#this is the shit I think of in the shower

[jegmegoganne]

For us with a chronic illness, the middle of the night IS WHEN WE GET SHIT DONE. I have Hashimoto’s, with some scary symptoms - my neighbor has MS with her scary symptoms. When I open my window at 3 am, her lights are still on as she’s cleaning the house - my lights are on because I’m either crocheting or stretching my body. I think it’s nice that we have sort of a similar routine.

Anyway, my point is: we usually get extra energy at night because our hormones or something else is in imbalance. This makes it hard for us to sleep so we use the energy we have to take care of ourselves. My personal favourite is to take a shower.

(It’s 03:58 as I type this)

[nkopurin]

fratboy!toji is nothing less than a menace to society.

now tell me, and stay with me on this one, what do people think when it comes to fratboys? the average person would usually think of the following traits: dumb, self-centered, fuckboys, party animals, muscles and no brain, arrogant, reckless, immature even. however, toji wasn't your average 'sigma kappa tau' member. he is the three big C's in a nutshell. cunning, cold, and calculating, but of course, these are the only traits that differentiate him from being a good old regular frat bud.

he is a party animal, through and through.

he is arrogant and self-centered; there is no question about it.

he is a fuckboy, with his looks it would be a crime not to be. and he would never turn down a pretty face, ever.

nevertheless, he was an above average student, muscles and brain type of guy—not a top valedictorian student, though. he knew the spotlight brought nothing but prying eyes and trouble. as edgy as it sounds, he liked to stay in the shadows, away from the lime light.

he is the thinking head behind the 'sigma kappa tau' house. he coordinated the parties, found desperate nerds, ones who thought they were good enough candidates to be part of the 'brotherhood', to clean up after. and he indeed financed these parties via not so legal means. it was somewhat of an open secret/rumor that toji was a plug.

he knew a lot of people who dabbled in various things, so in just the dial of the phone he got it for you, and everything that you might be desperate to latch your hands on.

you needed a gram of blow, weed, oxy, burner phones, getaway car, or contraband alcohol? don't worry! toji was handling it to you by sundown.

or perhaps you need information on someone? at least that's what it seemed to be the case with you.

"so you know where that creep is?" the ticking of the clock was defening in the stagnant silence. you shifted your weight on the couch, your gaze trailed toji's every step and move he took.

"of course i know, princess." he lowers the brick phone to his chest to look at your pretty, dolled up figure. it was impossible for him not to walk your way and catch your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his. yet you jerked away from his touch, not taking even a grain of his performative, affectionate gestures. obviously, he was charming, got muscled for days, evil as shit, and that chiseled god-like face is just your type down to a t. but then again, you were nothing less than a hater of his stupid, little games.

"just tell me where they are fushiguro," you might be dressed in all pastels and fancy skirts bestowing an innocent, preppy act. but the death stare you gave the frat revealed your nature perfectly, toji's breath hitched, your cold eyes stirred up hardcore emotions inside him. he's an adrenaline junkie, one who lusts after control and being above anyone, nevertheless, you are not easily swayed...yet.

"only if you take me."

━━━

"hey tits." toji came crashing into any room he entered with his signature arrogance and rudeness. nobody was safe from him, not even you, fuck you wouldn't be surprised if he disrespected his mother in a similar fashion.

"how's it going, steroids?" you scoffed, even amidst the caos, splatted intimate pictures with blood droplets resting on them and a wailing, tied up dude, toji had the power to make you even angrier than you already were.

"my night became brighter now that i've seen you doll..." there was no way toji would miss the opportunity, even with a half-conscious man in front of him, to shower his next target with flowers, "so this is what the guy looks like."

the beat up dude looked like any average joe to be honest. who knew this normal looking man would sneak mundane and lewd pictures of your sorority sisters indiscriminately.

"yes, i hope he learns not to take more pictures...of anybody, ever," even in the chair that you sat, your cold, poisonous words engraved themselves deep into everybody inside the room, "girls, you can leave now, you've done good. i have something to discuss with fushiguro here."

your sorority sisters left the secluded shack one following the other, giving their 'thank you's' to you and toji. he gave them all the disheveled, blood-stained ladies a polite smile, while doing a mental note to never mess with your sorority in any way. he was sure to tell his boys this.

"so how much," you briefly looked at him before unzipping your purse. there is always a price for these types of job's, you just hoped the money that you brought was more than enough.

"a date." you stopped counting on the money. he is not serious.

"toji i'm serious..."

"god, keep saying my name."

"how much toji, i don't have all night." toji took a hold to your chin for you to look at him, just like days prior. and your exasperation deepened.

"as i said doll, a date."

"...ugh, fine!" you bounce up, raging due to your predicament, and what better way to take your frustration out than on somebody. more specifically on creepy-mcgee, "this is all your fault!"

and it actually was, if it weren't for this perverted nobody, you wouldn't have sought out for toji's help. if it weren't for you heels you would kick the shit out of the guy, "i'll burn the pics, can you keep fucking this guy up?"

"anything for the lady." like a puppy doing a trick for the treat, toji took to breaking further the poor devils face. but not before taking a picture, specifically of you, from the ground into his pocket.

you did not hate toji, hate is a strong word, there was only distaste for some aspects of his personality and antics. but that sour taste you had of him diluted with every strike he blew on your stalker's face. you could not help but peek at him whenever you took the prints from the floor. it was completely messed up to find the aggressor attractive, but his muscles flexing and contracting were just too cool, with each spilling of blood towards random places proving his strength. toji's grin was akin to the devil's, dangerously enchanting, one that drives you insane and willing to commit the most heinous sin imaginable. whatever could you do to keep seeing that smile often?

you tossed the pictured into the empty barrel and poured some oil in it before setting it ablaze with some lit matches. there was no escape from the scene in front of you, as you tossed the last match you couldn't help but to thing in how wrong you are. completely wrong to find satisfaction in violence, one that toji of all people induced.

without a word you set out of the shack, felling the soft night breeze hit you, you tried to keep your remaining integrity intact. the car where you came in was nowhere in sight, obviously. the only vehicle left was toji's old ass subaru.

'fuck it,' you began to navigate your way towards toji's ride and rest your weight near its door. the beating in your heart marched like a parade drum, this was not happening. your body wanted him, scratch that, needed him in unspeakable ways.

"hey," toji started, "i came to see if you were alright, maybe the scene was too much—"

your lips seeking his was bound to happen. you didn't let him finish his sentence; besides, it didn't matter, his concern was always a show. you thought this inebriating feeling would appease itself, well you thought wrong.

"fucking shut up fushiguro, just kiss me."

"fuck," he heaved, sinking back into the lips of the woman he so desperately coveted. with every stroke of his tongue in yours the fever for him just increased in temperature.

'more!' your body was quick to demand, and your hands even quicker to lay on his toned abdomen, shamelessly traversing through his smooth skin. his bloody hands kept your head in place as his lips explored every crevice of your mouth.

"do ughn~ do something fushiguro!" you whinged, leading his beaten up hand all the way down to that wet spot in between your legs.

"damn, doll...can't use my fingers though," he whispered, caressing your clothed cunt, crimson stains sadly smearing over the fabric.

you catch a fistful of his shirt collar, bringing him to your face level and not minding the means to relieve you. it just had to be him, "then your mouth will have to do."

you did not believe the rumors of toji fushiguro's head being mind blowing. they had to be a brazen exaggeration, nothing more than a whisper started by him to inflate his ego a set his reputation in stone. but as they say 'don't knock it 'till you try it'.

to your pride's dismay, the rumors fell short in comparison to the real deal. this man didn't tickle your pussy, he devoured it. his hot, wet tongue circled around your clit before lapping it through your slit. your back rested comfortably in the car's hood, skirt up, panties to your side and your legs locked firmly around toji's neck. strings of moaned profanities left your mouth, your hands gripping at toji's raven locks. at this rate you migh as well leave a bald spot with how hard you tugged at his hair for him to go deeper in you.

disappointment will fill you once your head clears from the lustful fog. but in this precise second all you wanted was to seek your orgasm. and sure enough you were terribly close, toji switched from burying his tongue inside of you to kissing the most sensitive parts of your pussy.

"fushi—toji~ i am, shit if you keep—going i'm gonna- i-!" torrents of erratic pleasure rippled from your pelvis through out your body. your juices coated toji's lips and dripped to his chin.

you heaved, gasping for the fresh air of nature, the stars above twinkled and now your mind became clear once more.

"get off me, help me too."

"man a thank you would be nice." always the gentleman, toji helped you sit right, kneeling to push your panties up and secure you in place as you stood up. even after you ignored his need of gratitude.

"what are you gonna do about that?" you gestured at the obvious bulge in his pants.

"shit, baby, don't worry i got certified jerk off material right here." he took the picture he had previously tucked in his pocket, out on display for you to see. apparently the creep that took all the sorority's most intimate moments actually had a talent for photography.

"fuck, fushiguro, give me my picture!" you caught a glimpse of its contents; you observing your figure through tithe mirror in a pink dress, one that looked eerily similar to lingerie. you tried to snatch it from his grasp, however he held it high in the air, making it imposible for you to get ahold of.

"you'll have to bounce on my cock if you want the pic dollface," he beamed a grin while opening the passenger door, "let's go to mine and finish the transaction."

"ughh, you're insufferable fushiguro."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

never thought this would be as long as it did :o + feedback on my writing is hella appreciated !

[ghostgirl-22]

so i actually need pt 2 to the older patrick younger art fic right NOW.. jk but it was amazing

Y’all. Y’ALL. I heard you. And though I don’t really love writing sequels… I’ll do anything for you honestly <33

Original.

It’s a mess and way too long which is prbly to be expected by now. Idk. Sometimes you just have to get out of your head and post 😭

18+ NSFW

CW: AGE GAP 10-11 years, power dynamics, teacher/student vibes, first time vibes, AND mild daddy!kink whoopsie! How did that happen? Obviously if any of these things make you uncomfortable don’t read. I don’t take it personally. I’ll explain myself a bit. Art in my imagination here didn’t get constantly shown up by Patrick and because Patrick wasn’t there Art got the attention Patrick got for his skills so he’s a little more arrogant (still a little insecure because that’s his core) and still messy. Patrick had the Tashi injury which makes him a little less arrogant (brought down a notch but still overcompensates and actively self sabotages because that’s his core) and still messy.

——

Art is still keyed up the next morning. His roommate, Devon, is bragging about hooking up with a senior. Art is trying to pay attention but all he can think about is how he got on his knees and gave messy head to Patrick, Coach Zweig, his 31 year old ridiculously hot tennis coach. And how Patrick practically promised to fuck him if he was a really good boy all week. He’s sitting on his hands trying not to go crazy.

“What did you get up to?” Devon finally asks him. Picking up his towel and getting ready to shower.

“Can you keep a secret?” Art asks.

That makes him sit back down. “Yeah of course.”

Art tells him about Patrick, most of it anyway, watching his eyes widen. He’s not on the tennis team but he’s heard enough about Coach Zweig from Art that he can’t help giggling.

“You’re fucking joking.”

“I’m not, I swear.”

“Holy shit. And I thought I was doing something with that senior. Wow. This would only happen to you.”

Art isn’t sure what he means by that but he’s suddenly asking a million questions. Art tells him some things, embellishing and withholding various details. The closest Art ever came to actually fucking a boy was when he used to sneak in Devon’s bed whenever he got horny at night. They were so close to fucking when Art made him stop. so he made Art promise to stop leading him on. And now they’re proper roommates with boundaries and everything. Though sometimes Art thinks if he asked for it Devon would still fuck him.

Devon thinks it’s hot, the whole Patrick thing. Thinks Patrick wants to make Art his kept boy. “Well I mean… he’s old and everyone says he’s loaded, right? He can give you whatever you want.” Devon says.

“Please, he wouldn’t even give me his phone number.” Art says dismissively. “And I don’t need to be kept I just need his dick.”

Devon chews his bottom lip looking Art over and Art wonders if he crossed a boundary. He’s so fucking messy with them.

“Lucky him,” Devon says dryly, rolling his eyes. “But maybe you should milk it. You’re young and beautiful and blonde and he’s your coach so it’s like.. it’s kind of illicit. He could get you a nice place off campus… be your sugar daddy. Girls do it all the time.”

