#so. there. have both half-eaten mediums

[that1notetaker]

Hijack Week day 1: First Kiss We know where this is going. We know, you know. We know. Hiccup: This is bro behavior. I'm helping a homie out so he can experience something he would otherwise not get the change to even get the option to choose. Anyway I'm not going to think about what I'M feeling. Jack: (lmao he died)

[empathicliar]

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀what you deserve ¸.•* eren yeager.

𝟔𝐤. 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 , 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝.

༺❀༻ || 𝐬𝟒!​eren , 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫!eren , 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲-𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤!​eren , college ua , for my caramel babies , eager!eren , she / her pronouns , overstimulation , sweet talker , lots of kisses , multiple orgasm's , strangers to lovas , plot based , no protection , cream pie!! >~< , dirty talk , use of pet names.​

" when you put a lil' umph in it, that's when i lose control. "

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there's only so much you can handle in a day's worth before overstimulation kicks in. rocking in a chair for four hours while getting a new row of ginger bundles sewed in by your auntie is already enough. gossiping about how your uncle is a piece of work can get added to that list too.

the white juicy couture track suit you have on is hugging your curves tighter than normal. you have ymir's 'friend' historia to thank for that. you'd only spoken to her once about how loose your tracksuits were and how badly you wanted them tighter and she got to work, completely redoing the threading to boost your ego a little to much.

eager with your hair to be done, you'd already marked a couple of other errands off the list. your fingers nails are coded with medium length cut-out shaped nails. a white base with some carnation pink painted bows. not wanting it to be to basic, you got some pink and white zebra stripes on your middle and pinky fingers.

your white painted toe-nails are covered by the ugg's you had to throw on due to the weather. you were always saying you hated summer until it wasn't around anymore and the cold had you shivering in the warmest of places.

its something about looking, feeling and smelling good that has you obsessed with yourself all over again. the vanilla scent is leaking off every surface of your body, the oil drops in your purse coming in clutch every time you wanted a refresher.

it's about four pm when your hair appointment is done. its something simple you could always deal with. 18 , 22 , 24 inch hair reaching your plush ass, your back already itching from the prickling nest.

" thank you s'much auntie! " you're exclaiming in her ear, already squeezing her to death with a hug.

you're not even close to being done. this winter break is going to be different. you naively figured you could get everything you wanted done while in college, yet when you finally touched the grounds it's like your shoulders slumped further down into a unforgivable pattern.

you stopped taking care of yourself mentally. you never stopped being a pretty bitch, nothing stops that. you got all the main things done. your hair was always styled, you don't play that. you're always soft and buttery smooth. the pet peeve for any hair on your body making you cringe.

you were always smelling good, it just became apparent you weren't going out of your way to take enough time for everything. by the time five rolls around, your sitting on your phone outside of your homegirl's house, waiting for her to get home.

mirrors by jhene aiko is playing softly in the back, your tinted windows are up and the bag of chick-fil-a nuggies are half eaten to your right. being your passy princess until further notice.

it doesn't take long for nicki to get to her place. she has big shopping bags in her hands, big balling on one of these cold ass afternoons. " you have a key to my house, you could've went in. " nicki reminds you, it slipped your mind completely. you glance at the hello kitty charm that hung in-front of your key fob, your dorm room key and her house key.

the long, black table you'd laid on more time's than your own bed has a ring light above it. a strollie with different lash things you'd never taken a hobby to is on the right side of it and the actually bundle set you asked for sits beside a bottle of water. eating the rest of your nuggets while nicki took a few bites of her salad, you both talked for God knows how long.

it's been a while since you've been in this cozy place. the apartment is on the first floor and in a gated community. you were so proud of nicki, she kept her word on making it big in life.

" you still going to ymir's tonight? " she asking while scratching the top layer of your lashes. wrong decision. it's like talking through an intense orgasm. your grabbing her hand to stop her to reply. she's only laughing at you the whole time.

" y-yeah girl i am. " your muttering out, your own laugh pouncing off the walls. nicki is a pro when it comes to getting you up and out of her chair satisfied. she snaps a video of the lashes and your making a fake brave face the whole time trying not to chuckle from the silence.

your in your car again by seven o'clock. playing with your hair in your review mirror, tucking the strands behind your ear and letting the multiple fans in your car fully dry your lashes. the song is back to playing at it's last pause while you move your lid's up in a uncomfortable position and let the air hit the base of your water lines.

you've driven to ymir's place so many times from nicki's house, you've gotten familiar with every back road, speed bump and pothole. the potholes brings back a awful memory of damage you wanted no part of remembering.

the weekend commute of straight peace was in motion. you got to ymir's house later than usually and took a joyful stride to your favorite love seat. the comfort makes you stifle a moan. you've done to much today to not get a break.

a song from ymir's recycled playlist is playing, it might be from sza's new album but you aren't to entirely sure. the only thing on your mind is food and weed. in the middle of the table there's snacks. cheddar popcorn, cherry bite twizzlers, some sour gummies and gushers. you opted on the popcorn and two packs of gushers.

on the back, light tan wall is a flat screen tv that's curved more towards you than it is connie and you finally correct your suspicions when you notice the name of the song and artist. i knew it, your thinking out with bunched up arms.

its seems like its been to long since you've been here and genuinely had time to stay.

since college had started in february, you branched out quickly when it came to friend groups. it wasn't a challenge when said friends had been around since high school. ymir, the brown haired girl with freckles and the nicest jaw line known to man offered you weed for exchanged of a pencil in junior year and connie, a surly boy with short, almost balding grey hair and a sleeve tattoo his mother didn't approve of just so happened to be next to you pouting from your win.

only a month into knowing them both, you were already coming to ymir's house and smoking like no tomorrow. connie tagging along some of the days, but he was mostly with his own group at the time. after high school, you figured this was going to be the time you all parted, saying ' i'll see you tomorrow bitch!' and never actually seeing them.

you were more than wrong when you realized you all had been planning to go the same paths.

those year's led up to these moments. now, every weekend ymir would host these little... parties or when it was strictly chill vibes and no one had the time or the energy to run around with don julio in each hand. she would host a small kickback. only inner friends only.

that consistent of you, ymir, connie's dumb ass, a girl named sasha, who connie knew in pre-school, sasha's close friend jean or john. you'd forgotten a little to quickly for your liking. they'd been coming around for months and last and least, jean's friend eren yeager.

eren's... alright. you don't have anything bad to say about the boy. he's always sweet enough to you but it seems like every time you want to engage in a conversation, its over shadowed by whatever else someone is saying. at the end of the day he's still a stranger you hadn't taken the full time to get to know. it's funny how many times you'd shared a blunt with him, lip's colliding yet never learned a single thing about him.

he has a attracting spirit. the kind you found hot to an extent. he's the type to wear strong fragrances to turn heads and its exactly what he does. that skunky scent of lavish soap and expensive cologne he seemed to never leave the house without was a dead give away he was in the area. he's always adorn in sweat pants and baggy shirt's that don't do him any justice.

you could tell he takes pride in his look, well he somewhat did at least. he always has this self-approving look on his face. his fingers are always decorated with silver rings that go well with the skeleton bone tattoo that paints from his left veiny hand to his shoulder.

it makes it hard not to look his direction when he makes such a grand entrance. he's a real eye catcher, a pretty boy you knew shouldn't be anywhere in your area. you don't do good with flirty looks and bed room eyes. they could lead you to a spare bedroom any fucking time.

" |⋆|, ghost face or michael myers? " ymir asks, breaking you out of your mini tundra.

" probably ghost face, he's so fuckable. " connie rolls his eyes, taking a big hit from the blunt he'd been preparing for minutes. the bud is covered in ashes' by the time he pulls away, heaps of smoke coming from his side of the room.

sasha, who got the second best seat in the house sat a few feet away from you. she giggles. " real recognizes real. " you nodded with a smirk and clapped her hand, the noise echo's in the spacious living room.

" you nigga's are just freaky, that's all it is. " you almost let a 'shut up connie.' fall from your lips but the front door opens. in walks the person who was always late. eren. he has his hands in these loose, black sweat-pant pockets, you don't have to see those daring fingers to know he has them covered with hard looking rings. the grey t'shirt he's wearing has a design on the front you cant really decipher.

" what's up yeager. " eren tilts his head up for a greeting and makes his way to connie. his plush lips twist into a confident simper as he daps the two guys up.

eren's speaking again, taking a glance at the table with half of the snacks missing and only two rolls left. " y'all couldnt wait on me? "

" you take forever. " you say, bringing a dark blanket to your chest. " so what? " eren replies with smugness, his green eyes peering at yours with pure coy. you only return it with your infamous eyeroll to kill his dreams.

'i hate a nigga that knows he's good looking. '

" you live the closest. " stating the obvious, eren plops down in the seat in between connie and jean, folding his arms over the back, man-spreading his clothed legs to get some more room. its like he knows you want to look at his every move. he's too damn fine for his own good.

it isn't long before he's changing his seating position and he's reaching at that brown wooden table for a pack of rolls and the weed grinder. he opens the black container – seeing connie left him enough for one blunt. he's taking his win quickly.

finger's making quick toil on folding the creases in, tongue slipping out to seal it. you're face is fuming when he brings the lighter to the end of the blunt and the light reflects on his face. he's so focused on the misty smoke and not wasting the little he has, he doesn't notice the gushing look he's getting from the woman across the room.

'did it just get hotter in here or something?' you take a glance to the thermostat next to the goldish rimmed painting hanging above your head. sixty-seven degrees and no showing of anything getting hotter anytime soon. you chew on your lip. its probably that thick ass blunt ymir made you. it has to be kicking in or something.

speaking of the freckle faced stoner, she walks back into the room, you hadn't even noticed she'd gotten up. she's empty handed, using one of her hands to swipe a strand of hair out of her face. " bro, can we start the movie? i'm tryna' hang out with historia later. "

sasha ooo's like a school girl, wiggling her pale, small fingers teasingly at ymir. " you're always with historiaaa~. " sasha has this silly smirk on her face and the brown skinned girl groans from it, flipping her middle finger in her direction.

usually it takes a while to pick a movie. by this time the weed is hitting all of them and blurring the limit for time. they would often scroll through the same list on netflix and not even realize it.

this time is a little different, ymir is in a real rush to get to this 'friend' of hers. she has the tiny roku remote in her fingers as she continuously flicker through the movies. she ultimately stops on a scary movie and clicks the screen. she sends a look around the room for any concerns then actually plays the movie.

before the credits have even started the pop of a chip bag is already sounding around the room and cheesy flavoring is flooding your senses. sasha's wincing with a pouty smile, not realizing how alerting the noise was.

the first scene is a white girl manually popping corn. the volume is low but the surround sound speakers ymir got installed almost a year ago make it seem much louder. it isn't long before that same girl is killed in front of a big front yard.

by the time the movie ends, everyone is pretty much out of it. heads leaning on arm rest's. the lighters have stopped clicking and the smell of weed isn't prominent as it used to be. you'd grown used to that cozy smell. the foggy room is actually clear for the first time in years.

wiping your eyes like a kid, then realizing you had on lashes. you curse underneath your breath. looking around the quiet room, sasha and jean are sleeping soundly. connie was sleep twenty minutes into the movie. you could hear his loud ass snores. ymir isn't even in the room anymore. the second the movie ended she was gone out the front door but not without giving you a loused side hug.

you figured you were the only one functioning correctly and tossed the blanket to the side. the cold sends chill's down your arms but you don't mind it. it feels sort of good. your painted feet hit the tiled floor with a small 'plap' sound and you glance around the room to make sure it hadn't woke anyone up.

" where you going' ? " jumping, the fabric of your white, zip up jacket is grasped. instead of consoling your fear, the mad-man laughs.

" stop laughing bro, i almost had a heart attack. " you pause, taking a breath. " thought yo ass was sleep. " you explain further, standing up fully and getting a good, well hazy look at eren. his phone light is on dim and he's barely bringing it up high enough to make it known he's awake.

both of his shoulders are pretty much in use by the two boys he's squished in between. instead of looking uncomfortable, it looks like he found slight comfort in them being next to him. it's leaving a smile on your face instead of a panicked frown.

he hum's, dropping the dark phone in his lap. " still didn't answer my question. " you tilt your head, thinking back to said question.

when it finally hits your scuzzy mind, you're letting out a soft 'oh!' " no where, well i don't know. i just want some fresh air. " you're falsely admitting, stretching your body to release any tension.

did you really need some fresh air or were the stirs from connie and jean making it known they could wake up and once again take away the little time you had to get to know eren? it's probably the bud thinking for you at this point.

" you can come with me. " turning on your heels, you almost miss the several groans from jean and connie from being pushed aside. " you that eager nigga? " questioning with the slightest amount of tease, he's right behind you in a heart beat.

