?” Yerums breathing speeds up. His tone shakes slightly. You could tell he was close to crying.

“We all do baby, that's why you're sleeping in eomma’s bed tonight, so you don't feel so alone.” You don't want to tell him the real reason why you're keeping him so close, that what happened to his brother could happen to him. You needed to keep your boys close to you, you werent gonna lose them as well.

You weren't going to sleep anyway, how could anyone sleep in the situation you were currently in?

“Taehyung, I see you’ve brought a guest. How’re you doing, little guy?” The man asks, smiling at the shy child who grabs his fathers coat and hides behind his back.

“Hyungsik, this is Hoseok, Hoseok is daddy’s husband. You know what that is?” Taehyung peeks at the little boy who looks up back at his father and nods.

“You know Jimin and Yoongi are not going to be happy about this don’t you?” Hoseok glances up at Tae before turning his attention back to Hyungsik who was still hiding behind the comfort of his father.

“To be honest, Hyung, that is the least of my worries, I need to get my little man to sleep. We've had quite the day haven't we son?”

“I had so much fun appa! I loved it so much.”

“I'll talk to Yoongi and Jimin in a bit, just let me put my son down for the night.” Taehyung practically pleads with his husband.

“Very well, but please don't let it be known that I knew about this. You know what it's like when those two get angry.” Hoseok jokes earning a light chuckle from Taehyung.

“You'll be in the room though, nevermind this little guy it's nearly Jinnie’s bedtime, you know the rules.”

“Once Jinnie is tired we are all tired.” The two men synchronise, ending their conversation with a peck on the lips, Taehyung and Hyungsik head off to put Hyungsik to bed.

“Appa?” Hyungsik’s small voice calls from under the sheets.

“What is it, my son?” Taehyung, who was just about to leave before his son called out for him, sat next to Hyungsik on the massive king sized bed.

“I really enjoyed today but shouldn't I be going home? Eomma will miss me otherwise.”

Taehyung nods thoughtfully at his son, Hyungsiks words pulling on his heart strings, but he can't bring himself to tell his son the truth, that his eomma couldn't look after him like his appa could. Taehyung had more money, and more time to make sure his son had everything he needed.

So he lied.

“Actually baby, eomma said you should stay with me for awhile, how does that sound?” Taehyung questions while stroking his son's hair.

“It sounds good appa,” Hyungsik says, yawning half way through his sentence.

“You get some rest my son, I promise there's another fun day ahead tomorrow.”

Just as Taehyung got up to leave, Hyungsik asked him another question.

“What about my hyungs? Why aren't they here spending time with us as well?”

Taehyung could have sworn he heard his heart shatter into 3 million pieces.

“Well son, if your brothers were here with us as well, eomma would be lonely right?” Taehyung treads carefully, he was unsure if what he was saying was the right thing to ease the little boy's curiosity.

“Yeah, you're right appa, goodnight appa. I love you”

And just like that, the 3 million pieces of his heart were back together again and Taehyung felt like he was walking on clouds.

Never before had he felt this type of euphoria. It came close when he married the loves of his life but not quite, this was stronger. The happiest he's ever been, he's sure of it.

“I love you too son, sleep tight. What would you like for breakfast in the morning?” Taehyung catches himself asking.

Hyungsik was half asleep, Taehyung wanted to laugh. If he didn't have the DNA results he would've thought he'd picked up Yoongi hyungs kid by mistake.

Taehyung turns to leave but before he does he hears a gentle “Bacon n’ eggs please appa.”

But even with his half asleep quiet voice,Taehyung heard. “Ok son, i'll ask Seokjin to make it the best ever for you.”

Taehyung didn't get a response after that.

He smiled at his son one last time before quietly shutting his door and heading to the top floor of the manor where his and his husbands bedroom was.

“Ahh there he is,” His oldest Hyung sighs in relief whilst checking his watch. “What took you so long? And where were you all day?” If Taehyung didn't know any better he'd say his older husband looked annoyed, but Taehyung did know better. Seokjin was teasing him. He loved to do that to all of them and none of them have ever complained. They love him too much to complain.

But nevertheless he was going to answer Seokjin’s question, it actually gave him a perfect opening. God, he loved his hyung so much.

“Haha very funny,” Taehyung played along, admittedly quite nervous for the reactions of the men in the room, but it was now or never.

“I was spending the day with Hyungsik.” Taehyung responds, waiting for a response from the room.

“Who's Hyungsik again? Is he that really hot bodyguard that keeps checking you out because I swear to god if it's him Kim Taehyung you're going to have a man's blood on your hands.” Jungkook seethed,

“Are you jealous Jungkookie?” Seokjin teases, the oldest teasing the youngest.

“No it's he who needs to be jealous after all, Taehyung is ours. Not some greasy ex trash man.”

“Anyways, would you like to continue Taehyung.” Namjoon says, putting down his book to glance at Taehyung. Once glance and Namjoon knew there was more.

“Hyungsik is my son.”

The room stared at him in silence for a few moments and then both Jimin and Yooongi started shouting at Taehyung.

“What do you mean you were spending time with your son!?” - Jimin

“We had a plan, remember Taehyung?!” - Yoongi

The two continue to yell for a few more seconds before Namjoon shushes them.

“You two need to calm down, although I agree with their sentiment. You knew this was important to them, Taehyung. Why would you go without them?”

Taehyung sighs before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I'm really sorry and I know it was selfish but I couldn't stand the thought of my son out there without me being in his life. I am willing to do anything to make it up to you, I'll even sleep in the guest room and I'll rewrite the whole plan. But please, know that I am sorry but I did what needed to be done. You should've seen the state of the woman he was left with while his mother went out for ice cream. Your boys are safe for now I promise and they'll be safe until we go to collect them.”

“When will we collect them?” Hoseok asks

“Tonight.” says Jin, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

“Yoongi, Jimin, you'll meet your sons tonight.”

[watchoutforthefanfics]

achievement unlocked 🔓 (part fifteen) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: cursing, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: I listened exclusively to BIRDS OF A FEATHER writing this. So, you know it's gonna be good. Short but incredibly sweet, next one will be long to make up for it. Enjoy :))]]

Richie was fidgeting -fingers tapping along the wheel. He was pretty sure if he was driving a car, he'd be tapping his foot like a fucking mad man -shaking shit, probably.

Why, you may ask? Because Richie had 2 hours. He was on the 6th day, and he was 2 hours away from Eddie Kaspbrak. 2 hours, 2 fucking hours. From Eddie, his Eddie. Eds-

"Richie?" Bev's voice rattled through the radio, "-Did I lose you?"

Richie blinked -solidly once, "Sorry, it's just. Um, two hours, and then... and then, fucking Eddie. I get Eddie."

"Trashmouth Tozier speechless," Bev laughed, "-never thought I'd see the day."

"I just-" Richie motioned wildly (Bev could not see it), "-Eddie, its fucking Eddie. He's been so far away and now he's... Now he's 2 hours away. That's so-"

"Unbelievable, intangible," Bev listed, laughing still (maybe a little excited herself), "-Take your pick."

"Like, fuck," Richie laughed, "-Eddie's right there. Eddie's there, I'm gonna fucking see him with my own two eyes. And he's gonna... I can... Fuck, dude."

Everything was starting to fade into city, and Richie felt nerves and just fucking... elation crawl under his skin. God, seriously? Eddie? He was getting fucking Eddie? Eddie was coming back with him-

"I'm so fucking happy for you, Rich," Bev spoke, smiling (Richie could somehow hear it) and something in her tone scratchy, "-So fucking happy, you deserve this. You really fucking do."

"Are you crying, Red?"

"Yeah, of course, you're getting Eddie," Bev laughed -wetly, "-Both of you are gonna be so happy, and I love both of you and... Shit, Richie, you're gonna have Eddie."

"I'm gonna have Eddie," Richie repeated, laughing and crying a little bit, heart skipping a beat, "-God, Marsh, I'm gonna have Eddie."

"Fuck yeah, you are," she echoed, laughing but most definitely still teary.

"Fuck yeah, I am," Richie repeated -smiling big and bright.

Bev stayed on for a little longer, but pretty soon after (probably an hour and a half). The call switched over, naturally.

"Can you see the buildings yet?" Eddie asked, genuinely.

Richie could, in fact, they were a little in the distance but he could still see them. And fucking Eddie was in one of them, Eddie. His Eddie. His Eds. God. Richie thought his hands might've been shaking against the wheel.

"Yep," Richie popped the 'p', less quippy for understandable reasons, "-shiny metal on the horizon, Eds."