“I think he’d kill me if I ever called him that,” Art laughs, making up his mind to definitely call him that at some point.

Devon agrees to come out with him next weekend but he still has to wait the whole fucking week. It feels like torture.

They have practice everyday and a game on Friday. Which means Patrick’s in those short shorts running them around the court every single day. Art can’t keep his mind off of him. Just wants his attention so bad, everyday he’s doing everything he can just to get Patrick to look in his direction. But Patrick’s got an epic poker face. He’s so fucking cool and calm and collected. So good at acting like nothing happened. Like everything is the same and they never did what they did.

There's one difference. Instead of having the assistant coach do it… he’ll bring Art to the side and personally correct him when he thinks Art could play better. Show him how to position himself, swing the racket, follow through. Big hands, rough hands, gripping Art's waist to turn his body, his wrist to direct his swing. The same hands that effortlessly lifted off his lap the other night.

“Can’t be all talk and no action sweetheart,” Patrick says lightly, as he’s standing behind him. God. It’s actually stupid how sexy he is. Art’s never thought this much about being penetrated, ever. He makes sure to arch his back just a little more than he usually does. Patrick presses a hand to the small of his back.

Art fingers the grip of his racket. “I don’t think I was all talk.”

Patrick chuckles, low and soft. “Stop it. Focus. Bring that energy here,” he says, “all that confidence right here and no one will rattle you.”

“Like this?” Art demonstrates. He makes a mess of it just so that Patrick will touch him again. It takes a minute before Patrick catches on.

“I think you get it,” he says dryly.

“Please show me one more time. I just wanna be a good boy for you,” Art says lightly. It makes Patrick swallow… his gaze falls helplessly over Arts body and then he looks away smirking.

“Are you having fun?” He says, leaning in close, eyes all crinkly with amusement.

Art wants to kiss him. “Mmhm,” he hums, pressing his lips together. “Though sometimes it still feels like my mouth is so full of you I could just… choke.”

“Yeah… right…” Patrick rolls his eyes, still smiling and then he takes a deep breath and drags his hand over his beard. “Hm…What’s today?”

“Wednesday,” Art says.

“And my plans for the weekend are still up in the air,” he says, patting Art on the shoulder as he takes his racket and turns to face the team. “Five laps around the court, everybody, let’s gooo!” He says loudly, blowing his whistle. “Fucking hustle!”

There’s an audible groan and the sounds of rackets dropping as everyone stops what they’re doing and starts running. “Go join them. And if you keep it up it’ll be sprints next.” Patrick says softly.

Art grins, as much as he hates running and he’s sure his teammates will assume he’s responsible for this bit of conditioning, it was still totally fucking worth it.

He probably should’ve focused more but he wins on Friday in spite of himself. Tennis is such a mental game and while he’s generally confident and loves the attention that comes with playing as number one on the center stage, he’s not consistent. That’s what Patrick always says at least. There are opponents that leave him feeling less sure of himself and then he tends to get in his head imagining he’s somehow inadequate or deficient.

One of those players is a French recruit from UCLA, Jensen Bordeaux. Art starts out strong. Crushes it in the first set. But when Bordeaux fights back in the second and he falls apart a little. It’s a bad habit. He wins another game but it’s not enough. He ends up nearly going into a third set.

“Remember what I said,” Patrick takes him to the side between points. “Stop acting like you can’t finish him off. You can have whatever you want right?”

Art gazes at him and bites his lip. “Mmhm.” He nods.

“Good. You know what you want. Just take it. Okay?”

“Yeah okay,” Art says breathlessly.

“Good boy,” Patrick says, rubbing his shoulders, a little smirk on his lips. “Try not to… you know… choke.”

Art feels heated from the inside out. He goes back on the court except he’s not thinking about the game. Instead he’s so anxious for the promise of tomorrow night that all this begins to feel like a mere obstacle to that. He makes easy work of it, winning the tiebreaker and shifting it so that Stanford goes home the winning team.

Everyone on the team goes out to a frat party to celebrate and Art is so drunk and horny by the end of the night. He stumbles into his dorm at 1 am, falls drunkenly into bed and starts touching himself. Fingers in his mouth imagining it’s the heavy weight and thickness of Patrick’s cock. Imagining Patrick’s large hands in his hair, imagining the soft, easily amused tone of his voice as he murmurs. “Good boy.” Makes him come so fast and hard he passes out.

He’s a mess in the morning. In more ways than one. They don’t have practice after game days so he sleeps off his hangover and the day flies by. He takes a long hot shower before he gets ready to go. Anxiety and anticipation competing for space in his brain and body. Devon loans him clothes that are so much tighter than anything he wears regularly. “Trust me, he’s gonna be all over you in this.”

They get there at the same time as last week but Patrick doesn’t come right away. Art’s waiting and waiting and waiting for Patrick to show up at the gay bar. Devon is at a table, a new boy on his lap and they’re making out. Art is half tipsy, swinging his legs on a barstool while this guy from the baseball team stands between his thighs asking him everything about tennis like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. And that’s when Patrick finally arrives. He spots Art across the bar and smirks. Art gets up right away, making excuses to the now frowning baseball player about seeing him around on campus.

“That was fast,” Patrick smirks, as Art sidles up next to him.

“Well I didn’t know you’d take so long to come,” Art says, moving closer. “Is that an old person thing?”

”Mm, you…” Patrick chuckles, tapping his credit card on the bar. He’s got such a great smile. God. Art is so far gone. This is tragic.

“Can you buy me a drink?” Art asks in his ear.

“No fucking way,” Patrick says, amused.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, how many drinks have you had tonight?”

Art holds up 3 fingers.

“Is that how many fingers I’m gonna have to put in before I can… nevermind…” Patrick says.

Art grins. Warmth spreading throughout his body. “It’s really big,” Art whispers. “Maybe you need four?”

“God…” Patrick laughs, incredulous. “I shouldn’t even fucking be here.” He sighs, as the bartender approaches them. He orders a whiskey and because it’s two for one he gives in and lets Art pick something. He orders rum and coke.

Art feels giddy as he sips on it.

“So used to getting whatever you ask for,” Patrick says, looking him over, teasing a finger into one of his belt loops. “Twenty years old. God. You make me fucking crazy.” He whispers in Art’s ear.

Art can’t help grinning.

Patrick makes him wait while he talks to people his own age. Acting all wholesome. “Oh he’s just one of my players, I’m gonna make sure he gets home safe.” He even gives Art the key so he can wait in his jeep. Art’s hard as soon as he gets in it. Listens to music too loud and ponders touching himself.

He’s kissing on Patrick right away when he finally gets in the car. He’s been so eager all week. “Mm…” Patrick pulls back, tangling his fingers into Art’s hair. “Fuck… gimme a minute to get you home, okay?” he says and he turns on the engine and puts the music back at a sensible volume.

“Is it far?” Art asks.

Patrick huffs a laugh. “Take a deep breath.”

It doesn't help. Everything smells like him. Art puts a hand on Patrick’s thigh, his skin is so heated. He remembers how warm Patrick’s cock felt in his mouth and then his mouth starts watering.

“Is Tashi there?” Art sighs.

“What do you fucking think?”

Art leans close, just breathing him in. Resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder. ”She’s so pretty.” He hums.

“I know.”

“You’re so pretty.”

Patrick chuckles, a low vibration Art can feel from his throat that makes him shiver. “And you're so tipsy. And so fucking young.”

“But you like it.” Art says softly, rubbing Patrick’s thigh. Skin so warm he’s like a furnace. Already hard enough that Art can feel it.

”And I know I’m gonna regret it.”

Their house is actually huge. On the nicer side of Palo Alto. It’s one of the ones with a pool and a tennis court and a crazy nice view of the city. Art doesn’t know any of this until later because as soon as they're inside he’s trying to get his tongue in Patrick’s mouth. Patrick walks him back towards the living room where there’s a huge leather sofa. Art climbs onto his lap as soon as he sits down. Patrick is touching him everywhere, fingers tangled into his hair. Hands under his shirt, rubbing him, teasing him. Art is just trying his best to feel him, lick into his mouth and taste him. All while grinding against his prominent bulge. Grabbing at his zipper trying to get it out.

“Can you fuck me?” Art begs against his lips.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes against his lips, he’s gripping Art’s waist tightly. Slowing him down. He sighs like he’s trying to pull himself together. “Mmkay. God. Stand up a minute. I need to get a condom and some lube.”

Art gets up reluctantly, nervous energy making him bounce on his toes like he’s waiting on a serve. Patrick smirks, “Relax… I’ll be back in a minute.” He pats Art’s shoulder as he gets up and disappears into another room. It doesn’t matter whether Art sits or stands, he’s anxious. He looks around the lavish room, fancy furniture, paintings that look expensive. Massive kitchen like the kind you see in movies. Patrick comes back and he’s all loose, t-shirt wrinkled, hair messy, eyes soft. He’s probably done this a million times. He’s got a condom between his fingers which he hands to Art.

“You wanna put it on me?”

”Mmhm,” Art says. He’s also carrying a little bottle of lube. Art’s trying to rip the packet open but his hands are all shaky. Especially when Patrick lifts his t-shirt off, he’s so solid, strong biceps, chest hair that gets darker condensed down the line of his stomach to where his jeans are unbuttoned. Art wants to lick it.

“Okay,” Patrick settles on the sofa, kicking off his shoes. “Give me that, you pretty little virgin and take those clothes off.”

Art hands him the condom a little embarrassed, and starts undoing his jeans. Kicks off his shoes and peels off his shirt so he’s only in boxers. Patrick bites open the packet and eases his jeans down and his cock out. Art takes shallow breaths watching him roll the condom on. It’s so big the condom is a magnum size and it fits snug. He’s heard horror stories about first times, even read a few on Reddit and he’s starting to feel a little panicked.

”Look at you.” Patrick says softly, eyes dragging slowly down Arts body. He pulls Art onto his thighs, god he has thick muscular thighs, Art can’t help wiggling. Patrick’s got him close so their cocks line up, and his palm is covered in lube and he’s gripping them both at the same time. It feels so fucking good Art thinks he might come too fast. He’s moaning, eyes squeezed shut when Patrick stops. Art opens his eyes to see Patrick wetting his fingers with more lube and slips a thick calloused finger back along Art’s entrance. Art feels himself seizing up as Patrick presses slowly inside.

“Take deep breaths,” Patrick whispers. Advice Art tries to follow but it just feels so crazy. He eases another finger in and Art tenses even more.

“Mm if your so fucking tight, I can’t fuck you sweetheart.”

“Does it hurt?” Art whispers.

Patrick takes a breath. “Yeah a little at first… but I think I can make it feel a little…uh better…”

Art shivers, his body suddenly overrun by pleasure as Patrick’s teasing his fingertips deep inside him. Art can hear himself moaning voice suddenly pitched so high he barely recognizes it. “Please… please… “he begs. “Please fuck me… fuck me… fuck me daddy.” Art gasps, losing himself as he’s riding the sensation.

“Fuck… what did you call me?” Patrick whispers.

Art bites his lip, his body heating up immediately with embarrassment. “Mm sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I meant like sugar…” He says softly as Patrick slowly pulls his fingertips out. Art is breathless. Patrick doesn’t look mad but his expression has gone heady.

“Fuck… I can be daddy if you need it,” Patrick breathes. “Come…sit on daddy’s dick. Holy shit. What are you doing to me?”

Art swallows, his stomach doing flip flops for the way Patrick says it. He sits up on his knees, he can feel Patrick lining up. It actually feels like a lot. Like way too much. Impossible to take. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut and watering feeling the insane stretch as he sinks so fucking slowly down on it.

“Oh god,” he keeps whispering over and over like a prayer.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. His hands gripping Art’s waist.

He’s anxious moving slowly, gripping tightly, it’s too much, he’s too full. And Patrick starts to adjust him while gently rubbing his tummy. “Relax… lets try this angle,” Patrick whispers. Fucking into him in a way that he starts hitting that pleasure spot deep inside with even more intensity. “Good… good boy…that’s right…breathe… breathe… keep breathing… fuck…” Patrick coaches. And then slowly as it happens Art is moaning, bouncing on his lap just to feel it hit over and over and over and over again.