" nah. " turning back to look at him, he's already looking at your back side with a smirk. his own limbs being stretched out. he slips on his slides and you didn't feel like putting on your boots, so you opted on stealing ymir's flip-flops she kept by the door.

you didn't really plan this far out. it has to be around eleven or so, your to high to drive home, you actually didn't need any air and you can already tell its cold as hell outside. it was just the perfect excuse to get out of that room and into a more private one with eren, no one was going to interrupt your mission.

men are so easy, your practically nodding to yourself. ymir's back door is opened and closed within seconds, the back porch is nicely clean except for a few leaves and dirt that you didn't really care about right now, you swiped some dirt off the second step and shuffled to the left to give him some room.

eren is sitting down on the first step soon after, without the hassle of wiping anything down. now, its quiet and cold, and there's really nothing to say or do when the wind is speaking.

" how long you been in shiganshina? " he asks after long periods of silence.

" my whole life. " your replying, low eyes blurry with the upcoming mist from the weather. " and you? "

" born and raised. " then its quiet again. your messing with your acrylic's , only looking up when a tree bristles loud enough to sound like it might fall.

" those are really pretty. " quirking your head up, it seemed like you're staring into a bottomless pit of beauty. eren's not even paying attention to anything but you and the way your skin is still so moist in such cold air.

its little details on his face you thought you'd already noticed before that have you feining. you squint your eyes. his nose is pierced on the right side. the actually dot isn't a dot like yours. its a silver star that's small but glance worthy when anyone see's it.

his hair looks so healthy, not only in the sun but also in the moonlight. you're kind of jealous of that. even in its normal state in that low back bun, you can tell he isn't using men's one-hundred in one. the wind casts a breeze in your direction, that's giving you another reminder. the soft smell of lemon and something sweet like pineapple's is hitting your nose. such different smells that go rewardingly well on him.

" gimme' your hand. " your obeying it without question, he chuckles at the haste and you dare to drag your hand away. " i'm playing pretty, i just want to see. "

" why? " asking nicely and still letting him slither those slender, tattooed fingers over your bedazzled nails, he's humming again and not answering your question now.

" hello? " rubbing his thumb over your knuckle gently, the calluses of his own has you quietly swallowing. he perks your hand up finally and actually looks at the nails now. " my bad, my mom does nails. " you frown, still not understanding what that has to do with him looking at your hands like a meal.

giving him a better show, you half curl your hand and lay it side ways in his own. your palms touching and forming heat you didn't know you needed to entirely bad. " so? " you mutter, not returning the eye contact you know he has on you.

" nothing, she could just do better than this. " he flaunting out, stretching those delicate fingers ever so slightly. you don't even realize he brings both of your hands down and resting them on his rough lap, you're to focused on the cute little gesture's he's making.

" you letting me meet your mommy already? " it was cute how he wanted to get his mom some new clients, he must be a momma's boy. eren's nodding instead of laughing though, replying with simplicity. " yeah. "

" what's up with you bro. " you chuckle. " i don't even know your birthday and your trying to let me meet your mom's- "

" march thirtieth. " cutting you off, you almost forgot you had even said anything about a birthday. your brain is realtering itself to remember that date when this high is over.

eren's not ashamed to look at the prize he wants. he's been plotting for fucking months and nothing is going to break him out of this. his low, emerald eyes are falling down the pattern of your silver zipper, falling into your lap. undressing those lacey panties he just knows you have on under those pants.

it has you shying away, wanting to turn around in your respectful seat. that's when it hits you. that grip on your hand wasn't from your other one. it's from his, unmoving and finally locking into those intimidatingly attractive eyes, your glancing at those wet lips he managed to always keep looking mushy.

you know they are the softest lips you'd ever feel. like pillows sent from heaven. you grip his hand, no longer just wanting to feel his sweaty palm, but those fingers- his fore arms, his strong shoulders. everywhere he'd allow you.

" eren... " encaging his fingers into a tight hold, he takes a quick look at his thigh. he isn't able to hide the side smile that's forming. you don't even know why you're calling his name, you just wanted him to say something with that slutty voice of his. – just acknowledge you in every way possible.

" yeah? " your beady eyes are watering from the constant pressure of wind and its becoming so fucking obvious you both don't want to be in the cold anymore.

" what are you trying to do? "

" you want me to be honest baby? " baby... that word has you dripping, squeezing your thighs together to take away that ache in your cunt. you nod. you can't find those confident words anywhere in sight. its hard to say men are easy when you're soaking just from being close to him.

" i wanna take you to a room and make you feel real good. " his head is cocking to the left and those eyes he kept on you are dropping lower. his hand twitches in your grasp and it doesn't take much to know he's putting you in eight different positions in his head.

" we don't even have to fuck, i just want to eat your pussy. "

your mouth lathers with saliva, and your standing up to entirely quick. eren is laughing behind you and your so horny you don't even tell him off. you don't care about the three people on the couch sleeping good. you want to take this pretty boy up on his offer.

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folded up, knees to your chest. the air is hitting your warm pussy. your panting from the littlest touches to your body. plush form being demolished by the stronger man keeping you still. eren has his hands in the bottom creases of your knees, applying pressure that only gives you minimal lay away to move around.

your pussy is leaking on the sheets, all type's of fluid leaving a stain you didn't care for. he's mouthing on your cunt, his spit coating your pussy in a new layer of slick. eren kept his word. he didn't need to fuck you to feel good. he made that known when he took a long lick from your entrance to the top of your cunt in a slow strobe, whimpering hard.

" stop squirming baby. " he's muttering into your pussy, kissing your puffy clit. face full of your cum and arousal. he's so deep in between those legs he can barely breathe. his stubbled chin constantly coming in contact with your needy, waiting entrance.

you cant keep your hands from gripping at any and everything. your holding onto the spare room pillow, covering your face and mouth to keep the others from hearing the total mess you're steady becoming.

" nah, move that. " you don't listen, your voice pouty and muffled in the pillow. eren doesn't have time to play games with you, he's been doing that for months. he snatches the pillow away himself and throws it at the wall.

" i wanna hear you. fuck them. " your spasming on his tongue again before you can speak. weeps of moans falling on deaths door from the amount of pleasure happening on your pretty pussy. your hiccupping from the lack of air entering your lungs, to caught up on the way eren is twisting his tongue over your sensitive clit.

eren's been licking, flicking and sucking on your clit for almost a hour. he just can't get enough of you. you taste so sweet and tarty, its like a fucking desert he can only indulge in. anything your body is willingly to push out for him to taste he's sucking it up.

fucking his tongue in and out of your tight hole, eyes open the entire time to watch you come undone. your hair is sticking to your face, the ginger bringing the caramel out of your skin and aiding your beauty. he didn't think you could get any more sexier.

" fuck baby, " smacking your inner thigh, he gets a breather before he actually dies in the best way possible. " pussy to damn dangerous. " he's huffing and hitting those soft, thick thighs, wanting nothing more than to leave his marks on your skin.

your cute little face scrunches and yelps fill the room, his mouth falling back on those fat lips to get another sample, tasting that sweet juicy fruit. his jaw is hurting and damn near begging for it to end but he doesn't give a fuck. he wants to make you feel good, too good.

your to much of a pretty girl to not have someone in between these legs every day. " 'ren! " eren speeds up, ignoring those pleas. " 'ren, baby please. " you're begging, the knot in your stomach forming from the endless pleasure. you don't know if your begging because its too much or he's to damn good at this and you need to repay him somehow.

– between the base of your thighs being smacked and the vibration of eren moaning, a shock ascends throughout your body. cumming for the third time that night. stars are forming in the far corners of your eyes. it feels like eren has full control of your body. he's keeping you still with only two arms and smirking from how fucked out you already look.

your body is still twitching and it takes a army and every working limb you have to pull him off of you by his hair. he's raspy and to happy for someone who could've died from being to pussy drunk. your chest is heavy and it feels like you can finally inhale properly.

" my bad. " sheepishly apologizing, he plants a soft kiss to your abused clit and toothily smiles when you give him a death stare. gently bringing your knees from your squished chest down, he's kissing your sore knee-caps, wetly sucking on the frontal part of your thighs.

somethings bothering you heavily and its making your chest warm unnaturally seeing him care about every aspect of your body. " why are you taking care of me? "

" whatchu' talking about? "

" this. " you lazily point at his hands that sting a way into your pores. " you kissing on me like you love me and shit. "

" wouldn't go that far. " your rolling your red eyes again and dragging a hand down to your tummy, letting it rest for the time being. " this is mandatory though. you just fuck with the wrong boys. " you want to take it as a stray but actually process it. have you really been messing with guy's who didn't think to care for your body?

it has you recurring every misaligning person you let into your safe space and have a way with your figure. " hey, don't think about it " eren snaps in your face. " that's why i'm here, ima take care of you baby. promise. "

biting your lip, your pushing everything away because he asked you too and something about that foreign feeling doesn't feel to damn bad. you don't have it in you to talk or ask him for anything else, but you spread those legs of yours and beckon him to come here. how can he ever say no to you.

he's shuffling in-between you, applying his hand on one of the pillows next to your head. you stare into his alluring eyes, raking your hand from your own stomach to his. he's gulping, his adam's apple plumping with nerves.

" you wanna fuck me yeager? " he feels like a virgin when you speak like that. anxious and scared to disappoint, he's nodding, bring his head down to plant a soft kiss to your plump lips. just like you thought, they're so pulpy and flush. he kisses like butter, like a piece of bubble gum that's so slinky you almost want to swallow it.

the kiss is deepening with the mood, the fist in his hair is keeping him from cumming in his pants. he almost doesn't want to pull away but he can feel her dripping under him and there's only so much his dick can take before it's begging to be buried inside that soft cushion.

he's making quick work with his clothes. sitting on the balls of his feet, he's tugging his shirt over his head. the sight of his toned chest has you gawking. it's a good thing he only wore comfy clothing, you would've pounced on him the moment he walked into this house.

" take your time... " you joke, casting your surly eyes to the space below your plush tummy. tapping your nails on your stomach. he's already groaning from the sight. you didn't think he could get any faster, he's slipping out of pants and those tight boxers in second.

to say you were disappointed never crossed your mind. you're actually fucking nervous. he's thick, with a healthy pink tip and some inches that make you squeeze your stomach in.

" don't go getting scared on me pretty. " stroking his length, he's bringing your left leg up, kissing the base of your ankle sloppily. his dick is leaking with pre-cum, slouching his tip on your clit. you both let out a soft gasp.

the feeling is euphonic, sensitive clit being brought back to life with one little swipe. your grinding lightly on his tip and he's hissing from how wet she is. " yeah baby, mhmm... you know how to do it. " he praises, his teeth biting into his cheek.

" put it in 'ren. " lifting your hips, you get so close to pushing his dick in and he aids it, his brows knitting, mouth falling open when he aligns it right, sliding into your entrance with ease.

the moan's fall off the wall. he's stretching you so well. the pain almost feels too good. your mouth shaped into a 'o and your hands are fumbling for something new to grab. eren has his head draped down to watch him slip inside of that pussy that cant help but suck him in.

he's whimpering when you clench- moaning when you're folding your legs around him to push in deeper. it's like he can cum from this alone. you just hugging him in has him gapping.

" pussy to fuckin' wet, fuckkk. " he's groaning out in between deep thrusts, pace picking up fast as fuck for someone on the verge of tapping out. your body is following his orders, back arched with intent to make him feel good. eyes rolling from the captivity of his being.

its almost to much when he pushes in to deep, hips runting into your poor cunt like she hadn't been through enough. his tip is ramming into that gushy spot inside of you that has your brain shuttering to working. your mewling loud -- unable to form a single coherent word.

legs pulled tight to hold him in, cunt tightening on his dick making his steady thrust sloppy for mere seconds before he's back to putting in work. dainty fingers coming to rest on his v-line, not pushing but not letting him reach that spot that makes you go fucking crazy. he's silent with how bothered he is about that hand, he knows you're still sensitive and recovering from those heavenly orgasms, but he's to entuned to stop when he knows it'll make you feel so, so good.

" move it. " he's stating with attitude, you refuse to and he only slows down. you whine from the loss. your moaning his name pathetically, lifting your own hips to get that feeling back before its gone. he holds your supple hips down, leaning down to kiss and fondle with your brown nipples.

" e'ren, come on! "

" you gonna keep that fuckin' hand down? " you nod, panting, surprised you were even able to speak in the first place. he's returned that pace little by little, watching your fingers retreat to one of the blue pillows behind your back, eyes closed.

head hanging low, hair coming out of that bun from all the tugging, he almost looks like a greek status above you- one hand on your tummy, squishing it down to feel the cave his dick is making, the other bringing your left leg back to his lips, folding you – he's to caught up in how response you are to his touches.

propping your ankle on his shoulder, leaning down to look you dead in your watery eyes. you cant shy away from nothing now. he's thrusting in deep, pussy gushing all over the sheets and his length. eye's faltering when it comes to keeping that contact.

" i'm so close baby. " he's warning you and your nodding to agree with him, your arms lifting to his neck, dragging him down for a kiss. tongue lacing with his like second nature – eyes shut when that knot in your guts is on the verge of breaking and broken cries are falling in between the kiss.