Eddie seemed fidgety too, words a little smiley (twinkly, if Richie had to truly describe it), "You have my apartment building in your GPS, right?"

"Just like you said," Richie confirmed.

"There's a parking garage nearby," Eddie quickly added, "-The prices are fucking insane by the hour, but it's close. So, you can... You can park there, if you don't mind a walk-"

"Eddie baby, I just made a 43-hour, six-day trip for you," Richie laughed, "-I can handle walking a few blocks."

"Fuck me for being considerate," Eddie snapped back, but in an antsy kind of way (Richie knew all the Eddie-isms, what can he say?), "-I'm fucking locking you out."

"Jokes on you, Eds," Richie pointed out, "-I'll sleep in the hallway. And I know you'll have to leave at some point so-"

"Ew, no," Eddie interrupted, nose shriveled up, "-the floors are fucking disgusting. You can't do that."

"Well," Richie laughed, "-what do you want me to do? Drive all the way back to sleep at my apartment? 43 hours straight-"

"Shut up, asshole," Eddie chimed back, laughing, "-and fucking get here."

And then, he was in the city. Big tall buildings stretching through his eyesight, yellow taxis peeking through the traffic, Richie felt for a second like he was in a movie. Why had he never been here?

It was like California in some ways, and entirely different in others.

The traffic was slow enough that his eyes shot along the crowds shoved along the sidewalk, different shopping bags in the crook of their arms. Hotdog vendors, food stands, cafés, all pushed together like someone had done it with their hands. Richie may have a tourist mindset, but he honestly thought it was all pretty sick. A weird new vibe that Richie believed wouldn't be great for long periods of time, but great for maybe a few days.

"Where are you?" Eddie asked, almost giddily.

"Fuck if I know, Eds," Richie smiled, peeking at his phone, "-GPS says like 5 minutes."

"That's definitely not including shitty traffic," Eddie remarked, "-What do you see? Maybe I can gauge where you are."

"Um," Richie tapped along his steering wheel, "-I see... Shit, there's so much, Eds, how do I pick?"

"You're so fucking useless sometimes," Eddie muttered out, "-just follow the GPS. When you see the building, there's like a red one and then the parking garage. So, just go there."

"Okay," Richie took a deep breath, eyes lingering on everything as the traffic crawled -he wasn't even hitting 5 mph at the moment, "-okay. Building, red, parking garage. Got it."

The minutes felt excruciating. Neither Eddie nor Richie saying a word, the silence sparkling with just anxious energy. If he wasn't driving, he'd probably shake his hands out a few times.

"Your destination is on your left."

Richie's eyes shot to the left and landed on a shorter-than-expected building -assumedly made of old brick. There was a little graffiti on the side, colorful but that's all he could really see. Quickly, he moved to look beside it, eyeing the small red building (maybe a clothing store? He couldn't tell.), and then a little bit forward, a parking garage, the parking garage.

"I've got eyes on the parking garage, Spaghetti. Over," Richie spoke, interrupting the silence -talking like he was speaking through a walkie-talkie.

"Shit, okay," Eddie seemed to scamper to his feet, "-just go park, and um, fuck. Remember my room number, 302. And oh! Bring your shit in, we're staying here at least a night."

"302," Richie repeated, and took the turn off into the parking garage, "-okay. And by my shit, you mean my singular bag, yeah?"

"If that's what you packed, idiot," Eddie laughed a little.

"Yeah, yeah," Richie dismissed, paying and then pulling into the next available spot -which ended up being on the 3rd floor.

He let out a breath, shaking his hands once.

"Do you wanna stay on the phone, or...?"

Eddie answered, "No, I think... You need to focus on getting here. And I don't want you to drop your phone because people are assholes and will shove into you-"

"Okay, Eddie baby, relax," Richie laughed, pulling his bag up on his shoulder, "-I'm gonna be fine."

"Yeah," Eddie let out a breath, "-Okay, well, see you in a few minutes."

Richie grinned, heart flipping in his chest, "See you in a few minutes, Eds."

"Fuck, okay, yeah," Eddie scrambled for a second, before saying -abruptly, "-Bye."

And then, he heard the dial tone.

Richie laughed a little, shoving his phone into his pocket and pulling himself out of the car. After locking it, three times (Eddie had emphasized that), he wandered out onto the pavement. Decidedly, he took the stairs. And okay, maybe he was running a little. So what? No one could see him. Plus, there was a line for the elevator. And Richie wasn't waiting one more fucking second-

Finally, he was on the streets of New York City.

Richie blinked, watching people scattered around the sidewalk. Some stopped, impolitely, some moving so fast he wondered if they might be late to something. Some dressed to the nines in what Richie didn't think he could ever pull off, and others just in the typical business wear. It was a little overwhelming, honestly, and he kinda missed his car.

Eddie, his mind chimed, you're going to Eddie.

Richie steeled, and made his way onto the sidewalk. He noticed immediately that no one really looked at him, which was a little refreshing but also kind of not. He didn't have the time to think about it. Horns echoing in the back of his head, his eyes hooked on the red building. Curiously, he peeked into the windows and saw big lettering along the window: 'Annie's Antiques'. It was more rundown than he'd seen before, on the street, but it strangely kind of suited it.

And then, there it was. Eddie's apartment building. Eddie was in there. Eddie Kaspbrak. His boyfriend, who he loved. God, Eddie was in there, waiting-

Richie walked quicker, even passing by some people (passing fucking New Yorkers? Jesus, he was desperate), and slipped through the doors.

The place wasn't crazy cheap with like shitty, peeling wallpaper or stained carpet. It was pretty normal for an apartment building, Richie had definitely stayed in something like this before. That is to say, his apartment was better. He had a pretty good apartment though, so, that didn't say much-

"Can I help you, sir?"

His eyes snapped to a woman at the front desk, a long one with old, wooden sort of charm. Or maybe it was just old.

"Uh, no, I'm just-" Richie bounced on his toes, "-I'm visiting someone."

"And you know their room number?" She asked, in that fake sort of polite way (otherwise, she looked like she really didn't want to be there).

"Yes, yeah," Richie cleared his throat, "-I just need to know where the elevator is-"

"It's out of order," she interrupted pointedly, and motioning toward a door, "-but the stairs are to the left."

"Oh, okay, thanks," Richie finished, awkwardly. And tried his best not to run to the door, he may have speedwalked though.

Noting somewhere in his head that she had not said 'you're welcome', Richie pushed open the door into a stairwell. A less clean one than his own (he noted to not touch the railing at all), but other than that, very similar. He stared at the steps for a second, they almost seemed a little looming. Dim lights didn't help how it looked either. Richie took a big breath, and pulled himself up the first step.

"302," he muttered, counting the flights in his head, "-302."

Pushing open the door, to what he assumed to be the third floor, he was met with an average hallway. Some packages in front of doors, some rugs, nothing was personalized other than that, though.

He gnawed at his lips and moved his head to the left -301. He moved his head to the right -302. His heart was beating so loud that he heard it in his ears -heavy and quick.

Richie swallowed and took measured steps to the door. Until he was right in front of it. Wood staring right back at him.

He could feel anxiety prickle along his arms and took a few deep breaths. Fuck. Richie tugged once at his curls.

Okay, Tozier, you got this.

Trying to keep his voice steady, he raised his hand -knocking and saying cheerfully (which he did not have to fake), "Special delivery!"

Before Richie could even stress about this being the wrong door, he heard footsteps scamper across the floor. Laughing a little, he heard the click of a few locks -done so quickly that he barely heard it at all. After that, the door was snapped open with a ferocity that would surely slam against the wall if you didn't-

Richie's mind went blank.

Eddie.

He was standing right in front of him. Wearing that blue shirt that he'd asked his opinion on (For me?) and jeans that he rolled up at the ankles. And his hair was the kind of messy that Richie had told him he liked once. And those big ass brown eyes were staring at him, expressive doe-eyes looking straight into his soul. And his faded freckles across the bridge of his nose were clear as day, no blurry phone screen. Fuck, he was even more beautiful in person-

"I love you."

Eddie's voice came out breathless, like it took all of his might (or maybe like he felt it with every fiber of his being), and there was no digital crinkle. It was just his voice -straight to his ears. Richie felt his heart leap into his throat.

Right there, right in front of me, Eddie's right there-

Richie felt so much that he wasn't even sure how to start. Instead, he just moved on instinct -red splotchy patches moving up his collarbone.

He smiled, gentle and soft, "I love you too, Eds."