“I wanna… mmm I like it so much. wanna do it all the time,” Art moans nonsensically as he’s riding, not sure what’s happening, just that he’s seeing stars. “I wanna fuck you all the time. All the fucking time. wanna fuck you at school… during practice. In your bed. Wanna be your boy toy. Play with your big dick. Fuck me, oh fuck… fuck me daddy, daddy please. It feels so fucking good.”

“Jesus,” Patrick groans he barely grips Art’s cock and he’s coming loudly, spurts of it covering Patrick’s chest and his own. He can feel Patrick still pressing up into him, it suddenly feels like way too much. Every movement making him shake with how sensitive it feels and then Patrick stills, swearing over and over, gripping Art’s body tight and burying himself deep. Low gravelly sounds against Art’s ear.

”Fuck,” Patrick gasps, breathlessly. “Oh… god. You’re so… fuck I’m so screwed.”

“Mm,” Art collapses against his chest, running his fingers down Patricks soft chest hair all painted with his jizz. His knees are all sweaty and sticking to the leather but he doesn’t really care. He just wants to be close. Patrick is gently rubbing his lower back and it feels amazing. Art can feel him softening and slowly slipping out of him, he thinks he might fall asleep like this.

“You okay?” Patrick asks.

”Mmhm,” Art says.

“You sure?”

”Yeah. Can we do it again?”

“God,” Patrick laughs. “I need at least five minutes and I need you to get up cause I gotta piss.”

“No,” Art whines, unhappy about anything that means he won’t be warmed by Patrick's body heat even for a second. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders.

Patrick chuckles. “I can’t go anywhere?”

“No,” Art says. “You’re my pillow.”

“Guess I fucked your virgin ass good,” Patrick says.

“For an old guy,” Art says softly, smiling against Patrick’s throat.

“For your daddy, you little freak…” Patrick says gently, squeezing his ass. “Come on, get up or we’re gonna have a bigger mess to clean up.”

Art groans and unwraps his arms. “Can I come?”

“To piss?” Patrick raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Art nods.

Patrick smirks and rolls his eyes before gently curling his fingers into Arts hair. “Yeah sure, come on.”

Art kisses him and he sighs into Arts mouth. “I need a fucking cigarette too.”

“Can I stay over?” Art asks against his lips.

“Mm…” he ponders and sighs. “Fuck it I don’t know why I bother pretending to set boundaries with you…” he says, helping Art to his shaky feet. “Tashi will be home tomorrow afternoon. So you know… better not sleep too late.”

Art grins at him. “Does she know about me?”

“Does she know that after I finally got a good job as a tennis coach at my old school that I’m this close to losing it because I can’t help fucking my barely legal 20 year old star player? No actually. She doesn’t know.” He says dryly.

Art laughs. “I wouldn’t tell. But I mean imagine if I slept with you both. I’d learn so much about tennis.“

Patrick snorts, “This kinda talk is gonna make me take you home tonight actually…”

“Mm too late. You let me call you daddy,” Art grins. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

[crieslikeafool]

"Max, hey Max, can I have a word?"

Max grunted, "Jesus you are everywhere."

Charles grinned, opening his green, green eyes a little more than necessary, and looking like the most innocent person on Earth. "Oh, me? I am just doing my job."

Bastard.

"Go on then." Max indulged him, knowing perfectly that Charles was, in fact, not recording a single thing.

"Isn't it hard to walk sometimes? Carrying that monstrous ego must be tiring."

"Not as tiring as hearing the bullshit the press says."

"Ouch." Charles followed him through the paddock, swaying through the people with much more confidence than any other reporter. "Feeling salty today, uh? Was it because I said than Lando will beat you today?"

Max glared at him. "It's not."

"Don't bite me. I was just stating a fact."

Max raised his eyebrows. Charles always like to tease him, but he was never that bold. It grabbed his attention like a slap in the face.

"And why would that be a fact, Leclerc?"

"Your grip was shit all through free practice and quali, thanks to that trash bin they gave you to drive-"

"Hey!"

"-Hence why you are starting fifteenth. Good luck on that bullshit."

"You talk way too much for your own good, do you know that?"

Charles grinned again, all sharp red lips and charming dimples. "You really don't know who got me into the sport, do you?"

"Can't google all the journalist that talk to me." He did google him. He just couldn't find any personal infos. Or social medias. Not that he cared.

"Sebastian."

"Wait, what? Vettel?"

That explains a lot.

They were almost at Max's motorhome. He had to change and shower before going back to the garage.

"He taught me how to bite back."

"He didn't tell you not to underestimate me, though."

Charles hummed, thoughtful. "You think you can win tomorrow? Really?"

Max leaned on his motorhome door, folding his arms on his chest. Their eyes met, and it felt electric. Max knew a challenge when he saw one.

"I think so. Yes."

Charles took a step closer to him, less than a foot between their chests.

"If you are so confident," He smirked. "Let's make a bet." And offered his hand.

Max raised his eyebrows again, but shook it anyway.

"When I win tomorrow, what am I going to get?"

Charles stepped closer again, still grasping his hand, just a few centimeters between them. "You can finally take me on a date." He whispered, and quickly stepped away.

"Good luck for tomorrow!" He said, already walking away as if nothing happened.

That fucking brat-

( @additiva you are a better writer than me, but i hope you'll appreciate 😂😂)

Lestappen au where Charles is a reporter who lives to torment Max with questions so absurd they make the Dutchman question his life choices.

"Do you think your car would perform better if it didn’t have to carry the weight of your confidence everywhere?"

“Do you think your ego has its own zip code?”

Max tries to stay cool, but Charles’ smirk is a red flag he can’t ignore.

[lilylushes]

Luigi x Pregnant Reader Headcanons

-Your sex life with Luigi had always been active, but once you two decided to see what happens in terms of getting pregnant, he got baby fever BAD and it turned into a whole baby making season for him. 

-You had sex almost every day before, but now it was constantly - on the countertop, in the shower, in the pool/ocean, etc. Even when you were tired, he’d happily make love to you with gentle strokes, humming how much he loved you and wanted a baby. He’d also lay on the praise even more during baby making season. “Mmm, going to give you a baby, beautiful.” “So good for me, taking all my cum, my good girl.” 

-He was SO excited when you both found out. The two of you both suspected you might be pregnant, so you took a test and decided to look at it at the same time. When you flipped it over and the two lines were clear as day, he was elated. He hugged you so tightly and even though he’s not an overly emotional guy, he cried tears of joy, and gave you so much praise. “You’re going to be the best mother.” “I love you.” “I can’t wait to do this with you.” Oh, and he’s thinking about how hot you’ll look pregnant.

-He immediately ordered a shit ton of books about pregnancy, fatherhood, babies, and everything.

-He thinks about different names all the time, too. He’d ask, “baby, what do you think of x as a name?”

-He goes to literally every appointment, ultrasound, and signs you up for a birthing class.

-NEEDS to find out the gender because he can’t not know. You’d do a little private thing, just the two of you. I picture one of those ones on the beach with a little cake and the wine glasses. No matter what you’d have, his reaction would be so precious. More hugs and tears, probably.

-He’s also kinda panicking because now he’s gonna be a literal father in charge of keeping another human alive. He is reading the books that he ordered religiously. He worries deep down that he’s not cut out to be a father.

-He proudly assembles all of the nursery furniture and makes sure it’s all safe.

-He takes up crocheting/knitting so that he can make socks, hats, a blanket, etc. for the baby. He goes kinda crazy with it, lol.

-He just wants to be a part of it all in any way that he can. He reads up on what you’re experiencing, is always asking how you’re feeling, wants to make sure you take all the vitamins you need, and takes part in your birthing class to ensure that he’ll be a supportive partner.

-He talks to your baby at night. “You have the best mom. She’s so pretty and so smart, you’ll see. You’re giving her kind of a hard time, though. It’s hard for her to sleep. Just keep still in there for a few hours, hm?”

-He is always encouraging you to try things out to make everything more comfortable for you, especially at the end.

-He talks about what the baby will look like and be like. You both agree on your eyes with his smile. You two take the opportunity to look at your own baby pictures. He’s a bit embarrassed at his, but he can’t get over how cute you were.

-Pregnancy sex, especially towards the end, is wild and constant. “I know you’re uncomfortable, baby. I read how we can induce labour, wanna give it a try?”

-He totally panics when you go into labour. He did pack your hospital bags long ago, but he gets all blushing and flustered.

-While you’re in labour, he gives you distance when you need it and is nearby when you need it.

-When your baby is born, he’d be crying so hard. Between your baby being here and how proud he is of you for going through labour, he’d be extremely emotional.

-He can’t believe how tiny the baby is, being totally in awe of their little hands and feet. He’s just in disbelief that you two made this sweet little baby.

-Afterwards, when you’re holding the baby, he says, “thank you for giving me him/her.”

-Even though he’s running on no sleep, he’d watch you sleep afterwards and come over to kiss your cheeks and forehead.

-He’s so proud to bring your visitors in. He’d by hyping you up to them, like, “she did such a good job, I’m so proud of her. She was so strong the whole time.”

-When you’re leaving the hospital, he’s beaming with pride to be able to look beside him and see you and your baby. 

-When you’re in the car, he’d look in the mirror at you and your baby in the backseat, and say, “There’s nobody else I’d rather do this with, y/n. love you, baby.”

[brokenpieces-72]

Hi, I was thinking how cool it would be for the team to have a 3-4 foot nothing mouse as an infiltrator and informant. who can sneak in by squishing themselves flat like real mice through the smallest cracks, steal information and not get caught. Thanks, and I love your work ^^.

Omg I adore this idea it is adorable! Yes! I'm just imagining the reader, squishing themselves against the ground but their legs are just kicking up the dirt behind them as they wedge themselves under a door that should not even fit their skull, lol. Also, this takes place before Spirit's time or a different time all together. I couldn't think of a way to include her in it.

Click

TW: past trauma, mentions of prison, mentions of ruining people's lives, shitty bosses, criminal history, let me know if any changes are needed.

"Is this contract negotiable?" You asked, sitting across from Laswell. She'd slid the contract over to you for a job, promising you the basic amenities and a hefty cash reward for your participation in an infiltration mission. You would be a key player in an infiltration mission to collect data from a cartel, something you were very good at. The information was pretty basic stuff like bio-chemical research files, shipping manifests, buyer lists, etc.

"What are you asking for?" Kate asked.

"Reduced sentence." You said, sliding the contract back to her. Kate took it back, glancing at you. "I've served 10 years already, for following orders. I want to walk around freely after this."

Laswell didn't show it but she was surprised by your statement. You'd plead guilty during your trial, and chose your words carefully when you spoke. If you wanted your freedom she could arrange it. You would be tracked for a while, but you knew that already. In a place like this, your size was weakness, something plenty of other inmates could take advantage of.

"I'll see to it personally." Kate told you, gathering her things. You gave her a curt nod.

You didn't need basic training, but the overgrown lizard with the missing wing wanted to give you an assessment. You didn't argue, you could give him attitude once you'd warmed up to the others. Your contract required compliance on your end. While you didn't have to like it, you weren't about to start drama. Just get your work done, complete the contract, and get your tracking bracelet. Thankfully you passed the assessment with little issues. You returned to Price for your orders and then you see Alejandro. Fuck.

You have to dig your nails into your palms when you see the spots on his arms. You know those spots, and try to avoid them. And of course the colonel noticed your discomfort with his presence. Didn't comment on it though. Price dismissed you to shower, and settle in. A laptop had been put in your room for you to look over what information they had so far for the mission. You knew what you were going to do with the laptop right away.

Holy shit, you forgot how much you missed warm water and privacy like this. It felt so good to get all of your dirt and sweat off, scratching at your scalp to get out all the grime and grease that had built up. You had to brush your hair out in the shower because of how knotted it was, but it was worth it. If anyone had an opinion on how long your shower was, they kept it to themselves. Coming back to your room in a warm hoodie and wet hair was marvellous feeling. You felt much more refreshed. When you saw the laptop, you put your date with your bed on hold. The sooner the job was done, the sooner you could shower as much as you want.