" gonna cum in you baby, you don't mind that d-do you? " to head-struck, your nodding like a idiot in heat. that gives eren a new goal, he's stroking in like a wild animal, biting his lip so hard it bleeds when you squeeze him.

trying your hardest to keep your moans in, eren pushes in one last time and hits that blurry spot that renders you brain dead. your moaning, clawing on his v'line with that new set to keep him from moving. cunt completely spent and aching again when eren is painting your walls white.

the warm feeling only making it worse, now he cant move or you might regret it. eren's heaving, one hand on the headrest to puff out and rush in the smell of sex, vanilla and shea butter.

" fuckkk i gotta' get you a plan b asap. "

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

©��𝙈𝙋𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙇𝙄𝘼𝙍 any sort of stealing or modifying is prohibited, mess with your momma not me.

[luvsupa]

tags: chef!geto x married!reader, cheating (don’t do this guys), naoya is readers husband, food play(ish), geto has tattoos + purple eyes, smut (kinda), mdni,

w.c: 1.9k

+ finally this is out of my drafts 🙂‍↕️

“i’ve hired a new chef.” your husband, naoya, announces coldly from the other end of the long, polished dining table. the sharp clink of cutlery echoes through the grand dining room as you both eat the meal your private chefs had meticulously prepared—medium rare wagyu steak with truffle mashed potatoes and buttered asparagus, the kind of meal that screams luxury. but his voice grates on you, cutting through your attempt to enjoy the evening.

you grip your knife tightly, scraping it against your plate in irritation, barely tasting the food. naoya’s eyes finally flick up from his plate, narrowing as he notices your silence. his leg bounces under the table, the tension radiating off him as he grows impatient with you ignoring him. 

“i’m speaking to you, woman,” he snaps through gritted teeth, barely holding back his annoyance.

you drop your utensils with a clatter, meeting his icy gaze. “and i’m listening. another chef, huh? what is this, the eighth or ninth employee you’ve hired just to fuck behind my back?”

naoya leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. his tongue rolls against his cheek, a clear sign that you’ve struck a nerve. but instead of shame, he’s amused.

“whatever happens between me and my staff is none of your concern,” he says smoothly, his arrogance on full display. “and this time, i’ve hired a male chef. try not to spread your legs for him the way you do for everyone else.”

the words sting, but they’re nothing new. his chuckle follows as he tosses his dirty napkin onto his half-eaten plate and stands, casually loosening his tie from his work suit. “slut,” he mutters under his breath as he walks out of the dining room, leaving you with the hollow clink of his footsteps fading in the distance.

you stare down at your left hand weighed down by stacks and stacks of luxurious jewelry—gifts from naoya, from a time when he at least pretended to love you. the massive diamond on your ring finger feels heavy, a cruel reminder of the life you thought you’d have. a life where you were cherished, not ignored and humiliated.

but that was before the affairs. before he cheated on you with everyone from his secretaries to the maids. you’ve tried to leave him more than once, but his connections, his power—he’s made it clear he’ll destroy you if you ever walk away. 

and so you stay, trapped in this gilded cage.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the next morning, you wake up tangled in silk sheets, the rich fabric cool against your skin. you turn to the clock on the nightstand—9:40 a.m. naoya is already gone, no doubt having left hours earlier for work. good, you think. it’s better that way. waking up to his smug face would only ruin your morning.

slipping into your soft slippers, you wrap yourself in a sheer lilac robe, its light fabric brushing against your bare skin as you make your way to the bathroom. after freshening up, you take extra care with your skincare routine and hair, making sure you look more presentable than you did when you woke up.

the enticing aroma of freshly baked pastries and pancakes floats through the air as you descend the grand, floating staircase—something you’d begged naoya to have built when you first moved in.

you walk into the kitchen, expecting to see one of the female chefs who probably has a history with your husband. but instead, you freeze mid-greeting.

“good morning, rina—oh…” your words trail off as your eyes land on a tall, muscular man in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with an ease that seems almost hypnotic. his back is turned to you, but you can’t help but admire the way his broad shoulders stretch the black tank top—no, wife beater—that clings to his frame. you can see the muscles in his arms flex with each movement, glistening in the soft morning light streaming through the tall windows. his long, dark hair is tied up in a neat bun, and his discarded chef’s jacket hangs over the back of a chair.

he turns at the sound of your voice, a warm smile spreading across his lips, and you’re suddenly struck by how impossibly handsome he is. it’s not just his looks—it’s his presence. confident and utterly intoxicating. your mouth goes dry as you try not to ogle him, but it’s impossible. fuck, he looks good.

“ah, good morning, mrs. zenin. apologies for the late breakfast,” he says smoothly, his voice deep and velvety, and you have to lean more into the wall for support.

you quickly correct him by letting him no the preferred name rather than naoya’s evil surname. “a-and, there’s no need to be so formal…?,” you drag on for his chance to introduce himself.

“such a beautiful name,” he compliments, sending a shiver down your spine. you feel like a teenage girl speaking to her crush for the first time. “i’m geto suguru.”

suguru. you roll the name over in your mind,

“do… do you need any help, suguru?” you offer, your voice barely above a whisper. you step closer to him, drawn in by his presence. his cologne is subtle, but it clogs your mind, intoxicating you as you catch the scent of sandalwood and something dark and sensual.

he looks down at you, smirking at your shy demeanor. “you wanna help, pretty?” his eyebrow quirks as he motions you to join him, and you nod, as the petname made you all happy.

he motions you to move to his other side but as you follow- your gaze catches something else—tattoos. a full sleeve, intricate designs snaking up his toned arm. your mouth goes dry again as your eyes linger, tracing the ink and the way it contrasts against his skin.

he notices, of course, and chuckles. “got these during a… phase. not really proud of it,” he admits casually, his voice smooth as silk.

“i think they’re attractive,” you say softly, barely able to look him in the eye as you flirt back.

his smirk widens, and he turns back to the stove, pouring a decent amount of pancake batter onto the pan. the butter sizzles, filling the air with the rich, delicious scent of breakfast. “i think you’re attractive,” he murmurs, “shame you’re already married.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, a reminder of naoya, of the life you’re stuck in. your smile falters, and geto notices, his sharp eyes catching every little reaction.

“is that whipped cream?” you ask quickly, desperate to change the subject, trying to pull yourself together.

“just finished,” he replies, turning down the heat on the jam. his voice is low, smooth, teasing. “wanna taste?”

you nod, unable to resist the pull of his presence. geto steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he dips his finger into the whipped cream. slowly, he brings it to his mouth. his lips part, his tongue gliding over his finger as he sucks the cream off, savouring it with a soft, sensual hum. his eyes flutter shut, and the moment feels intimate—too intimate.

your lips part slightly, unable to look away from the sight of him. his finger glistens as he pulls it from his mouth, the motion slow, deliberate, teasing you without a single word. he dips back into the bowl, scooping up a thick, generous glob of cream, his eyes darkening with desire.

“say ahh, baby,” he whispers, his voice so low, it’s almost a growl, holding his finger near your lips.

your breath catches, your glossed lips parting eagerly as you wait for him to feed you, heat pooling between your thighs at the way he’s looking at you. but instead, his hand accidentally slips, the cold cream falling between your breasts, slowly trickling down your cleavage.

you gasp at the shock of it, the cold against your heated skin sending a shiver through you.

“oh… i’m sorry,” he murmurs, though the wicked smirk curling at his lips tells you he’s anything but. “mah i clean that up?” he politely asks as you mutter out a soft, yes, as he smirks.

before you can fully process anything, his large hands are on you, lifting you effortlessly onto the cool marble counter. your breath hitches as your robe falls open slightly, the flimsy material slipping down your shoulders, baring more of your chest. geto positions himself between your legs, his gaze locked on your cleavage, his tongue slowly wetting his lips.

you tremble above him, his body so close, the heat of him making you dizzy. he leans in, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers slowly push more of the fabric of your robe, exposing the thin top beneath. his eyes darken with hunger as he takes in the sight of you.

with agonizing slowness, he lowers his head, his long tongue sliding up the valley between your breasts, collecting the cream in long, deliberate licks. the sensation sends a shock of pleasure through you, and your head falls back, a soft moan escaping your lips. he moves up to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin, leaving hot, wet kisses. fuck, you didn’t realize how touch deprived you were until now- especially being in his presence is making your cunt quiver.

his hands glide up your body, one gripping your waist while the other cups your breast. your eyes flutter at the intensity as your breathing quickens as he kneads your breast through the thin fabric of your top. you let out a broken moan as he sucks harder at your neck while simultaneously pinching and twisting your erect nipples between his experienced fingers as his tongue continues its sinful path along your throat. and oh, the sweet melodies of your moans escaping your mouth does something to geto. he feels his work pants get tighter and tighter the more you let out your moans. fuckk he thinks it’s beyond pathetic how something so minimal is making him this hard.

“m-more,” you plead breathlessly, your voice a desperate whisper.

geto chuckles against your neck, his lips brushing your ear. “does your husband even know how fucking needy you are?” he taunts, his voice thick with amusement. his fingers pinch your nipple harder, drawing a gasp from you. “how much you crave this? how desperate you are to be touched like this?”

you shake your head, unable to form words, your body arching into his touch, wanting everything he can give. but just when you think he’s about to give in to your pleas, he pulls back, his heat leaving you suddenly cold as he turns his attention back to the stove, his movements casual as if nothing had just happened.

your eyes fly open in disbelief, your body still trembling, aching for him. he flips the pancakes calmly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as though you hadn’t just been begging him for more.

“i-i didn’t get a taste,” you whine softly, your voice thick with need, still perched on the counter, your legs open, desperate for him.

he glances back at you, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he finishes preparing you your breakfast as he turns around, hands you a beautifully plated dish of pancakes, the whipped cream and fresh jam. “i don’t want the food- i want you,” you whine as he places the food beside you.

“you can’t always get what you want, spoiled brat.” you huff in frustration, your body still burning for him, but before you can say a word, he leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“maybe i’ll let you have more when you learn some manners, hmm?” 

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) scenario

Request/Inquiry from @aikothingdream:

“It would be funny to see Yuuji also not like his teacher hitting on Onee-chan”

Life as a cursed spirit’s “bride” was hilariously boring. 

Gojo described your cursed energy as below average, you had zero martial arts training or talent, and Sukuna threatened Gojo and Yuuji not to put you in danger. 

Yuuji was often busy training, studying, or hanging out with his new classmates. You were happy that he had people to look after him in your place, but without a job or a class to attend, you were a parasite.

To alleviate your guilt, you did everyone’s laundry (minus their unmentionables, even Yuuji's, who furiously insisted he was old enough to wash his own underwear–kids, they grow up so fast *sigh*), mopped the hallways, wiped the windows, and other chores. 

You just finished rearranging the clothes in your cabinet for the second time today. 

You sprawled yourself on the floor like a starfish. 

Free food, no rent. Everything was paid for here. This should’ve been the ideal life, but you were so booooored.

Spurned by the desire to fill the void, you went to the kitchen. No one was around. Of course. 

You searched the cupboard, but only found a half-eaten package of cookies. The fridge had a can of whipped cream on the verge of emptiness and some strawberries.. 

Shutting the fridge close with your hip, you chomped on a cookie and a medium-sized strawberry then sprayed a swirl of cream in your mouth.

“Guess who’s back with treats! I–ah.” Gojo Satoru stopped at the kitchen doorway, a plastic bag full of sweets hanging from his hand. 

A silence fell over as you saw each other. 

He stood there, quietly as you stared, frozen with a mouth stuffed with sugar. 

You: (⊙ｏ⊙)

Gojo: ( ._. )

Gojo: …

Gojo: …pft.

You: …!

You forced yourself to chew faster, but expectedly, the thing that was supposed to be in charge of you and your brother burst into maniacal laughter.

“PWAHAHAHAHA!” 

“Mm…mf!” 

“Oh, man. I gotta take a picture.” He pulled out his phone. 

You wanted to say something, but there was too much stuff in your mouth! 

Gojo continued laughing between clicks and flashes until you started choking like a pelican who swallowed too big a fish. 

In an instant, he was behind you, arms wound tightly around your abdomen. “Please don’t die. It would be too pathetic!”

“Aurgh..!!!??” Translation: You think I wanna go like this, you a&%****!?

With one, strong squeeze, Gojo forced the food out of you. 

“That was close! Good thing I was here or who knows what would’ve happened.”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...”

“Not going to say anything? What’s wrong, nee-san?”

Feeling a vein near popping, you coughed out, “I believe I asked you not to call me that.”

“You’re so cold. Megumi and Kugisaki call you that. Even the second years!”

You had a couple of things to say, but considering that he technically saved your life, you opted to keep them to yourself. “Thank you for the help, now please let go. I’m going to clean this up.”

But as you said this, your knees buckled and his arms shifted to stop you from falling.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

Whoosh

A giant knife flew towards Gojo, stopped only by his infinity. 

You both turned to find Yuuji standing by the door, panic and shock on his face as he gripped hard on his right arm responsible for throwing the blade. 