Richie watched as he flickered through a few different emotions, eyebrows pulling and mouth both flattening and quirking up. It felt like he was looking at a painting in a fucking museum and kept learning new meanings... or, or seeing new metaphors. There was just so much, laid out in front of him, and brewing in his fingertips. God, he felt like he might fucking faint-

"You're such a..." Eddie huffed out, cheeks puffed up -pink smoothing up his face. His brain seeming to work on what to say.

Richie opened his mouth to say something-

Eddie raised his hand, and tugged at his collar -bringing him (and his bag) stumbling into the doorway. He was barely a breath away from him, big brown eyes locked onto him.

Richie's eyes grew wide, mouth snapping shut.

He could feel his face get hotter -eyes darting between Eddie's. Eddie seemed a little shocked too, but after a few moments, his face screwed up into a flustered frown (one Richie recognized easily). It made his heart flutter, Eddie right in front of me-

"Fuck it," Eddie grumbled out, low and in between the two of them. Richie blinked.

Before he could do much else, Eddie's hands were on his face (all soft and warm fingertips), snapping their lips together.

It only took a second for Richie realize what was happening, the way that Eddie was pushing himself as physically close to him as possible, the way his hands definitely itched to lace themselves into his hair, the way Eddie was fucking kissing him-

Richie moved on autopilot, awkward hands at his sides smoothing over to around Eddie's waist. And then, Eddie relaxed, hands pushing forward around his neck and, as expected, into his hair. He felt goosebumps along his skin, erupting across every inch, because god, he was fucking kissing Eddie. Richie had the stray thought that he tasted like mint, the mouthwash kind. And he liked it, somehow, because it was just so... Eddie. So, so Eddie. It made something in his blood burn because it was Eddie. He was kissing Eddie. God.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, kissing, over and over and over again. Some surface level, some not. Richie pulling him as close as possible, and Eddie reciprocating by doing the very same. Everything just slotted together perfectly, fuck Eddie was right there. Eddie.

Richie grinned against his lips, laughing a little -so fucking elated he felt like he might just start floating. Eddie's lips quirked up too, making the kiss all teeth, but Richie couldn't give less of a fuck. Eddie's laugh filled his head, and he took it as a motion to pull back just one breath.

Eddie was looking at him, smiling, red-splotchy face, and kiss bruised lips. His big brown eyes were fucking... twinkling, and it made something in his stomach twirl and flutter and kick, everything.

Richie moved slightly, kissing his cheek, and then the other, and then the tip of his nose, and then his cheekbones, and then his eyebags, and then his forehead-

Eddie was 100% giggling now, and it made Richie's brain slow to a low buzz.

"Okay, okay," Eddie laughed, moving his hands to Richie's shoulders and pulling him back slightly -not too far though, "-that's enough, Rich."

Rich, Rich, Rich, Rich, Rich-

Eddie blinked up at him for a few seconds, and Richie did the same -just staring. Because there Eddie was, right there. Right in front of him, with splotchy skin and pink lips because of him, Eddie Kaspbrak was right there. Eddie. His Eddie, Eds, Eddie baby-

"Fuck," Richie laughed a little, "-You're fucking right there. What the fuck."

Eddie laughed again too, hands moving up to cradle his face again, saying -in disbelief maybe, "So, are you, dipshit."

"Yeah, well," Richie offered, not moving an inch (and gently feeling the strokes of Eddie's thumb against his face -it shot all the way down to his toes), "-it's fucking bigger for me. I've only see you in videos and fucking... pictures-"

"No," Eddie tsked, frown pulling at his lips (he wanted to kiss him again so bad it physically burned) and eyes hitching all along his features, "-it's bigger for me, moron. I've been watching you stream for like fucking... years. And now, you're just... your stupid face is right in front of me."

Richie smiled, the soft kind, and tilted his head to the side ever-so-slightly, "And your beautiful face is right in front of me."

Eddie just stared at him then, unrelenting with his cheeks puffing up and red splotches crawling up his skin. Richie wanted to keep him forever-

"Fuck you."

Richie snorted, naturally wanting to move back, but Eddie's hands kept him in place, right in front of him. It was a little funny for a moment how his body shot back into place -stumbling right back to where he was standing.

"Quite the grip, ya have there, Mr. Kaspbrak," Richie retorted in a British accent (a cliché one, of course).

"Well," Eddie's eye flicked around his face, cheeks puffed up still and face still splotchy, "-I just got you, dipshit, I'm not fucking letting you go. Not willingly."

Richie paused, blinking a few times. Something swirling in his stomach, a little like butterflies.

God. He loves me.

"You know what, Eds?" He chimed back, looking at him (a little like he was his world), "-Surprisingly, I think I'm perfectly fine with that."

"Yeah?" Eddie smiled (maybe a little like he was his world too), brushing some of his hair back -gently.

Richie just looked at him, tangible and right in front of him (he could feel the thrum of his heartbeat against his skin), "Yeah."

[tarakaybee]

Oxventure - Portal Combat and Final Final Campaign Thoughts

This is gonna be a bit of an essay, but I have had a lot of thoughts over the years.

Honestly, in the end, Oxventure just managed to stick the landing for me. My one major ask with my complex relationship with this D&D show, and the reason that I stopped watching it, is that I wanted to be told a good story. I feel like sometimes when I talk to people about this, I get given the excuse that "it's just a comedy" and that you don't need to follow the rules to have a good time, neither of which is at all where my complaints lie. Don't get me wrong, I'm a massive nerd for the mechanical minutiae of 5E and love to minmax and roleplay using my character's stats and abilities, but the rules don't automatically equal a good story. It certainly can help to create a story with dramatic tension if the rules carry with them the possibility of death and failure, you only need to listen to The Adventure Zone: Balance to see that you can tell a good D&D story that follows the rules as little as it feels like, and have an overtly comedic tone, while also telling a really strong, effective story with a realised world, an escalation in dramatic tension and three dimensional characters.

I love Critical Role, Dimension 20 and that first arc of TAZ, but my personal favourite Dungeons and Dragons actual-play is Not Another D&D Podcast, which is basically the platonic idea of Oxventure (and also is more consistent and a better told story than TAZ in my opinion). The setting and characters are explicitly comedic archetypes, and they can spend half an episode riffing, but they're much more competent at keeping the story on track, which is after all, part of the reason I invest in this game. When I say that Oxventure started to get boring and receptive around Season Two, that I think they mess around riffing with each other too much, which saps time away that they could've spent developing their characters or fleshing out the world in any conceivable manner, and that they don't follow the rules enough for the game to have any tension, I want you all to bear in mind that my favourite D&D show is one that starts with a five minute conversation about dragon pussies before introducing any of the PCs, and that one PC has a possum who has the ability to scribe letters and act as a lawyer, purely because she joked about it so often the DM was forced to canonise it.

I thoroughly enjoy Johnny and the Oxboxtra crew, and I've always thought that they had it in them to tell great stories, and I was proven to be correct when their Deadlands and Blades in the Dark campaigns concluded and told amazingly compelling, dramatic stories without losing their comedy edge, and that encouraged me to give the main campaign another shot. For the most part, this final arc has been more of the same kind that I got bored by and stopped watching, but these last two episodes managed to pull through for me. The story and everything the story has ultimately been about came to head afterward the main fight with the post-climax confrontation with Lilliana.

I love the bold choices that Luke, Andy and Ellen made, technically none of those spells should have worked the way they did, but for the purpose of the story it worked. Corazon's big sacrifice was a great story beat to end on, it was a bit of a cliche, but cliches are used for a reason. What I like about Corazon and Dob's big sacrifices is that Corazon would never have done that in episode one, wheras Dob was always this good and always would have done, and his choice affirms what we love about him. Ellen acted the hell out of that scene too, I'm glad that she got a big moment as well.

This campaign is the one that got me into the TTRPG hobby, it was bittersweet to see it end after all this time. Inspired by Dob, I ended up playing my own Half-Orc Bard in a weekly campaign that lasted five real years, it's not an exaggeration to see that that was a whole and significant period of my recent life that Oxventure kicked off. Knowing now what they know about the way Oxventure turned out, I'm genuinely curious to see what they'll all do differently, since obviously they won't want it to just be the same kind of campaign a second time. I personally hope for a story that sticks the middle, as well as the landing and takeoff, but we'll see!