The cartel location was pretty simple set up. There were blueprints of the building along with edits for renovations. Everything you'd requested for the mission was available, including any reciepts they could get a hold of for the renovations. Tech was higher end but not exactly the most secure, it would take time to make an attack plan for it. You'd want to get a drone out so you could see how many guards were on security at a time, especially if there is an event going on, because security would be tighter. There were some aerial photos that you could get closer looks at, eyeing the vehicles that weren't military make. Odds were mods had been added, like bullet-proof glass or compartments for weapons.

Everything you could find or didn't find was scratched into a notebook. The advantage with writing things down instead of typing, was how easy it was to keep it to yourself and destroy it if you needed to. You probably spent a better portion of the day working on your notes and plans. By the time you had most of your wrok done, your lip was a little numb from chewing at it. Your eyes watered from staring at the screen, realizing just how dark it had gotten in your room. What time was it? Evening at least. Shit, you hoped there was still some food for you at the messhall.

You left your room, yawning, wishing you had taken a nap before getting to work. After poking your head into the hall, you quietly slipped out of your room to find the mess hall. When you turned the first corner though you nearly had a heart attack. Kyle unintantionally scared the shit out of you. You had to cover your mouth so you didn't yell in surprise. Did you hear someone coming? Yes. But not someone with big wings.

"You good?" He askeed. You nodded needing a minute for your heart to settle.

"Yeah... sorry." You said. "Was looking for the mess hall."

"I'm on my way there, I can show you." Kyle told you, waiting for you to give him the okay to show you. You nodded and gestured for him to lead on.

"So what do we call you? The Cap'n gave us your name but I figured you had a nickname or something." Kyle said, walking with you. Great, he likely knew you had a record as well. Certainly didn't seem bothered by it though.

"Mouse. Or Click." You answered. "Super original I know."

Kyle told you about the other nicknames of the team. You couldn't help but notice he seemed fairly casual with you, while keeping to himself. As soon as you figured out what he was doing you cracked a small smile. Kyle noticed.

"Did I say something?" He asked. Oh shit, he saw that. Awkward.

"No no, just... old training kicking in." You admitted.

"How so?" Kyle asked. You were hoping "old training" wouldn't come with follow ups. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable, if you wanted any mission to go right you needed trust from both sides. Kyle was taking the first steps, and you wanted to catch up. If you kept it to yourself it could make him uneasy, or dig into your file deeper. If you told him it could make him more cautious.

"I learned speech patterns to go with my informant training." You explained.

"Figured." Kyle said. "So what have I given away?"

The question is phrased in a way that sounds lighthearted, but you get the feeling he's both testing you and wishing he'd been more careful about talking to you. The more open and forward you are the better it would be later on. "How much of a dressing down do you want?"

Kyle shrugged. May as well give him the fullset. "You told me everyone's name and nickname, while giving me one thing to focus on for each of them in terms of appearance. Instead of telling me what hybrid they are you described their more human aspects. You're attempting to make me feel comfortable with them by providing me with friendlier terms to refer to them. Instead of focusing on what makes them different you mention the things they have the most in common which is their humanity. In summary you're sizing me up - no pun intended - while wanting me to be more relaxed and comfortable with the rest of you."

"Yep." Kyle said simply. You gave him a double take. Was that a test?! Kyle just shook his head smirking. Not the usual response but you appreciated how he took it.

"Can I be informal about this meeting?" You asked Price.

"You have the floor use it as you see fit." Price said. Oh boy, this would be a trip.

"Okay, first and foremost, there is more than one target. You have a server room that I'm not even sure could be called that, and there's a main office holding both written files and a computer. Second, this place has gone through more renovations than I can count. There are plenty of ways in, but each one has something either blocking it or guarding it, which will take more than a smile to get in."

"More than lockpicking as well?" Rudy asked.

"Or breaking down the door, not saying brute force and ignorance isn't an option, but I don't recommend the latter." You added. Simon was looking over the map you had spread out.

"Where are the targets?" He requested. You marked them and they were some distance apart. The server room was in the general center, with the main office being further from the entrance. "You have a main one?"

"I was going to ask about that." You said. "How much data do you want?"

"All of it." Price answered simply. You thought so.

"Server would get you plenty of files but they'll likely be encrypted, office would get you their main computer which could also be locked pretty tight, and the option of hard copies, but that's if they have hard copies." You explained quickly. Getting everything would be an option it was more how much they wanted to break stuff.

"All of it." Price repeated.

"Okay," You sighed. "If you look at the papers there's maps and times for the guard's rotations, which aren't the most consistent, but are close enough, during events and meetings they put in the effort to cover up a bit more. Their vehicles are no exception, those illegal tints are probably hiding radios, and hidden compartments."

"The van is modded too?" Kyle asked, looking at the photos you'd gotten from the drone. Sketchy white van parked out front.

"Spoilers." You told him. "But yes... and no. The cartel gets businesses to come in and work on their stuff under the table, all of it is done in cash and off record, but it's not always the same person. Before Kyle said anything that would be the first way in but that would get civilians involved."

The team didn't want to get innocent people involved, even if they were doing sketchy business. The team examined the work you'd put together. There were plenty of scribbled notes, photos, and maps to go over but Price could see through all your work.

"Do you have any other suggestions?" He asked you.

"Sadly, no. I wasn't exactly the planner when it came to these things. One thing I can tell you that is close to a suggestion, is that the place's security system is like a smart home. System sends a signal anytime someone interacts with it. If someone is taken off or put on the system, ping. Door unlocked or locked, ping. Car leaves the premises, ping."

"Windows?" Soap asked.

"It's a way in, but a way to be seen as well. I get most of your guys are bulletproof to a degree, but I'm not." You explained. They could cover you, that wasn't a massive issue.

"Could we take out the guards, replace them?" Alejandro asked.

"Theoretically yes, it would require them to leave the premises and a car jacking." You explained. Less violence required, and you were starting to map some more things out in your head.

"That will work, but then how do we reach the targets?" Price asked. Ghsot and Rodolfo could get through easily enough and unlock the doors from the other side. Price and Gaz would be able to hide among the guards as easily with their wings, so they could provide recon and a distraction while the rest broke in. Meanwhile you would get into the computer and servers directly, retrieving the target. There was one problem though. How would you get in? Your ears could be stuffed into a ski mask with some discomfort and your tail could go around your midsection under your clothes, but...

"One problem... I'm a little short for stormtrooper." You mentioned. You didn't like it, but they found a way.

Night before the mission you were curled up in the rec room with your notebook. You were journaling. It was the one thing you could do when you were incarcerated, and your therapist recommended it. One mission and you would be able to walk outside again. Felt good to write about it. Your ears twitched hearing someone walk in.

"Looks like there's a creature stirring." Soap said, joining you. You rolled your eyes, but gave him a friendly enough smile. You sat in silence for a moment before Soap decided now was a perfect time to get personal with you. "What were you in for?"

"It's in my file." You answered.

"Didn't bother reading it. I prefer the source, more accurate." He replied. You looked over your journal and tucked up knees at him. It wasn't to catch you off guard, or anything, he wanted to hear your side.

"Hacked into National Security." You said, finishing the sentence you were on before closing your journal.

"That all?" He asked.

"I was... ordered to. I broke in, obtained files on suspoected war criminals, my commanding officer gave me the okay, said he'd gotten a warrant and everything. Tried arguing with him, and... he convinced me it was for the best. We were catching criminals, terrorists. Well he never got the warrant, and the next thing I know I'm on trial, hearing how many people I hurt through my actions." You said.

"What about your superior?" Soap asked. You felt something boiling inside of you. The night he'd come to see you to warn you about the trial, you thought he would defend you. You retold your side to him, despite him knowing it. His final words to you stung. In the end it was your hand on the trigger.

"Haven't seen him." You said, shrugging. "Got plenty of tats in prison though."

"Really?" Soap asked, giving in to the subject change. He'd only seen the one star on your neck. YOu set you journal aside, and pulled up your hoodie and shirt to show your ribs and some beautiful inked works. "Is that recent?"

"The snake is yeah." You said. You're pretty sure the reason the hybrids were more comfortable around you was because of your small size. As a mouse you're less of a threat, but you have a criminal record. Soap wasn't put off by it, none of them were. You'd heard things about the 141, some of the skeletons they might have in their closet. You assumed there was little room to throw stones in the glass house. "Tomorrow is gonna suck."

"Why? The plan is solid." Soap said. Yeah for him maybe, not for you. Maybe that was why he was being friendly, so you wouldn't get back at him for roughing you up. You gave him a look, and he failed to hide his grin. "It's a solid plan."

Oh yeah yeah, solid FUCKing plan Soap. Laugh it up. He was snickering about it when everything was being planned out too. Were you laughing about it too? Yes, but it was a bit of reluctant laugh, like when you know you've lost a bet and have to get drenched by a water balloon.

"Permission to speak freely?" You asked Alejandro who was ziptying your hands behind your back. Something about him having to kneel down to do so was forcing Soap to hide his face. God he was a fucking child sometimes. Kyle was doing the same, but it was more towards Soap and his childish humour.

"Always." Alejandro said.

"Thanks." You said. "Hey Soap? Fuck off."

"Aye. Remember who's dragging in you in there." Soap said.

"Aye, remember who can make you sketchy dating profiles." You reminded him. Soap put his hands up in surrender. Alejandro was nice enough to help you get on the edge of the open truck before applying zipties to legs. "The leg ones necessary?"

"Yep." Alejandro said simply. He finished up and stood up straight. Rudy put the bag over your head, as you got yourself to awkwardly roll into the trunk. Before shutting the door you heard Ghost.

"Comfortable?" He asked. Not really, you were stuck laying on your arms but being on your stomach wouldn't be any better. You were able to nod under the hood, and give out a muffled, good. Then the trunk closed.

Didn't take long for you to figure out why they put leg ties on you. As soon as they arrived, and pulled you out of the trunk, you got hoisted on to a shoulder. You don't know who it was but they maintained the cover, with no signs of laughter.

You kept quiet, letting them carry you inside. You heard Alejandro talking to someone. You couldn't make out the words, he was speaking Spanish. There was some back and forth and you think you hear the word ninos. Other guy probably thought you were a kid. You started moving again, and held back a sigh of relief.

A door was opened, and two things were put in your hands as you were laid on the floor. You were given a pat down, the equipment under your hoodie was ignored. The door was closed and locked. Your shoulder was starting to feel sore again, only having short relief from the car ride. You continued to wait patiently. You've waited ten years to see the world again, what was a few more minutes? You felt something nudge you and you knew it was go time.

You sat up, and carefully opened the blade. You got the zipties on your wrists cut and then moved to your leg-SHIT! That fucking smarts... okay legs ties were off. Should've shaken the bag off first. You checked the damage real quick. You'd cut your hand, enough to cause bleeding but not deep enough to warrant stitches. You looked at the thing that nudged you, a cadejo, who showed some concern for your injury.

"Go, I'll be fine." You ordered quietly. then you put the ear piece in. Immediately Rudy asked if you were okay, and if you needed anything. You assured them you were okay but would need an extra minute. The hood was the best option, so you cut some pieces of it of with the knife. They were tucked against the wound, and then you got your gloves on. It was going to hurt as you looked up at the vent shaft above you. They'd put you in a storage closet, classy. Thankfully the vent grate wasn't bolted. You could hear the team going over other parts of the plan while you focused on your own.

One hop up, and you were able to get the ve-dang it. Okay come on. Come on! Get the right gri-there you go! You got the grate off and set it aside. For anyone else your size, the shaft would be tight. You were a mouse hybrid. You could squeeze into plenty of small places. The vent was no exception. You got low to ground, shifting your feet for the right stance, and then sprung upwards.

You got your hands into the shaft and on to the edge of the tunnel. With some small swinging of your legs, you hoisted yourself further inside, getting the rest of your body in. As you shuffled along, poking your head around to check for any risks you continued to listen to the team. They were making their way to finding the security cameras, intending to watch over you so no one would suspect anything. Ghost was making his way to the server room where you were headed while Rudy was lingering by the main office.

Thankfully there weren't many issues, once you got to the server room, but your hand was starting to sting. Shit, you could feel the blood sticking to your glove. Once you reached the server room you tried testing your hand, applying some pressure. Yeah you were going to need some help getting down, otherwise you might just hurt yourself more. You touched your earpiece.