“I-I didn’t know how that happened, I swear!”

Sukuna spoke from his cheek. “You damn blue-eyed bastard. How dare you touch my wife so shamelessly?”

“Excuse me?! I just saved her from cho–” 

“Yuuji!” Embarrassed, you pushed yourself out of Gojo’s embrace and walked towards your brother. “Welcome home. Do you have any requests for dinner?”

“I’ve been craving curry rice since this morning.”

“I think we just ran out. I’llgocheckthestorageroom!” Flustered, you rushed out of the kitchen, forgetting your own mess. 

Yuuji quietly went to mop the food you choked out.

Gojo sighed. “Yuuji, what should I do, I don’t think your sister likes me.”

“Gojo-sensei.”

When Gojo met his student’s gaze, it held a surprising sharpness. “???”

“Thank you for taking care of us,” Yuuji’s normally cheery tone was flat as he spoke, “but please don’t bother my sister too much.” 

“???????”

Later that evening, in Fushiguro’s room…

Gojo: Megumi, why is everybody so mean to me?

Gojo: (˃̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

Megumi: Please leave. 

A/N: I tried to have more fun with this one so I was more liberal with my style. Anyway, I got a few more requests, the products are coming soon!

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @marvelsgirl4ever @alastorhazbin @satosuguswife @lumaniii @leahlovesreading @blackstaw @nineooooo @boba--12

Other snippets of this au are found here.

[paper-mario-wiki]

Hey how do you cook chicken so often. It's always a huge fucking hassle to me to prep and cook chicken and it's so expensive I usually don't bother. Is there some trick you know for making it easy?

the answer's a lot more simple than ya think. i just have a huge bag of chicken breasts in the freezer. dont remember PRECISELY how much it was, pretty sure under $25 for 10 pounds at costco, and it'll last you several weeks when cooking for one.

the only real "prep" for making it easier is, when i don't have any chicken thawed in the fridge, i take some out of the freezer and put it into a plastic bag in the fridge. then, by the next day, ive got chicken that can be cooked and eaten up in 10 minutes. while still raw, it'll stay good for 2 days refrigerated, and up to 4 if you're stupid.

the breasts are actually a little bigger than i'd like when cooking just for myself, so while they're still frozen i find their middle and split them in half on the hard corner of my kitchen counter.

before seasoning, pat down the breast with a paper towel to get excess moisture off. it'll cook more evenly and make seasoning stick easier. i only use salt and pepper before cooking because im lazy and spiceless (poor), but you can definitely use herbs and whatnot when cooking. also smash down some of the thicker bits of the meat with the bottom of a cup or a mallet if you've got one. as long as the breast isn't thicker than, say, the width of your index finger, it'll cook through very easily, mostly in its own juices. otherwise you'll have a harder time cooking it evenly, though it can still be done. it just takes longer and might not look as nice.

pan-frying is as easy as putting in a splash of olive oil (not a ton, just enough for the breast to rest in), and cooking for 5 to 7 minutes on both sides, depending on how brown you want it. this is on medium-high heat, so i set my stove's little heat dial to 6 or 7.

for reference, the meal i made today (chicken breast, hashbrown, fried kale) was prepared in about 15ish minutes, including prepping the chicken and getting it on the pan, which was done first cuz it takes the longest to cook. the hashbrowns cooked on the far side of the pan away from the chicken, and the kale in my air fryer for 3 minutes. the chicken came off the pan first, and i let it rest for a few minutes while i let the hashbrowns finish cooking.

it sounds like a lotta work, but sincerely the most tedious thing about cooking with chicken is thawing it out, so having a few single-person servings of chicken in the fridge makes the whole process much simpler.

make sure that you're wiping down surfaces and utensils that the chicken touches while still raw, and try not to let any of the other foods at all. salmonella is easily avoidable, but still no joke.

[helplesspuppet-bsd]

Date Night

 

Pairing: Chuuya x FEM!Reader 

Established Relationship 

Type: Fluff/smut 

Warning: smut (Minors DNI) 

Pet names used: baby, darling, babe, good girl, love 

Overall Word Count: 910 

Chuuya was granted permission to have the day off by Mori after a successful mission, he decided to spend entire day with you. The day started with an extravagant breakfast, then you both laid on the couch cuddling and watching cheesy romance movies until the sun set and then a late-night ride on his motorcycle, backpacking you, your arms wrapped around his torso for support. Chuuya rode you around the city, admiring how beautiful and peaceful it was at night. 

“You enjoying yourself baby?” Chuuya asked with a smug smirk as he looks back of you as he waits for the light to turn, you smile and nod, your arms wrapped tightly around him but not tight enough to distract him. Chuuya looked back towards the road just before the lights turned green. He soon decided that it was time to go home and prepare what he had planned for the rest of the night. After all, only the best for his love. Chuuya parked his bike inside the garage, and he got off the bike, helping you off after.  

“Chuuya, baby... Can you please put me down...?” You asked as Chuuya carried you to the dining room, using his gravity manipulation to make you lighter. Chuuya chuckled to himself as he kept you in his arms, “No, no Darling. You are staying right where you are.” Chuuya cooed as he entered the dining room with you, placing you on the table and kissed you, passionately. 

You held Chuuya’s face, to bring him closer to you, Chuuya pulled away by an inch or two “Baby... You are so beautiful.” Chuuya whispered pulling you into another passionate kiss. It became heated very quickly as you tugged on his shirt. 

 “Chuuya...” You whispered as Chuuya put his hand on your lowered back, and his other trailing up your thigh. 

Chuuya began to kiss your cheek slowly brought it down to your neck, a subtle moan left your lips before he brought you into a tight hug, his face buried into the crook of your neck, “No... We can’t just yet, we haven’t eaten dinner yet.” Chuuya muttered against your neck, the vibrations from his voice cause you to shudder, before picking you up again, your legs wrapped around his waist and letting you down on the chair. 

“What would you like for dinner, Y/n?” Chuuya asked as he placed his hand on his head “I don’t care Chuuya. We could order take away.” You responded as you leaned into his touch as his hand moved to your cheek. 

“Doesn’t answer my question, Babe. What’d you like for dinner?” Chuuya responded as he looked at you with a smirk and lifted an eyebrow. You gave a small laugh, “I don’t know, Baby...” You replied before an idea popped into your head “Pizza?” You asked “Really? Pizza?” Chuuya said as he went over to the landline on the wall “What kind do you want?” Chuuya asked as he dialled the number for the pizza place nearby. “Hmmm... Cheese?” You asked as you continued to look at him with a blush on your face, Chuuya had always had a high sex drive, and you wouldn’t lie that you’ve been having dreams of him fucking you into the mattress on those long nights. 

As you were in your own mind, you didn’t realise how long you’d stayed until the pizza was right in front of you. 

It was quiet as you and Chuuya ate. It always was... You both enjoyed having silence as you two ate half of a medium-sized cheese pizza. 

He carried you to the bedroom, placed you on the bed gently. Chuuya began to climb on top of you and started placing soft kisses on your face. 

“Can you be a good girl for me?” Chuuya asked, his voiced laced in need and desire as his mouth returned to your neck placing kisses on it, causing you to let out soft moans. 

“Will you?” Chuuya asked again, kissing your lips a second later “Chuuya....” You whispered his name, watching him take off his gloves, his soft hands gliding it down towards your pussy, feeling how wet it was. 

“Oh baby...” Chuuya whispered as he brought his body lower down his head now in between your thighs, before looking up at you as if asking for permission to continue, he watched you nod. 

He buried his head in your thighs, his tongue trailing up your sweet cunt, listing to the moans that leaves your lips as he continues. Chuuya felt gentle tugs on his hair by your hand, he looked up at that adorable expression you were making as you became a complete mess for him, it was enough motivation for Chuuya to keep going, until you cum on his face, he lapped up your juices with his tongue until you calm down from your high. 

“Chuuya.” You said in blissful pleasure, Chuuya let out a low chuckle as he crawled up to you “You were such a good girl, my love” He whispered as he cradled you in his arms as he felt your body go limp as you closed your eyes. 

Chuuya always focused on your pleasure, while you focused on his when you had energy to continue. Chuuya stroked your hair, his smile alone showed how much he loved and cherished you. He placed a small kiss on your head before closing his eyes and sleeping alongside you in his arms. 

[rpreaperperson]

MOM

Reader is a combat medic, a BIG sweeth tooth and a mother to 141 boys (dont forget can cook too) a waifu material

In case with Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

MasterList

Warning!!: jelly and OOC Ghost, and jelly Soap

You grunt from your chair stretching your arm up, exhausted with the examination paper that one of the nurses gave you

“guess I need a little snack time..” after tidying up the paper you walk into the door and think of what will you make for your snack time

As you open the door there in the doorway stands a tall man with his skull balaclava on his head, you jump a little placing your hand on your chest

“Oh my God..!!” you gasp

‘Seriously this man going to be death of me’ you thought while calming down your heartbeat

“Doc” he casually greets looking down at you

“Simon! what’s wrong? you need something?” you notice his eyes narrowing

“.....I heard Johnny got some sweets”

“Uhh..yeah..well like the usual Johnny, right? I mean is not unsual for him to got a sweets from me” you tried to explain the strict Lieutenant, remembering the first time you gave him sweets after Gaz, Soap, and Price

You could say that he is...

“you know the drill Doc”

“must you always do that Simon?” you could almost feel him smirk under that balaclava planning something devious

“..hmp of course he’s the one who brags about it” Ghost crossing his arm on his chest

...Quite delight especially when that time you cook for them

 “Fine...” you sigh shaking your head, both of you heading to the kitchen

.

“Chocolate cake? or cheese cake?”

“Chocolate one”

“Okay..guess I have make it for – “

“NO I WANT IT ALL TO MYSELF” his gruff voice boomed as he glared at you

“okay..okay hun! Geez..what happen that make you like this Simon?” you ask while preparing the utensils and the ingredients

“Jhonny fault for swaying the sweets you gave ‘im in front of my face...tauntingly” he leans on the counter watching you preparing the cake, you glance at him and sigh tiredly

“of course..Jhonny you’re the source of it all”

“dont forget you’re the one who spoil ‘im”grunt Ghost

“well..being the oldest one and having 5 ‘lil brothers will doing it to you” Ghost just huffs, he already knows about your family condition a part of him feels envy...but then he is in love with your motherly side enough for him wanting to married you

“Im waiting Doc...” you just hummed at him fully concentrating on the task, Ghost just stared at you fondly

He knows that you didn’t want any help when you making something for the rest of the team, and says that they only making it worse so he makes the tea instead

.

.

“mhh..good as always Doc”

“ehehe thanks Simon~”

Then in the hallway Soap who had just done from his training smelled a delicious scent, rushing into the kitchen his body hunching nose sniffed around the room like a dog searching for the source of the scent

“DOC! Y-you make something?” he cried out at you who now cleaning up the utensils, if he has a dog's tail you bet it’ll wag excitedly right now

“Uhh..yeah..” you pointed at Ghost who was busy munching the medium size chocolate cake with his balaclava pulled up to the bridge of his nose, both Ghost and Soap stared at each other

The lieutenant squinting his eyes at Soap, while the Scottish man stared at the half-eaten cake

“Ohhh~ LT, you’re – “ Soap swaying way to the cake tried to persuade Ghost to share, and...

HAUMPH

“Mmmhh...ish gooddd..”

Your eyes widen in disbelief so does Soap with jaw open wide his bulk arm reaches the cake.. trying to reach the cake, crushing his hope and dream into dust

“sorry Soap not gonna happen...” wiping the chocolate from his mouth, taking his cup of tea

“Appreciate the cake Doc, its delicious as always” he approaching you

“always?!” Soap shriek snap his head at you

“u-uh yeah y-you’re wel – “suddenly he kisses your cheek while staring at Soap tauntingly then pulled down his balaclava and walking away from the scene, with a blushing face you touch the cheeks he kisses

‘Oh dear...he’s REALLY gonna be death of me..’

Soap stand there fuming not just eating the whole cake in front him, he just kiss YOUR cheeks?!

‘oh..its on now...LT’  you sigh glance at Soap

‘maybe I’ll gave him mine instead’

[treatbuckywkisses]

Perspective

Summary: artist!steve and .... you weren't supposed to find out like this

A/N: this was written on my phone:) I've had this idea for 3 years now and finally fully executed it and I feel good enough about it to post it!!! please let me know all your thoughts & reblog!! love you big🩷 moodboard made by yours truly💛 dividers made by @firefly-graphics

Warnings: literally so soft and fluffy, mentions of insecurities, my blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied, or shared.

Steve loves art.

He loves that there are multiple ways to express himself; drawing, painting, sculpting. Oftentimes he found himself lost in whatever medium he was using. Hours passed without him noticing and he felt lucky to have so much time and freedom with his arts. But that freedom required frequent check-ins. Always making sure he wasn't too lost and keeping up with himself.