[tartrazeen]

This actually just reminded me: Angus has either always been really good with a sword or got way better at it over the show, 'cause the timeline sorta moves like this:

Angus and Rohan vs. Ivar: Angus and Rohan get whooped when they're tied together, but then take out Ivar when they're working together

Ivar vs. Torc: on that beach, when Ivar has one of those Sentinels and Torc to deal with, Ivar eventually takes Torc out with a sword

Angus vs. Ivar: when *they* get tied together to fight to be the the Step-Queen's champion (where Maeve was playing dress-up), Angus beats Ivar

Angus vs. Garrett: we don't get to see this one, but Angus loses

Garrett vs. Rohan: they use a staff instead of a sword, and Garrett wins

Garrett vs. Ivar: Garrett wins

So basically, Angus - the guy whose main weapon is a rock on a string - is better with a sword than a trained prince on a quest from another country to get back a chalice, but not as good as Garrett, whose main weapon is being a dick.

And the reason I thought of that is 'cause the episode where Angus and Rohan have that actual, legit fight, Rohan basically tells Angus during practice that he sucks at using a sword (compared to Rohan, I mean). And hooooooly shit, that just made me realize how totally justified Angus was to be pissed off by that. I thought Rohan had a point because his main weapon is a sword, but it's actually a super low blow from the guy who lives in the exact same hut and comes from the exact same kind of childhood and to say it someone who really can hold his own against Rohan too. And that's still not even when Angus leaves!!

I love that episode in particular, and there was one part in the beginning that took me so long to figure out. Rohan just went one-man-army on a bunch of invading soldiers and the village is thanking for him it. Angus is doing his little, ":3 ya he's pretty great" hypeman thing for Rohan, and then he makes his usual joke about wanting gold from the villagers as a thank you present - and Rohan's like, ">:( Not cool, Angus." And I never got why Angus went from like, ">:( okay, wow, crabby" to "Rohan fucking sucks, he's such an asshole, I barely want to be at this stupid ceremony thing" and brooding in the corner. It seemed like such a whiplash of tone, but I blamed it on being a kids' show and went along with it and just assumed Angus was kinda picking a fight for the sake of the plot. Out-of-character, but whatever.

Then I realized how innocuous Angus' joke about gold is - like, he says that all the time, and he's only ever half-serious (lol). But Rohan went full "You're such a child, be better" on him, and it's kinda... not the first time by that point...? But it's the most openly scolded Angus has ever been from someone who's been on the same level this whole time.

So all of that, and for Rohan to actually say in front of Conchobar later that Angus started it is sooooo fucking rich - let alone that ":( What's wrong with Angus lately, he's so touchy these days" line later. I totally get now why Angus walked off. But he STILL HASN'T LEFT YET, 'cause he only actually leaves once Rohan starts shittalking him behind his back about stealing shit. And I can't believe how I misunderstood the episode, 'cause I just assumed it was one of those 'Both sides were wrong, let's just move on' episodes. But no - Rohan was the antagonist in that completely, and it's a little bullshit that Angus (who has to come back from rightfully leaving to save Rohan's ass) is like, ":/ It's fine. That's just what friends do. You're still my favourite" at the end.

The disrespect 😭 Especially when you realize these two were poor peasant kids and that Angus is always obsessed with food as much as gold, and it's like, "Dude, why do you think all that stealing happened?"

So I'm gonna be cheeky and disagree with you by saying, "Yes, he gives people back what he gives them... unless it's Rohan, in which case Angus just puts up with it until he finally explodes, and then he looks like the hotheaded one".

😌 well, there's our angst

And on the 100th time of watching Mystik knights if tir na nog, im starting to ship deidre and angus literally going insane about how angus called her attractive when he thought she couldnt hear him and deidre calling him a handsome idiot when he was not around and dkdfbkfbgkf

They are the only characters with actual romantic Set up from the beginning and the show wants to tell me the end goal is deidre and rowen? No fucking way.

Give me the princess in love with the thief, with the smart orphan that hides behind making a fool of himself and is also an idiot. The thief in love with a princess who thinks he'll never have a chance with her anyway.

I would have never thought i'd ship it so hard one day

[munson-blurbs]

Hiiiiiiiiii bb,

Maybe you could write about Eddie being absolute shit at beerpong and he loses to his crush and he gets so mad that he pouts all night about it. 🤔😅

🤡 @trashmouth-richie

Ahahahaha fuck you but yes I'll write it.

Warnings: language, drinking, characters are around 21-22 years old

WC: 802

--

"Hah!" you exclaim as you sink the ping pong ball into the final cup. "We win!" You turn and give Robin a high-five, sticking your tongue out at Steve and Eddie.

"You said you were good at this," Eddie hisses at his teammate, raking his fingers through his curls in frustration.

Steve just shrugs. "I was, back in high school. Guess I'm out of practice." He reaches into the cooler and pulls out two more beers, offering one to Eddie. "To losing," he holds up his can, frowning when Eddie doesn't do the same. "Dude, what crawled up your ass?"

"Nothing," Eddie huffs, taking a swig. His eyes flick over to you, already engrossed in a conversation with some guy he vaguely remembers from Hawkins High. You're laughing and taking small sips of your drink.

"Oh, I see," Steve smirks. "You're upset because you wanted to impress your little girlfriend, huh?"

"Not my girlfriend," Eddie mumbles, glancing at you again when he hears you giggle. God, what was so funny that you were still talking to this loser?

Steve sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't get it. A few months ago, you were fine with just being her friend. Now you're getting all bent out of shape over a stupid game of pong?"

Before Eddie can respond, he feels an arm sling around his shoulder. "Aw, whassa matter, Romeo?" Robin teases, words slightly slurred. "Sad without your Juliet?"

"Shut up, both of you!" Eddie undoes himself from Robin's grasp. "'M gonna take a leak, and then I'm outta here." He pushes through the crowd of people and stumbles to the bathroom.

Eddie never used to think twice about impressing you; it's not that he didn't care, but you two were just friends. He didn't overthink his jokes or get self-conscious about his hair, because he didn't need to. But that all changed a few months ago: he was sick as a dog, curled up in bed with the worst flu he'd ever had. You'd showed up with some homemade soup and crackers, staying for hours to make sure that he drank enough water and took medicine to keep his fever down. After that, he saw you in a whole new light. He never knew someone could care about him like you do. And it doesn't hurt that you're gorgeous, either.

He leaves the bathroom, hastily wiping his hands on his jeans, and nearly bumps into someone. "Watch it, du--oh, hi," he breathes out, unable to meet your gaze. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Y'okay?" you ask, concern evident by your tone. Eddie practically melts when you grab his hand to pull him back towards you. "What's going on?"

"'M fine." He tries a small smile. "Just tired." That part isn't a complete lie; he's tired of watching opportunities to be with the girl of his dreams pass by.

You give a little laugh. "You can't pull one over on me, Eddie Munson," you say. "Now, tell me what's really on your mind."

"I, uh, really thought I had that beer pong game in the bag." Another half-truth.

"You're upset because of that?" You furrow your brows. "'S not like we bet any money."

Eddie massages the nape of his neck. "I looked like an idiot," he supplies. "Kept tryin' to get the stupid fuckin' ball in the stupid fuckin' cup..."

"You didn't look like an idiot; we were just having fun," you reassure him. "If anything, you look like an idiot now, getting all pouty about it." You pause. "Wait...were you trying to show off for someone?" When he looks away, you clap your hands excitedly. "Who is it? C'mon, I won't tell." You mime zipping your lips and throwing away the key.

"No one." Eddie shakes his head.

"Liar! Look, you're totally blushing. Tell me tell me tell m--"

"It's you, okay!" he blurts out, unable to contain his secret any longer. "I was gonna--ugh, I was gonna say something like, 'you owe the winner a date,' or some cheesy shit like that, like in those dumb romance movies you watch--"

"They are not dumb!" you retort, giving him a playful shove. "But I am gonna steal that line. So, Eddie, you owe the winner a date."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really? You wanna go on a date with me?"

"Of course!" you say with a smile. "You think I'd risk the flu for just anyone?"

Eddie beams, pulling the keys to his van from his jacket pocket. "What are we waiting for, then? Wanna grab some burgers at Benny's with me?"

"I'd love to," you return his smile, then bring your lips to his ear to whisper, "maybe after, we can go back to your place and you can show me what you are good at."

[voylitscope]

Ficlet: Following the Outline of Your Face

Following the Outline of Your Face

Steve/Bucky | 1,000 words | T | Canon/Post-Canon (Not IW/EG compliant)

Their vacation cabin has a window seat between the kitchen and the living room. The space is recessed enough to almost be an alcove, and light comes through the glass panels in a way that makes Steve pause his exploration of the rooms.