"Ghost I'm at the server room, what's your location?" You asked, keeping your voice down.

"On my way still. Security cams have been secured, you're clear to engage." Ghost informed you.

"I'm gonna need you inside." You admitted.

"Need medical?" He asked.

"I might." You said. Ghost picked up his pace a little, keeping an eye out for anyone else. Once he reached the server room, he stood, doing a scan of the hall and ensuring he wouldn't be noticed befor slipping inside, through his own shadow. You were still waiting above the room, carefully removing the grate and pulling it up into the shaft with you.

"Where are you?" Ghost asked. You saw a figure moving below you.

"Still in the shaft." You admitted. The figure looked up and saw you.

"Stop fucking around and get down." Ghost hissed at you.

"Needed a spotter." You told him, cautious slipping down and dangling by your good hand. Something wrapped around your leg, and you realize Ghost is keeping a grip on you with some shadow manipulation. Once your feet were on the ground, you got to work while Ghost got a first aid kit that was thankfully hanging on the wall. You started typing away on your laptop, after retrieving it from the bag under your hoodie. You had a program put together already that would duplicate items, making identical replicas of the files as if they were never accessed or touched.

Once you got the right cords hooked up to your laptop, you let the program play out. Thankfully you could get quite a few files from the servers alone. It meant some impatient waiting, but Ghost had a way to pass the time. Cleaning your wound properly and getting some proper bandages. You set your laptop aside while Ghost set himself on the floor. You held out your hand for him and hissed at the stinging of the alcohol.

"Do me a favour when you get back." Ghost said, wrapping the guaze around your hand. Simon was surprisingly gentle when it came to patch ups. "The coward that put you in jail, make sure he pays up."

"Laswell told me she was looking into it. Don't worry." You assured him. Ghost had his commanding officer fuck him over too, but he'd had it a lot worse. You flexed your hand a bit to test the wrappings before Ghost applied tape.

"Soap to Ghost." Soap was heard in both your ear pieces. Ghost packed the kit up quickly, getting Soap to continue. "There's a guard approaching, west side."

"Company?" He asked.

"Find cover." Soap said confirming. You looked at the program still running. Unplugging it would mess up the files, you know that. Ghost could hide no problems there, but you were a different story. Seeing your panic, Ghost ordered you to get on top of the server towers. You looked at your laptop, but he hissed for you to leave it. Yep you weren't going to argue with him. Ghost instead hid beside the tower closest to the door, while you waited on the tower. You kept glancing down to see if the program had finished yet. Almost. Come on, come on, come o-the door opened and you pressed yourself against the top of the tower as much as you could.

The guard walked in casually, likely a routine check-up, make sure no one was fucking around on duty, literally and figuratively. The door slowly closed behind the guard while you held your breath. You know Ghost isn't gonna kill em, if he does it will raise alarms if anyone finds him. Knocked out, it could be from anything. Ghost readies himself, shifting his weight to go in for a headlock. Then the guard stops and starts patting his pockets. Holy shit there was no fucking way. The guard turned and freaking left?!

"Click, where are we at with the files." Ghost asked as soon as the door shut behind the guard. You glanced down again.

"Done." You whispered with excitement. Okay, one down, one more to go.

"The guard is leaving, you need to move." You heard Alejandro say. Didn't need to tell you twice. You hopped down from the tower, and unplugged your laptop, stashing it away quickly. Ghost left the room the same way he came in. Once you had you gloves back on you got back to vent. You moved quickly knowing it the guard could return again, even with Ghost out there lingering. The office was a much longer way to go, with plenty more vents along the way. You overheard some muffled conversations, casual stuff from guards and other cartel members.

"Click hold up." You heard over the comms. You stopped, looking through the vent grate. You had a tracker pinging your location through the shafts, so the team knew where you were for each room. You noticed a group of people chatting, all masked. Your small size, meant less weight so no issue with making too much noise. You could hear Soap's irritation over comms.

"Soap, status?" Ghost requested.

"There's someone else in the office, talking to the leader. They're chatting and friendly by the looks of it."

"You need a distraction?" Gaz offered. He and Price had been pretty quiet throughout the mission thus far.

"Alejandro?" Soap asked.

"In position." He said. After a confirmation from Price you start to hear a loud ruckus. The men below look around confused, unsure of what they were hearing. Then you hear Alejandro barking orders at them in Spanish and they start moving. You needed to move to. Rudy would have to make himself scarce, so you would only have Soap as your eyes through the walls. You're a little ways from the main office when you hear a noise in your earpiece followed by Soap cursing again.

"Soap status?" Ghost asked, more concern in his voice.

"Shift change." He said quietly. Okay now you had to move faster and you scurried through to office, overhearing a commotion from Soap, likely dealing with his shift change. Get in and get out, the commotion will pull the leader away. Rudy confirmed it. Except the leader's guest was still in there, with Rudy guarding the door. You saw them once you reached the office, and saw him sitting casually at the desk, as if he were just waiting for his boss to return so they could keep up their friendly chat.

You kept an eye on him, waiting for the commotion on Soap's end to finish. The extra occupant was an unplanned variable. There was no back-up plan aside from the distraction. Damn it this made things more complicated. "We have a John Smith in the office."

Soap stopped whatever he was doing with the guard and returned to cameras. He saw the extra variable. You had to wait for orders, and heard him talking to Simon about what they could do to get rid of the guy. Killing him would be the easiest but it's harder to cover up as opposed to a quiet infiltration. Your ears flattened, as you let yourself relax in the tight space for a moment. You arms were getting sore from holding yourself up. Mad props to the soldiers who could do it under long stretches of dirt and mud.

John Smith got up from his chair and started to walk around the room. You reported it, and heard Soap, Ghost and now Alejandro debating what they could do. Then the stranger turned, letting you get a good look at his face. Your ees widen, and you cover your mouth to keep yourself from gasping. No, there was.... no. That fucking bastard.

"I don't recognize him." Alejandro said.

"I... I do." You said, trying to control your emotions. The soft white noise of the comms was deafening as you remembered the night at your apartment, when he came to see you. You thought he came to be friendly, but you were naive. Thinking you were doing the right thing.

"Click, we need a name." Ghost said, having to repeat himself. You gave his name and his rank. The team realized your connection to him immediately.

"Permission to engage?" You asked. Price needed a moment to think about it.

"Can you keep control?" He asked.

"Affirm."

"Engage, you do not have execute authority." Price ordered.

That's all you needed, as you got the vent grate off. You waited for him to come into view, being sure he could hear the noise. As soon as he was in view, the grate was angled and aimed. You forced it down as hard as you could and hit him in the head, making him stumble back and fall against the desk. You didn't know it but the noise form outside the office caused Rudy whip around. He'd heard the order but didn't know what you'd done.

You dropped down with ease, landing in a crouch while your old boss groaned. When you stand you keep an eye on him, pulling up your face mask. You heard Rudy ask if you wanted help. No you could handle this. Once again you plugged in your laptop to the main computer and ran the program. While that was running, you went back to your boss, who was slowly getting back up, and hit him in the stomach, getting him keel over. That was a mistake.

Your former boss is bigger than you, by a couple of feet. Keeling over he was able to grab you, and drag you with him to ground, pinning you down on your stomach. "Hey there mouse. Long time no see."

Of course he recognized you. You had been the shortest on your old team, and the only hybrid. He thought it would disarm you, but you freed your arm and elbowed him in the face, hard. Once he rolled off of you, you were much faster, climbing on top of him. His mistake was not wearing any armour. Jail time taught you some tactics as well. A quick comm to Rudy and you grabbed between your former boss's legs. You grabbed hard, fingers curved in. The look on hos face was so worth it.

Did he try to knock you off? Yep, but any attempts vanished when Rudy sent in the cadejos at your request. Both stood over him growling. When he tried to cry out, you covered his mouth. His pained muffled groans however would have left plenty of questions if there weren't visuals to back it up.

"Anybody have some questions for this guy? He's an informant working with a cartel after all. Not undercover either." You asked. They didn't admit it, but anyone seeing you on the cameras was wincing a little at yur methods.

"Is he a client of the cartel?" Price asked, unable to see what exactly was going on.

"Are you a client?" You asked him, uncovering his mouth.

"You're a rat bitch." He said. You squeezed, and admittedly, enjoyed his pained expression.

"Yeah I am, but that's not the fucking question." You told him. "Are you a client? Yes or no?"

"N-no." He managed. You loosened your grip.

"Why are you here then? Serve them with a warrant to check their liquor cabinet?" You asked, jerking your head towards the glass of alcohol on the desk.

"To keep your ass in check." He said. You squeezed again.

"You never needed to keep my ass in check. Try again!" You said.

"A business deal." He said quickly. You loosened and he sighed with some relief.

"See it'll hurt less if you do answer me nicely. Also keep in mind, we're in the very room containing documents that can easily disprove your statements." You said.

"Information... for product." He said. "Get off of me."

You stayed on top of him, because you wanted to do so much worse to him. In this moment you had the high ground, both physically and morally. You wanted to twist.

"Click, how long until you have the data?" Rudy asked. By now he'd probably seen what was going on. You needed to focus. Besides, now you had proof of his guilt and an extra reason to walk free after. You twisted your body and made out only a few seconds left on the screen. Your former boss tried to take advantage of your vulnerable state, but you were faster, punching him in the throat. Then you put your hands together into a fist and slammed down on his stomach, lifting your legs to bring more momentum with your weight. Yeah he wasn't going to get up any time soon.

Once you got off of him, you got to the other side of the desk, turning your laptop around to face you. Data completed. "Just need some hard copies."

"We're out of time Click, take what you have." Price said. Damn it, you got caught up in your personal drama. The cadejos vanished, returning to their vessel. As you watched them leave, your attention attached itself to some papers on the desk. A contract, with signatures. You took out your phone and started taking photos, as many as you could in between a rushed packing job. You even opened a desk drawer and took photos of the inside before putting the laptop in it's bag. Okay now it was time to go.

"I need an evac." You said.

"Rodolfo." Alejandro said. All he needed to say. Rudy came in and you put your hands up in surrender. The same routine as when it started, except he left your legs alone. Your buff went over your eyes and you were led out of the room. Your old boss was still on the ground groaning. Rudy took one look at him before turning and dragging you out of the room. You didn't see much of what happened after that.

Once you returned to base, you thanked Rudy for his help. Too much longer and Rudy might have passed out, you knew it was a risk. His only request was that on the off chance the two of you worked together, you warn him if you do something like that. You could agree to that.

As for the data you collected, it was enough to get the cartel taken down, and put plenty of people behind bars. You contract could also put your old superior away, and reopen the investigation into the crimes you'd committed. Until then you were permitted to remain on base, working through the intel you'd collected. Your assistance had been a great asset.

One day you get pulled into Price's office where he commends you on a job well done, especially when it had been so personal. Unfortunately, that was your one flaw, in your opinion. You made and took things personally. It was why you put on a sarcastic attitude from time to time.

"Yeah well, I had the motive of a hefty paycheck." You told him, cracking your back oulling your knee to your chest and resting your chin on it. It wasn't the real reason, but Price didn't call your bluff. That smug look you gave him was growing on him, ever so slightly.

"About that..." Price started. Your ears flattened, and your body straightened. What the fuck, you signed a contract! You should be getting paid. Price smirked at your insulted expression. "You're still getting paid, and a substantial amount."

"But?" you asked. Yeah there had to be more. No way there wasn't.

"You have a great skillset, you have a strong mentality, your abilities prove that you're a great asset, and you get along well with the rest of the men. That being said, I can't recruit you because of your criminal record. Laswell was adamant."

You fidgeted in the chair, listening intently to what he had to say. The captain slid a piece of paper across his desk. You took it and looked it over. "I could use someone like you on my team though."

Freelance work. The paper was another contract, for Price to have the ability to call on you should he need your services. It was tempting. The risk involved...

"I think I'd be better off giving you my number." You admitted. "I'm sorry Cap. Military and politics aren't the best for me. Learned that some time ago."

Price could've told you everything that was in that contract, how it ensured your immunity if charges were ever laid, the high prices they were willing to pay, and your freedom to turn down work. You'd already been screwed over hard by the system. Would the contract let you do what you did best? Yep. But it forced you to make judgment calls, ones that went wrong in the past. Price understands your concerns.