A few years back he'd gotten so immersed in a project he hadn't eaten for a whole day and when he finally remembered it might be a good idea, his mild hunger he previously ignored had turned into a splitting headache along with his stomach screaming in agony, and by then, it was too late. He'd found himself dehydrated and damn near passed out from it. So now if he doesn't answer the phone within half an hour, you show up with a full spread and a list of questions.

And without fail, every time you let your self in the studio asking for signs of life, he has no choice but to fuss and whine, "Don't you know I'm a bit old for a babysitter?" (His easy smile tells you he's at least partially joking.)

Still this remark results in a scoff or a pointed look. He likes knowing that you care so deeply.

Besides, you're the only person he doesn't mind showing his art to, even before it's finished. Because somehow, you always see his vision, even when others don't. Steve likes that a lot. You're always there for him even if it's not physically and he's unsure if you know this or not.

Being friends with Steve since uni, you've been his model plenty of times but that didn't mean Steve got used to how intimate the setting was. Honestly, you've been his model enough times, Steve can sketch you by memory. Every part of you has been embedded in his mind. Your lively essence the only thing lacking compared to you lounging around his studio.

He had such intense focus on watching both you and his sketchpad. He had to be sure not to miss any detail. From the way your hair sprawled out over your shoulder, down to the tip of your cute nose and over the curves of your cupids bow. Even though this wasn't new to you by any means, he could tell you were a bit squirmy when he finally met your eyes.

It was intriguing how impressive Steves talent was, and always has been. Especially with the typical artist ego some folks get. No matter the amount Steve prospered, he remained as humble and dare you say bashful as ever. Cheeks pinking up with his blue eyes shining at the praise. Remembering that minor detail from professors in uni till now with big time art collectors.

Steve may have fucked up. 

Scratch that. Steve definitely fucked up.

He forgot to tell you about a consultation he had today. Depending on the client consultations could be pretty lengthy. Looking at his portfolio, recommendations from previous clients, credentials, blah blah until finally getting to what this client expected to receive from buying something Steve made. It was a whole process you knew all about, having to wait on Steve to potentially celebrate afterwards.. if you'd been told that is. He has no one to blame besides himself. Yet for some reason, he hadn't expected this to happen so soon..

He doesn't mean to be a creep, really! He just can't help himself. He would definitely be mortified if you ever found out. It's the only thing he's ever kept from you in your entire friendship. Not that he wants to! He just can't possibly imagine a positive reaction to you being the only material in an entire sketchbook. He knows you. That's why he keeps it hidden. 

You can't find out he has two pages full of just your eyes. Or that he's drawn you in every angle he could without being lewd. (Not that he hasn't thought about it, he just really, really  couldn't risk that getting out.) All the things you've ever nonchalantly complained about. Every curve of your body, stretch marks varying in color, the size of your nose. Everything you view as an insecurity perplexed Steve. At first it was supposed to help you. When you got bad about it and didn't think anyone noticed until Steve brought it up. He had this grand idea. If he made it, you'd have to think it was gorgeous! The thing was, once he started, he couldn't seem to stop. Not in a bad obsessive way, in a way that allowed him to see you, to truly see you.

Normally, when you model for Steve you're just there for him to double check his vision while he gives it life. They don't always look exactly like you, he just mimics your movements, but in the end he does get to sneak in a detail he knows is from only you, that's what makes his pieces stand out. That he's certain of. You know you're the base for quite a bit of his works both in paintings and sculptures. Knowing deep down you're the same shape as whatever he decided to turn you into. And you always compliment his work, so Steve couldn't understand why it was hard for you to view yourself the same way he does.

When Steve is finally finished with his consultation he's able to check his phone on his trek back home. There's one missed call from about half an hour ago, which he knows is all it takes, so he's expecting you to be awaiting his arrival, most likely with takeout. 

What he didn't expect, however, was to walk in on you flipping through sketchbooks. You hadn't heard him come in the front door so he sets out to look for you. Once he finds you..It's as if time is standing still.

He doesn't know why but he's frozen. He can't even allow himself to breathe as he watches you pick up his yellow sketchbook. You open it like you probably opened all the rest, not knowing what you were about to see, and Steve can't believe he's allowing this to happen. He's so confused in himself he doesn't even feel like he's thinking. Why did he think plain sight was a good hiding spot? If he didn't hide it then it wasn't a secret, right? Oh, fuck him.  

He takes the risk to make his presence known, softly knocking on the open door so he doesn't startle you too badly. The first thing he notices are the tears in your eyes as you look at him for the first time all day. He can't decipher what the tears mean for you, but his stomach flips with his own interpretation in mind. 

"Steve.." 

"I'm sorry—" 

A small huff escapes you at your sudden burts to each other and Steve knows. That look in your eyes he couldn't make out earlier. Those eyes he's etched into his own, blanketed in tears, are also filled with admiration. 

He releases a light sigh and starts explaining himself. "For once I can't positively say I know what you're thinking. It wasn't meant to be exactly the way it turned out somehow." He hates how vulnerable this feels, which is a bit ironic if he lets himself think about it. He takes a deep breath and decides to take another (arguably bigger) risk, "I couldn't stop myself. I know how that sounds believe me, but honestly. I just couldn't get you out of my head now matter how hard I tried to. You've been there for me so much I'm not even sure you fully realize how much you've helped me. Hearing you talk about yourself so negatively? I don't know, I just felt that I needed to help you see how beautiful you are." Steve looks over at you and the tears are streaming down your face, he didn't know they could be so enamoring. 

You can barely choke out his name and he's thinking the worst. But when you follow it with a soft kiss to his lips, he feels like he can finally breathe. Foreheads pressed against each other he smiles the most he ever has before. "What can I say? I found my muse." 

[h0tb0x1nnac0ff1n]

Daryl Dixon X Fem! Reader (Negan’s Daughter)

Warnings: Slight Stockholm Syndrome, near death, hypothermia, scattered memory, reader being desperate, slight angst mostly fluff

Era: No specific place, kinda my own little world. After Negan in a cold area (it’s snowing)

A/N: I had decided to try a different view point this time to make it more ♡ethereal♡ so no use in y/n, in a 3rd person pov

Please Save Me Mister…

She wondered the woods like a lost puppy, she had lost everything. Her father is now disappeared, her home was destroyed, everyone she ever known is now killed, disappeared, or gone. The attack happened suddenly in the morning, she had hardly any time to prepare, so she was forced to leave wearing nothing but her white strapped dress, which she wore to bed, her underwear, and a brown leather jacket, she had not enough time to put her shoes on. Her only weapon for protection is her pocket knife.

It had been about 3 weeks since her home, her ‘sanctuary’ had collapsed. It’s was unfortunate that they had struck in winter, she had survived by huddling herself up in abandoned clothing stores, she’s had no food for several days, maybe six days? Maybe 4, she can’t remember, the days had blended together after a bit. Unfortunately, in the entire clothing store, not a single hair of shoes large enough or small enough for her feet. Not even half sizes to hers. Having no other way of finding shoes she had made her own, cutting up souls of the shoes and tying them to her feet to make temporary shoes. However, with the snow being as deep as it is, the white cold powder engulfs her leg up to her knees. So they hadn’t lasted long.

Many days had passed, melting snow for water, eating whatever fruits she could find off bushes. She was sitting under a tree, her feet buried in the snow now, she had not felt the cold anymore. Her skin grew pale and blue, her nail’s skin had became a shade of icy purple. Having not enough energy to even care, she lay her head on the trunk of the tree. Suddenly she heard the sound of snow crunching behind her, they were rhythmic so not a walker. It sounded like boots, crunching into the soft powdered snow. Too tired to even move, she knew this person whom was walking in her direction was a human, meaning she hadn’t anything to worry about when it came to being eaten alive. As the sound got louder and louder, she became nervous, this person was now only a few feet away from her when suddenly it went quiet. She decided to peak around the corner of the tree to see who or what it was. Inching closer to the edge, trying her hardest to not make a noise she sees the man she had been listening to. He was well built, wearing a poncho, jean pants, and a pair of work boots. His hair was medium length and brown. He held a crossbow in his hands. He was rather handsome, especially his arms, they look to be sculpted right out of a Greek sculpture. Though, he was handsome she had a terrible feeling that he was no good, that he was a dangerous man. She decided to stand up slowly, keeping both of her hands onto the tree that separated the two of them, she felt her feet had gone completely numb, she ignored the feeling and began to run the other direction away from this man, the snow was loud beneath her feet, it would be sure to attract anything in her area. Running as fast as she could, she heard the man running behind her. The cold air hitting her lungs, her going days without eating, not drinking proper water. She felt her knees start to give. She ran for as long as she could. Until she had tripped and hit her head over a tree root that was sticking from the ground, laying there on her back looking into the sky, the man had caught up to her, looking down to her. He looked her up and down, observing and questioning how the hell she had even survived as long as she did, or how long she had been out here.

Her eyes felt heavy, the tiredness had taken over her body completely now, as her eyes began to close the man spoke to her. “I’ll take ya home.” She had smiled at his warm comforting words, then she replied, softly, almost inaudible “Please save me mister.” Then her eyes shut, before she passed out she felt large warm hands pick her up bridal style, falling asleep, she lay her head on his shoulder.

She awoke in a dark brick cell with a large fuzzy blanket wrapped around her. She lay on a hard uncomfortable mattress, feeling the cold touch of the breeze touch her skin from over her she saw a small window where light shun through it. However the window was too high up for her to see through. She saw a shadow walk across the window, then she heard the sound of keys jingling and the sound of a lock unlocking. Spooking her, she sat back down on her bed and huddled herself into the corner. The man as before walked into the room with another man and a woman. Immediately she recognized the man as Rick Grimes. The man responsible for everything that had happened to her. The woman was also familiar, she wore a winter coat along with dark blue jeans, she had a samurai sword on her back. The man with the crossbow whispered something to Rick and he walked up to the girl. “My name is Rick Grimes, this is Michone and Daryl, my partner here told me he found you lying in the snow. You were stone cold, we’re very surprised you didn’t get any frost bite.” He spoke, “I know what kind of man you are Rick” she said, looking straight at him. Rick had a puzzling expression “You killed everyone, do what you want with me but my father was Negan, you took away EVERYTHING from me. YOU are the reason I almost died!” She said raising her voice, jumping out of the bed and grabbing the bars of the cell. Anger and resentment in her tone, if looks could kill… “I know you are Negan’s daughter, and I understand your anger, that’s why you’re here in this cell. Your father is alive, he’s in a different cell apart from here. You may not go see him until we can trust you. Until then, Daryl here will take duty in watching you most of the time.” He gestured to the man she had met before. She was staring at Rick, never taking her eyes off him. Staring at him like how a lion stairs down a gazelle. Rick started backing away from the lady in the cell, “she’s all yours now.” Then Rick handed Daryl the keys, then Rick and Michone walked out of the room.

Many days had passed, being interrogated, having two bathroom breaks a day, eating nothing but soup and bread. Which, she was thankful for. Though this was the enemy, she is rather grateful for their hospitality. Especially grateful for the man Daryl, who is the reason why she isn’t dead right now. The reason why her belly is full of warm food and has a bed and a blanket to sleep on. She felt so much gratitude, she even looks forward to seeing him, especially since he was really the only person she ever saw. Daryl watched her during the day until she fell asleep when somebody else would take Daryl’s shift. Most of the time it was Michone or Rosita. However, today was different. The snow began to melt, the food proportions became larger, and they began to give her more water. Daryl looked outside through the window of another cell, deciding it was time for something. “Would you like a tour? Officially meet everyone?”

With that she was walking down the sidewalk, seeing the weather was still rather chilly, Daryl had brought her some sweatpants, new underwear, a T-shirt, and a bra he was able to get for her as a donation from a mother woman. Daryl had also brought her some socks, and a pair of shoes that fit her just right. However she was still tied up with Rick’s handcuffs. Still, she felt rather thankful for everything Alexandria has done for her, seeing that actually her father may have been wrong about these people. Getting to a park, there were three other people who were watching her with guns, making sure she can’t run away. “If I let ya loose and let ya stretch your legs ya won’t run?” “Of course I won’t Daryl.” She said in an innocent tone. Unlocking her cuffs she raised her arms in the air and stretched real big. Walking down to the pond they had, she sat down next to it, looking at her reflection. She hadn’t seen what she looked like in weeks. She remembered that now she can actually feel her face and her toes for once, a smile spread on her face. She felt free, she could feel the healing scabs on her knees, the cold hair filling her lungs. The air smelled clean, and refreshing. Shutting her eyes, she lay down on the grass to feel the suns warmth on her skin. “What’er ya doin?’” Daryl asks her “I’m just relaxing, that’s all.” Daryl nodded in response. “I see you like the pond.” She opened her eyes to see the man Rick grimes standing above her. So she sat up to face him. “We never officially met, so may I ask you to walk with me?” She nodded and walked with Rick around the neighborhood. She introduced herself and shared information about the sanctuary and her father’s old plan. She shared about her mother, Lucille. How her father went mad after her death, who her father was before everything had happened. After hours of talking and getting to know each other, she was back in her cell with non other than Daryl taking watch over her.