"Good drawing light," Bucky comments, leaning back against the couch and looking at Steve knowingly. Steve bites the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah. Looks like it might be," Steve says, watching the way sunlight hits the cushions of the window seat and the hardwood of the floor.

"Planning to get some sketching done, Stevie?" Bucky asks, eyes on Steve's face.

"I'd like to," Steve says. He shrugs a shoulder and turns to face Bucky. "Guess we'll see."

"You know, that last time you came down to see me in Wakanda? I think you told me every day you were gonna draw. But I don't think I saw you pick up a pencil," Bucky says. He says it so that it mostly sounds like a joke, but also like could be a question if Steve wants it to be.

"I didn't," Steve agrees, shaking his head. "I haven't really been — It's not that I don't want to. Lately, though. Recently. I haven't gotten much done."

"Recently is an interesting word at our very unusual age," Bucky says, raising his eyebrows. His tone is still light, but the way his eyes are fixed on Steve feels unnervingly serious.

"You're not wrong," Steve admits. He laughs in a way he wishes didn't sound bitter. "I think you probably saw the last thing I finished. I haven't even been doing it all that much —"

"Recently," Bucky finishes when Steve trails off, nodding at him. Steve nods back. "Well, no time like a vacation, right?"

"Can't hurt," Steve says. Bucky grins at him. He pushes himself up and puts one hand on each of Steve's arms. Then he maneuvers Steve and guides him to sit on the window seat.

It makes Steve more than a little dizzy.

"Maybe I can even help," Bucky says, letting go of Steve's arms and then using his metal hand to push on one of Steve's biceps gently. "Look, you can sit there and draw, and I'll come bug you about shit. That way you can yell at me about it, and it'll be like old times. Get you in the mood."

("C'mon, Buck, I'm gonna lose the light," Steve says. He grumbles as Bucky's shadow falls over his work.

"I'm trying to tell you something here," Bucky says, waving a hand at him. "Are you sayin' you don't wanna hear about my day? That's rude, Steve."

Steve looks up and narrows his eyes before reaching a hand out and putting it on Bucky's waist so he can push him out of the good light. Bucky laughs when he does, and he makes one of those faces he sometimes does. It's just a quick little thing, but it's also a familiar thing — It's a face that he sometimes makes when Steve touches him in certain ways or says certain things. It's an expression that'll come and go in an instant, and that later—

Later, when he's alone, in selfish and private moments, Steve will lie to himself about it. Later, Steve will think about that expression of Bucky's, and he'll pretend there's a chance it looks pleased or even flustered.

Now, in the kitchen, Steve scowls, because he's trying to stay annoyed. He doesn't want to stare too long, or get caught up in Bucky's laughter and up laughing, too.

"Tell me about it from over there," Steve mutters, dropping his hand. "Told you not to stand in the light a hundred times."

"And I told you that the light in here is different depending on when I get home, or if it's cloudy, or what time of year it is," Bucky says, still laughing. "But I'm so very sorry for standing in my own kitchen."

"So sorry to make you move over a whole foot," Steve returns, then he looks up at Bucky. He finally gives in a little, and laughs, too. "Okay, what did you want to tell me?"

"Now he wants to hear," Bucky says, shaking his head, but then grinning and launching his story.)

"I never yelled at you," Steve protests half-heartedly, laughing. "I grumbled at you. That's very different."

"Whatever you say," Bucky says. His eyes are brighter than Steve has seen them in a very long time. "It could work though. I don't know what I've got to bother you with here, but I'll figure it out," Bucky says. He pauses for a second and looks deviously thoughtful before poking Steve's arm again. He uses an over-the-top mock enthusiastic tone when he continues. "Steve, I just gotta tell you right now about this bird in the backyard. Steve, you have to hear about this book I'm reading. It's real important, Steve — How's that? Annoying enough? Think it'll help?"

Bucky actually is in Steve's light now. He's glowing with it. It makes him look real, alive, and happy.

He looks stunning.

Breathtaking.

And Steve wants —

Steve laughs and shakes his head.

"Don't know, but I know you being here will help," Steve says because it's true. It's always true.

"Oh yeah?" Bucky says. His smile looks softer, but not any less happy. "Glad to help. With art, or — "

Bucky's words trail off, and he keeps his gaze focused on Steve. Steve nods.

"Yeah, I think this trip was a great idea," Steve says, smiling back. "Gonna be good for us both."

"You might be right about that," Bucky says. His eyes stay locked on Steve's, and Steve stares right back. Steve lets himself have the lingering moment until his pulse gets quick enough he's worried Bucky's enhanced senses will pick it up.

"Come on, there's a whole porch we haven't seen," Steve says. He slides his hands onto his knees and stands up.

"Lead the way," Bucky says, finally breaking eye contact.

[softguarnere]

Hey, Dove. Wanted to say that the somft Bill fic is awesome and I 100% melted while I was reading it, thank you very much! (also it's so nice reading about writer's fave, I can feel feels)

I'd like to make one more request if you're not too tired of me sending them hehe. So, here's this trope:

And I would eat up anything with that. Could be headcanons, but an one-shot is good as well. Again, pairing is dealer's choice <3

Don't You Feel My Heart Go?

Shifty Powers x reader

A/N: Ainslynn my dear, I always smile when I see your requests in my inbox :) As someone who struggles to come up with prompts and good starting places for fics, I appreciate every one 😘 And I'm glad that you liked the last fic! I'm back on my there's not a lot of Shifty content and I'm determined to remedy that agenda, so I hope you enjoy this one, and thank you for another wonderful request. (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: blood, injury, mentions of war

In hindsight, deciding to have a race in the unknown Austrian terrain probably wasn’t a great idea. Especially not after the afternoon rain shower a few hours before, which has kept the landscape shiny under a thin layer of water.

“You think this is enough to get me sent home?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Shifty doesn’t laugh. Bright eyes hide beneath furrowed brows as he glances up from your scraped leg.

He sighs and leans back on his heals. “I don’t understand, (Y/N). You manage to go the whole war without gettin’ hurt, and then right as it’s about to end, you find a way to break your streak.”

“Hey, I haven’t gone the whole war. I accidentally burnt myself with your lighter back in Holland, remember?”

“Yeah. But that wasn’t too bad. You weren’t gonna get sent home over it.”

It’s not just a scraped leg, you have to remind yourself every time you even think about putting pressure on it. You had experienced plenty of those in childhood during rough play outside to know the difference. No, this is worse, no matter how much you would rather not admit it. Your shoe had sunk into a moist patch on the road, causing you to lose balance and skid a little down the path. Nothing that you hadn’t done while running up Currahee during Basic. But there’s a long cut tracing down the side of your calf that stings whenever you so much as look at it.

“Where’s Tab? He should have been able to find a medic by now.” Shifty looks around with a frown. You’ve seen him upset before – who have you not seen get upset about one thing or another throughout the war? – but this is different. He usually looks pensive, deep in thought, when something bothers him. Now it’s as if a cloud has fallen over his sunshine face.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“But you’re not. Look at your leg!”

You would prefer to not look at your leg, actually. To see your friends and fellow soldiers suffer injuries and wounds in combat is one thing, but to see yourself bleed? It’s one of the only things in the war that has made your stomach turn.

“I don’t know what to do.” Fear creeps into your voice, mingled with the stinging pain that you’ve been trying to ignore. The change in your tone softens Shifty’s expression. He glances again between your leg and the direction that Tab headed when he left to go get help.

“I’m no medic, but maybe we should try to stop the bleeding?” He stands, and before you can figure out what he’s doing, he takes off his t-shirt and rips the hem to create a thin strip. Using the larger section of the fabric, he carefully begins to wipe away any dirt or blood from the cut, apologizing any time that you hiss in pain. Then he takes the smaller section of fabric and tries to bandage the wound with it.

He talks the entire time – half assuring you that you’re doing fine and will be okay, and half scolding you for agreeing to Talbert’s race and injuring yourself – but you only catch bits and pieces of what he’s saying. You’re more focused on the way he gently treats the cut, the way his fingers on your leg cause a warm and funny feeling to run through you. Sunlight shines on his light hair and casts shadows across his face in a way that highlights his fine features. And, most noticeably, he's shirtless, which, for all your closeness with him during the past few years, you’ve never experienced before.

In the past, there have been a few times that Shifty has said something, smiled a certain way, or generally just existed, where something about him has caused your heart to speed up. But there was a war going on, so you had always pushed those feelings about your friend aside. Now though, with the war in Europe over . . . You can’t look away from the man in front of you.

“ – everyone wants to get home somehow, but I’d be so sad to see you go . . .” He looks up then and meets your eyes. Your heart pounds when you realize that he’s caught you staring at him, and you pray that he can’t hear it.