"Let me know when it changes." He said. You could agree to that.

You reclined in your chair with your headset and your feet on your desk. A video was playing in your ears, while you were gaming with the controller in your lap. After a long day you deserved some time to yourself. Your lamp was on to keep your eyes from watering, while your laptop ran through some programming and codes. You set the controller aside, to take another bite of your take out. You get two notifications on your phone which you check. The first is from your ankle bracelet having an issue. You contact the officer in charge of you, informing him that you're not doing anything and the bracelet is having problems.

The second is from a familiar name. You smiled, and called him. "Hello new phone, who dis?"

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @0wosugarmommymedic0wo @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit @lolyouranelf

[servantofthefates]

I have a huge problem with the Law of Attraction.

I use the term Law of Attraction a lot, because it’s the easiest way for me to convey to English speakers what I’m talking about.

But the law of attraction I believe in is not the same as the oversimplified version that the Western world is obsessed with.

According to them, our emotions dictate what we create. Whether good or bad, whatever happens in our life is something our emotions consciously or unconsciously made.

What then of children who were molested? Did their emotions somehow make that tragedy possible? What of people who were brutally violated and killed? Were they secretly wishing for it?

Their version, tied to the New Thought movement, only works for privileged people. Those who cannot even afford three meals a day cannot simply believe in their dreams, for the skies to open up and shower them with a college education and a brand-new Tesla.

This movement’s Bible, The Secret, also demands that you feel and stay happy every second of every day, because the world needs your joy. So how about someone who just got run over by a bus? Or somebody who was just diagnosed with a terminal illness? Should they smile 24/7 too?

To convey the version of the Law of Attraction that I believe in, I must share another philosophy from another part of the world.

Chinese metaphysics says there are three kinds of luck: heaven luck, earth luck and human luck.

Heaven luck is your fate. Your destiny. What the gods have planned for you, or what your soul agreed to accomplish in this life. It cannot be changed… for the most part. Earth luck is your environment. Whether the place you’re in is conducive for who you want to be. Is your home a sanctuary or a battlefield? Are you in the right job or not? Do the people around you support or belittle you? Human luck is your actions. Your choices. This is where my law of attraction comes in. Do you speak kindly to yourself? Do you think as positively as you can? Do you believe with every fiber of your being that you can achieve your dreams?

Your human luck is in your hands. It is how you manifest. It is how you lead a life that makes your younger self proud and your older self grateful.

But when shit happens, you mustn’t blame yourself. If a malicious person harms you, or if tragedy strikes out of the blue... that’s not your fault.

You did not attract that. You did not make that happen. You did not create your own pain. That is a result of the other two kinds of luck just doing their thing. That's life. Even Mother Earth knows it can't be summer all year long.

However, when you actively and consistently try to strengthen your human luck, it can influence your heaven luck and earth luck too. They could bend to your will if you can convince them. That is the law of attraction I believe in and speak about.

It's a long journey for us to be able to make that happen. So if you cannot do it just yet… go easy on yourself.

Keep trying. You'll get there.

[aquaglow]

one of the easiest ways to practice self-love is by avoiding self-hatred.

I think most people have difficulty understanding how to craft a practice of self-love because they believe it's just something you feel, something that pops in your head one day and follows you forever. wrong! self-love is a skill, something that can only come from constant vigilance, practice, and like any other skill, consistent action. and one of these essential actions is to avoid self-hatred. but how to do it? here's some tips.

STOP WITH THE SELF-DEPRECATING "JOKES" & SPEECH. words are more important than you think! they are the way we have to translate thought into language, and they are the primary way through which we digest our reality. if you're constantly trash-talking and dissing yourself (even if you've convinced yourself it's all in good humor or just a harmless coping mechanism) you can trust & believe you're only reinforcing negative notions about yourself. nothing good comes from constantly bad-mouthing yourself.

CARE FOR YOUR PHYSICAL HEALTH. it's hard to love a body that is constantly failing you or making you feel pain. be honest and check yourself constantly. are you well-fed (both in quantity as well as in quality)? are you hydrated? have you showered? have you stretched, moved a bit? how's your breath? how's your posture? how's your hair, nails, skin? your body needs to be healthy to carry a healthy mind and soul.

STAND UP FOR YOURSELF. if you're always letting people walk over you, mute you, dismiss you, ignore you, soon you'll be believing that they're right in doing so. if you're constantly allowing yourself to be swallowed by embarrassing, awkward, depreciative situations, you'll soon believe that those are where you belong. the only way to avoid this is by standing up for yourself and not allowing others or avoidable circumstances to rule over you. insecurity will always turn into hatred if allowed to run wild.

BE LESS IMPULSIVE AND REACTIVE. if you give your thoughts more time to grow, if you give yourself time to reflect, if you slow down, you'll have less regrets, you'll have less frustrations, you'll have less shame, you'll have less doubts. practice the arts of replying later, of thinking long before you speak, of listening more than you talk, of letting yourself have a night's sleep before taking any choices and decisions.

CUT TIES WITH PEOPLE WHO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE SHIT. this is an obvious one but probably the hardest, right? if you are always surrounded by people, whether they are friends, family, romantic and/or sexual partners, colleagues who make you feel inferior, you'll soon drown in their negativity and believe you deserve to be mistreated. avoiding people who hate on you is probably the hardest but one of the most necessary steps to avoiding self-hatred.

and remember, girls: self-love is not an aesthetic, it's not a choice, and it's not a personality trait. self-love is a matter of survival. it's non-negotiable and it should be your utmost priority in life! 💘

[brotherwtf]

do you have anything of gale being protective of bucky? (also I love all your work so much!!)

oooo thank you anon! and I have many many thoughts about Gale being protective over Bucky because while John's a dumbass he's GALE'S dumbass and he won't let anything bad happen to him

but I have this theory that maybe John didn't tell Gale about what it was really like up in the air and in combat because he didn't want Gale to hop right in a bomber himself and bomb Hitler's house and end the war before John ever had the opportunity to go back up in the air and be in danger.... yeah what a guy

he's so protective over him in the stalag, especially when John first shows up all busted and banged up, Gale would stay by his side and not let him out of his sight, would clean his wounds and make sure he's all showered and clean, "here Bucky I saved the best bunk for you" or "hey Bucky it's kind of cold come sleep in my bed with me" except he would never say it out loud to him and would just glare at anyone who tries to take the bunk next to his or makes a large space for John to crawl into, all because he wants to protect him

him getting very overprotective when John get's drunk and reckless. John has a stupid big heart and just leans on and touches everyone that he loves whenever he's got some drink in him, mostly being Gale lmao but you bet when those RAF fucks criticized John's touchiness that Gale was ready to throw down, and he literally WAS gonna beat the shit out of some British guy and hid it behind the facade of "test of manhood" rather than "they hurt John's feelings :(( now they must die"

you better not ever let Gale see that John is injured because he will go INSANE and you better not be in the critical path between him and John because you're gonna get molly-whopped and there's really nothing you can do to stop him, it's just what's gonna happen

but Gale would never ever ever leave John's side if he's hurt, even if John claims he's fine Gale doesn't think he's fine and therefore Gale needs to be there for John even when it's not even that bad of an injury

Gale just loves to protect his big baby and honest to god I love that for him

[ghiblinsm]

Objective 1: Make Anya's lock

Mouthwashing x Jimmy's Daughter! Reader

part 1-ish?

word count: 2,526 words and 13,690 characters

"Reality, such a strange thing to me,"

warning: jingle bob, reader is morally grey but not in a pussy curly way, you may end up hating her depending who your favorite character is.

You jerk awake look over to see Curly heaving and groaning in agony, thrashing as much as he can with...well with his situation. His pained sounds are like nails on chalkboard as you walk over to the small pile of pain killers on the table grabbing one and stepping towards Curly.

"Ok Grant, open wide..." The grossest part is having to touch his nasty jaw to open it wide enough for him to take the pills. Popping one in and closing it back up as shiver crawl up your spine from the sound of his swallowing. "eugh.."

You sit down on a spinning chair near Curly and rest your head on your hand, needing to wait for him to stop heaving and thrashing to know if the pain killer worked, again. God... He smells like shit, guess that's what would happen though if one were practically skinned and lost four limbs and couldn't shower.

He finally stops thrashing and his heart rate returns to normal, his staring problem hasn't been fixed though, his singular eye staring intensely at you and your permanent scowl which deepens as he continues to stare. You stand up and kick the chair away while maintaining eye contact with Curly's eye.

"...What? What'd you want?" His staring continues as his mouth breathing seems to be getting louder and more unbearable. "well?! Speak up!"

"The voices in my head,"

You look at him then to the table and back at him, sighing in frustration as your fist clench. It would be dumb to get mad at him for doing the only thing he can do, stare.

"Whatever," you finally turn to leave as his eye follows your movement, "Anya will come by later, have fun till then I guess."

The door closes behind your retreating figure with Curly still looking in your direction.

You walk past Anya and Swansea talking about Curly and Repairs or something, and head to the main area, where Daisuke is sitting down by the big screen that's displaying a sunset into water and playing on the small console you made a while back with only a singular pixelated game that crashes if the smallest thing goes wrong.

You could care less where he is so that doesn't matter right now.

Despite clearly seeing what Daisuke is doing you still ask, "Hey, Daisuke. What-um whatchu up to?.."

"My friends from my dreams,"

"Hey! Yeah, I'm just trying to get passed this level but it keeps crashing..." He looks a bit slump but hopeful as the game crashes again from one of his choices. "But I swear I'm gonna get it this time!-"

"uhuh, thats nice. Hey, when you were with Swansea earlier, did you guys find any extra parts that weren't needed for the ship to function?..." you lean against the wall to try and seem as if you don't care what the answer is but truthfully...you really need a few parts, to create at least one lock.

Daisuke looks at you for a moment, as if contemplating whether to tell you or not. On one hand, Swansea had told him not to give you any extra parts anymore because quote, 'who knows what she's doing with those parts', but on the other hand you haven't done anything weird with scraps yet...

"Nah, we didn't find anything, are you trying to make something?" Maybe if he knows what you're trying to make, then Swansea will let him give stuff to you!

"Nothing, nothing...was just wondering, don't worry about it i'll- i'll figure something out," you head to the door to leave the main area barely muttering a goodbye.

"Bye?..huh" Daisuke watches as you leave then focuses back on the botched console.

"They whisper to me,"

You mindlessly roam through the empty halls, deep in thought but not thinking of anything in particular. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you hear this agitating, grating voice from this greasy haired, internalized homo bitch.

"And what are you doing?" you sigh out in annoyance at the slight accusatory tone in his voice.

"The devil's on my shoulder.."

You look up at his face, his brows furrowed but his eye's show irritation. "Nothing, Captain." you learned pretty quickly, after he appointed himself Captain, that for him to leave you alone most of the time, just fuel his ego to be better than Grant.

"Have you made what I asked for yet?" Right...his 'need' for a master key to the rooms that can lock.

"No, I haven't gotten to it." And even if you had the materials, his key wouldn't exactly be a priority.

"And why haven't you gotten to it?" Ugh, the piss baby's getting upset.

"I haven't gotten to it because there hasn't been as many free materials for me to use." Before he speaks you continue, "And even if I had the materials, Anya was the first to start bitching to me about something she needs."

That grabs his attention, what would Anya need? Before you can leave, he grabs your shoulder and turns you back around to face him. "What exactly did Anya say she needed?" his eyes with a sort of craze look.

"How the hell should I know? I told her not to bother me until i've got materials, which seem to be nonexistent anymore on this barren ship." Thats a lie, you know exactly what she wants and why, but you hate Jimmy more then you dislike Anya so why would you tell him?

He stares intently into your eyes, like he's trying to detect if you're lying or not. "You better not be lying."

"I'm not, she's only priority because I had her save her spot by trading me a few pills..." God, when is he going to leave you alone.

He finally backs up and walks away, purposefully knocking into your shoulder to make you stumble.

"But I like the way he sings,"

With a small, irritated smirk, you try to find Swansea. Considering the state of the ship, it's hard to believe that they truly haven't found any scraps you can use.

You find Daisuke and Swansea in a storage room, Daisuke halfway inside a vent and Swansea watching from below, holding the ladder and instructing Daisuke on what to do.