She felt bold, an idea had creeped into her mind. She felt grateful for Daryl. She knew he was the reason she is alive right now. He was the one who made sure she was safe, he fed her, he gave her clothing, water, blankets, and a person to talk to. “You know Mr. Dixon, I don’t know how you’re still single. You’re a kind man who works very hard, and I’m going to be honest you’re physically very attractive. Well not just physically I mean, emotionally and your personality is also attractive too.” She said blushing, she had never really confessed to someone in such way. She really only confessed to people through text or having a friend do it before everything went to shit. “Ya don’ know shit bout’ me to say somethin’ like tha. Ya don’ know me as much as ya think ya do.” Daryl said looking down to his knife. “I don’t need to know a lot to know when someone is a good man. I know you’re a good man Daryl, people trust you a whole lot, Rick trusts you, Michone trusts you, Gabriel, Tara, Rosita. Everyone trusts you Daryl, why can’t you let me trust you?””Cuz’ ya different, ya not jus’ some girl locked in this cell woman, ya the daughter of the worst’ man my whole group has ever seen. The man who killed probably over a hundred people. Of course we ain’t gonna trust ya.” “But I’m nothing like my father. You can believe me.” Daryl looked at her with sorrow “Ain’t my call to make.” Daryl then looked back down to his knife in his lap.

many weeks had passed since she lived in the cell. Eventually people started to trust her, and now she lives in an actual house with Daryl. After she had confessed to him, Daryl took a very long time to actually accept that someone had shown an interest in him, that someone actually felt for him romantically. Even after he accepted it he had to understand that he felt the same way, Daryl had never really felt anything romantic, just lust. Many times before the outbreak Daryl would higher a hooker or go to clubs but he never felt anything for those women. He never really knew what being in love was, he had to have someone show him what it was.

Daryl went up the stairs of the house to see what his girl was doing, as he opened the door slowly he saw her relaxed body lying under the silky sheets of their bed. Daryl took off his shoes and crawled into the sheets, hugging his girl firmly, but not roughly, he didn’t want to wake her up. However he failed to do so, and she opened her eyes to see Daryl holding her from behind. She drowsily smiled and positioned herself to face him, pecking her lips onto his, and he decided to kiss her back. She wraps her arms around Daryl’s waist and snuggles her face into his chest. They both close their eyes and fall back asleep.

Even though she is now trusted by the community, she has never gone back to see her father. Mainly because she is disgusted with how much he had lied to her. She had begun to help around the community mostly by gardening. She actually began to feel like she was at home, the place her heart had always been searching for and she had finally found it. She is loved, trusted, and respected by everybody. Forever loved, and forever at peace with herself, she dreams of her life just the way it is. She dreams of kissing Daryl, and him holding her in his arms, him allowing her to brush and braid his hair whenever she gets bored, cooking him dinner and him eating every bite and always going back for seconds. His little compliments that he gives her, may seem stupid to others but are as powerful as a love poem to her ears. To her, he is a living breathing poem. And to Daryl, she is a living fairytale, a beautiful girl. Ethereal and goddess like. A powerful woman you would read about. Forever in the same story together, written and designed for eternal love.

@mosstheshoeshoethemoss @shade4479 @lostgirl677 @sph347800000 @crusadecherryblossom @dixon-wings @blackrippedskinnybeans @jinxghoul @floptwd @stinkygirl009

If you responded to my blog asking to be tagged and I did not tag you there was a problem and I could not find your blog.

[thevioletcaptain]

the ashes by imogenbynight

1.2k | mature | deancas

a 13.01 coda with dean scattering cas' ashes. technically this is canon compliant but i feel like i need to trigger warn for like… cannibalism? not really but. man. idk.

Dean sits with the ashes when they get back to the bunker. Sits with them and stares and goes a little insane with it, until he can’t stop imagining himself cracking open the lid and reaching his fingers inside.

Would Cas be soft? Chalky, velvety, like the white-charred remnants of driftwood after a bonfire? Would he be rough as his voice; as the sand his pyre had been built upon?

With a belly full of fire and whisky and desperate unease, he stares and stares as his thoughts spiral. As he thinks about pressing his damp index finger into the ash and raising it to his mouth. Swallowing it down and letting Cas become a part of him.

He could keep Cas forever that way; absorbed into his being.

Fuck, he can’t stop thinking about it.

Years ago, they worked a case where a young couple had been so frantic with love, intensified to the trillionth degree by the cruel touch of famine, that they'd eaten one another alive. Torn into each other's flesh with teeth as they clung together, ecstatic and bloody. Dean remembers feeling as confused as he was revolted by what had seemed to him a far-too-literal leap from desire to hunger.

Now, though, he kind of understands it.

Because it wasn't hunger, exactly, that lead to such a violent conclusion. It was need, followed through to its inevitable end. And he gets it now. Gets wanting to take the one you love into yourself and keep them there always. To hold them so wholly that they become a part of you, so you can never be parted again.

Of course, that's the thing that stops him, in the end. Not what should have stopped him--not the sick, visceral horror of what ultimately equates to eating his best friend's remains, no matter how he spins it--but the fact that tying Cas to himself in such an irreversible way feels like a betrayal. A punishment to Cas' spirit, however much of it still exists. He can't do that. Can't force whatever part of Cas' grace or soul might linger in the ash to endure however many years Dean has left as a part of him. Can't tether Cas so selfishly in death when Cas had never seemed to want to stay with him in life.

Cas might have been the love of Dean's miserable fucking life, but he's not under any illusions that the feeling ran both ways.

He learned early that it wasn't even possible--learned before he'd even fully slipped into loving Cas himself. Learned before he ever could have known how important it would be to him. Anna had told him, point blank, and he'd seen the difference in her. Human, feeling; angel, cold. And sure, Cas has come a long way -- had come along way by the end. He feels. Dean knows he feels, and feels for him, in particular. But his capacity for it is limited, and it's never been clearer than in his ability to leave Dean behind at a moment's notice. He's detached. Was detached.

So he can't force Cas to be a part of him. Would never forgive himself.

When he had eventually started falling, he'd hoped the knowledge that nothing could ever come of it would help keep him from toppling headfirst into something deeper than a fleeting infatuation. He hadn't been so lucky.

And now here he is, staring down a can labeled Cafe Bustelo Medium Roast and thinking the kind of thoughts that make his stomach turn in endlessly cycling fits of longing and revulsion, all because he fell in love.

It's half past five in the morning when he decides he can't keep the ashes in the bunker. Can't have the sick temptation. Less because he thinks he's actually going to do it, and more because he knows he won't be able to stop thinking about it whenever he sees the tin. So he scoops up the tin, and creeps down to the garage to the Impala, and drives west on US-36. 

Keeps driving until the rising sun starts turning the sky in his rearview a pale shade of pink, and he sees a few lonely lightning bugs blinking in and out of view on an quiet roadside near Phillipsburg.

He's pulled over before he's consciously decided to do so.

It's a pretty spot, is his first thought. Tall grass and scattered wildflowers spanning the open meadow which slopes down to a stream. A rusted old windmill stands vigil over the scene, slowly spinning in the gentle breeze.

Cas would like it here, is his second thought. Would gaze up at the windmill and make some observation about the ingenuity of human invention, and crouch down to watch the fireflies as they gently sink back into the grass at the arrival of the sun. 

The image is so clear in Dean's mind that he forgets, just for a second, that Cas is gone. Or-- he doesn't forget, exactly. He just isn't thinking about it so directly. Is so focused on the visual of Cas in the tall grass beside him, on the memory of his voice and the way his long fingers would look dipping between blade of grass that when he looks back down at his hands, at the coffee can he's holding with white-knuckled grip, the reminder of why he's here is harsh enough to leave him winded.

"I woulda brought you here," he says once he's caught his breath, like Cas can hear him, but it's a lie. They rarely had downtime, and whenever they did Cas almost always took off. Dean was lucky to get him to stick around long enough to watch a movie, most of the time. But he'd have wanted to bring him here. That much is true. He would have wanted to.

"I hope--" he starts, then stops, drawing his lip between his teeth and looking first to the sky, then to the ground, then just closing his eyes. Taking several deep breaths. "Man... Cas. Cas, I hope you're--"

Okay. Safe. Alright. Fuck, but all the words he has equate to alive, and with me, and whole, and underneath them all an unwavering current of coming home soon. Anything else feels like another lie. His throat clicks on a swallow.

"I hope you're happy," he says finally, and pries the can open. Stares down at the small cloud of ash that rises with it. "I'm gonna miss you for fucking ever, but wherever you are... I really hope you're happy."

With the windmill at his back, and the field of flowers spread out before him, he lets Cas' ashes run through his fingers as he gives him over to the earth, and he doesn't notice the texture at all. He's too busy thinking about how Cas' hand felt in his the last time he'd helped him to stand. How heavy he'd been, then. How light he is now.

It's not until he's preparing to return to his car, wrung out and cracked open and raw as an exposed nerve, that he notices the thin cut on his ring finger. He must have nicked it on the coffee can, or the fence, or the dry grass, and it doesn't hurt, but-- his blood is swelling from it in a bright red drop, and his hands are dusty with ash. His heart lurches at the sight of Cas' ash and his own blood mingling.

He raises his finger to his mouth.

Cas is holy on his tongue.

[also on ao3]

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck!

Character Profile Tag

Full Name: Ivander Montane

Kind of Being: Mixed human, elven, dwarven, siren, and Daramakti (alien, but he doesn't know that) heritage

Age: 31

Gender: cis man

Appearance: Ivander is a man of medium height and an unremarkable build, with a hawkish sort of face. His skin is pale enough to show off the blue blood beneath, lending him a cerulean hue. His eyes, also, are a shade too turquoise to be human. His hair is black and slicked back, and he has a pencil mustache and goatee he keeps neatly trimmed. His ears are oddly double-pointed. All of this is an illusion, however. Ivander’s true face is ruined by a flesh-eating curse. He wears bandages under his clothes to keep the blood off, and much of his ears, nose, lips, and eyelids are beginning to be eaten away. The only sign of this in his daily life, though, is the cane he walks with and the gloves he wears to keep from leaving behind bloody fingerprints. His fashion sense otherwise is impeccable, consisting of beautifully tailored suits in flattering colors.

Occupation: A detective for the Unity Bureau of Arcane Investigation, a subsidiary of their police force.

Family Members:

Antonin Montane (estranged father who neglected him for his entire childhood and who keeps an abusive hold on the entire Montane family through controlling the family fortune)

Marius Montane (uncle who raised him despite the turmoil he endured as Antonin's younger brother)

Idrin Pashan-Baijahreet (mother who went missing when he was eight, a former merchant of the Flying City)

Tomas Montane (an older cousin he looked up to)

Eva Montane (a younger half-sister he doesn't know about, as she was born after he cut contact)

Pets: Hell no

Best friends: Ceyrel Gavorn is his partner at the BAI and has been his only friend for about a full decade now. She's an ornery hobgoblin with a crude sense of humor that one might think Ivander would turn his nose up at, but they both have a love of salacious gossip that bonds them together.

Describe their room: Ivander’s entire apartment is color-coded, so his whole bedroom is purple. The walls are an icy periwinkle with ivy patterns, while the curtains are a powdery mauve. His sheets and rugs are plush and a dark plum color, over a hardwood floor. Given how fastidious he is in everything else, it's a surprisingly messy space. Dirty clothes line the floor, and there's a mountain of old cups and pill bottles on his bedside table. His wardrobe is well kept, but very overstuffed. His bed is completely unmade and covered with bloodstains he just can't keep up with washing out anymore.

Way of speaking: Camp english accent - he sounds like a gay-coded villain in a kid's cartoon. He uses lots of big words and underhanded insults.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Ivander’s posture is meant to lean. He usually drapes himself in some doorframe or another, or slouches onto a chair. From the way he moves, you can clearly tell he's in pain. From the way he moves, you can also tell he grew up at fancy dinners and investment meetings.

Items in their back pocket/purse: Eyedrops, bandages, meds, rune handbook, teeny tiny pistol.

Favorite sports: Ivander would rather die than do or watch a sport. If you tell him you're an athlete, he'll laugh.

Powers: The ability to pull miracles from a mostly unwilling god and to write an unbreakable contract.

Relationships (how they are with other people): Ivander is the king of intimacy issues. He's terrified of getting close to people, since the last person he was close to disappeared in the night. He puts up a jaded, bemused, and even cruel front to cover up his aching loneliness. He'd much rather hurt you than allow you to hurt him.

Fears: Death and damnation, living in pain forever, getting close to someone and proving to himself once and for all that he's incapable of overcoming the selfishness he was born into.

Faults: Ruthless, selfish, elitist, gossipy, cruel like a middle school bully. He can just be a real asshole when he wants to, and refuses to ask for help. He's also utterly blind to his positive qualities.

Good Points: Determined, brave, clever, cares deeply about the few friends he does have. Genuinely the last person you'd expect to be truly heroic, but he does manage despite himself. When he lets himself be, Ivander is a highly empathetic person.