“(Y/N)?”

“Is that why you’re upset?” You ask as the meaning behind his words finally hits you. “You don’t want me to go home?”

Pink tinges his cheeks like the first notes of dawn on a spring morning. “I would miss you.”

“I would miss you, too.” It’s not a particularly hot day, just pleasantly warm, but for some reason you feel like you’re boiling under his gaze. Your words are true – you would miss Shifty, but the more that you think about it, the more that you realize that you wouldn’t miss parting with him the way that you have with other friends. No, when you think about heading home, something heavy – longing – tugs on your heart strings. Could that be what Shifty is feeling too?

Only one way to find out, you suppose.

“Shifty – “ Has your throat always been this dry? You take a breath before you continue, “ – I don’t want to miss you.”

He lifts an eyebrow at your word choice. “I don’t want to miss you either.” He ties off the end of his makeshift bandage and sits back. “Listen, I know that this isn’t the best time to say this . . .”

“Yes?”

“But with the war, I suppose there will never be any proper time.” He glances up at you with something new on his face. Strong, sharpshooter Shifty looks almost nervous, which you can’t remember ever seeing him do before. “I like you, romantically. I could just never find the right way to tell you that.”

Every emotion that you’ve been pushing aside for the past few years seems to slam into you with full force. Your racing heart trips over them. “I feel the same way about you.”

His face lights up, his smile chasing away the anxiety from a moment before. In your relief, you have to laugh, only to wince at a sudden stabbing pain in your leg. Once it passes, you try to flash him a reassuring smile.

“If it took me sliding down a hill for us to admit that to each other, then limping around for a few days will be worth it.”

“Well, you’re lucky that I’m strong enough to carry you around,” Shifty says, nodding towards the piece of t-shirt wrapped around your leg. “because I don’t think the medics are going to let me be your personal doctor.”

The way that his face lights up with his sweet smile at his own joke sends a new rush of emotions over you, but this time you don’t try to push them away. You feel yourself smile in a way that matches his own – it feels good.

Yes, you tell yourself, despite your hurt leg, worth it.

[percivex]

could you do English marigold/barberry with team rancher? your writing it just aaaa

Barberry ☠ - Ill temper; Petulance; Satire; Sharpness; Sharpness of temper; Sourness; Sourness of temper

_

Tango is sitting in front of his son's grave, quiet and head bowed, when Jimmy returns to The Ranch in a flurry of movement.

Jimmy, to his credit, doesn't say anything to disturb him when he realises what Tango is doing, but it's a little hard to ignore him when he throws himself into Tango's side, pressing into him and clinging to his side.

Tango shifts, throwing an arm over Jimmy's shoulder, only slightly disconcerted by his palpable frustration. "What's up, buttercup?" He asks lightheartedly, to show he's open for conversation. His grieving was real - it was almost ridiculous how endeared he had become to the Warden in his short life - but Jimmy was always his priority. He was his other half.

Jimmy grumbles wordlessly, curling closer and accidentally knocking their heads together, which Tango has gathered from personal experience is often a bad thing. There is something surreal about being on the other side of anger. "That bad, huh?" Tango muses sympathetically, rubbing his hand over Jimmy's upper arm, before adding, only half-joking, "Who do we have to kill now?"

"Joel and Etho, and Cleo, and Scott, and- and everyone!" Jimmy hisses, red eyes shining with something uncharacteristic. In fact, he seems startled by his own words, blinking and pulling away from Tango slightly, enough to shake his head. "I- no, no, I don't mean that, I think. Maybe?"

"Come on, talk to me. I can't figure out if you mean it or not if I don't know what caused all this." Tango prompts, trying to tug his soulmate back towards him to comfort him. Jimmy folds easily, leaning heavily into him with a heated sigh. Bloodlust doesn't suit Jimmy, he thinks; it doesn't fit right on his face, and swallows too much light when locked behind his eyes.

"...It wasn't even bad timing." Jimmy mutters eventually, suddenly looking tired and sad, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over him. "They weren't after Grian and Scar at all. Scott and Cleo ordered a hit on us, Joel told me." His eyes narrows, something bitter and sharp laying like barbs over his tongue. "They wanted to kill us. We were gonna die no matter where we were."

Oh.

There is something dark and angry roiling in his gut, and Tango can feel his chest growing hotter, ash collecting in his throat. His temper was bad enough without the goading of Red urges in his veins, and for a moment, that's all he can see.

(There are thorns and blood red berries dancing up his legs, and clustered around a phantom arrow wound on Jimmy's stomach, and Tango wants to prick everyone who had any sort of hand in planting them.)

But then he notices the way Jimmy grits his teeth, pupils closer to pinpricks and wings flared to intimidate an invisible threat. His grip is tight to the point of discomfort, and Tango wrestles with his rage furiously to be able to help calm him, because being angry may be familiar to him but Jimmy being murderous isn't.

Tango understands. Of course he does. Jimmy hadn't been subtle about how guilty he felt about losing their second life, even though they later realised he fell because of a hit Tango took. And now, to find out it didn't matter, because they going to end up dead no matter what?

He exhales heavily, smoke billowing from his mouth, and that's enough to distract Jimmy, eyes flicking up to his face and softening somewhat.

"Well, I was planning on adopting another Warden anyway." Tango says in a forcibly cheerful tone, nodding towards the humble shrine in front of them. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind a bit of, uh, impromptu babysitting."

Jimmy starts to smile, which is already a postive in Tango's book, and his posture loosens a little. "It'll be dangerous to go to the Deep Dark now that we only have one life left." He points out hoarsely, absentminded as if he was only saying it because he was supposed to.

"I'm up for it if you are." Tango replies easily, and that might be a lie, but it doesn't feel like it, not with that itch seated steadily beneath his skin, their skin.

Jimmy is quiet for a moment, before his smile unfurls into a grin. "We're gonna die anyway." There is nothing emotional behind that, a simple fact they both know and acknowledge. "We might as well try to drag as many people down with us, right?"

And Tango returns his grin, all sharp edges and so, so warm, but oddly soothed. "Exactly."

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Cancelled-Dream Was Taken

A/N: Surprise bitch. Weren’t we expecting for me to release mcyt fanfics soon? If I didn’t tag my usual @‘s it’s because idk if you’d like to be tagged for mcyt content.

Pronouns: she/her

Word Count: 2.3k+

_________________

"You're so harsh on him!" Her hands sat on the keyboard, staring at the green human that stood on Y/n's computer screen.

She needed to be careful. While this was a heated moment, she couldn't let herself get too loud for multiple reasons. If she got too loud, Dream's stream viewers would be able to tell she was in the next room or they would just receive noise complaints from their neighbors.

"No Y/n! You're too soft on him! He needs to learn that he can't get away with everything. You're setting him up for failure." As the h/c girl listened to her roommate speak, she had to remind herself over and over again; 'This wasn't real.' Dream was mad, not Clay.

This had all been arranged as roleplay. Y/n would be leaving in a few days to go visit some of her family for a reunion, so Wilbur had been the one to think up the brilliant idea of what was playing out now; an argument between Y/n and Dream. The plan was to have Y/n get so upset she didn't log onto the SMP for the next few days, only to come back with a master plan to backstab Dream.

At first, Clay wasn't really on board with the thought of him getting angry at Y/n. They had been together for a little over a year, there wasn't a single moment they had gotten upset with one another. But surprisingly, Y/n had been the one to convince Clay it was a good idea.

The fans knew Dream and Y/n had a close friendship, Dream had always been so protective of her. But when this was going down, they didn't know how to act.

Every time Y/n would glance at her chat, she'd see thousands of comments rising up as new ones appeared. Comment after comment, it looked like the fans were shocked by the way this stream was turning out.

"I'm not setting him up for anything! He's a kid, Dream!" Y/n glanced from the chat,  back at the screen showing her PC game. Standing on her screen was Dream and Tommyinnit, she had accompanied Dream to visit Tommy.

"You're just babying him! 'He's a kid!' Well, he needs to learn to grow up eventually," his voice had been filled with such spite. It felt weird to hear Clay speaking to her like this in such a tone.

For a moment, she stared at the green man before a short scoff escaped her lips. "I can't believe you." With that, Y/n had pressed a few keys, turning her character towards the nether portal a couple of yards away. Before Dream had gotten the chance to speak again, Y/n began to move away.

"Y/n! Come back here!"

She flicked a few buttons, taking a moment to look behind her character to see Dream following. Good, everything was going according to plan. Within the next few minutes, she'd be able to log off and she'd be on vacation for the next few days.