"Hey, Swansea?" He barely jerks in surprise but turns his head to look in your direction, still keeping a grip on the ladder Daisuke's on.

"What do you need?" His gruff, slight accented voice sounds tired...whatever anyway.

"Have y'all found any scraps? Anya has a request for me and I don't have any materials." You know Swansea knows that something happened to Anya, just not exactly what happened, so hopefully he'll give you something.

He contemplates for a bit, likely debating the pros and cons if you're lying. There's silence apart from Daisuke yelping from almost shocking himself which snaps Swansea back.

He's sighs and nods to his left, a pile of scraps that they did indeed find. "it's over there."

"Great, thanks.." Daisuke almost slips off the ladder from the tone of your voice, knowing his lost aura points with you and most definitely fumbled from lying earlier.

"Love me endlessly,"

You grab all the scraps, using your uniform jacket as a bag of sorts to carry the metal and frayed wires.

Once you leave the room Daisuke peek down the vent to look down at Swansea and whines. "You made me fumble the huzzzz."

Swansea looks at him with a confused look, "I made you fumbled the, what the fuck?"

Anya was in the medical room watching over Curly when you come walking in with the scrap, a few tools, and the pills she traded you for the lock.

Anya looks up at you from beside Curly with her half lidded, very much tired, eyes. They widen with some kind of hope at the sight of your splayed-out scrap and tools on the only table in the room.

"What kind of lock do you want?" You get some water from the sink to take one of the pills which will hopefully kick in before you start working so you focus better.

"Um, I guess any that can lock from inside the room." Anya's obviously apprehensive, not to blame her, it's not exactly reassuring to have someone on drugs, making a safety lock that supposed to be a secret from the captain whom she is also related to.

She receives a hum from you then turns back to Curly, surprised at the slight rise in his heart beats per minutes. She stands and walks over to the pile of pain killers. "How long has it been since you gave him his medicine?"

You look up from your botched looking layout to Anya, "what time is it now?"

"And when I wake, have my soul to keep,"

She groans and grabs about 2-3 pills and walks back to Curly but hesitates to touch his jaw, quietly gagging. Annoyed at her for taking so long and acting like a baby you get up from where you were sitting and walk over, "I got it, just don't throw up in here."

She rushes out the room with a trashcan, leaving you to once again touch Curly's buck nasty bloody, burnt, bandaged jaw.

After giving him his medicine, and Anya has yet to return, probably yakking her guts out. The drugs start kicking in and well, the thin filter you had sorta slips as you get to making Anya's lock.

"This was your fault, know," Curly's one eye looks over at you as you talk to him, "you were the one to enable him," you turn in the spinning chair to face his direction but not looking up from a stubborn sheet of metal that won't bend correctly.

"I may have known what he did, but Anya didn't tell me, she told you, and you barely believed her until you saw him having a pussy breakdown in the halls." You look up from finally getting the metal into the right shape and see Curly staring at you with a shaky chest.

"You're worse than me." He sees your dilated pupils before you turn your back to him again as Anya enters.

"Desperately, they beg me not to leave,"

"Hey, Anya?" She turns to see you holding a few weird mashed pieces.

"Hm?"

"Where do you this to be placed?" Oh! oh... that- that does not look like it'll keep her sleeping quarters locked...

"Uh, yeah, just over here." She walks you over to her sleeping quarters and opens the door. Turning once you got inside and points to a spot on the door frame. "Can it be placed here?"

"Yeah, I guess," you grab a soldering gun to attach it to the frame, "here's the key," your hand pulls out a small key from your pocket with your other holding the soldering gun. "DON'T LOSE IT, I don't have enough materials to create another one."

"Okay, thank you." There's a hint of gratitude in her tone as she grabs the key and leaves her sleeping quarters.

"The fire in my eyes,"

You easily attach the new lock onto the door and frame and make sure it's not loose or anything, otherwise some people may be able to break in. It's still weird that the sleeping quarters don't have locks but at least you can actually add them now without getting credits docked, considering pony express, dumb name btw, went bankrupt.

You leave her room and see Daisuke trying to act nonchalant and leaning on a wall nearby...he's not subtle in his motives with the way his eyes rapidly glance at you to see if you're looking. looking at the look then back at him you get an idea.

"Hey, Daisuke?" you're surprised at how fast his head turns to you with the most...irritating small smile rather than his usual, goofy, big one. "Can you help me test out this lock?"

He tries to cooly stride over but stumbles over a few dead wires and then just walks over. "Yeah! totally, what do I need to do?"

"Go into Anya's room, lock the new lock on her door, there should be a latch option.., and tell me when so I'll try to barge in. Tell me if the lock loosens or twitches or something." you make sure to explain in the simplest way possible, so Daisuke understands.

"Got it!" He enters the Anya's room and you hear a fumble of a switch, another sound of a switch, the jingle of the lock, and then the latch.

"is burning at my feet,"

A heavy sigh leaves from you as he probably thought something else was the lock, something turned on, so he turned it off, looked at the keyhole of the lock then finally saw the latch. "Ready!"

You back up a bit then throw yourself into the door, repeating a few times till getting an answer from Daisuke, a very scared Daisuke who genuinely felt a tad afraid from the aggressiveness of the shoves into the door, like you actually were trying to break it down instead of checking the lock.

He comes out a bit shaken but acts really tough, "Didn't even move an inch," he seems a bit proud until...

"You or the lock?" you snicker at his faux offended look on his face.

"For your information, the lock did infact stay put and so did I." He crosses his arms proudly but melts when he hears your words.

"Mhm, you were a very brave baby." you said it jokingly, obviously, so he quickly regains his composure once he realized.

"miles away from his life,"

You bend down to grab your tools as Daisuke seems to want to ask you something but is hesitant to. "He-Hey? do you want to come to my-"

Here comes the father-in-law, the fun crusher, the erratic homo, Jimmy. "What's going on here?"

Daisuke stifles a snicker at the sight of you rolling your eyes as you turn towards Jimmy's direction. "Nothing, I was talking with Daisuke about dumb stuff."

Seems like he grew something down there since he starts demanding shit you definitely ain't gonna follow. "Listen, I am the captain now and my key should be made first, it should be top priority!-"

Shaking your head you cut him off, "Yeah, yeah, you're right, once I get the materials, I'll get started on your key right away." a big fat lie since you definitely won't be working on it anytime soon, it'd be a waste of time and a waste of material. It's better to just put it off and say stuff to make him happy.

"without his love i'm not alright,"

"You better.." wow. . . so ominous and scary better get to work on that key card right away!

"Don't worry your pretty lil head, okay Jimmy? I've got it, you just go do your important little captain things, okay?" you gently start pushing him back towards the cockpit till he eventually grumbles and walks away.

You turn towards Daisuke, "Get a load of this guy." pointing your thumb back at Jimmy's retreating figure. Daisuke bursts into laughter(calm down it ain't that funny) and you two head to the main area.

Objective completed:

Anya will remember your generosity.

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Curly's relationship with you:❤️❤️

Becoming strained as your rambles become more personal and targeted.

Anya's relationship with you:💜💜💜

She trusts you enough and doesnt hate you but can't help but feel uneasy around because of yimpy.

Swansea's relationship with you:🧡🧡🧡

Doesn't hate you but because of your relationship to Jimmy he doesn't always trust you to give you scraps.

Daisukes relationship with you:💛💛💛💛

He's glad to have someone near his age to talk to and hang with that knows what references he makes, his heart beat raises when you two talk.

Jimmy's relationship with you:💙

Very strained from y'all's relationship, he didn't exactly raise you, was only obligated to give you shelter when your mom died, but when you were 18 you moved away and y'all only met again 2 years ago when his was 'introduced' to you from Curly before a shipment trip.

A/N: i feel like daisuke is the most out of character, oof.. but yay! first mouthwashing fic!

[m-jelly]

A request for mafia Erwin, if I may

During a snowstorm , Erwin has a hard time getting in contact with reader, not knowing if they are at home or still at work. He panics , thinking that they may have been a car accident , and home uses all of his resources to find his lover and bring her home

I need her home

Erwin x fem reader

Where were you? You were supposed to be home but weren't answering your phone. He'd checked the tracking and the phone was placed at home, but you usually answered him when he called. If you were in the shower or bath, you would have at least tried by now after seeing the missed calls.

Erwin had been in meetings all day and had dealt with 'punishments' of 'people of interest' that had caused him issues. After coming up for air, he'd gotten a signal to see the weather warnings flooding in. He had raced upstairs to see the snowstorm had already hit the city.

Surely you'd gone to work and possibly got stuck coming home. Time and time again he'd tried to get you to quit your job and let him take care of you, but you enjoyed your job and wanted to stay on just a bit longer. He cursed himself for not trying harder to get you to stay home.

Erwin remembered your sweet smile this morning when he'd given you a little kiss before covering your face with kisses to say good morning. He had left you all warm and cosy to sleep for two more hours before you had to go to work.

He felt like he'd failed you. It was his job to protect you and now you could possibly be in danger. Anything could have happened to you. All he could think about was you being in an accident and bleeding out, or that your car had gotten stuck and you were snowed in. The thought of you freezing to death crushed his heart.

He couldn't lose you, you were not allowed to leave him, you were his. Erwin got to work reaching out to every single member of staff possible. He asked for people to search where you worked for you. Another team was hunting down emergency services reports for any accidents. Not only was Erwin panicking, but his whole gang was because they all adored you.

Erwin was going to go home and see if you were there. The only lead he had was your phone tracker saying you were. He wrapped up tightly in his thick long coat and yanked on his leather gloves and scarf before pausing a moment because the gloves and scarf were gifts from you. He shook his head in an attempt to get rid of his bad thoughts and made the journey home.

It wasn't too far to get to the penthouse but the snow was thick and the wind unforgiving. Erwin winced as he walked through the snow and prayed to anything that you were safe. When he reached the apartment tower he had to throw his massive body against the door just to get it open.

Security hurried to greet him in a slight panic because this was Erwin Smith, but Erwin didn't care for pleasantries. He wafted his hand at the guard and made his way to the lift. He scanned his card, called out an apology to the man and explained he needed to check on you. The doors closed before the security guard could reply.

Erwin checked his phone and read all the updates from his teams, not a single positive that you'd been located. When the doors finally opened he sprinted down the hall, fumbling with the key to let him in before falling inside the penthouse as his heart raced. He'd faced so many horrors in this world, he'd even been shot and stabbed but nothing hurt as much as thinking he'd lost you.

As soon as he shoved the bedroom door open he saw you curled up in bed sleeping away. He barked your name so loudly that you sat up quickly and screamed in shock. You looked incredibly beautiful to him with your messy bed hair, his shirt falling down your shoulder and your chest almost on show.

You placed your hand on your chest. "Erwin, you scared the shit out of me. What the hell? This a prank?" You giggled you you started relaxing. "It's cute." You gasped when he tackled you into a tight hug. "Erwin?"

He released a long sigh. "I thought...I..." He released a long sigh. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Okay? Of course, I'm okay."

He pulled back and kissed you a few times. "I uh, have to make a few calls."

You rubbed your eyes clear of sleep. "Sure. I'll make some coffee."

Erwin watched you shuffle around in his shirt while you made coffee and snacks. He texted and called all his units and called off the hunt, he'd told them all you were safe. After ending a call he slipped up behind you, wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tightly.

You hummed in happiness as Erwin began biting and sucking your neck. "Are you okay? You seemed very panicked, plus you're still in your winter things and they're damp."

Erwin released you. "Sorry, I'll get these off."

You placed the coffee cups on the side and moved some biscuits closer. "So?"

He returned to you now in just a shirt and tight trousers, his blazer draped over his arm. "There's a horrific snowstorm outside, my darling, I thought you'd gotten caught in it."

You took his blazer from him and called out to him as you took it to the washroom. "Work contacted me and said we're closed for the day! I decided to catch up on sleep!" You returned to him and smiled. "I know I could work from home, but I deserve some time off. I guess I slept for a very long time, huh?" You reached over and held his hand. "Sorry, I worried you. Did you come right home when you realised there was a snowstorm."

"Umm."

You stared at him. "Erwin, did you cause a mass panic in the gang?"