What they want more than anything else: To cure the curse that's killing him.

I'll tag @the-golden-comet @leahnardo-da-veggie (this blorbo's for you, my guy) @sergeantnarwhalwrites @willtheweaver @finickyfelix and anyone else who wants in :)

Blanks under the cut

Full Name: Kind of Being: Age: Gender: Appearance: Occupation: Family Members: Pets: Best friends: Describe their room: Way of speaking: Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Items in their back pocket/purse: Favorite sports: Powers: Relationships (how they are with other people): Fears: Faults: Good Points: What they want more than anything else:

[eldritchpotato]

Octopi and the Castaway's Cry 2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.

It’s almost cruel how beautiful the sky is after the rain passes. You’ve redoubled your efforts to start a fire but the soggy environment isn’t helping and quite frankly you have no idea what you're doing beyond attempting and failing to use two sticks to create friction.

It’s even more frustrating now that you have food right there, you just need to cook it. You’re so close.

Unfortunately being handed food does not unlock the secrets behind how to make fire. You’re no closer than you were before.

Maybe you could eat it raw, the fact you're even considering it speaks to your hunger. But it hasn’t been dead long, you’re pretty sure you’ve read something about freshly killed healthy meat being safe to eat raw.

You aren’t totally useless though. After banging some rocks together you manage to break off a piece sharp enough for cutting through the scales. You’re no expert in gutting fish but you know to avoid the intestines.

Messily you manage to separate red raw bloody muscle from the organs and entrails. You’re not sure exactly what is safe to eat but the few pieces you’ve cut look close enough to raw fish you’ve cooked with that if you swallow it fast enough you might not vomit immediately.

It’s exactly as bad as you feared. The texture isn’t too bad since you can’t bring yourself to do more than swallow but it tastes like fish and blood all the way down. You’re a gagging nauseous mess by the time you are done but the fish went down.

Your arms and clothes are stained red like you murdered someone despite only cutting up two smallish medium-sized fish. The remaining pile of innards makes you shudder.

You pick up the rock, careful not to spill as you waddle towards the beach. You toss it, guts and all, into the water to let the fish have their fill. Then you desperately try to scrub the blood and aura of fish from yourself. You’ve never missed soap so much in your life.

You strip off your clothing trying to wash the muck and blood from them too before laying them out to dry.

A clicking makes you jolt, your gaze snapping to the source. She’s back.

“Uh, thank you for the fish,” you call after a short eternity of awkward silence.

She clicks, her head tilting like a curious dog. Her expression is unreadable, but then again only her eyes are what they seem. A mask cannot emote.

If she wanted to hurt you she could have while you slept. Her pulling you from the depths and leaving you food speaks otherwise.

You were quick to judge and fear the monster, that is survival. But it would have been your own failing to see nothing but the monstrous.

She doesn’t move closer either. The waves lap at your legs and rinse away the sand, both of you simply watch each other.

How stupid would it be to approach? She is clearly intelligent, the closest thing to another person for miles. You wade into the water a little further. Perhaps she is as lost as you are.

Her eyes never leave you but neither does she retreat.

You continue your approach. Remembering your nudity it’s almost a relief to crouch down and leave nothing but your head exposed.

She’s gone in the blink of an eye. One moment bobbing in the water and the next… nothing. You only see the blur of red streaking towards you a moment before she reaches you.

You’ve touched squid before, having eaten it in restaurants a few times when feeling especially brave, this is nothing like that. She touches you.

Coils of cool muscle wrap around you, suckering to your skin. You barely manage an embarrassing shriek before you’re being hauled towards the shore. Her grip is firm but not overpowering. The problem is that there are just too many grips.

She half releases you, half tosses you onto the shore. A strange clicking emanates from her as her tentacles come together beneath her to keep her humanoid torso supported outside of the water.

You spit sand out of your mouth. Her rescue attempt had done more harm than good. The water hadn’t even reached your waist, you had just crouched down to try and not be tits out in front of a sea monster. Now you were… everything out.

You scrambled to try and cover yourself, your face burning red. Just what exactly had you gotten yourself into?

[psalacanthea]

Vegetarian Pot Pie

hey whats up i made this for my friends and they said it was good, so I decided to write the recipe down while i still remember it (for once in my life), so I can make it again. I will share it with you.

This is rich, filling, delicious, but doesn't just taste like a sad chicken pot pie with no chicken. This is a proper vegetarian dish, and perfect for winter. Extremely cozy and nice. If u need something to make for Christmas but don't want to work all day, this is for you.

It does not have peas because I'm not a fucking MONSTER

...

Ingredients:

1 leek

1 sweet potato (I used white sweet potato, orange are too sugary for me)

1 large russet potato or 2 small-medium

1 large carrot or 2 small-medium

1 large parsnip

mushrooms of choice (i used pre-sliced baby bellas)

2 decent-sized cloves of garlic

sage

rosemary

thyme

parsley

cream (milk or a milk sub is ok too but it won't be as rich)

3 tbsp butter

3 tbsp ap flour

1 carton (or 2 cans) vegetable stock

white wine (i used chard but any other non-sweet white like a pinot grig would be ok. just no sweet whites, the root veggies are plenty sweet)

s&p

store-bought pie crusts (if you like suffering make it yourself!)

utensils:

1 pie pan

1 small pot

Strainer (you can use a slotted spoon to remove stuff if you don't have [or let it cool and use your fingers])

1 lg. saucepan

Knife

Spatula or Big Spoon

(steps below cut)

To begin you're going to want to enhance your vegetable stock-- store-bought veggie stock is boring and often too tomatoey, we want to mitigate that. Veggie broth doesn't have to taste dull!

Separate leek greens from whites. If your leek is pretty stumpy, you can use 2.

In a small pot at medium-high heat, sear the leek greens on both sides, and sautee 1-2 mushroom, sliced. Once the leek greens have been browned in spots, add 3/4ths cup white wine or so (you can eyeball it). Simmer until all the alcohol smell is gone from the wine (won't take long.)

If you feel inclined, you can also add any carrot/parsnip tops you might have trimmed off, to save waste. Keep in mind that these are both sweet vegetables, though, and that might change the flavor a little. Carrot greens tho would add a nice bit of freshness, and would be a fine sub for parsley.

Add vegetable stock, a sprig of thyme, rosemary, sage, and parsley (you can tie them together w/kitchen twine to make a bouquet garni, but if you're gonna strain the stock you don't need to)

You can also add bay leaf if you have like 3 containers of them in your spice cabinet for some reason and need an excuse to use them.

Turn the heat under the stock down to low, and simmer until it's reduced by about a third, maybe an hour (it can hang out while you do other stuff.)

Peel potatoes, cut into 1 to 1/2 inch chunks (small but not tiny). You should have about two cups. cube size is partially preference, but smaller chunks mean you can get all the flavor in every bite.

Do the same for the sweet potato, but reduce amount to a cup. You won't use the whole potato for this recipe, but they're SO good roasted wrapped in tinfoil and eaten plain with salt.

Scrub parsnip and carrot, cut into pieces that seem about the same as the potatoes, about a cup of each. (I don't peel my carrots don't @ me.)

Cut leek whites into half-circles.

If your mushrooms are not pre-cut, slice mushrooms until you have about a cup of them ready to go.

Please note, if you have extra veg cut-- just add it. Extra filling is no big deal you can just eat it by itself or add it to your plate of pie. No need to waste anything.

Squash and finely chop garlic cloves.

In a large saucepan on medium- medium high heat, add 3 tbsp butter and 3 tbsp flour, mix together as butter melts to form a cohesive mixture- a roux.

Cook until roux is starting to bubble. Add leeks, add carrots, mushrooms, and parsnips. Salt lightly to encourage moisture loss.

Sautee in the roux for 3-5 minutes or so until the veggies are starting to smell good and the roux is getting gold, then add garlic.

Cook for 30 seconds to a minute more, stirring constantly, until you can smell the garlic. Garlic burns easily!

Strain enhanced stock into saucepan.

Add potatoes and sweet potatoes.

Stir until the roux dissolves into the stock and it begins to thicken, and then turn down to low heat (you want small and regular bubbles, but not big glorpy ones).

It might not look like enough gravy, but we don't want a ton. It's a pie, not a stew. If you REALLY think it's not enough, your stock might have reduced too far. Add a bit of water if you must.

Remove leaves from 1 large sprig thyme, and add to filling. Remove leaves from and finely dice 1 sprig rosemary. Do the same for sage. Toss out the stems.

The gravy should still be thin-ish, but we're going to reduce it down more as the potatoes are cooked through.

Cook until potatoes are just barely fork-tender. Even slightly undercooked is ok. Taste gravy for salt and pepper. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Add 1/3rd cup heavy cream/milk or so. Stir in.

Strip the leaves from 1-2 sprigs of parsley, finely chop, stir into gravy.

Taste again. Season again if necessary.

Let the filling cool. Try not to eat it all.

Unroll 1 pre-made pie crust, and put in the bottom of your pie pan. Try to make it even all the way around.

Now! The easy way to seal a pie (without egg wash) is as follows.

Fold down the edge of the lower crust so that it sticks out past the top edge of the pie pan.

Add filling. Get that shit as full as you can while keep that sticking out edge of the pie crust dry.

Place top pie crust over the pie.

Fold the edge of the lower crust over the upper crust, rolling them up together to make the crust edge.

Either with a fork or with pinching, make the edge crust look prettier.

If the edges of both the lower crust and the upper crust have been rolled inside themselves, you shouldn't have filling leakage.

Cut venting holes on top in whatever quirky design you want.

Stick in a 350f (177c?) oven until it's done.

I don't know how long, I don't measure those things. The crust will be golden brown and the filling will be bubbly.

the wine is skippable, yes, but it adds some acidity that you need. try a squeeze of lemon into your gravy if you don't use it.

[lemongingerart]

Chapter 3 - Taris (II)

Fic summary: The second arc of my Armitage Hux x OC fanfic, “chocolate cookies and tarine tea”, in which both need to deal with the mess they got into (and with each other, eh eh eh). Involves cookies that won't be eaten and tea that will get spilled. Same goes for certain feelings... they are going to be hungry ant thirsty 😏

You can find the link to AO3 and other chapters on Tumblr in the pinned message on my dash, both for the first and second arc 😊

Rating: Explicit. This is going to be very NSFW. So, Minors, do NOT read or interact. 18+. Family, friends and colleagues, please don’t read this. :’-)

Tags & warnings: TRoS fix-it (kind of), Hux!lives, Hux doesn’t like Kylo, Not a Redemption Arc, maybe a little bit, shameless fem!OC insert (there are cliches but entertaining ones imo), slow emotional burn, medium sexual burn, Enemies to Enemies With Benefits to Lovers, Hux is still a villain don't forget, Virgin Characters, masturbation against the door, pinv, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Awkward Sexual Situations, Past Child Abuse, dubious first kiss, Dom/sub Undertones, Mental Breakdown, Unprotected Sex, wet Hux, that deserves a tag/warning on its own, Minor Character Death

I will add tags as we proceed in the story, please let me know if I forgot one!

Taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess, @morby and anyone who’d like to join 🥰

A/N:    I realized that both Taris chapters are short... too short to read on their own.That's why I decided to review and publish the second part, so at least we get some general ginger 😊

"I need you, remember?”.

Did I really say that out loud? 

Armitage shivered from disdain, hating himself for sounding so desperate. He wasn’t, and by any means this was not the signal he wanted to give the headstrong girl. Who knows what that overexcited mind of hers was thinking now. If she even begins to think she has power over me and tries to stab me in the back… 

Only now, he started to realise there was some truth behind these poorly chosen words. He was completely dependent on Miko to make his risky plan succeed. He felt vulnerable, having to place his faith in her hands. He was supposed to be guiding her with his tactics, hopefully coercing her into doing the right thing and making sure the mission ended successfully. But right now, with the connection cut off, she was out there all by herself and he felt lost, the lack of control eating away the last piece of trust he harboured for a positive outcome. Stars, he hadn’t been feeling confident enough with the plan and her possible lack of abilities in the first place, and this was the consequence. A new level of distress, right on top of his other concerns.

It was already about half an hour ago, when the direct line with her earpiece commlink had fallen away. She had signed him that she was just about to enter the designated building by then, so no doubt the place was shielding off all type of communication.

That left Hux without any means to know what was going on, and he felt empty and way too nervous to his liking. 

Hux started checking the perimeter sensors now, making sure no one was spotting his shuttle with the naked eye. They could mess with clearance codes, but anyone who took visual confirmation of the shuttle would know that they weren't exactly a cargo vessel. Something that should automatically sound the proximity alarm, but you can never be too certain, he sourly thought, aware of how the stress was eating him and making him do irrelevant things.

He sat down in the cockpit’s seat again and brought his hands together, the fingers locking when he rested his forehead on them. He didn’t know what to think, he wasn’t used to just… waiting. How long was she going to take? Every minute that passed made him wonder if things weren't going to work out as planned, or even worse, she was selling him out. Maybe something happened to her, out there in the streets, and he could be waiting here for nothing.