The h/c girl ignored the green man as she stepped through the portal, taking her to Minecraft's version of hell. Almost done, she just needed to find a good spot to stop as she listened to Dream continue to speak.

"You can't keep ignoring me! You know I'm right in this. You know you can't keep defending Tommy. You know Tommy is driving a wedge between us-"

Perfect. Y/n had stopped just on the edge of a bridge, molten lava sat feet below them. If she fell, she'd surely die. "No."

"No?" Dream was a bit surprised to hear Y/n cut him off, but he stayed silent as he was prepared to listen to what she had to say.

"No. No more. I don't wanna hear you blame Tommy for us breaking apart. I want you to listen to me. You've been acting like much more of a dick than usual and I hate it. I despise it. You've changed for the worst because you think you can step on everyone. At this point, everyone fears to tell you the truth-except me. I'll be a hundred percent honest with you, you've been so egotistical, it's really pissed me off. This is your fault, Dream. Not Tommy's. You exiled a child for pulling a prank on a vacation house! Not even George's real house!"

"But-"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm done, but I don't wanna hear you bullshit me. So shut the fuck up."

A moment of silence passed between them as Y/n stared at her screen. Just a few more steps.

And within seconds, Dream had pulled out his netherite sword. With one hit, she was falling back into lava. Y/n glanced at her chat, a look of shock on her face as she read over what a few comments said. A moment of silent tension had passed before Y/n had finally spoken up, removing her from the voice chat she was in.

"Alright guys, I guess that's enough for the day. I'll see you all... later." With that, she had clicked a few buttons, raiding Dream's live-stream as she ended hers.

For the next 20 to 30 minutes, Y/n knew Clay would be busy streaming. So she had decided to take a bit of time to wind down and think to herself.

Get a glass of water.

'Are the fans harassing him in his twitch chat?'

Sit down on the living room couch.

'The SMP fans were always so protective of me.'

Pet Patches.

'Was I too much when I snapped at him?'

It didn't seem like 30 minutes had passed when Clay had walked out of his streaming room, only to find Y/n on the couch with Patches in her lap. "Hey, N/n." "Oh, your stream is already over?" Y/n smiled, pulling herself out of her thoughts as she scoot over, giving Clay room to take a seat right by her.

"Yeah, did you lose track of time or something?"

"I must've. How did the chat react after I 'died'?" She smiled up at her boyfriend as he wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer into his embrace.

"Everyone was filled with joy that you died."-Y/n playfully swatted at him. "Okay, okay! I got a few chat messages of people bashing me for it, but it's fine."

"Well, it's a good thing the chat wasn't completely littered with hate. How was it after my raid?"

"Honestly, not that bad as you expect. Like I said, just a few comments. Nothing bad, I just ignored it." Clay placed a hand on Patches's head, gently scratching her, followed by the animal beginning to purr.

"Good to hear, anyways... I'm not ready to pack. Do you think we can procrastinate?" The h/c girl let out a huff leaning against her boyfriend. "How?"

"I was thinking a bit of movie binging, cuddling, and ordering dinner?" A cheeky smile spread on her face as she spoke.

"It's like you read my mind."

The couple had made it through three movies, by now it was later at night. The sun had set and they had already door dashed some food. By now they were in the middle of watching 'The Empire Strikes Back.'

'I love you.' 'I know.'

The iconic moment between Hans and Leia had been interrupted by the sound of Clay's phone buzzing. "Why is George calling?"

"What?" Y/n was a bit curious herself. Considering the timezones, George should be asleep right now. Pausing the TV, she turned her attention to her boyfriend's phone.

"Hey Clay."

"What's up, George? Isn't it like early in the morning for you?" Clay raised a brow, moving his phone so Y/n would be able to see George as well.

"Yeah, I had to stay up to fix a YouTube video I need to get out today. I was about to go to bed and I checked Twitter-"

"Oh no." Clay made a short joke, only to be cut off by his friend.

"I don't know if it's trending for you in America, but you might as well look."

"What's going on?" He swiped up, taking him to his home screen so he could click on the little blue bird app. Y/n had grabbed her phone from the coffee table, opening up the app as well. "#Cancel Dream... #Y/n... #Dream SMP"

"Is... is Clay getting canceled for killing me in Minecraft?" Y/n scrolled through the tweets involving the hashtag 'Y/n.' She could see plenty of people defending her, but making it much bigger of a problem than it actually was.

"Oh, hey Y/n. But yeah, he is." George chuckled awkwardly, scrolling through his Twitter app as well.

"This is so fucking stupid."

"It really is. So we might as well get this cleared up with the fans as soon as possible. Do you want me to tweet something, or do you want to?" Y/n looked up at her boyfriend, it looked like he was thinking.

"Yeah, I'll tweet it. Don't worry about this, Y/n."

"Alright, whatever you say," she replied, pulling a blanket over her as she waited for Clay to finish typing his response.

"Here's what I'm gonna say: 'I can't believe you guys actually think me and @(y/n) are in an actual fight in real life. We have been good friends since forever, the fight was only roleplay. I love that you guys are so protective of Y/n, but no one's actually upset.' How's that sound?"

"I think that's good," George hummed softly.

"Yeah, I doubt you'll stay 'canceled' once you've explained to them it was all part of the SMP lore." The h/c girl smiled up at her boyfriend with a small nod.

"Alright, I'm gonna post it. George, I think you should go to bed because you're half asleep already."

Y/n turned, looking at her boyfriend's iPhone. "Go to sleep, Gogy!"

"Alright, alright... I'll talk to you guys later." The call had ended with Clay and Y/n saying goodbye to their friend while George simply yawned to them as a response.

As soon as the call was over, Clay looked at the response to his tweet. It didn't seem to be going too well. There had been a few fans who understood what was going on and responded with a paragraph as an apology for the misunderstanding. But most replies had been telling Clay he was bullshitting the fans or that he wasn't being honest.

"I'm sorry, Clay," his girlfriend had huffed as she read through the responses to his tweet.

"Honestly I'm just a bit pissed off. Literally, any time someone tries to 'cancel' me, it's over something stupid. I'm not a bad guy, it just feels like some people just don't want to see me succeed." Clay had excused himself to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

It hurt Y/n to hear how upset her boyfriend was. He never got too upset over things, but seemed to take a small toll on him. "Hold on. Let me say something." The h/c girl couldn't be asked to post multiple tweets of her response to hate sent towards Clay over the internet. So what was better than a short video that could be posted to the blue bird app?

"Um, hey guys. I'd just like to make this quick. Stop sending hate towards Dream. The fight was roleplay and nothing more. I'm gonna be busy for the next couple of days so Wilbur thought of a good idea to help build SMP lore with me and Dream and we both agreed to the argument. Now stop sending the green man hate, or I'll commit war crimes or something-"

Y/n had been interrupted by the sound of Clay letting out a small giggle. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, just keep going with your video."

"Whatever, I'm cool. No matter what Dream says. Anyways, I'll speak to you all later." Y/n had hit the red button again, ending her video. Within seconds, the video had been uploaded to her Twitter account.

Placing her phone back down on the table, Y/n approached her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his torso. "I'm really sorry about the hate, Clay. I love you."

"Don't apologize for something you can't control. I love you more." The brunette held his partner close, accepting her hug. Y/n always loved his hugs, she always felt so safe in his embrace.

The rest of the night had been spent with more cuddling and more Star Wars movies. Hours had passed before Y/n had even thought about the Twitter situation again. But for some reason, she had decided to look at the app again tonight.

It was 2 in the morning by now, Clay was half asleep. His head laid in the h/c girl's lap as she brushed a hand through his hair, her free hand opening up her Twitter app once again.

It had been a bit of a surprise to see a couple of trending hashtags had changed so quickly. What was trending now was #Dream, #Y/n,#(ship name), and #Dream's Laugh. This had to be about Y/n's short clip she posted. And by the looks of it, people had stopped acting so harsh towards Clay. But instead, they had decided to focus on the fact Dream and Y/n were hanging out together. Not to mention the fact Dream and let out a stupid little giggle because of Y/n. People had been apologizing to him through Twitter for being so hard on him.

"Babe."

"Hm?" Clay mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Pretty much everyone is apologizing to you over Twitter for being hardasses."

"Hm, that's good to hear."

"You're really tired, huh?" Y/n paused her scrolling to look down at her boyfriend.

"Yeah," He continued to mumble, followed by a short yawn.