He pressed your hand against his cheek and nuzzled. "Mm, possibly, but it's all sorted now." He gazed at you with his beautiful ocean-blue eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Erwin pulled you against him and kissed you. "I guess we get to spend a few days together until the snow is gone."

You grinned at him. "Can't wait!"

@mari-zs @ladycheesington

[skribbledarker]

Back on my bs with another Zosan brainworm…. post Skypiea feels

—

Sanji, after having his “I needed a light” moment and getting shocked head-on by Enel, gains big lichtenberg scars that never fade. They’re darker than his usual skin tone, spiraling down the back of his neck, the entire expanse of his back, then curling around his shoulders and hips.

he hates them. Sanji thinks they make him look diseased, or like Frankenstein, sort of.. He doesn’t think scars are bad or ugly, no. It’s just the way they look on him.

He goes to so many lengths to hide them from the rest of the crew; he takes showers after everyone else is asleep, and his short-sleeved shirts get pushed to the back of the closet.

Chopper’s the only one who’s seen them. well, until Zoro. Somewhere in between when they didn’t like each other and when they suddenly did, the swordsman catches Sanji late at night in the bathroom, shirtless and twisting around himself to look at his back in the mirror.

Somehow, they end up on the floor, Sanji sitting cross-legged on the tile, hunched over with red tipped ears as Zoro sits behind him, taking his time tracing the patterns over Sanj’s skin.

“Do they hurt?” Zoro asks, grazing a calloused thumb over the back of Sanji’s neck.

“Sometimes. they sting when it gets cold.”

Zoro doesn’t say anything for a long time. Sanji feels like a bug under a microscope, just sitting there, being inspected like this. He finds himself zoning out— he doesn’t want to be here right now. This is embarassing.

“I like them.”

“Huh?”

And then Zoro’s hands are smoothing over Sanji’s shoulders, warm and gentle like he’s handling a blade. “What, you don’t? It looks badass.”

no, they really don’t. “No. It looks…stupid.” Ugly, is what Sanji wants to say, but he doesn’t. The word suddenly seems a little too crass for whatever’s going on right now.

“Do mine, then?” Zoro counters, and that’s different. Zoro wears his like a collection, each mark a record of battles he’s won and lost and a testament to the shit he’s survived. Sanji hasn’t ever been blemished like that, barring the faint lines on the bridge of his nose still barely visible after eleven years. The scars just look out of place on him. Like they aren’t supposed to be there.

“No, no.” Sanji shakes his head. “Yours are— are badass.”

Zoro pauses again. “They look like vines.”

“Oh, so i’m sprouting greenery like you, now?”

That gets an exasperated huff out of Zoro, and Sanji can feel breath fanning over the back of his neck. “Stop, ‘m serious.”

It’s frightening, kind of, being laid bare under the watchful eye of someone else like this. Sanji can’t even see Zoro (well, besides his hands), but it’s almost like he can— the weight of his gaze falls heavy on Sanji’s back.

“Of course you are.”

A chill slides up Sanji’s spine when Zoro’s hands slide down to his waist, thumbing at the spots where the scars encroach onto his stomach. “ ‘s Pretty.”

Sanji’s throat suddenly feels dry, because the admission of pretty feels less like a descriptor of the lightning bolts spiraling down his back and more about him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Never thought I’d hear you call something ‘pretty,’ you brute.”

“Maybe you needed to.”

Maybe you needed to. Fuck, Maybe Sanji did.

—

gughhhh this was supposed to be a little drabble but got out of hand so fucking quickly??1!1?1?

anyways i want to shoot both of them dead lololololol

i also love projecting my self-image issues onto Sanji…. my blorbo AHHH

[unpanzito]

Jeff looks like the kind of guy that would listen to ICP (insane clown posse) and completely misunderstand what the band is actually about. I also feel like he'd smell like fish. Just a really fishy guy. Give him deodorant.

Sure, 'cause I don't know shit about ICP and I listened like 2 songs, so Jeff would have my same perspective. Talking about that, if anyone wants to recommend me some of their music 'cause the ones I've listened didn't stick too much to me.

I like to think that he stands in the rain fully clothed and takes that as an excuse to not take a shower for another month or so, just because the water touched him.

[princessiris147]

DogHybrid!Ghost x CatHybrid!Soap

Part 6!! (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5) TW: A lil suggestive :P He’s everywhere. Taunting him. That charming grin. That sweet smell. It was like he was infecting Ghost’s brain. He didn’t really pay much attention to the sparring match. Somehow, he had ended up pinned under Johnny, the cat’s tail curling around to poke him in the face. “Got ya there, didn’t I L.T?” The scot purrs, shit eating grin on his face. Once again, Ghost was off. He never lost spars. It’s possible that Johnny was better, but Ghost felt he could easily over power the kitty cat. “Naw, I let you win.” He responds, lips twitching up into a smirk. His tail wags under him Soap’s scent wasn’t as overwhelming as it was in the first few days, him getting used it.

It was pleasant now. Made him want to hang around the scot more.

Johnny rolls off him, with exactly the agility you would expect from a cat. He runs a hand through his mohawk, over his ears (Ghost felt his pants tighten) and smiles at Ghost.

“Breakfast, L.T?”

He asks, holding a hand out to Ghost, who takes it. He stands with him, and nods.

They head to the showers, Ghost slightly behind a talkative Johnny, who was on about how one time he gave his fish a fish finger, and it vomited and died.

“Why in hell would you do that?”

Ghosty asks, incredulously.

“Aye, ya know, as a wee lad, I thought fish could have fish fingers too, ya know because their called fish fingers.”

“Fucking idiot.”

Ghost mutters, a smile under his mask.

Once showered (Ghost wasn’t staring at his ass the whole time he swears) and dressed, they head to the mess hall.

They had gotten up early to spar, and planned it so once finished they could have breakfast with everyone else. 

Ghost plops down at a table with his food, Johnny sitting beside him.

The cat eyes the breakfast with interest.

“Eggs and bacon?”

He asks skeptically, poking the egg lightly with his fork like he didn’t trust it.

Ghost raises an eyebrow.

“Uh.. yeah? Don’t have that in Scotland?”

Johnny rolls his eyes.

“‘Course we do. Never had it at base before.”

“It’s good.”

Ghost offers, taking a bite of his own bacon and swallowing it.

“They make something decent every once in a while.”

“Only decent thing they made in Scotland at my old base was the haggis we had for someone’s birthday. Aye, that was the best.”

Ghost swallows his gag, nodding politely.

“Oh, that sounds nice.. never had haggis.”

“Oh, a missed opportunity L.T. I’ll take ya to Scotland one day to have it.”

While the idea of a trip with Johnny didn’t sound terrible - it sounded quite nice, actually - the idea of having to try haggis was.

Ghost thought of himself as having a strong stomach, but that was a stretch too far.

“I think I’ll stick to a cuppa.”

He remarks. Soap shrugs, a small smirk on his face. So cute.

[doctor-bus]

I tend to have extremely vivid (sometimes lucid, though I don't have much control) dreams, but there are two that really take the cake for me. Under a readmore because they're long

The first one was a nightmare I had once while taking a nap. It was a really long dream, and most of it was just me going through my daily life, doing things like sitting at my desk on my computer, talking to my mom at home, attending class, ect ect ect. All super mundane and not scary at all. Except every so often my ex would call me, and I didn't want to talk to this ex so I was ignoring the calls.

Except later on, I was rushing across the university campus I was attending at the time and not really paying attention, so when my phone rang I answered it on reflex. Instead of my ex, it was a robotic, automated sounding voice listing off a description. Things like "He is: blonde. He has: blue eyes. He is: 6 foot 5. He is: 200 lbs." It was weird and creepy, so I quickly hung up before the message ended. I sent a couple texts to my mom and friends about this weird ass spam call I got and then just went to class.

The rest of the day in the dream, I kept getting the calls and ignoring them. I knew that it would be the same voice if I picked up, and I really didn't want to get involved in whatever weird bullshit that was.

Then it was evening, and I'd just gotten out of the shower. I remember the sensory detail of the steam in the hallway being extremely vivid (I think just because I was overheating under the blanket). I stepped from my bathroom into my bedroom (in nothing but a bath towel, as I hadn't finished drying off yet) and immediately grabbed my phone off my desk to check it, but my hands were still kind of wet so I fumbled it and accidentally called the number back. It fell on the ground and I had to kneel down to pick it up. By the time I did, it was already partway through the message

"He is: blonde. He has: blue eyes. He is: 6 foot 5. He is: 200 lbs. He is: right handed. He is: 15 ft away."

And at that moment I realize that I am supposed to find this person, and that this person is coming to find me.

My bedroom only had two possible points of entry, one door and one window. I was near the door, so I backed up a little and angled myself so that I could see both at the same time.

My closet door opened behind me.

I scrambled back from the closet towards my desk and window, and this guy slowly climbs out of my closet wearing a tattered, old, incredibly creepy dinosaur costume. It looked sort of like a cursed, hand-sewn doll, stained + faded blue fabric and black bead eyes. He has to sort of bend down to get the long neck and head out, but then he stands upright and is absolutely looming over me, and I'm still kneeling on my floor pretty much naked.

I know with full certainty that whatever the voice sent him here to do will not end well for me. So I quickly grabbed a dagger off my desk (one I'd looked at online right before the dream but didn't end up buying) and stabbed upward at him, right into his crotch.

And out of the wound came dozens and dozens of hands, all grabbing me and pulling me into the split seam.

Then I woke up and spent the rest of the day going "what the absolute fuck was that?!?!?" lol

The other one was less scary, but very emotionally moving.

I dreamed that I was an actor, and that I played the villainess on a power-rangers type show. It was kind of hokey and cheesy, but I was part of an evil power couple with another character, both themed after pollution (for the good guys to beat back, ofc). Like I think I was styled after oil and he was styled after industrial smoke or something???

Anyway, our characters are in evil love or whatever, and we were kind of flirting too. Nothing had come of it yet, but we had really good chemistry and spent a lot of time making flirty banter in between filming scenes at this park in my home town.

(Also at one point we, and a bunch of our coworkers, kicked the shit out of a truck with awful transphobic bumper stickers and ran away lol.)

Anyway, I wanted to keep things going with this guy, but he was really hesitant, saying things like how I didn't really know him and I needed to understand; it's not just his character, he really is toxic. Saying that it's better if we end it there and whatnot.

But then the show got cancelled and we all got fired. (Maybe partially bc of the truck incident. We didn't get caught, but there were enough trans people and allies in the cast and crew that we were suspected. The guy may not have had a name but he DID have blue hair and pronouns, and he was super understanding that I'm non-binary even though I was playing a femme fatale)

I said that was stupid, and that I wanted to keep seeing him, and he kind of relented and said he wanted to keep seeing me too.

Throughout the rest of the dream, we'd meet up periodically. I was doing some other stuff too (there was a weird nonsense segment where I was astral projecting to a Thanksgiving feast and my cousin spilled sprite on the stove and I couldn't clean it up bc I couldn't touch anything??? but that wasn't really relevant).

Anyway, I kept meeting up with this guy, but some things were off. Like, I'd try to call him one day and it'd say it was disconnected, but then he'd call me back from that same number a few hours later. There was another point where I walked the apartment building that I thought he lived in, only to see it burnt out and abandoned, but then later when I walked by again it was normal and I could see him in the lobby through the window. So I kind of assumed that maybe I was mistaken? Maybe I'd gotten lost? But then google maps also said the building was abandoned. But I was like, whatever.

And I had a really good romance with this guy, like, it felt like we had a very serious relationship for months.

Then out of the blue, he says we need to break up. I'm emotionally devastated, asking why, crying, saying that I really love him and I thought we were happy??

And he looks me dead in the eye and says

"Because I'm not real. And the closer you get to me, the closer you come to not being real either."

And then I woke up, feeling a profound sense of loss for the life we had together. I still remember him fondly sometimes, even though it was only a dream.

Anyway if you read all that, thanks for coming to my TED talk lol. I have a lot of cinematic dreams like this, but these two are def the wildest.

I’m so nosy what’s the weirdest, strangest, most insane dream you’ve ever had?

[hashtagcaneven]

I Spy and Where’s Waldo are Baby’s First Ergodic Literature