He tried to think about something else, but the only other thing apart from Miko he could focus on, was his anger and spite towards Ren. 

Ren… Resentment was all that he had left. That, and the knowledge that the unguided projectile with a lightsaber and the other officers had always tried to put him aside. That they were out there, wrecking the First Order. But they underestimated him. He would prove that he has what it takes to lead the Order. They will see.

The proximity alarm bleeped, and he only noticed by now that Miko’s location sensor had become active again. He made a mental note that he shouldn’t dwell too much on Ren and the misery he brought to his life and the Order. The self declared lord of the Dark Side shouldn't be plaguing his mind, now or ever, he wasn't worth the attention. 

He swiftly stood up, ready to check on the girl; he was dying to know what happened and if she in fact obtained the coördinates to the Resistance’s base. 

Actually, that feisty girl has proven to be an adequate distraction from these dark thoughts, he realised once again while watching the sensors bleep and pressing the command to lower the ramp. Seems like he should appreciate her company after all. If only not to overthink his sightless situation and drown in his depressing theories. 

Miko was coming into view of the cockpit’s transparisteel viewport, and Hux paused his movement. 

What is she up to now?  He wondered, started seething, when looking at the small cargo container floating behind her.

[mxlktxa]

𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴

𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦, 𝘫𝘰𝘦𝘭 (𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥), 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘢 (𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥)

𝘤𝘸; !!!𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘚/𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘛𝘚 𝘖𝘍 𝘚𝘜𝘐𝘊𝘐𝘋𝘈𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘜𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘚/𝘛𝘌𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘕𝘊𝘐𝘌𝘚!!!, 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘭𝘧, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴/𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴/𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘸𝘤; 1.7𝘬, 9.5𝘬 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝘵𝘭𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Cold and beyond exhausted. That’s all Ellie had really felt as of late. Of course, livid was also in the picture but not as prominent as the others. It had been weeks since she was forced to watch the dirty blonde bash Joel’s skull in. Weeks since she watched the very man she cared for get brutally taken from the nasty world she had to stay on. The only thing stopping her from following right behind him now was how disappointed she knew Joel would be if she did follow as well as you.

Here you were at the very moment walking into her little home, a small trail of snow from beneath your boots melting away slowly but surely on the mat by the front door. She stared at you from her bed, biting her nails and the skin around them, legs bouncing up and down, and mind seeming to calm down with the ‘I should leave. Track them down,’ and the ‘Do I stick around or not? Should I stick around or not?’

“Ellie,” you came off as angelic and soft, something Ellie wasn’t exactly used to from you. It almost made her uncomfortable. Your usual demeanor was you being an absolute nut case, always loud, always happy, always… annoying, “Ellie, I brought you some food. It’s just some pasta I made with Maria,” the medium-sized Tupperware was placed on the coffee table, fogging up on the inside seeming to indicate that it was still warm, a fresh meal.

Ellie only stared at the meal, glancing to you and back to the food as quickly as possible to avoid your freakishly gloomy eyes. You sat on the couch across from her, not wanting to invade her space, though in your head you already had done so by entering her home without any permission. Little did you know, Ellie didn’t mind it.

“I know you haven't eaten. Just… Just one bite, yeah? That’s all,” you were nearly crying already, but you kept that strong and calm composure nobody knew you could hold up in the first place.

“Don’t do that,” the freckled, pale teen got up from her bed, shuffling over to you. More specifically the opposite side of the couch, still avoiding contact with you, “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine.”

Your head hung low, feeling as if looking at Ellie would turn her into dust or offend her, “Yeah, no, sorry. Uhm, I’m just… Agh, sorry,” playing off your sorrow for a laugh, Ellie reached for the food you brought to her. You watched in your peripheral as Ellie had slowly ate the cooking you worked so hard on with Maria. As much as the angry girl wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to tell you that she was going absolutely nuts over the food.

You both sat in an odd silence, Ellie eating quietly while you got up to begin cleaning and organizing her small home. She hadn’t picked up after herself for so long it was starting to get really bad, but you understood. You probably got a little carried away as Ellie had to put a hold on her eating to stop you, “Please, stop. You don’t have to—,” Ellie paused as your eyes had finally connected for the first time tonight, “It’s fine.”

“No, yeah, I’m just… I wanted do a little something nice is all. Make you a little more comfortable,” you nodded, eager to look away and proceed with the cleaning.

Ellie started putting the food up, having made it through at least half of the dinner. You cleared your throat, offering to put up the food and Ellie agreed, staring at you as tou took care of the task. She admired how you still seemed a bit happy and was so grateful. It almost made her sick alongside jealous. You were just so helpful and grateful, but evem Ellie could tell you were just trying to hide how much Joel’s death had also taken it’s toll on you. She knew it was bad but didn’t know how bad it was.

“How do you do it?” Ellie mumbled, “How do you manage to hide everything you’re actually feeling?” Ellie let years fall from her eyes for what she swore was the hundredth time today. You walked back to the couch, immediately hugging Ellie, furthurmore letting your own tears fall and that happy-go-lucky façade fall. It was so bad that you couldn’t even answer her and Ellie had followed suit in absolutely bawling, hugging you so tight you nearly couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, Ellie,” you whispered, still holding onto her while she lossened her grip on you, “I’m a fucking wreck. In reality, I am so hungover that I’m surprised I’m even awake right now. I don’t eat either, I barely sleep. I just put on this attitude so no one tries to console me. I don’t need it,” you finally answered her, shaking your head while leaving the comforting hold you had on each other.

Ellie grew even more furious with how you didn’t want anyone to comfort you, scanning your body language and expression. You shrugged, wiping your face clean. You sighed, hugging your knees to your chest and peering at the girl, “Els?” you called to her, “I saw a sign that said falling rocks,” Ellie furrowed her brows, questioning your words.

“What?”

“It was weird because I tried it and it doesn't,” you shook your head, watching as the confused teen gradually realized what you had just done. Ellie scoffed, a weak grin forming.

“You’re terrible,” she huffed, looking down at her hands, “Wanna know a fun fact?” Ellie thought of one almost on the spot, watching how gently you nodded, “Did you know that diarrhea is hereditary.” You grew worried, lifting your head, “Yep. It runs in your jeans,” Ellie’s green eyes looked to you through her gorgeous eyelashes, chuckling at how she could damn near see your brain connecting the dots.

“Oh, you goober.”

“It’s a good one, you have to admit.”

“Yeah, yeah. It was.”

Silence took over once more. Now you and Ellie were coming down from your little fits of laughter, getting more and more comfortable with the silence. Okay, you both lied, looking to one another, obviously going to ask one another a question. She squinted at you, raising a brow, “What were you gonna ask?”

“If I could spend the night. I can sleep on the couch,” you fixed your face, now curious about what Ellie was going to ask, “What about you?”

“I was gonna ask if we,” she paused, the question caught in her throat and mocking her, calling her a pervert and ridiculous for even thinking to put those words together, knowing the request was going to seem odd, “If we could just have a night to ourselves,” her question changed her words, just wishing to form a different connection with you, thinking it could lead to something else to distract the both of you.

Ellie felt like she had just spoken such vile words, heart racing while half of her begged you to say yes and the other hoping, praying that you would be grossed out and leave. You being the angel you are, silently took Ellie to her bed, waiting for her to get all comfy until she gave you a look that let you know she felt safe.

“I’ll be on the couch, okay? Do you want the light on or off?” you asked, barely even looking at her at this time.

“Off, please. It’s fine. If it’s off,” the auburn-haired beauty nodded, watching you trudge to the couch, wanting to scream at you that she wanted you in her bed instead, “The couch isn't very comfortable… by the way,” she spoke hurriedly before you could even reach the coffee table.

You veered around with a slight grin that made Ellie's heart warm, “Yeah, I know. I just thought I'd give you space,” you occupied the space on the other side of her, calmly getting under the covers, though you were excited to be sleeping beside her now.

“Please don't. I just… It's cold,” she somewhat lied. Ellie could handle the cold but she was almost going nuts over the fact of you keeping her company just as you were.

She watched as you got situated beside her, still avoiding touching her and facing away from her. You sighed gently, warming up beneath the covers. Ellie did the same, facing the back of your head as she did so.

‘Please, look at me,’ she thought to herself, hand rising to tap your shoulder. As if on cue you turned to the freckled girl, tears streaming down your face, “C’mere,” Ellie pulled you in for a hug, hiding your face in her chest. You wrapped both your arms and legs around her, wishing that you'd tell her how you felt sooner.

“I miss him, Ellie. So fucking much.”

“I know, I know. Me too.”

You’d spent fifteen minutes whining about about, Ellie doing the same, it was as if your crying had triggered hers. Then you both lay in the bed, brains figuring out another stupid pun to change the subject and break the silence.

“Why was the baby ant confused?”

“What do you call a dinosaur with an extensive vocabulary?”

Your voices started up in unison, leaving you both giggling, waiting for one another to finish the joke, “No, go ahead. Why was the baby ant confused?” Ellie could only stare at your lips as you answered.

“Because all his uncles were ants,” you bit your lip to stifle a laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” she snorted, rolling her eyes, “Now, what do you call a dinosaur with an extensive vocabulary?”

“I don’t know. What?” that smile persisted, Ellie still staring at it but this time not with envy but with a grateful attitude.

“A thesaurus.”

“And you thought mine was bad,” your eyes rolled playfully, giving Ellie an urge to laugh even harder than she already was.

Ellie's eyes scanned the expression you held, a sigh leaving her. All she hoped was that you too wouldn't be gone in the morning. That and hoped that the other feelings she was currently hiding weren’t just so she could distract herself. Lord knows your feelings weren’t to distract you. But they sure did grow stronger. If only now was the right time. Who were you kidding you couldn't admit your feelings to her ever?

You both couldn't bear to lose two people in such a short time.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Feeding Frenzy

The Autumn's mess hall was alive with the usual din of chattering soldiers and clanging dishes, a symphony of everyday military life. However, at one corner table, a scene unfolded that would have made any ordinary observer do a double-take. Linda-058, known more for her deadly precision with a sniper rifle than her gastronomic exploits, was embarked on a veritable odyssey of eating.

Her armor, a testament to countless battles, stood quietly beside her, its metallic sheen catching the fluorescent lights. The table in front of her resembled less a place for a meal and more a testament to culinary excess. She methodically worked her way through five plates of BBQ steak. Each piece was cooked to a perfect medium-rare, the outside charred just enough to lock in a smoky flavor that melded seamlessly with the juicy, tender interior.

Beside the demolished plates of steak lay the remains of sixteen trays of teriyaki-flavored yakisoba. The empty containers were streaked with the remnants of the sauce, a sweet and savory glaze that had once coated the soft, springy noodles and tender chunks of chicken.

In a display of contrasting tastes, ten bowls that had been heaped with chocolate ice cream were now little more than empty shells, streaked with the remnants of the rich, creamy dessert. Linda seemed to relish the cool, sweet treat as a counterbalance to the savory onslaught of her main course.

Adding to this impressive array were two large pans of lasagna, their layers of pasta, rich cheese, and tangy tomato sauce now indistinguishable, a testament to Linda's thorough enjoyment. And, as if to top off this feast, two buckets of turkey legs lay picked clean, the meat so tender it had fallen off the bone, soaked in a hearty, savory gravy.

Across from this spectacle sat John; his own meal, a simple tray of beef-stew, looks much more... conversative than Linda's. His posture was relaxed, his movements as he ate his own, considerably smaller meal, were methodical and composed. His eyes observed Linda with a mixture of amusement and adoration.

“Ever consider a second career as a competitive eater, Linda?” John’s voice held a playful edge, a rare lightness for the Spartan known for his stoicism. Linda paused, a half-eaten turkey leg in hand, and met John’s gaze. “Why, John, worried I’ll eat everyone out of house and home?” Her voice was light, teasing, a stark contrast to her usual terse communication in the field.

John’s reply was dry, a hint of a smirk in his tone. “Just thinking about the logistics of resupplying our food inventory.” Linda chuckled softly, setting the turkey leg down. “Food is fuel, John. You of all people should understand the importance of being well-fueled for whatever comes next.”

John nodded slightly, conceding the point. “I suppose if anyone can turn eating into a tactical advantage, it’s you, Linda.” There was a brief silence, filled only by the ambient sounds of the mess hall, before Linda spoke again, her tone more reflective. “We push ourselves to the limit in every other aspect of our lives. Why should enjoying a good meal be any different?”

John chuckles. “Fair enough.” As they continued their meal, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, a rare moment of normalcy in the life of a Spartan. For a brief time, the looming shadow of war receded, giving way to the simple pleasure of sharing a meal and conversation with a trusted comrade.

Finally, as Linda pushed back from the table, a look of contentment on her face, they both stood. Without another word, they collected Linda's armor and exited the mess hall, their strides in sync, ready to face whatever challenges the universe had in store for them.

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