"Alright, time for bed, babe." Y/n smiled to herself, beginning to carefully move away from Clay. "I can pack tomorrow and we can laugh over the stupid bird app tomorrow after you've gotten a good amount of sleep."

"I still can't believe Twitter tried canceling me over roleplay."

"I can't believe you got uncancelled by shippers."

Taglist: @notphilosopherstudentblog

[sunkaashi]

— OVERTIME

↬ Pairing. College!Atsumu x Manager!Reader

↬ Genre. Fluff. A hint of enemies to lovers if you look really closely.

↬ Warnings. Mentions of alcohol. I guess nothing else? Let me know if you think I'm wrong!

↬ Summary.  Atsumu Miya is hopelessly in love with you, but how could he ever catch your attention if all you do is ignore him? Well, maybe his plan starts to work out when he finds out that whenever he stays longer for practice, you have to stay too.

↬ Word count. 1.7k

↬ tris' note: I wrote this in the spur of the moment, but I had so much fun! feedbacks are extremely appreciated! if you wanna be added to my general taglist, fill out this form.

anyways, did you know that only hot people reblog the works they like? NO? well, now you do ;) jk, but reblogs help me tons and I'm very grateful for them <3

Sweat dripped down the back of ATSUMU's neck as he jogged around the college tracks for the nth time that afternoon.

"Just one more lap." He kept telling himself over and over again as if repeating it would make it any less of a lie.

But who could blame him when this was the only moment of the day that he could spend with you? When he just knew that, by the end of that turn, you'd be there to receive him, water bottle and towel in hand? If anything, that just drove him more and more motivated to get to the finish line.

Those seconds in which your hands slightly brushed off against each other's; the way you laughed whenever he tripped over himself, too tired to carry on; the sarcastic sneer on your face every time you scolded him for wasting your time, but still wouldn't leave. To Atsumu, that was his reward, better than any shining trophy.

"Oi! Miya!" Your voice woke him up from his trance as the blonde boy finally shot up a glance at you. He rested with his hands on his knees, chest going up and down in strong and unsteady motions, legs still trembling a bit from the training. "We've been here for almost two hours! Everybody has left already, and I want to go home for God's sake!"

Atsumu snickered at the way your voice got higher with each word, deflecting from his gaze while you said you wanted to leave. He also didn't miss how you knitted your eyebrows together just before going off at him, carefully scanning his shaky body.

"Ya could've left, ya know? I never asked ya to stay!" He replied, smirking a little while making sure to stare right into your pupils.

If eyes are the windows to the soul, that must be the reason yours were so beautiful to him. As he tried to get an answer through them, he also delighted himself in such a vision. That's why he was quick to notice their slight tremble at his remark.

"And leave you to die?!" Your voice, once again, cut him off of his daydreams. "You've been running for more than an hour after a pretty rough practice, if you go into cardiac arrest who's gonna call an ambulance?! I'm the team manager, I don't want any deaths on my back!"

In his defense, he was only there because of you, but — obviously — he wouldn't tell you that. He decided to just laugh it off.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day!" He teased.

"What?!"

"Yer’ worried ‘bout me!" Atsumu said, trying to suppress the smile forming in the corner of his mouth.

Even though his tone was playful, he knew something was off when his words were left hanging in the air, no snarky comments added to the back-and-forth banter you were both so used to.

Seeing your widened eyes, he started to question if he was right or, worse, if he had crossed a line.

You gulped down as if this would prevent you from spilling something you shouldn't say. Atsumu was dying to know what it was.

This had become a little routine of yours. Staying for a couple more hours after practice as you helped him out for a while. At first, he knew you're just doing your job, after all, you were there to assist the boys, it didn't matter who they were. Still, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, something had changed as the months went by.

He remembered it perfectly. It wasn't that long before that you used to curse him for making you lose such precious time of your day. He knew you had your reasons! Staying overtime underneath the unforgiving sun, having to catch up on your studies while sitting beside the filthy running tracks, surrounded by sweaty and dirty athletes.

Even so, it wasn't pleasant for him either. Jogging for endless hours, the summer heat consuming him as if hell were just around the corner.

Usually, he would run only half of those miles. But how could he stop? How could he stop knowing that the minute he did, you'd have to go home, and he would only see you the next day? No, he needed more time to win you over. He needed those small talks in between his breaks. He needed every single one of the few glances you exchanged every time he ran past you. He needed to hear you giggling at his jokes at least once more.

What once felt like dragging insufferable after hours, began to seem like less and less time over the weeks. Those little details were what made it all worth it. They were his private entrance to heaven.

And he believed that you might've been starting to feel the same way too.

He'd caught the way your lips curled up into a shy smile the last time he'd offered to walk you home. He also had noticed how your irises shined a bit brighter whenever he bought you food, worried because he knew you'd be there with him for those extra periods. He'd seen the way you laughed at his childhood stories just a tad too hard, always asking for another one.

Atsumu had always been aware of how he comes off to people: the arrogant self-centered jock. He never really cared about any of those things, but he did care about how you perceived him. The man just hoped that soon enough, you'd learn he was more than what others wanted him to be. Not a pretentious athlete, albeit a normal guy as any other, just with an ambitious goal set to his mind. And whenever you shared one of those intimate moments, he thought that, perhaps, you were one of the few people that actually saw him for who he was.

Still, that didn't make it any easier to admit the feelings he'd developed for you.

"Oi! Are ya alright?" Atsumu said, trying to catch your attention, a delicate expression laying on his countenance. "I'm sorry if I overstepped in any way, ‘kay? It was a joke, I promise." You didn't answer him just yet.

"Hey!" He proceeded, lifting your chin up so you'd look at him. "Now I'm the one getting worried 'bout ya! Snap out of it and get back to hating on me before ya realize I might have a heart!" Atsumu mocked himself, but shied away from your glare while doing so.

At least he'd made you chuckle.

“I always knew you had one, Miya." You said, rolling your eyes at the man. “I just didn’t know it worked!”

“Oya! That was mean!”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” You asked, arching your brows.

“Well, maybe, but it wouldn’t hurt if ya were a little nicer to me once in a while!”

“Yeah? How so?” The words slipped past your lips without missing a beat, and Atsumu couldn’t help but wonder if the flirtatious undertone was something he had only imagined. He decided to take the bait.

“For starters...” Atsumu began, slowly making his way closer to where you were standing. “Ya could buy me a beer after we’re done here.” Was he crazy or did he really see your shoulders relaxing at his words?

“Oh, is that easy?” You responded in the same toying manner.

“Hold up!” He said, raising his hands to the air. “That’s just the first step!”

“And then what?”

“And then…” Atsumu continued, moving further towards your figure. “Then ya could let me hear that beautiful laugh of yers a few more times.” He completed, stealing a giggle out of you. “Just like that.”

“Great, so I’m halfway through it.” Your tone may have been monotonous, but your eyes told him otherwise. “Anything else or can we get this over with?”

“Maybe, while yer’ laughing, ya could finally realize that I’m not as bad as ya think I am.” He pondered, moving a loose strand of hair out of your features, clearing the view to your gaze.

“Now you wanna tell me what to think?” You scoffed, crossing your arms.

“Is just a suggestion! Take it as ya wish!” He winked at you.

“And what if I told you that I already did?”

“Ya did?” This time, he sounded soft, breaking out of the teasy character for a second.

“You’re not bad, Miya... Far from that.” 

“Well, that’s a shock.”

“You don’t look surprised.” You stated, pointing out the crescent grin on his face.

“Too much wishful thinking made me ready for this moment.”

“And what exactly is this moment… Atsumu?” The way you said his name, in a hushed voice, almost like a secret meant to be shared by only the both of you, gave him the green light he needed to go on.

“It’s when I finally kiss ya.” 

Atsumu was quick to grab your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, and finally closing the gap between you two. His gawk rapidly traveled from your mouth to your eyes, longing for a confirmation. It didn’t take a second after your subtle nod for him to merge your lips together, your body melting at his touch. His grasp was gentle, but firm, like you were something he treasured, something that he never wanted to let go of. And by the way you gripped onto his neck, the boy could tell he wasn’t alone in this.

Atsumu moved his palms all the way up your back, briefly running his fingers through your hair, but resting them upon finding your face. His tender touch cupped your cheeks in between his hands, pushing away just when he inevitably ran out of breath. 

"Do I still have to buy you that beer or is this nice enough for you?" You said, unable to repress a smile.

“Hm, I’m not sure… Why don’t you kiss me again and we'll see?"

© sunkaashi — 2021.  all rights reserved. do not repost, plagiarise it, translate it nor reproduce this post as your own.